Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air was thick with dust, sticky with the scent of burnt gunpowder and burning flesh. Caitlyn Kiramman lay on the ground, her body numb and her mind caught between consciousness and darkness. She felt the moisture on her lips and a metallic taste she couldn’t tell if it was blood or dirt brushing against her face. A distant rumble made her whole body tremble, as if the earth itself was cracking under the weight of chaos.

Pain burned across her face; her left eye, rendered useless by Ambessa's knife, was a searing wound etched into her skin. The right eye, clouded by the blood dripping from a split eyebrow, gave her a blurred, red-tinged view.

Caitlyn tried to stand, but her limbs wouldn't respond. Frustration washed over her, and with titanic effort, she dragged herself to the side. Was Vi okay? Her mind spun, trapped in fear. The distant screams stirred her, but there was nothing she could do for them. She couldn’t move. She was trapped.

Where is Vi? Every time she thought it, a knot formed in her throat. She couldn’t stop thinking about her face, her eyes glowing through the smoke. The uncertainty tormented her more than the physical pain. Vi was out there, somewhere, and Caitlyn couldn’t reach her. What if she was gone? No. She couldn’t let that thought take root.

From the shadows dancing in her peripheral vision, a figure emerged. A tall, elegant silhouette approached with determined steps. Caitlyn blinked, trying to focus, but the figure remained a dark blur against the sunlight.

Caitlyn, her face marked by anguish.

"Can you hear me?" —the voice was soft yet firm, laden with innate authority.

She recognized that voice. It was Mel Medarda, the counselor who had tried to maintain peace amid chaos. But what was she doing here? She tried to answer, but her lips only released an inaudible whisper.

Mel's vision faded, and the world spun into a whirlwind of color and shadow. When she opened her eyes again, she was in a different room, brighter. Mel stood beside a man with a distinguished presence and a worried expression: her father. They were arguing, tension written all over their faces.

Caitlyn blinked again; the scene changed once more, and everything fell silent.

A warm breeze brushed her cheek, and suddenly, she was no longer in the battle. Caitlyn found herself in a completely different place, an ethereal space where golden light filtered in as if the sun was pouring into a thousand particles. Everything around her felt unreal... and yet, comforting.

"Were you always this bad at compliments, Commander?"

The voice, deep and laced with mischief, made Caitlyn turn immediately. There, arms crossed and with a crooked smile, stood Vi.

She wore her red jacket open at the collar, revealing the tattoo on her clavicle. Her eyes gleamed with the playful spark that defined her.

Caitlyn smiled without realizing it.

"And you, always this shameless?"

Vi burst out laughing and slowly approached, her steps echoing in the void.

"Only with you, Cupcake."

The nickname ignited something in Caitlyn's chest. She felt warmth rise to her cheeks as Vi leaned in slightly, their faces drawing closer.

"You know, I think you owe me something," Vi's voice softened, her gaze drifting to Caitlyn's lips.

"Oh yeah? And what would that be?"

"This."

Vi tilted her head, and Caitlyn felt the gentle, tempting brush of her lips. Her heart pounded... but something about the moment felt off.

The golden surroundings began to fade. The warm light turned to shadows creeping across the floor, snuffing out the brilliance of the space. Vi pulled away abruptly, her expression changed.

Caitlyn shivered.

"Vi, what's wrong?"

The pink-haired girl looked at her with sadness, as if she knew something Caitlyn didn’t understand yet.

"Listen to me. I love you, Caitlyn. And I always will," Vi said, her face etched with anguish.

Her voice was a whisper, laden with a melancholy that pierced Caitlyn's chest.

"Vi..."

"I need your help."

Caitlyn took a step toward her, but as she did, the dream turned into a nightmare.

Vi’s body began to bleed. Cuts and wounds opened across her skin as if from nowhere. Her jacket darkened.

"Cait..."

Her voice broke.

Caitlyn felt panic suffocate her. She reached out to grasp the fighter, but couldn’t hold on.

"Vi! Vi, tell me what to do! Tell me where you are!"

Caitlyn looked around, her eyes brimming with desperation.

"I... need you..."

Darkness engulfed them both.

When Caitlyn opened her eyes again, she was no longer in darkness or on the battlefield. The soft crackle of the fireplace in the room outside and the stillness of the Kiramman estate surrounded her. She was home, but it wasn’t the home she remembered.

The silk sheets felt strangely foreign, as if they belonged to another life. Every movement was a struggle; her muscles protested with each attempt to rise.

With effort, she managed to sit at the edge of the bed. The mirror in front of her reflected an image she barely recognized: her face was pale, with deep circles under her eyes and bandages partially covering her head.

What was happening? Memories swirled in her head. Vi’s face, the sounds of battle, the explosions. Everything was confusing. Everything was fading... or was she the one fading? What was real? What remained of her when all she could feel was pain? She couldn’t... remember.

Determined to understand what was going on, she stood shakily and made her way to the main hall. There, the firelight danced on the walls, casting warm shadows. Her father stood, staring into the flames with a lost expression.

When he saw her, his eyes widened in astonishment and relief. He ran to her, tears in his eyes, wrapping her in a trembling embrace.

"Caitlyn, my daughter... we thought you’d never wake up."

The anguish in his voice was palpable, but she couldn’t answer. She was trapped between pain and fear. She looked up, and her father’s face appeared blurry, distorted.

"How long has it been?" Her voice was hoarse, as if she hadn’t used it in ages.

His expression darkened.

"Two months, Caitlyn," he said, his voice breaking. "The doctors said... it was unlikely you’d ever wake up. I refused to believe it. I never lost hope, and I’m glad I didn’t. You’re finally back."

Two months. How could that be? The weight of that revelation struck hard. Everything she knew, everything she had fought for, had changed in her absence. And in the midst of that storm of thoughts, one question burned with desperate urgency:

"Where is Vi?"

The silence that followed was louder than any explosion on the battlefield.

Chapter Text

The air was thick with dust and the echo of creaking structures. The ground was littered with debris, and every step Ekko took stirred up clouds of gray dirt. Sunlight filtered weakly through the smoke, a somber reminder of what Piltover once was. Ekko moved through the rubble, his breathing heavy. Every time his feet touched the ground, it felt like the city itself was crumbling beneath him. But in his mind, there was only one thought: find Vi. Everything else was secondary.

Every street he walked was a reminder of what he had lost. Piltover was no longer the bright city he once knew. The ruins reflected his own state. The sound of his footsteps echoed into a void, as if his life had also become trapped in the rubble. Vi... Where are you?

Years had passed since they were separated—years in which Ekko believed she was dead, and thus never tried to find her. But now, with everything in ruins, he felt the urgency to find her more than ever. He knew Jinx had also disappeared, but that didn’t haunt him the same way. Jinx... No, he couldn’t think about that now. Vi was the priority.

After what felt like an eternity of fruitless searching, he finally found her.

Vi was there, near the hexgate, semi-conscious, her back marked by Warwick’s claws. She lay on the ground, her breathing shallow, blood trickling from the side of her head.

Ekko dropped to his knees beside her, his hands trembling with anxiety as he tried to stop the bleeding. Vi!, he thought, screaming her name in silence. He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t lose her again.

The image of Vi, so vulnerable, shattered something inside him, but Ekko forced himself to be strong. He remembered the days when she was an unstoppable force—when, as children, they faced everything together. Always brave, always strong, unmatched in her determination. Those memories, filled with laughter and challenges, pushed him forward. With trembling but steady hands, he gently lifted her and carried her to the Firelighters' hideout, hoping she could at least be safe, though his mind remained haunted by uncertainty.

During that time, he had also been caring for Caitlyn’s father, Tobias, treating his wounds and monitoring his recovery. On one occasion, Tobias shared a concern:

"Vi’s wounds are healing properly," Tobias said. "However, I am concerned about the blow she took to the head."

"What do you mean?" Ekko replied, visibly anxious.

"We don’t know if there will be any long-term consequences," Tobias said, worried. "Head trauma and hemorrhages can cause irreversible damage."

Ekko’s mind drifted to a distant place, to lost memories, to a childhood that now felt so far away.

The following days passed slowly. Vi remained unconscious, her breathing faint. Ekko didn’t leave her side for a second. He kept thinking about the chaos left by the battle, about Vi, about Caitlyn, and... Jinx. He still didn’t know if she was alive. Conflicted feelings about her and her apparent disappearance lingered. What if he never saw her again?

Ekko couldn’t help but drift toward another universe, to a moment when everything had been different. In that alternate reality, everything had taken an unexpected turn. He remembered how, in that world, he held Powder’s hand, felt the warmth of her touch, and how time seemed to stop when their lips met. That feeling of closeness, of unspoken emotions, of promises never fulfilled, still haunted him. In that universe, their relationship had become everything it never would be in this one. What if Powder had stayed by his side? What if fate had never torn them apart? These questions had no answers now. And in front of him lay the Vi he had always known, wounded, unconscious, yet still carrying a spark of life that gave him hope.

The scars of war ran deep, like a pain that never ceased. But Ekko couldn’t let it consume him. Not now.

Each day spent beside the Zaunite, waiting for her recovery, strengthened Ekko’s resolve to protect her more than ever—to prevent the fate she had suffered in that other reality from reaching her here.

Two weeks later, she finally woke up.

The moment came, but it was more devastating than Ekko had imagined. He had desperately awaited this moment, but what he saw in her eyes shattered him. Vi, the warrior who had always been his companion, was there, but she was no longer herself. Her gaze was empty, lost, as if everything she had ever been and lived had been ripped from her mind. She didn’t recognize her own reflection, didn’t understand her surroundings. Her expression was a mix of confusion and fear, like someone trapped in a nightmare.

Ekko approached slowly, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Vi," he said gently, unsure how to begin.

She looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion.

"Who are you?" Her voice trembled. There was no recognition, only emptiness.

Ekko swallowed hard, the pain gripping his chest at her words.

"I’m... Ekko. Do you remember me?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Vi frowned, trying to remember, but the words slipped away.

"No..." she murmured, shaking her head. "No... I don’t know you. Where am I? What happened?"

Ekko felt like the ground collapsed beneath him. It couldn’t be. Vi, his friend, his battle sister, had lost everything.

"Vi, I... you're my friend. We've been through so many battles since we were kids..." His voice cracked, and the words caught in his throat. "You've been with me forever..."

Vi stared at him in silence, recognizing nothing. Only fear.

"I... I don’t remember..." she whispered, and Ekko felt an indescribable pain tear through his soul.

Terror gripped Ekko, a deep, chilling fear that surged through him like lightning, leaving him paralyzed. Tobias had warned of possible effects from the head trauma: vision loss, hearing, speech... but never this. Never memory loss. Vi’s words echoed in his mind again and again, as he looked at the girl who had once been his sister in arms, now hollow and lost.

With every word Vi spoke, reality grew crueler. He had lost the Vi he once knew, and there was no telling if he could ever bring her back.

Vi struggled to stand, her body trembling, her mind completely disoriented. She recognized nothing—not Ekko, not the place she was in. Her gaze lingered on him, but there was no sign of recognition. Only fear. Pure fear. Panic began to consume her.

"Who are you?!" she shouted, her voice cracking and desperate, pushing Ekko away as if he were a stranger.

Ekko felt his heart break with every word, every cry. The Vi he knew was no longer there, and he didn’t know how to help her. But there was no time for sorrow. Vi, terrified, tried to stand with a speed that defied her condition.

"Vi, wait!" he pleaded, but she wasn’t listening.

On the verge of hysteria, Vi screamed once more and lunged toward the exit, as if escape were her only option. Driven by fear and confusion, she ran for the door of the hideout. Ekko wouldn’t let her go so easily.

Before he could reach her, the sound of the Firelighters' footsteps and a guard’s shout echoed down the hallway. Someone had heard the commotion. Ekko shouted to try and calm the situation, but Vi heard nothing. The door burst open, and two Firelighters rushed in to stop her, but she shoved them away with unexpected strength. They fell to the ground, stunned, not understanding what was happening. They quickly got back up, angry and confused, trying to restrain her.

Ekko’s desperation grew. Vi, though injured and weak, fought with all her strength to escape, unaware of what was happening or who these people were. Ekko, fearing the worst, tried to signal the Firelighters not to attack her. But in the chaos, she had already taken the lead.

Vi slipped down a narrow corridor and burst out of the hideout at full speed. The darkness of night cloaked her, and though the sounds of battle still echoed, she ran aimlessly.

Without thinking, Ekko ran after her, pushing past the guards and Firelighters trying to stop him. But Vi, even with her lost mind, moved with her usual speed and agility. It was as if the world had ceased to exist for her, as if nothing made sense anymore.

"Vi, please!" Ekko cried out, but the chaotic, dark city swallowed her, and Vi vanished like a shadow that had never been.

Ekko didn’t know if he had just witnessed a desperate escape or the beginning of a far greater tragedy. With a shattered soul, he kept running, his only goal to find her. But Vi had vanished beyond anything they had known, leaving no trace.

Time passed, and her trail vanished.

During that time, Ekko never gave up searching. But whenever he thought he found her, she would disappear like a ghost in the dark. At first, when he began to see signs of her, hope filled his heart. But soon he realized something had changed.

In the weeks that followed, she had joined the most dangerous gangs in Runeterra. In her heists and escapes, she had become someone unrecognizable, someone who no longer carried the spark of the brave girl Ekko once loved.

Every time Ekko arrived at a place she was supposed to have been, only the echo of her absence remained. Nothing more. Vi's trail faded like dust in the wind, as if she had never been there, as if their entire story had been erased, lost in the fog of uncertainty. Vi, with her confused eyes, no longer left footprints for Ekko to follow. And it was breaking him.

In his desperation, he began to see posters on every corner of Piltover and Zaun. "Reward for the capture of Vi," they read, her face printed on them. But it was no longer the Vi Ekko knew. The face on those posters was harder, marked by time, violence, and despair. The eyes, once full of determination and bravery, were now empty, cold, distant. The image of his friend, the girl he had risked so much for, turned into a torn piece of paper with a price on her head. Vi, now a criminal, a shadow of who she once was.

Each time Ekko passed by one of those posters, his chest tightened, as if everything he had done until then had been for nothing. Vi was no longer just a lost friend—she was a fugitive. And he couldn’t help but wonder: how had someone who once fought for justice, for a better future, become a person so full of conflict, someone who struck fear in everyone she met?

Two months had passed since the battle—two agonizing months of desperation. Months of constant searching, following every rumor, every lead, hoping to find her, to find the answer to what had happened. But even with all he had gathered about Vi, the only thing he had were more questions.

She was gone. Or if she still existed, she was no longer the Vi he once knew. He didn’t recognize her anymore. And that made him feel more alone than ever.

The anguish consumed him like a relentless storm. He didn’t know if he was searching for Vi or simply searching for a way to mend his own pain. But deep down, a voice told him that if he could just find her, maybe everything could be as it once was. But what if he didn’t? What if the Vi he once knew no longer existed?

Ekko didn’t know how much more he could take. An unexpected call broke through his thoughts.

It was Caitlyn’s father, his face marked by anguish.

"Ekko," his deep voice came through the line. "Caitlyn has woken up."

Relief and dread warred in Ekko’s chest. Caitlyn had woken after two long months in a coma, and while the relief was overwhelming, fear crept in as he recalled everything that had happened in her absence.

"She asked about everything that's happened," Tobias continued, his tone grave. "I know you know already, but... I don’t know how to tell Caitlyn what happened to Vi. The moment she steps outside the mansion, she’ll see it. The posters with Vi’s face are all over Piltover and Zaun. I’m worried about how she’ll react."

Ekko’s heart sank. He could imagine Caitlyn’s pain at the loss of Vi, the fury she would unleash at them for not doing more to save her, and of course, the guilt of not being there when Vi needed her.

Tobias sighed heavily on the other end of the line.

"I need your help to tell Caitlyn that the woman she loved is no longer there. How do I explain that?"

Ekko clenched his teeth, feeling a mix of helplessness and sorrow. He knew this conversation would be the hardest of all. Not just because Vi was no longer the same, but because Caitlyn would soon face the devastating truth that everything she knew had changed.

"We must prepare for the worst," Tobias said with a somber tone. "When she finds out, it won’t be easy. And I fear how she might react. Caitlyn would burn the very sky for that girl."

Ekko looked at the bed where Vi had once laid unconscious for so many nights. He couldn’t wait any longer.

"I’m on my way," he told Tobias.

There was no time. The hard conversation could no longer be delayed.

Chapter Text

The air was thick with the smoke of explosions, and the scent of blood and gunpowder lingered in every corner. The sounds of the battlefield—the cries of the wounded, distant gunfire—buzzed constantly in Mel's ears. The echoes of battle slowly faded, and the Noxian soldiers, though defeated, began to rise again, as if the fight was not yet over for them. Mel looked around, a growing unease creeping in as she wondered about the uncertain future of those men. Who would they be loyal to now?

Her eyes shifted to Caitlyn, who lay on the ground, gravely wounded and in complete shock. The sight of her friend lying helpless burned into Mel's mind, a constant reminder of her failure to protect her. Without hesitation, Mel ran to her, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Caitlyn, are you okay?" she tried to ask, but her friend didn’t respond.

Fearing the worst, Mel wasted no time.

"I need a medic!" she shouted, her voice cracking with fear.

She clenched her teeth, frustration flooding through her. How had it come to this? How had she failed to protect Caitlyn—the friend who had always been her rock? She felt as if she'd failed completely, that the battle they'd fought so hard for had been in vain. In her desperation, she soon found Tobias, Caitlyn's father, who ran to his daughter with evident worry and fear.

Together, they carried Caitlyn to a safer place. While Tobias tended to her wounds, Mel remained at her side, anxiously waiting for any sign of life, anything that could offer hope. The pain of seeing her friend in such a state consumed her, and the hours dragged on endlessly.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, heavy, almost unbearable. Mel and Tobias stood on the brink of despair, their words clashing against pain and frustration. Caitlyn remained unconscious, unresponsive, and Mel's helplessness was palpable. She looked up, her voice trembling.

"This... this is my fault," Mel murmured through tears. "I couldn’t do anything."

Tobias shot her a glare, anger boiling over. He turned toward Mel, unleashing his words in a voice full of reproach.

"No, Mel, don’t put this on your shoulders. I’m the one who couldn’t protect them. I’m the one who failed," he said, visibly upset. "If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I wasn’t strong enough to protect my family. I lost the woman I loved, and now I’m about to lose my daughter... I wasn’t the man I needed to be for them!"

Mel clenched her fists, her hands trembling as she tried to stay strong under his words. She knew Tobias’s anger made sense, that his pain was valid. But she couldn’t help but feel he didn’t understand.

"Tobias... We fought Ambessa together, and I saw how Caitlyn suffered... and still, all I could do was watch her fall, watch the wounds tear her apart. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t stop it. I should’ve done more."

Tobias stepped closer, his voice hoarse, full of desperation.

"That’s what I don’t want to hear! I don’t want you blaming yourself for something you couldn’t control," he said, tears welling in his eyes. "Right now, all we can do is tend to her wounds and hope she wakes up."

Mel felt the pressure in her chest, the weight of guilt and pain, but she knew she couldn’t fall apart.

"I’m sorry, Tobias... I can’t stop thinking about what I could’ve done," she said, her voice heavy with remorse.

"Stop feeling guilty... what she needs from you right now is strength!" he shouted, frustrated.

Their conversation broke off suddenly. Caitlyn, without warning, opened her only eye, staring ahead with an empty expression, as if she recognized nothing. The vision was so fleeting that Mel thought she was imagining it. A blink of life, a spark of consciousness.

Tobias froze, watching his daughter.

"Caitlyn?" he said softly, full of hope. But Caitlyn’s eye closed again, slipping back into unconsciousness.

Mel felt her heart stop for a moment. The weight of the battle still crushed her, but at least she had seen that flicker of life.

"She’s not out of danger, Tobias," she whispered, her eyes filled with pain. "But her gaze gives us a glimmer of hope."

Tobias, unable to speak, leaned over his daughter, brushing her forehead with broken tenderness.

"I know... I know..." he said, trying to bury the terror deep within his soul.

The silence that followed was deafening. Mel stood, her soul caught in a whirlwind of helplessness. They had fought Ambessa, but in the end, the cost of that battle was far greater than they had ever imagined. Caitlyn wasn’t just wounded—in many ways, she had been shattered inside.

As Mel looked at Caitlyn's still face, something inside her changed. She knew that, no matter what happened next, nothing would ever be the same. War, betrayal, and loss had left scars that would change the course of their lives forever.

After leaving Caitlyn’s room, Mel walked the halls of the building with heavy thoughts and trembling legs. The weight of her decisions pressed on her conscience, but she knew she had to move forward. When she reached the outside, the sunset cast light over the battlefield left behind, now silent, save for the regrouping Noxian soldiers—some still wounded, others whole, but all without clear purpose.

Watching them, Mel felt unease pulling at her chest. The Noxians had not come only for Ambessa. Now, their loyalty was unclear. Who was in command? What would become of them?

With a deep breath, she approached the group of soldiers. Her presence did not go unnoticed. Mel didn’t hesitate for a moment to take control of the situation. With an authority forged in battle, she stood before them, her eyes cold as steel.

"Noxian soldiers. Listen to me," she ordered, her voice firm but clear. "You came to Piltover under orders of war from my mother, Ambessa. Your loyalty is not to her, or any leader along the way. Your loyalty is to your homeland—to Noxus. And it is time to prove it. I, daughter of Ambessa, heir to the Melarda clan, will not allow you to fall apart in the chaos of what has happened. Return to your ships. There will be no more battles here. We are going back to where we belong."

The soldiers, hesitant at first, began to respond. Some exchanged uncertain glances, but the authority in Mel’s voice silenced them. Eventually, they began to organize without resistance. In their eyes, one thing was clear: the young woman who had once been an enemy in the fight was now taking command. They accepted it in silence. Within minutes, the soldiers were marching toward the port.

After issuing her orders, Mel stood still for a moment, watching the soldiers walk away. Memories of her mother, Caitlyn’s unconscious face, and the devastation of battle swirled in her mind. But above all, she felt an urgent need to do more—to close a chapter and face what was to come. Noxus awaited her.

She turned with determination in her eyes and walked toward Tobias, Caitlyn’s father. She saw him standing, watching the scene with an exhausted, tense expression. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they understood each other without words.

"Mel," Tobias said with a grave voice. "What will you do now?"

Mel looked at him silently for a few seconds. She knew the question carried heavy weight—not just because Caitlyn was still unconscious, but because of everything surrounding them. It wasn’t just the battle that had scarred them. The war between Noxus and Piltover had begun.

"I’m going to Noxus," Mel answered firmly. "I have to close the cycle. Investigate the Black Rose, my family, calm the growing tension between Noxus and Piltover... I can’t stay here."

Tobias studied her, as if searching for some sign of hesitation, something to make her stay. But he found none.

"Can’t you wait?" he pressed. "Caitlyn... you don’t know what will happen to her. Shouldn’t you stay until she wakes up?"

Mel took a deep breath, letting his words sink into her heart. The truth was, her mind was already far from that room. She knew there was nothing more she could do for Caitlyn. Her responsibility, her mother’s legacy, and the future of their lands rested in her hands. Her path had already been set.

"I can’t stay, Tobias," she answered softly. "Caitlyn is strong. There’s nothing more I can do for her. She knows what it means to fight for peace, and I know that’s the path I must take to restore it."

Tobias stepped closer, bowing his head briefly before locking eyes with her.

"I understand. And I know what you’re searching for—what this means to you. But don’t forget that even if we don’t say it, we need you too. Don’t let this journey change you more than it already has. And when the time comes, come back to this land that is also your home."

Mel nodded, her eyes gleaming with a mix of pain and resolve.

"I promise. I won’t forget you."

A long silence followed. Mel wanted to say more, but the words stayed stuck in her throat. She couldn’t promise anything else. She couldn’t give more than she already had.

Finally, Tobias extended his hand in a gesture of farewell. Mel looked at it for a moment, then grasped it firmly.

"Take care of Caitlyn," she said quietly.

Mel nodded one last time, and with a slight motion of her head, began to walk away, her steps steady but slow. In the distance, the horizon rose with the promise—and fear—of what awaited her in Noxus.

Mel walked with purpose. The wind caressed her face as her thoughts drifted from Piltover and Zaun toward the uncertain future awaiting her in Noxus. There was something almost visceral in her need to leave, as if destiny itself had chosen her for this journey.

As she walked, the weight of farewell and everything she left behind began to weigh more than the exhaustion of battle. She couldn’t stop thinking of her mother, of all she had done for Noxus, all she had sacrificed. Mel didn’t yet fully understand the meaning of the Black Rose, but something inside told her it held the key to the truth she had been searching for.

As she walked, the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs was the only thing she could hear. Birds sang in the distance, unaware of the conflicts tearing the land apart. The crow—that ominous crow that had followed her since leaving the hideout—reappeared in her vision. It circled overhead, its dark silhouette stark against the clear sky. Mel didn’t see it as just a bird. She knew it was there for a reason, even if she didn’t yet understand it.

Her gaze turned toward the horizon, where the sea met a now-clear sky. In the distance, beyond the waves, Noxus lay shrouded in the mystery of the ocean. She knew what she was about to do wouldn’t be easy. In fact, she was facing a battle far greater than she could imagine. But it was what she had to do.

At the port, the Noxian ships had already begun to set sail. Although Noxus wasn’t visible from there, the thought of what awaited her on the other side of the sea weighed heavily on her chest. The Noxian flag flew high atop the ships, the emblem of a city representing unity, war, determination. Everything Mel had inherited. Everything that had led her here.

Mel boarded one of the ships, the sea breeze greeting her like an old friend, as the city of Piltover faded in the distance. The crow continued circling overhead, now closer, as if guiding her toward something unknown, something waiting beyond the seas.

Onboard, the atmosphere was tense, and the Noxian soldiers, their gazes steely, barely acknowledged her presence. Mel sat in silence, letting the feeling of uncertainty wrap around her. She knew something inside her had changed, something that couldn’t be undone. Her mother, Noxus, the Black Rose... all of them were pieces of a puzzle she now had to solve.

As the ship moved forward and the daylight faded into a quiet darkness, Mel closed her eyes for a moment, letting the calm

of the sea wash over her. In her mind, a single question echoed without answer:

What truly awaited her in Noxus?

Chapter Text

Caitlyn returned to her room with a clouded mind, as if she had awakened in a dream she couldn’t escape. The soft sheets surrounded her, but they offered no comfort. The familiarity of the room—her home—now felt like a prison. Who was she after all this? Every part of her felt torn by pain and confusion, as if a piece of herself had vanished into the shadows.

Looking into the mirror, Caitlyn paid close attention to the scars marking her body—indelible reminders of her struggle. A wound on her right side reminded her of Ambessa’s dagger; Noxian steel had sliced her skin with deadly precision. A twist in her stomach recalled the agony and pain of the injury. But it wasn’t just the physical pain that haunted her. It was the constant reminder that she had failed. That she had been weak. That scar was more than a battle wound; it was a testament to her powerlessness.

Before she could process it all, another image appeared: her weary body, fighting even after the impossible. Memories piled on top of each other, pushing her toward the brink of madness.

The memories continued to crash through her mind, colliding in a tangled mess she couldn’t sort. One moment she was fighting Ambessa, the next in an unfamiliar place, then everything became blurry. She desperately tried to piece together how she had ended up here.

What did she have now, if she couldn’t even remember how she got to this point? Guilt consumed her from the inside. Every mistake, every defeat, echoed in her scars. Had she done all she could? Had she truly been brave, or just a shadow of what she once dreamed of becoming?

The mirror reflected someone unrecognizable. Not just because of the scars that decorated her skin, but because of the person she saw. Was this really her? There was something in her eyes that didn’t belong to the Caitlyn she remembered—hesitation, darkness. Had she been lost in the battle, or had the mask simply fallen?

The weight of uncertainty crushed her again, and unable to bear it anymore, she rose from the bed, ignoring the pain from her wounds, and left the room. She needed answers. She needed to understand what had happened while she was trapped in the darkness.

The creak of wood under her feet broke the silence as she entered the room, and Tobias’ eyes rose instantly. He seemed to have been waiting for her to return, but his expression carried a silent fear. Caitlyn, frowning and jaw clenched, looked at him with a mix of restrained anger and sadness.

"Dad..." Caitlyn's voice came out more broken than she expected, as if the words were trapped in her throat, forcing her to speak what she couldn’t express without pain. "I need answers. What happened? Why are you avoiding the topic of the time I was gone?"

Tobias slowly rose from his chair, the tremor in his hands evident as he adjusted his coat. He didn’t dare look her in the eyes. Instead, his gaze drifted to the fire still burning in the hearth, as if the flames might offer an answer he couldn’t find.

"Sweetheart... it wasn’t the right time... I didn’t know how..." His voice faltered, but before he could continue, she cut him off, unable to stand more of his evasions.

"No! You can’t keep staying silent to protect me! You have to tell me what happened! What happened while I was... while I was unconscious?" Her voice rose with force, but the anger did nothing to ease the deep pain surging through her.

Then the door opened, and Ekko appeared in the doorway, interrupting the rising tension. Caitlyn looked up and saw him. His presence, though as imposing as ever, seemed to calm the storm raging in her chest. For a moment, in the midst of chaos, his arrival brought a sense of stability. A part of her world clicked back into place.

"Ekko..." Caitlyn murmured, surprised to see him there, and even more surprised by the relief he brought. His expression was grave, but his eyes held a glimmer of understanding.

"Caitlyn," Ekko said, approaching with a respectful slowness. "I’m so sorry. I know this must be a lot to take in."

Tobias, seeing Ekko, finally seemed to relax a little, though his face remained heavy with worry.

"Ekko, I haven’t told her anything yet. She... she needs to know everything."

Caitlyn studied both men closely, observing their expressions with growing suspicion. On their faces, she saw something she hadn’t noticed before: a veil of tension, a shadow of worry that had been hiding beneath their usual composure.

Tobias, usually so imposing, looked older than ever, as if the decisions and pain of the past days had worn him down beyond recognition. His eyes, once full of determination, now avoided hers, as if afraid she might see too much, or worse, that the truth would be too much for her to bear.

Ekko, meanwhile, wore a serious expression, but his eyes reflected a burden Caitlyn couldn’t fully grasp. There was something in his gaze that unsettled her, as if he were waiting, as if he didn’t want—or couldn’t—say what he had to. His face was filled with doubt, as if the weight of the words he had to speak hurt more than he wanted to show. Everything about him indicated that what came next would be hard to hear.

Both men shared something in their expressions: an unspoken secret, a tense silence that connected them. Caitlyn frowned, searching their faces for answers, but found none. The mystery consumed her as she looked from one to the other, wondering what else they were hiding, what else had been left unsaid.

Ekko nodded slowly, taking a breath before turning to Caitlyn.

"Caitlyn, these past few weeks have been long and confusing. When you woke up, it wasn’t the right moment to talk, but now... now you have the right to know the truth. A lot has changed over the past two months."

Caitlyn stared at him, waiting for the words that might finally fill the void in her chest.

"Tell me. What have I missed?" Her voice broke at the end of the question, desperate.

"Mel went to Noxus to try and control the region and ease the growing tension with Piltover. She took all the Noxian soldiers with her," Ekko began, his voice heavy, as if each word hurt. "The situation in Piltover and Zaun... became unmanageable after the battle. Criminal gangs took advantage, and tensions flared again between the cities."

Caitlyn looked at him, waiting for more, but Ekko kept his eyes on the fire.

"Steb stepped up as interim commander. He’s trying to maintain order, and the council still hasn’t been reformed since the battle. Sevika is helping Steb rebuild Zaun, but..." He sighed. "Uncertainty still looms over the city. There are no clear answers, only growing chaos."

Caitlyn pressed her lips together, processing everything Ekko said.

"What about Jayce?" she asked tensely. "And Viktor?"

Ekko exhaled, the names seeming to wound him as well.

"Jayce and Viktor... disappeared, Caitlyn. Like they vanished. After the battle, we found no trace of them. We don’t know what happened. We don’t even know if they’re alive."

Caitlyn fell silent. The news of Jayce and Viktor’s disappearance hit her hard. She couldn’t believe it. Jayce had been like the brother she never had, always there for her. And when he needed her most, she hadn’t been there. Another person she couldn’t save.

She was deep in thought, still processing what Ekko had said, when he interrupted again, his voice graver.

"And not just them..." Ekko looked seriously at Caitlyn. "Jinx and Vander disappeared too."

Caitlyn looked up, surprised by the mention of Jinx. Though their relationship had been far from friendly, things had changed during the battle against Noxus.

"We haven’t found a single trace of them," Ekko continued, his voice heavy. "We don’t know if Jinx left on her own or if... something worse happened."

Caitlyn felt a flood of conflicting emotions. She remembered how Jinx had arrived at the last moment, saving her life in the midst of battle, when she had almost no strength left. Despite everything, in that moment, Jinx had been her savior. At the same time, she couldn't forget the horrors she had suffered because of her. But Jinx was Vi’s sister—the woman she loved. That alone tore her inside. How did she really feel about her? Could she even feel gratitude toward someone who had brought her so much pain?

Her heart sank deeper at the thought of Vander, Vi’s father, the man who had been a pillar in her life. Now he too had vanished. Caitlyn felt a rising frustration at not being there for Vi when she needed her most.

She took a deep breath, trying to process everything. So many had disappeared without a trace. And all she had done was float in darkness during that time, barely breathing while the world moved on without her. Guilt coursed through her, knotting her stomach.

"We don’t know what happened to any of them. The search has turned up nothing," Ekko said, his gaze reflecting the same uncertainty that consumed her. "But we can’t just stand still. We have to keep moving, even if we don’t know what the future holds."

After a brief silence, Caitlyn raised her eyes, finding enough courage to ask, her voice firm but cracked by pain.

"I don’t need protection. I just need the truth. Why isn’t Vi here with us? Why hasn’t anyone said anything about her?"

The question came with determination, but also with a deep anguish that lingered in the air.

Ekko looked at her, and in his eyes she saw a sorrow so profound it made her shiver. His guilt was clear, and the tension thickened.

The boy from Zaun sighed, his face etched with pain, and with a trembling voice, he began to tell her what had happened over the past two months. The words were hard, like open wounds, but he knew he couldn’t hide them any longer.

"Vi... I found her near the hexgate. She was alone, injured, with claw marks and a head injury. Her eyes were completely lost."

Caitlyn clenched her fists on her thighs to brace herself for the pain of his words, as if preparing for a blow.

"I cared for her for two weeks, trying to help her recover. But when she woke up... she didn’t recognize me. She didn’t know who I was, didn’t remember anything that happened. It was like the Vi we knew was gone."

Caitlyn listened intently, relaxing her fists to reveal the imprint of her nails on her palms. She was glad to know Vi was alive, but the thought of her being so lost, unable to recognize her friends, pained her.

"Then, Vi... ran away. She fled the hideout and vanished into the city streets. I tried to follow her, but I couldn’t find her. No one knew where she went," Ekko said, gritting his teeth. "Apparently, she joined a gang. Now... she’s one of the most wanted criminals in Piltover and Zaun."

His words hit Caitlyn like a dagger. Vi, her companion, her friend, her everything, now lost in the shadows, a fugitive. The anguish and sadness twisted in her chest. She couldn’t change what had happened, but the pain of not being there for her was unbearable.

Ekko looked at her, hoping his words made some sense, knowing the truth hurt more than anything he could say.

Caitlyn sat in silence, processing every word. The image of Vi, her fighter, lost and unrecognizing, was tearing her apart inside. She should have been there to ease her pain, to show her that she wasn’t alone. That even if she couldn’t remember, Caitlyn never stopped believing in her.

"How... how could you just let her go like that?" Caitlyn shouted, her voice filled with sorrow and anger.

The room went quiet at her cry.

Caitlyn sighed, and slowly, her frustration gave way to a growing determination in her chest.

"I won’t lose hope. I will make her remember every second of her life. I won’t leave her, or let her forget who we are, who we were."

Ekko looked at her, surprised by the strength in her voice, but said nothing. Caitlyn met his gaze, searching for understanding, for confirmation that not everything was lost.

"I know the Vi I knew is still in there, somewhere," Caitlyn continued, more to herself than to him. "Maybe she doesn’t remember everything, maybe she’s lost, but I can’t stop believing she can come back. I can’t give up. Not after everything we were. We’re stronger than this—together."

Ekko sighed, anguish in his features as he processed her words.

"Caitlyn, what happened to Vi..." Ekko said, choosing his words carefully. "The bleeding from her head injury is what caused the memory loss. It’s not that she left on purpose or chose to forget—she simply can’t remember anything. Not us, not her past. Everything we knew... is gone. And we don’t know if she’ll ever recover it. It’s been two months, and we still haven’t heard a word from her."

Caitlyn gritted her teeth, fighting the pain in Ekko’s words. She felt like he was losing hope that Vi would ever return. But deep inside her, something refused to surrender. Vi was strong. She knew that. Even if her memory was gone, that couldn’t be the end of their story.

"Maybe you tried and failed, but I’m not giving up without a fight. I know who Vi is. And I know that even without remembering me, she’ll feel me in her soul when she sees me," she said, hope shining in her eyes. "I’m going to find her. If I have to search every corner of Runeterra, I will. I won’t abandon her."

Ekko watched her in silence, feeling the weight of her determination. He couldn’t tell her she was wrong. He couldn’t make empty promises. But he saw in Caitlyn a strength that couldn’t be denied.

Finally, Caitlyn stood, a determined gleam in her eyes. She couldn’t stay here, waiting for something to change. Vi needed her, and if there was one thing Caitlyn knew how to do, it was fight for what she loved.

"I’m going to bring her back," she murmured to herself, voice firm. "Wait for me, Vi."

She left the room, heading toward her own. Her footsteps echoed through the empty mansion, but inside her, there was only one thought: Vi.

Reaching her room, she closed the door and approached the mirror. The reflection of her face, marked by worry and sorrow, reminded her of the long road ahead. But her eyes, though full of unease, still held a spark of hope. She had to do this. She couldn’t let fear or doubt stop her.

She began preparing, each movement more decisive than the last. She no longer felt pain from the battle wounds—not her side, not her eye. She secured her weapon, adjusted her gear, and looked at herself once more in the mirror. The city had changed in those two months. So had she. Nothing would be the same again, but she was ready to face it.

She had lost so much, but what mattered most was still out there, lost in the shadows. And she owed it to her to bring her back.

With a racing heart and a new goal, Caitlyn left

her room. She was ready to face everything that had changed over the past two months.

And most importantly, to bring back her beloved fighter.

Chapter Text

Vi woke up in a room she didn’t recognize, her head pounding violently, as if the world itself were crashing into her mind. When she opened her eyes, she saw a man with white dreadlocks and a rough expression standing in front of her. The place was strange and unfamiliar, filling her with confusion. Where was she? What had happened? Her mind was clouded and fragmented, struggling to remember and understand.

The Zaunite tried to focus on the man before her, but her mind betrayed her. She remembered faces, scenes of war, but everything dissolved into a thick fog. Her mother's scream, Powder’s hand clasped in hers, then... darkness. The images faded like smoke, and all that remained was a void, a hole in her mind.

But after that... how had she gotten here? What had happened after that horrifying moment? Trying to stand, a deep pain ran through her body—but it wasn’t just physical pain that disturbed her. Her reflection in the glass was foreign, as if it wasn’t her. What had changed in her body? Her hands, once small and delicate, now felt strong, as if the little girl she had once been no longer existed. Who was this woman before her? What remained of the child she once was?

The man observed her in silence, his eyes fixed on her, as if studying her. Vi felt it—that pressure in the air, as if something was about to break. Her mind could fail, but her instinct did not. Fear consumed her. She couldn’t stay there. She didn’t know him. Had he kidnapped her and done this to her? She couldn’t wait to find out.

She heard the man say something, but she was still too shocked. Once she fully reacted, the urge to escape took over. She was always agile, faster than most, and despite her injuries, she easily evaded the stranger. She ran without thinking, through hallways and doors, knocking down people trying to stop her until she finally made it outside. The silence of the streets surrounded her, but it brought a sense of desolation and emptiness.

She only heard the heavy footsteps of the dreadlocked man chasing her until she eventually lost him.

The air was heavy, thick with dust rising from the empty streets. The city lights, once bright and vibrant, now flickered weakly, as if the city's very heart had stopped beating. Vi sat on the ground, surrounded by silence, by a place she no longer recognized. The world seemed to have stopped—and with it, her soul. How long had she been trapped in that place? And what had happened to Powder?

Questions came rushing in, crashing into her chest like a storm.

The war... the distorted faces of the dead merged with the ruins around her. Blood, smoke, explosions—everything was a distant echo striking her mind. But she couldn’t remember how she had gotten here. Her mother... where was her mother? Vi looked around, but only shadows remained. The war had left scars on her body and soul, but her memories were still shattered fragments, like pieces of a puzzle she could never complete.

"Powder..." Vi whispered her name into the cold air.

Where was her sister? The city wasn’t safe for her, not after everything that had happened. Vi started walking, her heart pounding as her steps led her toward the only thought that mattered in that moment: she had to find her, had to make sure she was safe.

Vi ran, leaving behind the building that had been her prison, the place where she had awakened without memories. Confusion, uncertainty—her mind was chaos. But one thing drove her forward: finding Powder.

The Last Drop. That was the place her mother used to take her as a child, where she used to play-fight with Vander. The memory hit her like a gust of wind on her face. Though everything looked different, she knew it was the place she needed to go.

She didn’t find her there and only saw flashes of what had once been her home. The city, once so familiar in her youth, now felt foreign, as if everything had changed, as if the ruins of what she knew were devouring the world.

As she looked around the bar, desperation filled her. It looked almost the same as she remembered, yet it was in disrepair. It was like everything had been destroyed, yet time had stood still. And somehow, the passage of time in the city clashed with that place.

She left the bar, and in desperation, started asking people on the street about her sister. No one could help. No one knew anything. Each passing minute pushed her deeper into despair.

With a frustrated sigh, Vi pulled away from the crowd, her eyes fixed on the horizon, searching for something—a sign, a clue, anything that could lead her to her sister. On impulse, she had stolen the clothes of an industrial worker and found a cloak to cover her face. People stared at her, and though the cloak helped, she still felt the weight of their gazes. She didn’t want anyone to see her fear, her vulnerability.

Hours passed, but she found nothing. No clues, no trails, no voices to guide her to where Powder might be. Exhausted, her hands trembling with frustration, Vi ended up at a venue that appeared to be a fighting pit. A place where money-based fights were the norm, and bets rained down on the fighters. The crowd roared, enjoying the brutality. It wasn’t the right place, but it was crowded. Maybe someone there knew something.

"Have you seen a girl with blue hair?" she asked. Her voice was firm, but the pain behind it was unmistakable.

No one answered. No one paid attention. For a moment, Vi thought about leaving. But she couldn’t give up.

That’s when the owner approached—a burly man with a mocking smile.

"You wanna fight?" he asked with a suggestive tone, but Vi wasn’t there for that.

"No, I’m looking for someone. A girl with blue hair..." Vi repeated, her voice trembling slightly, nearly losing hope.

The man studied her, as if trying to see if he could profit from her. Eventually, he smirked.

"You're talking about Jinx," he said, the name slipping out like a whisper.

Vi heard it, and something stirred inside her. It was a strange name, and though she had never heard of anyone called "Jinx," something about it sounded oddly familiar. The name echoed in her chest, causing a sharp pain she couldn’t explain.

"There are two rumors about her," the man continued, ignoring the suffering in Vi’s eyes. "One, she died in the war. Two, she escaped to another region of Runeterra."

Vi frowned, puzzled. The name "Jinx" meant nothing to her. She couldn’t connect it to anything. And yet, something in her heart insisted they were talking about the same person. The pain in her chest was telling her so.

"Are you sure we’re talking about the same girl?" Vi asked, her voice shaky, clinging to the hope of an answer.

The owner looked at her indifferently, as if the answer was obvious. Then his expression turned mocking.

"If she survived, and it seems she did, she won’t be in Piltover or Zaun," he said matter-of-factly. "She was one of the most wanted people around here. She probably escaped to some other part of Runeterra."

Vi began to think about what to do. Her little sister, one of the most wanted? It made no sense.

"My name is Yuzul. I run a gang of thieves that travels constantly across Runeterra. We're always moving under my orders, taking what we need," he said with casual arrogance. "If you're interested, I can offer you a spot among us. You’ll have to fight, steal, and do whatever's needed. But you'll travel, and you might have a shot at finding your sister."

Vi looked at him with unwavering determination. If that was what she had to do to find Powder, then so be it. She would do whatever it took.

"How much are you willing to give to find your sister?" the man asked with a mocking, challenging tone.

Vi didn’t hesitate.

"My entire life," she answered, without blinking.

Yuzul stared at her for a moment, then laughed.

"Alright then. From this moment on, your life belongs to me. You work for me." He gestured for her to follow.

Yuzul took her to another place, a hideout, to introduce her to the gang.

The gang wasn’t much—just five people, including her. The leader, Ghostfer, a powerhouse with prosthetic legs that made him incredibly fast and muscular arms that crushed anything in his path. A true beast. The other three were nobodies—men drowning in debts they could never repay, willing to risk their lives for a few gold coins.

From that moment, the journey began.

Weeks passed through towns and cities, through theft and fights. Vi never lost sight of her goal: to find Powder. But as time passed, the loneliness weighed more. Frustration consumed her, and her patience thinned.

Whenever someone stood in her way, her aggression surged. She hit those who looked at her the wrong way, those who dared block her path. She beat them down without killing them, but with such fury that she left them nearly dead. Violence became her only outlet.

Streets filled with posters bearing her face. A hefty bounty was offered for her head. Her face, twisted by rage and despair, was printed in large letters. Vi stopped to look at one of those posters on a pole. She had always believed her toughness was her best weapon against life, but now she was lost in a spiral of violence. Yet, as she stared at the poster, a spark of hope ignited in her chest. If everyone could see those flyers, maybe Powder would too. Maybe, just maybe, she’d know Vi was looking for her.

Each passing day, her desperation grew. The only thing keeping her upright was the hope of finding her sister. Though the city changed, though people changed, she kept shouting Powder’s name in her mind.

"I’ll find you," she murmured to herself as she walked the lonely streets, her footsteps echoing with the resolve of someone who refuses to give up.

Chapter Text

"Today we're robbing this city's bank," said Ghostfer to the team members. "No excuses. We still haven't met the goals the boss set for us."

The other team members nodded and left. Vi listened to Ghostfer with indifference—her mind was elsewhere. She didn’t care about the money or the team's rules. Her only goal remained the same: find Powder.

Vi had never been a part of a team, nor did she intend to start now. Every time someone mentioned "teamwork," she felt the weight of distrust press on her chest. In her world, the only people worth trusting were those who needed no one. But now, surrounded by strangers, that solitude was slowly consuming her.

"Vi, did you hear anything I just said?" Ghostfer shouted, clearly annoyed. "You're strong, sure, but you haven’t earned enough to pay the boss for your services. Food and travel cost gold."

Vi raised her gaze to Ghostfer, the man who had begun to believe he could control her. His authoritative tone sparked a flicker of defiance in her chest.

"I don't care about your mission," she replied, her voice tense.

Her words made it clear that it wasn’t just about orders—it was the assumption that he could tell her what to do that really bothered her.

She wasn’t there to serve anyone, only herself. A month had passed since she woke up in that unfamiliar place, and the weight of everything she had lost still haunted her.

Ghostfer, visibly annoyed, let the comment slide, knowing Vi would still join the heist regardless.

When the time came, Vi put on her mask. Though she didn’t wear it in other places, here, her face wasn’t yet known. They walked in like any other customers.

"Everyone stay calm and no one gets hurt," Ghostfer said casually. He pointed his weapon at a man. "You, take this bag and have them put all the valuables in it."

The atmosphere was tense, the air thick with the customers’ latent fear. Every time someone looked at Vi, she could feel their hearts race. She saw the fear in their eyes, and it thrilled her. The sound of footsteps pounded in her ears as she approached the teller, adrenaline rising in her chest. Every second mattered.

With a swift move, she approached the trembling teller.

"Don't try anything stupid," she murmured, bringing her face close to his, knowing her words held more power than any weapon.

The tellers, clearly intimidated, began putting anything of value into the bag. One man tried to fight back to stop the robbery, but Vi was faster. With terrifying ease, she struck the side of his neck, knocking him out cold. No one else in the building doubted how dangerous they were.

While she waited for the others to finish their part of the heist, Vi closed her eyes for a moment. A flash from the past appeared: a woman with blue eyes, her words full of hope. Her sweet voice surfaced, but they were only shadows that vanished when she needed them most.

The heist was successful. Back at their camp, the team was drinking and enjoying what was left of the day. But to Vi, that meant nothing. She never joined in their celebrations. She slipped away to another part of the city.

Bilgewater’s harbor was quiet. The sound of the sea crashing against the rocks was a comforting contrast to the constant noise of Zaun’s streets. Standing atop a rock, staring at the line where sea met sky, something in her relaxed. The salty wind that brought drops of sea spray calmed her, and her memories returned to the days of laughter and embraces with her mother and Powder. Those times felt so far away now, almost unreachable.

In that moment, she allowed herself a small breath. Here in Bilgewater, there were no posters with her face, no one knew her, no one stared. For a moment, she felt invisible. A thought crossed her mind—maybe, if she found Powder, they could stay here together forever. Start a new life, far from everything that had hurt them.

Her moment of peace broke when noise came from a nearby bar. Vi narrowed her eyes, alerted by the shouting, and approached. Upon arrival, she saw two men fighting in front of a red-haired woman who, to Vi’s surprise, seemed to enjoy the spectacle. The woman remained silent, but her laughter was clear, as if finding twisted fun in the fight.

"Get outta here, idiot, I saw her first!" one man shouted.

"She’d definitely prefer me. Look at her—she wouldn’t go for an old rag like you," the other replied arrogantly.

Vi watched, recognizing the typical macho display over a woman. She had never understood that behavior. When one of them fell on top of the pirate-dressed woman, Vi stepped in.

"Hey, idiots. Be careful with the lady," said Vi, looking at the man still trying to get up. "Are you seriously dumb enough to think this is how you charm a woman? You really don’t use your brains."

The red-haired woman gave her a playful look, as if Vi’s intervention was the spark of something greater. Vi was ready to fight if needed and could feel the pirate’s gaze scanning her body—but she didn’t dwell on it.

She watched as the man stood, rubbing his face and glaring. The red-haired woman kept smiling, clearly enjoying the chaos.

After a few seconds, the pirate approached Vi, giving her a light pat on the shoulder like her intervention had been part of a game.

"It's a lost cause, friend. Those idiots just don’t know how to treat a lady," she said, her tone casual but with amusement glinting in her eyes.

Vi raised an eyebrow. The woman seemed completely unfazed while Vi was still tense, annoyed she’d gotten involved.

"You think you can come to our turf and call us idiots, outsider?" said the other man, still standing. "I’ll teach you to respect a man."

The man charged with a fist aiming for Vi’s face. She easily dodged, tripping him with her foot and slamming him with full force. The crack of his jaw against the wooden floor silenced the room.

Vi stepped up to the other man, still nursing his face.

"You wanna test me too?" she asked, eyes burning with long-suppressed anger and frustration. The man, visibly intimidated, simply ran away.

That was it. No more problems.

"Show's over, folks," said Vi, eyes sweeping over the stunned crowd.

The woman stepped closer, her expression now more appraising than playful.

"Didn’t expect a girl like you to step into this kind of mess," she said, smiling with a mix of interest and approval. "Can I buy you a drink? Just a little thank you for your heroic rescue."

Vi, now more relaxed, accepted the drink. She needed a break from all the fights and stress. She sat with her at the bar.

"Give me the strongest thing you've got," Vi told the bartender.

"No hesitation. What are you trying to forget with that drink?" asked the pirate, studying the bitter expression on Vi’s face.

"I’m not trying to forget anything," Vi said calmly. For a moment, she studied the pirate’s face, looking for any reason not to trust her—but found none. "I'm... looking for someone. A girl. She has blue hair. Most people know her as Jinx."

The woman looked at her, evaluating her words. Something in Vi’s face—perhaps that spark of desperation mixed with hope—told her how important this search was.

"Jinx, huh?" the woman said with an amused smile. "I’ve heard some rumors. There's always something interesting going on in this city."

Vi frowned, waiting for any info the pirate might give her.

"What do you know about her?" she asked anxiously.

The woman, still smiling, sighed.

"Not much," she said casually. "Just rumors. That name... it’s been circulating around town."

Vi once again found herself chasing shadows. No one really knew where her sister was—just whispers in a noisy city.

The woman seemed to read her thoughts.

"My name’s Sarah. Folks call me Miss Fortune," she said with a small nod. "I’m a pirate—the most recognized in Bilgewater. If you're looking for someone like Jinx, you might find more answers searching different cities. I have a ship. We sail around many ports and hear more than just rumors."

Vi observed her. Something in Miss Fortune’s way of speaking instantly intrigued her. Her eyes traveled over the pirate’s figure—her strong posture, her character, a mix of charm and danger that left Vi speechless. That commanding presence made her feel oddly safe.

"I’d be honored if a strong and beautiful woman like you joined my crew," Miss Fortune continued, her voice lower, full of possibilities. "My ship needs someone like you—guts, a clear purpose. You could be part of the crew. Maybe along the way, we’ll find something about the girl you're searching for."

She ran a finger from Vi’s left hand up the muscles of her arm and stopped under her chin, lifting it gently.

"I'm already in a crew helping me find her," Vi replied, slightly intimidated by the touch.

"I guess your search hasn’t gotten far if you’re still here drinking with me," Sarah smiled, sipping her drink.

Vi hesitated. Her mind was torn. This woman had read her perfectly. Now she was seriously considering leaving her gang to follow a pirate she’d just met. She didn’t want to be a pirate, nor did she trust Sarah fully—but the possibility of something new, another way to reach her goal, was tempting. And Miss Fortune’s charming personality had a pull. She was confident, and her figure... definitely attractive.

"I don't know if..." Vi began, unsure, though part of her had already decided.

"You don’t have to decide now," Miss Fortune smiled, seeing Vi’s hesitation. "I’m offering you a chance. Sometimes, what we need most is just one chance to change our fate. And I’m giving it to you."

The pirate handed her a piece of paper with instructions to find her and left the bar with her usual confidence.

Vi stayed a moment, staring at the paper. The need for something different, something new, made her decision for her. She ran out of the bar after the pirate.

"I accept, Miss Fortune," Vi shouted to her retreating figure. "On one condition: help me find my sister."

Sarah turned around with a smile that said she knew the decision had been made the moment they met.

"You can call me Sarah. And yes, I’ll help you however I can to find her. Meet me on my ship at midnight. We set sail then. I won’t wait."

That night, without the others noticing, Vi took a small bag of stolen valuables, slipped out of camp, and headed to Miss Fortune’s ship.

As she climbed aboard, she saw Sarah waiting for her.

"I knew you couldn’t resist. By the way, you haven’t told me your name."

"My name’s Vi. Just Vi," she said seriously. "And I don’t like arriving empty-handed. Here."

She handed Sarah the bag, filled with valuables.

"Darling, that wasn’t necessary. I’ve got plenty of these on my ship," Sarah said with a smile. "Make yourself comfortable and enjoy the ride."

During the first week on the ship, Vi met the entire crew. She had her own cabin—something she never imagined having. People were kind, and every night was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Vi sat beside Sarah, talking for hours. Joy returned to her soul, as if her past life was becoming a distant memory. It felt good to have a warm place, somewhere to belong—something she hadn’t had since the war ruined everything.

Yes, they were pirates. They robbed and looted, but there was a rule on Sarah’s ship: anyone caught hurting someone or using violence would be expelled. Peace on board felt strange—but comforting to Vi. She could breathe without living on the edge of violence.

The days of fights and chaos were behind her. Now they were pirates—yes, they stole and raided—but there was one rule on Sarah’s crew that she never hesitated to enforce: anyone caught hitting or harming someone would be expelled. Peace on board was something unusual, but comforting to Vi. She could breathe without having to constantly be on the edge of violence.

On one of the many party nights, Sarah came over to talk to Vi as she usually did.
"I've got something to show you in the kitchen", She whispered into Vi’s ear.

The two women left the room and headed to the kitchen.
"You know... ever since I met you in that bar, I knew you were different", She began kissing Vi’s neck with evident desire, "Now it’s hard for me to see those muscles and not want to explore every line of them."

Vi's mind clouded with dark desire. She'd never had sex, but she remembered her mother's moans and her father's moans at night. At the time, they had seemed like unpleasant screams and they clearly disgusted her, but now she felt the need to make Sarah scream her name until she was tired.

She turned the pirate around in obvious desperation and leaned her on the kitchen table, tearing off what she was wearing to let her voluminous breasts fall into the open air.

"Agh...", Sarah moaned as she felt her blouse and everything she was wearing rip. This turned her on tremendously, "Look, I haven't closed the kitchen door".

"Don't worry, I assure you that you'll scream so loudly that no one will dare to enter", Malice and desire laced her words.

Vi’s words only heightened the pirate’s excitement.

Vi removed what remained of the pirate's clothing to expose her back. She began to touch the hard nipples that jutted forward with her rough hands while her mouth traveled along the arch of her back.

Moans were immediate. For the first time in the time she had known her, Sarah allowed herself to be dominated by Vi, who was increasingly ardent with desire. When she felt the need, she yanked Sarah's pants down and, with one hand resting on her back, lightly slammed her against the table, while the other hand ran over the curves of her beautiful ass.

She'd never seen any other pussy other than her own; its hair was the same color as the hair on her head. She began to explore with his fingers the effects of each movement of his fingers around it, watching in detail as the delicious juice flowed from between her legs and her moans grew faster and faster with the need for him to insert his fingers and discover her insides.

She wanted to play a little longer—she wouldn’t let Sarah get what she wanted so easily.

She began by caressing her clitoris with his two fingers, massaging them in delicate circles until she began to feel it swell between his fingers.

"Tell me what you want," Vi said lustfully.

"Fuck me with your fingers, Vi... I need it," Sarah begged between desperate moans.

Without waiting any longer, she moved his fingers a little higher to where the entrance to her interior was and began to play with the tips of his fingers, massaging while playing with the fluids.

"Please, Vi... I can't take it anymore!", the pirate exclaimed desperately.

Vi inserted two fingers of her right hand fully and quickly into Sarah's vulva as she let out a scream that was probably heard to the ends of Runeterra.

Leaning on her shoulder with her left hand while her breasts remained pressed against the table and her back arched with excitement, her hips pushing against his right hand, Vi began to thrust into her in a monstrous way, wanting to get out all the liquid she had inside.

"Is this how you like it, pirate? Tonight you're mine." Vi's face was flushed with heat, all the arousal she felt throbbing in her vulva had risen to her cheeks. "I'll give it to you until I'm satisfied."

Sarah definitely liked being dominated and treated that way. Apparently, she wasn't new to it.

Vi still wasn't satisfied. She grabbed Sarah and flipped her over again. Now facing each other, she grabbed her hips and sat her on the table. With both hands, she guided Sarah's legs into a V position, exposing her pussy for further thrusts, but now she wanted to see the expressions of pleasure on her face.

"I'll fuck you, Sarah... I'll fuck you in every opening in your body," Vi said, making Sarah lick her fingers, which were covered in her own vaginal fluid.

She was manipulating her as she wanted, she took Sarah's back with his left hand, inserted 3 fingers into her back and rammed into her.

"Aaaah!", Sarah screamed, a mix of pain and pleasure.

Then Vi pulled out her fingers. Sarah looked at her, wondering what she was planning to do next. Vi inserted two fingers into her vulva and gently guided the third between her buttocks. She felt the pressure of her walls against her finger. Sarah's look of surprise and excitement was impossible to look away from. With the three fingers spread between her two holes, She began to thrust into her even harder.

"Come on, pirate, call my name," Vi said with increasing desire and a beastly serious look.

"Vi... Vi... ¡Vi! ¡Aaagh!", She moaned with excitement.

Vi stopped thrusting and left his fingers digging deep inside Sarah. Her body was writhing, and she felt the tremors and shivers running through her. Immediately, her right hand was flooded with the resulting pleasure from Sarah. Within seconds, she relaxed her body, leaving it at the mercy of Vi's left hand, which continued to hold her.

Sarah leaned in to kiss her on the lips, but Vi turned her face away.
"To the crew, you're the captain, but in bed, I’m in charge... no kisses, no romance. I’ll be your owner, and I decide what I want.", Vi declared in such a dominant tone that it made Sarah's mouth water.

"As you wish, darling".

Two months after waking up, Vi still had no leads on Powder. With each passing day, her sister’s image faded more and more in her memory. Powder was becoming a distant memory—almost a shadow she couldn’t touch.

During that time, whenever she wanted, Vi took Sarah as her own. She did as she pleased with her in various places around the ship, regardless of who might see or hear. Truth be told, the entire crew already knew what was coming whenever Vi whispered into Sarah’s ear.

That day, Vi was more pensive than usual, standing on the deck of the ship, gazing toward the distant lands that stretched before her. Her thoughts traveled far, but no answers came—only the echo of her own mind.

Sarah, who had approached quietly, watched her for a moment, noticing the frustration Vi was trying to hide. She stepped closer, her soft voice breaking the silence.

"What are you thinking about? ", she asked, her tone filled with interest.

Vi looked at her, feeling a mix of relief and sadness from not having to hide her thoughts. Sarah had become a close friend and confidant. Her words came out more sincerely than she expected.

"I like not having to fight anymore. ", Vi confessed, gazing at the horizon." But sometimes, being this... calm... feels like I’m betraying the memory of my sister and the goal of finding her... Powder and I were very close. Our family was always poor, but very united. We often had to beg for food. Sometimes we could have a bit of meat when our parents gathered enough money to buy some. Everything changed the day Mom left and told us to wait—but she never came back. I took Powder’s hand, told her to close her eyes with her free hand, and we walked through the fire on the bridge connecting Piltover and Zaun. That’s where we found my mother’s body. She died in that war. I immediately felt responsible for taking care of Powder and promised her we’d never be separated."

Without realizing, Vi broke down in tears that rolled down her cheeks.

Sarah, visibly moved, took a step toward her, her face full of empathy.
"And what happened after that?", she asked softly, without rushing, as if she knew there was more.

Vi frowned, her mind trying to piece the memories together, but she couldn’t. Everything was blurry, as if the pain from those years had washed everything clear away.
"I don’t know", Vi admitted, her voice cracking as she looked into Sarah’s eyes with a hint of frustration. "I can’t remember what happened after".

Sarah saw the frustration in Vi’s face—the emptiness surrounding her—and embraced her, while Vi collapsed in her arms, burying her face in Sarah’s neck. A few minutes later, Vi wiped away her tears and looked at Sarah, silently thanking her for being there.

In a sudden impulse, Sarah leaned in and kissed Vi on the lips. Vi felt her cheeks flush with heat, felt the urge to push her away—but she couldn’t. When their lips parted, Sarah invited her to her cabin. Though surprised, Vi didn’t object. Sarah had never let her into her cabin before, and something about the way she looked at Vi made it hard to say no.

Upon entering Sarah’s room, Vi was stunned by the amount of luxury. Jewelry, watches, mementos from distant places... Sarah had collected a lot over the years. But what surprised Vi most was how everything seemed to have a purpose—a story.

"Wow, rich girl, who would've thought", Vi said while admiring the valuables.

Smiling, Sarah began searching through her things and finally pulled out a gold bracelet. It was delicate, with fine and elegant engravings. When Vi saw it, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

"This is for you", Sarah said, handing it to her with a hint of pride. "I had your name engraved on it".

Vi looked at her, surprised. No one had ever given her anything like that. It was a simple gesture, but in that moment, it felt like the bracelet represented something she’d lost long ago—affection from someone who truly cared.

"Thank you... ", Vi murmured, looking at the bracelet in her hand. "No one’s ever given me something like this... I don’t know how to repay you".

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the air between them was charged with more than just words. Vi felt a strange spark of electricity—but before she could process it, Sarah leaned in again and kissed her.

Vi didn’t know what to do. The surprise froze her again for a moment, but then the feeling of Sarah’s lips on hers awoke something new. The tension she had felt before burst into a connection Vi longed for. All she knew was that, in that moment, the world seemed to stop.

Sarah noticed Vi’s nervousness, seeing how her hands trembled slightly and the uncertain expression on her face. She smiled softly and, in a calm voice, said:

"Relax, Vi. Tonight, I’ll be the one to guide you. Everything’s fine—just let yourself go", exclaimed the pirate with an unprecedented sweetness.

Vi, though a little nervous, nodded slowly, feeling a mixture of conflicting emotions. Sarah approached gently, laying Vi down at the edge of the bed with a delicacy that brought a strange sense of calm. With confident movements, Sarah positioned herself over Vi, searching for her gaze. Vi couldn’t help but feel drawn to her confidence, though a part of her still struggled with her desires.

Sarah kissed her lips again, gently, and Vi surrendered to the warmth of the moment, closing her eyes. With a smile on her lips, Sarah began tracing the edge of Vi’s jaw with her mouth, then moved lower to savor the sweet taste of her neck, appreciating every detail of her skin. Vi, slightly blushing, gave in to the sensations Sarah’s lips awakened on her skin.

Sarah’s hands slid over Vi’s shoulders, slowly pulling down her jacket. Vi didn’t resist, letting herself be carried by the moment. Her shirt followed the same path, revealing a torso sculpted by the gods themselves. Sarah’s lips explored every fold of Vi’s abdomen, feeling how she squirmed under the new sensations. Every movement from Sarah felt like a slow game, but full of intensity.

The buckle on Vi’s pants caught Sarah’s attention. With skill, she unfastened them and slowly removed her pants, kneeling to take in the view before her. She began to massage the strong, sculpted thighs of the Greek goddess standing before her. She began massaging the strong, bulging thighs of the Greek goddess before her. Her lips traced a path between her thighs, getting dangerously close to Vi's pleasure center, eliciting moans of anticipation.

Vi felt vulnerable, but at the same time, she wanted to discover what this moment would bring her. The connection between them was palpable, a whisper between each shared breath. With a playful tongue, Sarah circled Vi's clit as a delicious, clear liquid began to flow. The moans increased in intensity as the heat built inside Vi. Her mind shut down; only the pleasure existed.

Sarah's expert fingers found their way inside Vi. She was eager, every movement of her fingers felt like she was bringing her to the edge of ecstasy as her tongue fluttered, swelling her core even further. And then it happened: an uncontrollable scream escaped Vi's lips as white liquid filled the pirate's mouth.

"Cait!" Vi screamed in an anguished sound, overcome by the orgasm of the moment.

An endless minute passed in silence until Sarah raised her head and asked with a look of disbelief:

"What?" the pirate exclaimed in astonishment.

Oh god, kill me please.

Chapter Text

The first week after Caitlyn woke up, the anxiety only increased with each passing day. She spent her time traveling from one place to another, boarding her family’s airship and visiting various cities and towns.

Every false lead, every dead end, was a reminder of her failure. Caitlyn felt her determination slowly crumble. What was left of her if she couldn’t save the one person who had made everything make sense? Vi was her anchor, and without her, she was losing everything.

Her steps grew heavier, her mind clouded by doubt and fear.

At one point, she thought she had found the definitive lead—a whisper in a forgotten tavern. A surge of excitement ran through her body, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. But when she arrived, the trail vanished like mist in the wind. The void left by broken hope was louder than the silence around her.

The exhaustion was evident on her face. The face that had once remained firm and full of resolve now reflected frustration and despair. Ekko looked at her with a trace of sadness every time their searches led to another dead end.

"Caitlyn, take it easy. There are still many places left to search in Runeterra." He tried to give hope to the tall girl with blue hair, hoping to believe his own words.

"Ekko, it's been a week and we still don’t have a single clue about her."

Her eyes darted around wildly, thinking of all the possibilities and searching for any detail or new alternative.

"Damn it!" Caitlyn shouted, letting her tears soak the patch over her eye, pounding her fist against a building wall.

She wanted to collapse, to break down, to let sorrow drag her into the deep wastelands of loneliness, and at the same time, the rage growing inside her urged her to burn everything down just to find the only person who made her feel whole.

"Cait..." Ekko called her name, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Unleashing her bottled-up anger, Caitlyn struck Ekko’s extended arm and stepped closer to his face, eyes blazing.

"You don’t understand!" Caitlyn couldn’t stop a burst of rage. "I’ve searched all over Runeterra. A whole damn week, Ekko! And it’s all been for nothing. What else am I supposed to do?"

Her breathing was erratic as she fired off her accusations at the white-dreadlocked boy.

"I haven’t forgotten that Vi escaped under your watch. Couldn’t you have done something to stop her?!"

Ekko grew serious. He understood Caitlyn’s pain, but her harsh words stung, redirecting her grief at him without realizing he was suffering too.

"Cait... Don’t forget she’s like a sister to me." He lowered his head and sobbed. "Maybe I could’ve done more... I don’t know, but just like you, I’m hurting."

Caitlyn, who had clenched her jaw tight from rage, began to relax, realizing she’d been cruel to someone who didn’t deserve it and who was helping her with a mission that felt impossible.

"I’m sorry, Ekko..." she murmured, turning her back to the small man.

Ekko hugged her from behind without saying a word. Caitlyn lowered her head, sobbing as her body trembled with frustration. There was nothing left to say—only to keep searching without losing hope.

Each night, as the sun set, she felt another piece of herself crumble. Her reason for being, her purpose—the search for Vi—was slipping through her fingers like fine sand. She had found nothing solid, only more questions than answers. The end of that week was drawing near.

"Ekko," Caitlyn murmured while sitting on the floor, leaning against one of the airship’s walls.

"Tell me."

"The Council has asked me to resume my role as commander immediately..." Caitlyn said with a blank expression, knowing what accepting that decision meant.

Ekko lay on the cold floor, staring at the ceiling.

"Cait, the city... the cities need you. I know how much you love Vi. I’ve seen how badly you need her, and I know she needs you too, but you’ll have to let me continue the search." He sighed and looked her in the eyes. "You have to trust me."

Caitlyn fell silent, wanting to refuse his proposal and forget all her responsibilities, but she forced herself to silence her fears for the sake of Piltover and Zaun.

"Thank you, Ekko... Yes, I trust you."

After that brief conversation, they headed back to Piltover.

The aircraft descended gently toward the family mansion, the sound of its engines echoing in their ears as the city unfolded below them. She had no idea how she was going to face that second week.

"Daughter, how did the search go?" Tobias asked, welcoming Caitlyn.

Behind her, Ekko signaled to the doctor that there was no news.

Caitlyn’s gaze was distant. She said goodbye to the white-haired young man who had traveled on the airship to continue searching for Vi. She immediately entered the mansion, heading to her room without uttering a single word to her father. She felt the emptiness in that vast mansion; time had completely slipped away, and with deep and uncomfortable sadness, she had to go on.

Ekko would continue the search, but Caitlyn had to return to her duties as commander. The weight of her role called to her strongly, with two cities clashing and constantly tearing each other apart.

She stepped closer to look at the crumbling city before her, when a memory of Vi struck her.

Vi was lying on the ground with the wound Sevika had inflicted.

"You're an all-right shot."

"I’m an excellent shot."

"You gonna help me out, cupcake?"

Caitlyn extended her hand to grab the Zaunite’s and help her up. She supported her other arm around Vi’s back.

"Stop calling me that. My name is Caitlyn."

"But you’re so sweet, like a cupcake."

Even injured, the Zaunite still carried herself with boldness and self-confidence. Caitlyn just laughed at the comment.

"Shut up."

Her mind lost in memories, searching for strength to keep going, she went to bed hoping these days were just a bad dream.

Monday.

Upon arriving at her office, the weight of responsibility settled on her shoulders like a mantle of iron. The desk, piled with papers and documents, awaited her—a cruel reminder of everything she couldn’t control. She thanked Steb for his work as she sat down, but the sensation of being trapped in routine was consuming her. She couldn’t concentrate. She couldn’t stop thinking about Vi—her face, her smile, their shared moments.

Caitlyn closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm the storm raging inside her. She didn’t have time to stop, she couldn’t afford to. But inside, the pieces of her life were falling apart. Still, her body remained tethered to the tasks she had to carry out as commander.

The silence in the office was deafening. Caitlyn looked at the papers in front of her and sighed, knowing she couldn’t go on like this, yet not knowing how to break the cycle.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the soft knock on the door. Only when Nora’s voice pulled her from her daydream did she lift her gaze.

"May I come in, Commander?" said Nora, her tone always professional but with a softness she reserved only for Caitlyn.

"Come in," Caitlyn replied, distracted and overwhelmed by the amount of work spread across her desk.

Nora entered with a firm step, carrying a stack of papers and some documents in hand. She approached Caitlyn’s desk and set them on the polished wooden surface before speaking.

"Damn," Cait thought as she saw even more papers pile up.

"Commander, I have several updates for you." Nora paused before continuing, as if preparing the ground for what she was about to say. "First, some members of high society have requested an audience. They want to discuss several pending issues, although I’m not exactly sure what."

Caitlyn nodded without much interest. High society had always been a constant burden, and their needs never seemed to align with the city’s real priorities.

"Understood," Caitlyn said in a voice that didn’t hide her exhaustion. "What else?"

Nora continued while organizing more papers.

"The reconstruction is slow. Reports indicate only 30% of the city has been addressed. Additionally, we’re in need of more people to speed up the process. The lack of resources and personnel is evident." Nora paused to glance at her notes. "There are still disturbances on the bridges connecting Zaun and Piltover. Tensions between both sectors have been escalating."

Caitlyn pressed her lips together; her frustration only grew with each piece of news. Not only had she found no leads about Vi, but the city also seemed to be crumbling around her. Reconstruction felt impossible without greater support.

"We also received letters from Noxus during the months you were absent, Commander. One of them requests new negotiations to discuss trade agreements, and the others were addressed directly to you." Nora paused briefly, as if measuring her words, before adding, "Finally, the merchants are asking for your presence on the ground. Crime has risen, and they’re very concerned about the increasing insecurity in the city."

Caitlyn took a moment to process the information. Everything seemed out of control, and although she was grateful for Nora’s efficiency, the number of issues overwhelmed her. The city was in ruins, the people lived in fear, and the peace she had tried so hard to preserve seemed further and further away.

"Alright, have the necessary meetings arranged. I’ll handle everything else," Caitlyn replied with a voice more determined than she actually felt inside.

Nora nodded and, noticing Caitlyn’s tired expression, added with a faint smile,

"If you need anything else, I’ll be at my desk outside."

Caitlyn remained staring at the papers on her desk after Nora left. The sound of the door closing behind her was the only thing that broke the heavy silence. The weight of everything she had to do fell on her once more, like a slab. Where to begin?

She leaned back in her chair, letting her shoulders drop for a moment, and closed her eyes. A sigh escaped her lips, but then she straightened. She couldn’t give up. Not yet.

"One day at a time," she whispered to herself, a mantra she had repeated so many times in recent days, and with that thought, she began to organize the papers in front of her.

There was work to be done, many decisions to make.
And although the void left by Vi’s absence still haunted her, Caitlyn knew she had to go on. The city, the people—they all depended on her. There was much to rebuild, and she couldn’t allow her pain to hold her back.

That first day, Caitlyn decided the most important thing was to show her officers that, despite the uncertainty, she was still their leader. She gathered all the city’s officers in the center of the Enforcers’ headquarters and spoke to them with firmness, aiming to instill them with courage and resolve.

"Officers, Enforcers, Lieutenants—everyone present. Many of you know me; some of you might not. I’ve been away for a time due to the battle against the Noxians. They took much from us—the stability of our city, our resources, even members of our families. Our courage and strength have been tested, and I can only be proud of how each of you defended this city." Her voice filled with a noticeable pride in the eyes of those watching. "Now, I know I’m asking a lot... I’m asking you to join me in restoring the glory of this beautiful city. We must fulfill our duty to protect every citizen, to lift every fallen brick, and to be the ones who restore peace to Piltover and Zaun."

The crowd listened in admiration as the Commander’s voice echoed with strength through the hall.

"Let’s not be ruled by fear. We are the backbone of this city, and we will prove it through action."

Caitlyn’s words were met with applause, and her senior officers looked at her with approval. Though the burden on her shoulders was heavy, she knew her leadership was needed. That first day was only the beginning of everything she still had to do.

Tuesday.

Caitlyn decided to patrol the city with some of her officers. It helped her connect with them on a more personal level and forget about the exhausting paperwork. As they walked through the streets, she observed the changes and the growing criminality. Although the situation wasn’t chaotic yet, there was a palpable sense of insecurity in the air. The criminals seemed scattered, with no major criminal organizations, but small thefts and acts of violence were a constant.

Most of the enforcers were young and new—a consequence of the battle that had taken many lives from their ranks.

Despite everything, Caitlyn couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of calm seeing that the situation hadn’t escalated into something more dangerous. The officers who accompanied her proved that order still remained in the city, and that gave her a bit of hope.

Wednesday.

Perhaps it was the hardest day for the blue-haired woman. She withdrew to her office, surrounded by papers, as the reality of the situation consumed her. With every document she signed, with every report she read, the despair over Vi’s absence intensified. She couldn’t help but wait for a signal from Ekko—something to tell her there was news about the fighter’s whereabouts. But nothing came.

Caitlyn allowed herself to cry in silence in that lonely place. For a long time, she let the tears fall as her heart broke over and over again. At the same time, responsibilities continued to pile up on her, a burden she couldn’t shed. At the end of that day, when the tears had dried, she returned to her paperwork well past nightfall. She couldn’t give up. She mustn’t.

Thursday.

Her father, Tobias, was worried about her. He saw how, in an attempt to escape her own thoughts, she had almost completely dedicated herself to work. How much longer could she keep going at that pace? Even she didn’t know, but she had to keep trying.

This was the most complicated day politically. Members of high society had gathered with Caitlyn, demanding her removal. They wanted the council reinstated, for the city to return to how it had been governed before—when everything was "under control."

Caitlyn listened, maintaining an unshakable calm, even though rage consumed her inside. These were the same individuals who had never looked beyond their own interests.

"I can’t do what you want," she said firmly. "I’m not a decorative figure, and this is not the time to fall back into old habits. Piltover needs more than people who only look out for themselves. It needs leadership willing to sacrifice for the city, not for the elites."

"Your leadership led us into a war!" one of the nobles shouted.

She knew he was right, but she couldn’t show weakness.

"My leadership? We’ve had a war at home—with Zaun—even before I was born," she snapped. "I’m a Kiramman, part of the most influential houses, just like all of you. I’m capable of recognizing certain mistakes during my term, but I’m also capable of finding solutions for the good of our cities. That’s something I don’t see in any of you right now."

Silence filled the room. After a few minutes, the arguments resumed. Caitlyn focused only on enduring the nobles’ ruthless attacks. Although the discussions dragged on, she left that meeting knowing that, for now at least, she didn’t have to yield to the pressure. The city was more important than any useless debate.

Friday.

Today was a day to meet with the merchants in central Piltover. They had requested her presence due to growing concerns about security. They needed permanent enforcers on some streets—firmer security so they could continue their businesses without fear.

"I understand your concerns," Caitlyn told them, meeting each of their eyes to provide the assurance they needed. "I’m committed to ensuring your businesses can thrive in a safe environment, but we must make sure our response is balanced and not exhaust the resources we have. We can’t let fear take over the city."

After a few seconds of thought, she continued.

"I’ll assign a group of guards to patrol these areas at intervals. Their presence should be enough to deter criminals. One of you will have radio contact with the patrol and notify us in case something happens."

The discussions on security measures for the area were settled, but Caitlyn knew she had to find a long-term solution. She couldn’t just rely on palliatives and brute force. Justice had to prevail.

Saturday.

The end of the workweek had arrived, and while it might be a relief for some, for Caitlyn, it was a reminder that she’d have a whole day to drown in her personal problems.

That day she met with the port merchants. They had reported an increase in pirate activity in the area. On top of everything else, the city now had to face this new threat. The merchants were terrified—they feared the harbor would become a haven for sea criminals.

"I’m going to implement a plan to reinforce port security," Caitlyn said with determination. "Long-term, I hope to establish a naval fleet to support us in facing these new challenges."

Throughout the week, Caitlyn had faced each challenge with renewed strength, but inside her, the lack of news about Vi was still an overwhelming weight. Each passing day made the question about Vi’s whereabouts harder to bear. But despite the uncertainty, Caitlyn reminded herself she had to keep going.

She had just finished her meeting at the port, frustrated by the merchants’ growing concerns about pirates, when she decided to walk back to her office. The fresh city air brushed her softly as she passed through the market stalls, her mind still occupied with the problems she’d just faced. Yet something caught her attention. A quick, stealthy movement at one of the merchandise stalls.

Instinctively, her eye locked on the hooded figure slipping through the shadows—someone had apparently stolen from a jewelry stall nearby. The owner hadn’t noticed, but Caitlyn had, and she wasn’t going to let it slide.

Not a second of hesitation. Her body reacted immediately. Years of training, experience, and dedication as an enforcer had prepared her for situations like this. In the blink of an eye, Caitlyn started running after the figure—her steps swift and firm, calculating every movement of the stranger with precision.

Despite the thief’s agility, Caitlyn knew this city better than anyone. She knew where they would escape, how the terrain could play to her advantage. Through the alleys and corners of Piltover, she never lost ground. The city’s shadows seemed to be her ally as she stayed on the criminal’s tail. Finally, in a narrow, dark alleyway, Caitlyn caught up to the thief. Using her combat skills, she pinned them down with a well-executed hold, leaving them immobilized, flat on their back. It was one of the few moments she’d felt grateful for General Ambessa’s training.

Caitlyn pulled the thief up by their jacket to face them, and as the hood fell back, her heart skipped a beat. The figure beneath the hood was different—yet familiar. There was no doubt.

It was Vi.

Caitlyn felt her whole face light up. Without thinking, she let out a cry of joy that echoed down the street.

"Vi, you're here!" Her face lit up with joy.

On impulse, she threw her arms around her, pouring into the embrace all the love and intensity she’d bottled up since her disappearance. Her heart pounded fiercely. The contact was real—finally.

Instead of the warmth Caitlyn had expected, a distant and cold voice responded, carrying a bewildering lack of recognition.

"Who are you, and how do you know me, Enforcer?"

The words pierced Caitlyn, who had been sure that seeing her would bring back at least some part of the past. How wrong she had been. The confusion in Vi’s face—the emptiness in her eyes—was like a devastating blow. Vi didn’t recognize her.

Caitlyn’s world collapsed in that instant. The hope, so alive in her chest, vanished as if it had never existed. Her worst fear was coming true. Loss, anguish, and despair engulfed her.

Caitlyn turned her face slightly away, tears beginning to shine in her eyes. Vi’s vacant gaze, that absence in her memory, shattered her completely.

"Vi..." Caitlyn whispered, her voice broken. "I’m Caitlyn... Look at me, please try to remember."

Vi, still in her arms, looked at her without understanding, her face still marked by confusion. The pain in Caitlyn’s eyes was evident. She had hoped that being close would help her remember every moment they had shared—but Vi didn’t respond. She simply looked lost.

For a moment, time stopped for Caitlyn. What if Vi never remembered who she was?

Chapter Text

The two weeks following Vi and Sarah’s encounter were marked by a tense silence. Since the moment Vi had cried out the name “Cait” in the middle of the orgasm Sarah had given her, the latter had maintained an emotional distance. On many occasions, Sarah kept her eyes fixed on Vi, but they held more than anger. There was pain, hurt, a sense of betrayal she didn’t know how to process. Vi, although trying to focus on what was in front of her, couldn’t avoid feeling the growing distance between them, as if something irreversible had fractured their bond.

Vi knew she had to give her time—the woman was angry that another’s name had left her lips. She longed to take her and turn those feelings into the greatest carnal pleasure the sea-woman had ever felt, but she knew she had wounded her deeply, and sex alone couldn’t heal the pain lodged within.

The Zaunite lay on her bed at night, staring at the ceiling as her mind circled back over and over to the fragments of memory haunting her and to what had happened with Sarah that day. What did it mean that her name had slipped out? Every time she thought of her, a part of her soul stirred, as if something inside pulled her toward her. But that didn’t align with what Sarah represented. She tried to reflect on what that name meant to her—it couldn’t be a coincidence. But her mind still refused to provide the answers she needed.

In the last few days, Sarah had tried—unsuccessfully—to talk about it. Every time she brought it up, Vi found an excuse to turn away and busy herself with tasks that weren’t hers. But the tension kept building, and for neither of them was it easy to ignore. The creaking of the wood beneath their feet only amplified the silence, heavier with every unspoken word.

The course of the ship was set. They were headed to Piltover, where Sarah had some unfinished business at the port. There was something mysterious about her mission there, something she hadn’t fully explained to Vi. And though Vi accepted it without asking questions, the atmosphere between them remained heavy.

For Vi, returning to Zaun after weeks of sailing along Runeterra’s coasts was a strange comfort. There was an odd feeling of home in being back in the city she knew, despite how much had changed. Maybe now she’d have better luck finding Powder—or maybe a new clue to her memory would emerge.

The journey aboard the ship had been mostly quiet. Sarah was lost in her own thoughts, while Vi gazed out at the sea, unsure of how to face the conversation they both knew had to happen sooner or later.

Sarah, despite her tough pirate exterior, was also troubled by what Vi had said. She knew Vi wasn’t the kind to open up so easily, but something had changed between them. That one word had hit hard, and Sarah didn’t know how to handle it. Vi had changed. Something inside her had been touched, and Sarah didn’t know if that meant their budding relationship was collapsing—or if something more profound was at stake.

The nights had been strange ever since. Sometimes Sarah would wake up in the dark, tormented by her thoughts, a pang in her heart. She should never have let the bar woman get so deep into her heart. What was she to Vi? A woman to satisfy her? A summer fling? Or perhaps just a mirage, a temporary refuge as they sailed through the waters of uncertainty.

The ship slowly approached Piltover, the port beginning to take shape on the horizon, and with it, Vi felt filled with longing and nostalgia. The image of Piltover and Zaun seemed to pull her back to a time when everything was different, simpler. The city she had once known was now scarred—just like her heart.

The tension between Vi and Sarah still floated in the air. Vi, who had remained silent for most of the journey, finally summoned the courage to break the silence and join the pirate at the bow of the ship, her gaze lost in the sea’s depths.

"Captain, everything alright?" Vi asked, looking at her with a slight smile, hoping to break the wall that had grown between them.

Sarah glanced at her briefly, smiling somewhat reservedly.

"Yeah, all good," Sarah replied, keeping a calm tone, though her gaze wasn’t as open as usual.

Vi, feeling a bit more confident, decided to keep the conversation going.

"I wanted to apologize. I’ve been working up the courage to talk about it for days, and every time we tried, I chickened out. I didn’t mean to ruin that night. It was important... for both of us. And what I said... it wasn’t right. But I want to explain. I don’t really know what I shouted or who she is. Honestly, I don’t care. I was just relaxed, feeling, and I guess my mouth spoke from erased memories."

Vi’s words were more sincere than ever.

Sarah observed her in silence for a moment, processing her words. Finally, she sighed and replied in a gentler tone,

"Vi, I’m not mad about that. I’m just worried." Sarah paused, choosing her next words carefully. "Since you’ve been on this ship, I felt like the bond and the moments we’ve shared became something more than just friendship—something special. I like you, and I’m scared that when your memory comes back, all this will just be a memory."

Vi fell silent, Sarah’s words echoing in her mind. The idea that her memories might be returning was something she had longed for since she woke up. But now, she wasn’t ready to go there—she just wanted to forget her mind was a puzzle. She needed to disconnect for a while.

"Surely nothing in my past is as sexy as you, hottie," Vi said, playfully smiling as she ran her thumb along the pirate’s cheek, trying to lighten the moment.

"And I’ve never met anyone as annoying and flirty as you," Sarah replied with a mischievous look, her eyes sparkling with a hint of complicity.

Flirty glances went back and forth, the chemistry palpable. But suddenly, a crew officer interrupted the moment, announcing they were ready to enter Piltover’s port.

Sarah sighed, seeing her responsibilities peeking around the corner.

"I wish I could keep playing with you, darling, but duty calls, and I must take care of business in the city," Sarah said, breaking the moment without losing her calm tone.

"What is it you really do in Piltover?" Vi asked without thinking.

"Just some business for the items we’ve acquired—and a few errands for local merchants. You’re staying here on the ship. But please, don’t get into trouble, alright?"

"How well do you know me? You know I can’t just sit still on a ship. Staying put here is like asking a river not to flow."

Sarah chuckled before responding,

"Come on, Vi. I know this is your land, but your face is everywhere with a bounty on your head. So promise you won’t leave or stir up trouble." The pirate paused, leaning in suggestively. "If you’re a good girl, when I return, we can pick up where we left off..."

"No" was never her favorite word, but Sarah’s proposition was both tempting and hard to refuse.

"Alright, fine—I won’t look for trouble," Vi replied, though in her mind, the word "no" was always something she’d challenge. But for now, she nodded, knowing Sarah was only worried.

Sarah leaned in and gave her a warm kiss before heading off to prepare to leave the ship.

Vi just watched her walk away as she remained by the ship’s railing, watching the approaching port. Her mind wandered back to Sarah’s words—"I like you." The fighter could only affirm three things: Sarah gave her unexpected peace amidst all the confusion in her mind, she liked Sarah too, and if she wanted to be the right person for her, she had to stop chasing a forgotten past and love her as she deserved.

Upon disembarking, it only took an hour for her to give in to her curiosity and hunger. Sitting still wasn’t her style. The city was alive, full of colors and sounds tempting her to explore, and although Sarah had asked her to stay on the ship, Vi couldn’t resist. She pulled her hood over her head and went down the ship’s stairs, ready to see what Piltover had to offer.

The streets were bustling, full of merchants and passersby. Vi couldn’t help but get swept up in the crowd as she slipped between people, observing everything intently. Eventually, her steps led her to a small market. Among stalls of jewelry, fabrics, and spices, something caught her eye. A gemstone—a fiery fragment that seemed to dance in the sunlight. The stone perfectly matched the pirate’s hair, and for a moment, Vi imagined how beautiful it would look as a pendant around Sarah’s neck.

The idea of giving Sarah a gift, something to symbolize what she meant to her, was tempting. But she had no money. Vi looked around, making sure no one was watching, and in a swift move, took the gem and hid it in her clothes.

Adrenaline rushed through her veins. She moved quickly but without drawing attention. She walked through the streets, avoiding curious eyes, and when she reached a corner, slipped into an alley, ready to vanish into the shadows. But she had miscalculated—someone had seen her.

An enforcer—quick and sharp—had witnessed the act. Vi didn’t realize it until she heard hurried footsteps approaching. Instinctively, she started running, losing herself in the alleys and corners of the city, hoping to escape her pursuer. However, the enforcer was skilled, and Vi’s advantage was only temporary.

In a narrow corner, the enforcer caught up to her. With a precise move, she seized her and, with a series of swift maneuvers, brought her to the ground. Vi, visibly aching from the impact, lay motionless for a moment, catching her breath. Her face pressed against the ground, muscles tense—everything hurt. She felt a hand grab her hoodie and pull her up, the hood falling away.

That’s when the woman’s voice startled her.

"Vi, you're here!"

The words hung in the air. Vi furrowed her brow, trying to understand what she had just heard. The enforcer stared at her intensely, as if she recognized her, and in Vi’s eyes, a strange sense of familiarity began to rise. It wasn’t possible.

Vi’s heart pounded as her mind tried to piece things together. But before she could process more, the enforcer—calm and focused—kept her gaze locked on her, waiting for a reaction.

Vi, still breathing heavily from the impact, felt vulnerable and cornered. But something in the woman’s gaze told her she wasn’t just another enforcer. There was something more.

Chapter Text

The port of Noxus seemed darker than ever. Mel took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves coursing through her. The city her mother once ruled now felt foreign. How could she, with all she'd learned in Piltover, fill the void left by Ambessa? She felt as though the city's walls whispered to her—ghosts of the past haunting her.

Though the city retained its imposing and ruthless nature, something in the air had changed—a palpable sense of expectation. Mel inhaled deeply as she stepped onto solid ground, recognizing the weight of what her return symbolized. Her mother's absence had left a vacuum, and now, with Mel at the helm, it was time to restore order. Piltover politics had taught her much, but Noxus—with its brutality and noble house system—was a far cry from her former home.

Upon arriving at Noxus’ seat of power, she was met by a delegation of officers and nobles. As they watched her, Mel felt the weight of their stares evaluating her, searching for any sign of weakness. Some murmured among themselves; others looked on with cold detachment. The air was thick with distrust. Mel knew she wasn’t just Ambessa’s daughter in their eyes—she was an enigma they needed to solve.

The towering walls and imposing structures of the city loomed above her as a reminder of Noxus’ bloody history and the immense challenge this power shift represented. It wasn’t merely about inheriting her mother’s power; she had to claim it—and to do that, the nobles had to accept her.

As she walked among the towering structures, each more massive and frigid than the last, there was a weight in the air—a historical burden that clung to her like a shadow. Every stone seemed to echo a story of struggle, betrayal, and bloodshed.

The central fortress of Noxus was imposing in every sense. Upon entering the council chamber, Mel found herself before a select group of nobles representing the city’s most influential houses. Each had their own interests and agendas. Among them stood Swain, Noxus’ great general.

Structurally, the Noxian council was not unlike Piltover’s, though its dynamic was far more ruthless. The noble houses ruled the city in a decentralized fashion, each vying for dominance. Despite Swain’s authority, Noxian politics revolved around a delicate balance of power among the houses. Mel’s challenge would be to win their respect and support—no easy task.

“Noxus welcomes you, Mel,” said Swain in his deep voice. “Piltover is in ruins, and many of your allies have vanished. Noxus, however, still stands—and welcomes you with open arms… or perhaps, weapons drawn, if you prefer.”

The other nobles turned their gazes toward Mel—some curious, others reserved. They knew she wasn’t just Ambessa’s daughter. She now symbolized change—an opportunity to reform or unravel the balance of power Noxus had long held.

Mel walked confidently to the center of the room, her gaze meeting each noble’s, a confidence born from Ambessa’s blood running through her veins. Without hesitation, she replied,

“I haven’t come to destroy, Swain. I’ve come to ensure Noxus becomes the glory it once was.”

Mel’s tone brimmed with determination, though veiled with a hint of threat. She knew power wasn’t inherited—it was claimed. Each noble commanded their own armies of loyalty, and Mel understood that. This was a power game, full of betrayals and broken promises. The battle for Noxus was not only fought in the streets—it was here, in the council chambers.

“What are your plans, Miss Medarda?” asked one of the elder nobles, a gray-haired man representing one of the houses. “Will you bring peace to Noxus or chaos to its people? The paths you choose will affect us all. There are those who believe your rise is just an illusion.”

Mel paused, scanning the faces of the nobles. Could she lead them? Command Noxus as her mother had? The weight of destiny bore down on her, and though her expression remained firm, she silently wondered if she was truly capable. Or was this all just a mask that would fall at the first real test?

Despite her inner turmoil, she kept her composure and responded coldly,

“Chaos is just a way to reorder what’s broken. Noxus needs strength to hold it together—not more division. I’ve come to unite it under one leadership—mine.”

Swain observed silently, aware that Mel’s words would carry weight in the future. Despite her boldness, he recognized that Mel possessed something most in the room lacked. He gave a small nod of approval.

With a subtle gesture, Swain signaled the others to sit. The look exchanged between him and Mel was like an unspoken challenge. There were many pieces in motion in Noxus, and Mel’s leadership wouldn’t be easily accepted. Swain had assumed a young woman like her would be easy to manipulate, but her tone, presence, and confidence told him otherwise.

“Then prove your worth, Mel,” said Swain, his voice more serious than ever. “In this city, power isn’t inherited. It’s earned—often in blood.”

The threat wasn’t explicit, but Mel felt it clearly.

After the meeting, as she exited the council hall, the cold Noxian air brushed her skin while she walked through the central garden. In the distance, building shadows loomed, but within this secluded space, the atmosphere felt different—calmer, as if the outside world had momentarily vanished.

Swain, LeBlanc, and Darius walked beside her, each with a commanding presence. None had spoken since the council. Though Mel was used to silence, she felt the pressure of their glances. Each represented something powerful in the region, and Mel needed their favor if she hoped to solidify her rule. Despite her will to lead, she still felt like just another piece on a chessboard filled with far more experienced players.

Swain walked with an unshakable calm, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The general of Noxus—scarred by past battles—valued manipulation and politics more than brute force. He spoke little, but Mel knew every word he would utter would be calculated.

LeBlanc walked beside him, her posture straight, footsteps nearly silent. Mel’s sister, and one of the most influential figures of the Black Rose. LeBlanc wasn’t just a powerful mage—she was the shadows of Noxus. Her serene, calculated face revealed nothing, but Mel sensed danger in her presence. LeBlanc never acted without a hidden plan. Though they shared blood, her ambition could outweigh any family bond.

Darius, by contrast, walked with a heavier step, his boots echoing with each movement. The general was imposing, his body massive, eyes fierce—as if ready for battle at any moment. Darius embodied the brute strength of Noxus, the side that claimed what it wanted by force. He was not someone Mel wanted to oppose—but if she earned his loyalty, she’d gain immense military power.

The three formed a powerful trinity: Swain’s strategy, LeBlanc’s stealth, and Darius’ force. Mel would need to navigate their dynamics carefully to maintain balance.

Their garden walk was long and silent, Mel deep in thought while the others waited for her to speak. The weight of the pending conversation hung in the air until she broke the ice.

“What do you think of the situation in Piltover?” Mel asked, both to start the conversation and gauge their intentions.

Swain responded first, his voice soft but authoritative.

“Piltover is in ruins. Its fall will be slow. We must observe and annex its territory. I know they won’t last. Their technology and trade methods are... interesting. They could benefit us in many ways.”

LeBlanc, with a cold smile, leaned forward slightly as if weighing her words.

“Piltover’s fall is just the beginning, Mel. Don’t be fooled. True power isn’t just taken through destruction. You must master information, alliances, and shadows. Those are the real moves that will lead us to the top—and let us expand our territory.”

Darius, unlike the others, seemed impatient. His tone was blunt.

“Pretty words, but Noxus was built with blood and steel. We don’t need more games. We need strength—and the people of Piltover still have something to offer, if you know how to take it.”

Mel looked at each of them, considering their words. Despite her unease about their shared desire to conquer Piltover, she understood they each had a different vision for Noxus’ future. Swain was a tactician, LeBlanc moved through shadows, and Darius craved immediate action. She had to find a way to steer their ambitions elsewhere.

“I understand,” she finally said, gaze determined. “For now, we must focus on uniting the powers of Noxus’ noble houses—but we must also ensure our forces don’t grow complacent. Each of you has something valuable to contribute. This city needs unity. We can’t remain divided.”

Swain nodded slowly, a strategist’s smirk forming on his lips.

“Well said, Mel. Unity is vital. Though we each follow different tactics, the important thing is you now understand—Noxus is won not only with the sword or magic, but with the mind.”

The walk continued, with Mel now leading the way—not just as Ambessa's daughter, but as the woman determined to guide Noxus toward an uncertain future. The city, filled with intrigue and challenges, was ready to be conquered, but it would be her ability to maneuver the pieces on the board that would define her success.

Mel's first day in Noxus was surprisingly calm. After the tense welcome and her initial conversations with the council, she withdrew to her quarters—austere but functional, fitting for a new leader. The weight of the city and the legacy of her mother, Ambessa, lingered in the air, but Mel couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on nostalgia. The past mattered, but the future mattered more.

On the second day, Mel decided to venture out and observe what Noxus had to offer in terms of military power. She knew that a leader had to understand the strength of their army, and Noxus was no exception. The city had been forged in battles, and its soldiers were a reflection of the nation’s cruelty and ambition.

She walked through the training grounds, watching Noxian soldiers drill with near-superhuman discipline. It wasn’t just their weapon skills that set them apart, but their physical endurance, speed, and ability to withstand extreme conditions. Mel saw some soldiers clad in heavy armor, fighting tirelessly, soaked in sweat as they engaged each other in simulated duels.

These were no ordinary soldiers. Noxian culture had bred warriors who transcended human limits. They were strong, resilient, and willing to do whatever it took to win. The training was brutal, but the drive for survival and power pushed them onward.

As Mel entered the training grounds, she scrutinized the soldiers with a critical eye. Though her presence was commanding, the troops didn’t look at her with the same respect they had once shown Ambessa. Mel knew she would have to earn their trust. For now, she saw only distrust in their eyes. No one followed a leader without history.

On the third day, she met with Swain. The acting leader of Noxus awaited her in his quarters, surrounded by maps and documents detailing the state of the war with Demacia. Ever the strategist, Swain watched her enter, his gaze sharp yet respectful.

"Mel," said Swain in his deep voice. "I hope you've had time to consider what this city needs from you."

Mel nodded with determination, sitting across from him and allowing her thoughts to settle before speaking.

"Noxus needs unity. We can’t remain fragments fighting for individual power. My mother didn’t understand that, which is why I’m here—to strengthen this kingdom and make sure we don’t fall into the same mistakes," Mel said firmly.

Swain watched her in silence before letting out a low, almost ironic chuckle.

"Ambessa was a great general, yes. She inspired Noxus and won impressive victories. But ambition for power clouds even the greatest warriors. And when power becomes the only goal, decisions become harder to justify."

Mel felt the weight of Swain’s words. She knew better than anyone the danger of unchecked ambition, and she also knew that Noxus needed more than wisdom. It needed firm decisions.

"Speaking of difficult decisions, the war against Demacia is still tough. We've gained ground, but the fight isn't over. We need something that gives us a decisive advantage. And Piltover's Hextech technology could be the factor that determines whether we win or lose," said Swain, his gaze locked on Mel, waiting to see her reaction.

Mel tensed at the mention of Hextech technology. She knew Swain was watching her closely, and she also knew this decision could shape the future of her alliances.

"No," Mel responded firmly, her voice clear. "I won't use Hextech technology as weapons of war. Noxus will not be a city that depends on what others have created. This war must be won with our own hands, not with someone else’s weapons."

Swain didn’t seem surprised by her answer, but his expression grew more serious, as if assessing Mel’s true nature.

"I don’t support this decision, Mel. I understand the desire to keep Noxus independent, but Piltover’s technology could change everything. The possibilities are... immense."

"The possibilities are tempting, Swain, but the risks of using something so volatile aren’t worth it. Noxus will not be an empire built upon the ruins of others. If we are to win this war, it will be with our own strength," Mel insisted, holding his gaze.

Swain sighed, knowing he couldn’t change her mind.

"Understood, Mel. Though I disagree, as always, I will abide by your decision. But remember, in war, decisions come with a cost, and sometimes, the price of purity is higher than you can imagine," Swain observed her with calculating eyes. "Don’t underestimate the power of shadows, Mel. Noxus needs more than strength; it needs cunning. Maybe it's time you learned to play the game—or you'll fall like your mother."

His tone was more a challenge than advice, and Mel felt it more like a threat than help. She nodded without hesitation. She knew this was just the beginning of many difficult decisions, but her resolve was clear. Noxus had to remain true to itself without resorting to easy solutions.

Mel’s fourth day in Noxus began with a meeting with Darius, the most renowned general of the city, whose imposing presence never went unnoticed. Though the war with Demacia had been ongoing for some time, Mel knew she needed to understand every aspect of the conflict before making decisions. And Darius, with his vast battlefield experience, had much to teach.

They met in a secluded room filled with maps and detailed plans. Darius began speaking bluntly, as he always did, his voice deep and reflecting the harshness of a military leader.

"Demacia has mobilized large numbers of troops. Despite our advances, the battles are tough. They have a formidable capacity for resistance, and we can’t underestimate them. We’ve sent spies, many infiltrated among their ranks. But their lines of defense are complex. This isn’t just a war of armies—it’s a war of information."

Mel listened, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what truly interested her. Statistics about troop numbers and battlefield progress, though valuable, weren’t what drove her. She knew she had to learn about war, but her mind was still elsewhere, seeking answers maps couldn’t provide.

"I understand, Darius. But what’s the next step?" Mel asked, pulling Darius’ attention back to her.

"We must keep up the pressure, conquer each strategic point, and wear down their forces. It won’t be easy, but we have to maintain control," Darius responded, eyes fixed on the map as his fingers pointed to key positions.

Mel nodded, but before she could say anything else, Darius looked at her, as if wanting to say something more important.

"Be careful, Mel. In Noxus, power is taken in many forms, not just with the army. Not everything is what it seems," Darius added, letting those words hang in the air before rising and leaving the room.

Mel remained thoughtful. Despite his rugged facade, Darius was not easy to read. His warning echoed in her mind, but something else about it unsettled her even more. However, she had no time to process everything now. There was more she had to face.

That afternoon, the meeting she had most anticipated arrived: her reunion with LeBlanc. Mel's sister was a mystery wrapped in shadows, and although they shared the same blood, their relationship was complex, marked by distance and differences. Still, Mel knew LeBlanc had much to offer in terms of knowledge and power. The Black Rose, as her secret organization was called, was filled with magic, spies, and secrets, and Mel had to learn all she could.

They met in a private room, a closed space where the shadows from the candles seemed to surround them. LeBlanc sat with the elegance that characterized her, and her eyes, bright and cold, never stopped observing Mel as she spoke.

"What you know of the Black Rose is only the tip of the iceberg, Mel," LeBlanc began, her voice soft but loaded with authority. "We are the bearers of magic, but also the eyes and ears of Noxus. What others don’t see, we know. Every corner of Noxus is watched, and it's thanks to us that we maintain control of information."

Mel listened attentively, understanding that magic and information were Noxus’s most powerful weapons, much more than iron and blood in many cases.

"I’d like to know... What conflict did you have with my mother?" Mel asked, her voice a bit lower. She knew LeBlanc didn’t hold absolute loyalty toward her, and that was something she needed to understand better. "Why did you attack my mother instead of uniting everyone as one great nation?"

LeBlanc stared at her, her eyes shifting between indifference and a hint of disdain.

"Ambessa’s ambition led her to challenge the various noble houses of Noxus. She didn’t do it for the kingdom, Mel. She did it for her own gain. She wanted Piltover’s advancements to strengthen her own power, not for the good of Noxus. And that, dear sister, is something we cannot allow if we truly want Noxus to prosper." She paused a moment to draw a map of Runeterra on the wall with magic. "It doesn’t matter what she once did or was. A leader’s ambition can darken even the best intentions."

The map began to darken after LeBlanc’s words.

Mel frowned, unwilling to fully accept what was said about Ambessa, but something inside told her LeBlanc was right. Despite the pain of losing her mother, she understood that Noxus had to come first—not her mother's personal ambitions.

"I don’t want to believe it," Mel replied, her words firm, though her heart wavered.

LeBlanc shrugged, as if she didn’t care whether Mel accepted her words or not.

"It doesn’t matter what you or I think. What matters is the present. Now you must work for the kingdom, not for nostalgia. Noxus needs a strong leader, not one trapped in the past."

Then, with a graver tone, LeBlanc added, "And please, be careful with Darius. He’s the bluntest of the three, but he’s cunning and knows exactly how to hide his intentions to gain power. He might seem the least threatening, but don’t be fooled. Noxus has many pieces in play, and he’s waiting for his moment."

Mel clenched her fists, looking at LeBlanc with a mix of distrust and determination. She knew the sorceress’s words couldn’t be taken lightly, but she also understood Noxus couldn’t afford another mistake. LeBlanc wouldn’t offer her support without something in return, and Mel wasn’t willing to pay that price.

After a few seconds, Mel sighed.

"I have to ask you a favor. I need to know and learn more about my powers, LeBlanc."

"I have more years and experience than I could describe in words. I will guide you in the knowledge of your powers," LeBlanc declared.

They stayed together for a long while, with LeBlanc explaining the power of the Arcane, the Black Rose, and how to unlock the full potential of Mel’s abilities. The lesson lasted a couple of hours. Without a doubt, it was a lot for Mel to absorb in one day, and by nightfall, exhaustion was setting in.

After the meeting, Mel returned to her chambers, the weight of her days in Noxus already pressing down on her. Upon reaching the window of her room, she looked out toward the city of Piltover, now so distant and foreign. A pain filled her as she recalled the days when she had been a part of that city—its people, its ambition. Her mind, for a moment, drifted to Jayce, the man who had been her ally, her friend, even something more. Nostalgia wrapped around her, but she knew she could not look back. Noxus was her destiny, and it was there that she had to find her path.

In the yearning for her time in the City of Progress, she sat at her desk and began writing all her impressions of Noxus in a letter addressed to Caitlyn. She hoped the blue-haired girl had already woken from her coma, and that Piltover was on its way to becoming the great city she had spent years helping to build.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Standing before her was Vi—the woman she had loved, the woman she had lost—looking at her with horror. Vi kept a safe distance, eyeing Caitlyn with distrust and a hint of indifference. Caitlyn’s heart shattered with every word Vi uttered, and still, she couldn’t give up. She had to fight for what they once had.

"Vi... it’s me. I’m Cait. You can’t... you can’t forget me," Caitlyn pleaded, her voice broken yet determined. "You have to remember. You must remember what we shared."

Vi looked at Caitlyn as if she were a ghost, someone who didn’t belong in her current world. And yet, there was something in her gaze—a flicker of something familiar—that made her hesitate. Why did the name Caitlyn make her stomach twist in a way that felt like losing something precious? She couldn’t let this woman touch her, but at the same time, something inside her longed to remember everything.

The confusion was maddening, but there was also rejection, a simmering rage toward everything this woman in front of her seemed to represent.

"Cait? Who the hell are you?" Vi scoffed, her tone sharp and scornful. "I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but like I’d believe anything coming from an enforcer."

Each word from Vi was another dagger to Caitlyn’s heart. She had hoped that seeing her would spark something inside Vi. But instead, there was only anger and mistrust. Caitlyn’s insides were breaking. How much more could she take before realizing that maybe Vi would never remember her? Still, she couldn’t give up. She couldn’t let everything they had vanish.

Vi stepped back, but something in her eyes challenged Caitlyn. It wasn’t just distrust—it was defiance, a refusal to be controlled by someone she barely recognized. Caitlyn could feel the tension in the air, the silent battle for control. Vi wasn’t the woman she had loved, but deep down, Caitlyn knew there was still something inside her worth saving.

The rage in Vi was turning into anxiety. She was ready to flee, to get away from this woman who confused her, who stirred painful emotions she didn’t understand. That name, “Cait”... it couldn’t possibly be the same one she had cried out in front of Sarah.

Caitlyn held her gaze, but her voice trembled.

"I can’t... I can’t lose you, Vi," she whispered, her words so soft they almost disappeared. "I’ve been searching for you, waiting for you, and I don’t know how to go on without you."

It was the first time she had shown her true feelings, and for a moment, Vi saw something in her eyes beyond determination: fear. What was she supposed to do with that? All she wanted now was to run and vanish into the city streets.

When Caitlyn noticed Vi’s intent to flee, she couldn’t let her go. Acting on impulse, she grabbed her tightly.

"No... don’t go," Caitlyn said, fighting back tears. "Please, Vi."

Vi struggled against the embrace, pushing Caitlyn away with force, but the officer wouldn’t let go. Seeing herself trapped, Vi began to scream, hurling every insult she could, her body wild with fury, desperate to break free from Caitlyn’s arms.

"You damn mongoose! Enforcer! Liar! You’re all the same!" The rage poured from her in every word as she kept fighting to escape, her face twisted with growing fury.

Heartbroken, Caitlyn held on, unable to do anything but listen as Vi’s words pierced her soul. The chaos escalated, but Caitlyn couldn’t let go—not without at least trying to make her remember. She took a pair of handcuffs from her belt and gently clasped them around Vi’s wrists.

"I know you won’t like this, but you left me no choice."

"Damn it! Who likes being cuffed and arrested without doing anything wrong?!"

The taller woman rolled her eyes before replying.

"I’m not here to arrest you. I’ll explain everything. Besides, stealing is a crime."

She pulled the necklace from one of Vi’s pockets.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

After that brief exchange, Caitlyn dragged her through the streets to her office at the enforcers’ headquarters.

Vi was exhausted from pushing her body against the enforcer's restraint, but with fury still bubbling inside her, she entered the luxurious office with Caitlyn. In the living room, with the afternoon light streaming through the windows, Caitlyn finally sat her down without removing the handcuffs on her wrists. The shorter woman was breathing heavily, but her gaze never ceased to be defiant.

The room felt cold, despite the warm light spilling through the window. Outside, the first rains of the season hit the glass with persistent rhythm. The sound was constant, monotonous, like a reminder of the inner storm they both carried. Caitlyn watched Vi, and for a moment, the raindrops seemed to enclose the room in a still space, as if the world had stopped moving.

She sat down, placing her hands firmly on her desk, staring at the woman in front of her.

"Vi..." she began, her voice softer but filled with sorrow as she held her gaze. "You and I know each other. You were essential in helping me understand Zaun, Silco, the Shimmer..."

She paused, carefully choosing her next words.

"Then came the war... it changed both of us. But you and I had something, something more than just partnership. You were an enforcer, my right hand, and even... more than that. We shared moments you should never forget. We fought together, protected each other..."

Vi looked at her with skepticism, disbelief carved into her features. What was Caitlyn saying? It was impossible to believe. She, the fighter from Zaun, an enforcer? Did this commander truly expect her to believe any of that?

"I could never be an enforcer. My parents died because of your people," Vi said, her voice strong and laced with contempt.

Caitlyn sighed.

"I know. They died because of enforcers during the battle on the bridge connecting Piltover and Zaun. You were with your sister, Powder. I regret all the crimes enforcers committed in the past and the number of families who lost loved ones," Cait said, her sorrow evident.

To Vi, it was undeniable that this commander knew much more about her than expected. Still, her disdain didn’t waver.

"Little soldier, understand this. I could never be with someone who is an enforcer, especially not someone like you, Commander. What kind of joke is this?"

Caitlyn winced at the pain in those words. She could feel Vi’s deep disgust, and still, she had never doubted continuing to fight for her. Vi had been everything to her.

"You know, when I met you, I only thought about our differences. You, a Stillwater criminal, and me, a Piltover enforcer. But I trusted you, I freed you, and then you started getting close to me with that overwhelming confidence of yours. You told me I was sweet as a cupcake... You used to call me cupcake!" Caitlyn shouted, frustration finally bubbling to the surface. "And with time, those moments we shared... what we had in the cell..."

Before Vi could interrupt, a knock at the door cut through the tension.

"Commander, Miss Fortune requests a..." Nora began as she entered the office with a professional demeanor.

Before she could finish, the door swung open with force and Sarah stepped in, her eyes shifting between Caitlyn and Vi with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Vi, still handcuffed, sat uncomfortably in her chair.

Sarah surveyed the scene without losing her composure, though her gaze quickly moved from Vi to Caitlyn.

"Looks like you didn’t last long on the ship, darling," Sarah said with a mischievous smile, her eyes twinkling as she looked at Vi.

Vi responded without hesitation.

"Sitting still and bored isn’t my thing. While strolling through the city, I bumped into the commander who arrested me without reason," she said, disinterested.

Caitlyn’s face tightened, her eyes burning with restrained emotion.

"Vi was stealing, and I arrested her. Besides, she’s one of the most wanted criminals for her recent robberies and attacks," Caitlyn said with effort, trying to remain composed. "By the way, who are you and how dare you enter the Commander’s office without authorization?"

She turned to Sarah, clearly irritated, not just by the interruption, but by the apparent connection between the two women.

"My name is Sarah, but for you, Commander, you can call me Miss Fortune," she said with a defiant look and an unbothered smile. "I’m the most renowned pirate on the seas of Runeterra, the pirate queen of Bilgewater."

"Would you care to tell me what you’re doing here? How do you know Vi?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the situation.

"I’m here on business. I was expecting to find Commander Steb... As for the second question, it was a rather... interesting encounter," she said, before Vi interrupted.

"Why does that even matter?" Vi said, looking at Caitlyn with an ironic smile.

"Vi, I already told you, I knew you. You were an enforcer like me, you helped me on several missions, and you were seen as a hero in this city," Caitlyn said seriously. "I just want you to remember... and come back home."

Sarah and Vi exchanged glances and laughed at how absurd everything sounded. Caitlyn, with a knot tightening in her stomach, felt as if she were trapped in a nightmare. That connection she saw between Sarah and Vi—she had seen it before, in herself with Vi. Could it be that Vi had fallen for Miss Fortune?

"Have you ever considered, even for a second, that maybe I want to forget?"

The silence that followed was unbearable, charged with a frustration that hung heavy in the room. Caitlyn tried to speak, but the words got stuck in her throat.

She remembered the happy days with Vi—her laughter, how it had once been all that mattered. The times she’d stood by her side when Caitlyn’s mother passed away, how Vi always found a way to make her smile, even in her darkest moments. Now, all of that felt like someone else’s life. The woman in front of her wasn’t the same. Was it time to let go?

Sarah, sensing the tension, looked at Caitlyn with a half-smile.

"Release her, Commander. Take those cuffs off."

The very sound of that sentence broke Caitlyn from her daze, sending a heat through her body, spurred by a jealousy she couldn’t hide from the pirate’s voice. She clenched her teeth but knew the situation could no longer be ignored.

"I will release her," Caitlyn replied, her tone no longer soft. "But I can’t overlook the crimes Vi has committed recently. She’ll accompany me on a mission and that will settle her debt—at least in this city. I need her help to dismantle a criminal gang gaining strength in Zaun."

Sarah frowned and hesitated.

"I won’t let you drag her into this, Cait."

But before she could go on, Vi chimed in with a smile only she could see.

"Sounds interesting. I’d love some action and to walk the streets of Zaun again," Vi said, her voice relaxed, treating the situation like a game.

Sarah looked at her, visibly concerned, but sighed and gave in.

"Alright, if that’s what you want. But remember, Vi—I’ll be waiting on the ship, darling."

"Tonight we observe and monitor the situation up close. Get ready for a long night, Vi," Caitlyn interrupted with a focused and serious tone.

"See you tomorrow night, darling," Sarah said, kissing Vi softly on the cheek.

Caitlyn tried to swallow her jealousy and frustration. She looked at Vi, hiding what she truly felt.

She knew the mission was critical to prevent the gang from becoming an organized threat, but what she really wanted was time with Vi—just the chance to get her back. Maybe it was just hope talking, but it was all she had.

Zaun never slept, and the darkness only made its dim lights shine brighter. The damp air clung to the skin, and the sound of water running through pipes mixed with the murmurs of the city. Caitlyn and Vi were hidden in the shadows, observing a criminal encampment that had settled deep within Zaun’s underbelly. Their mission: dismantle the operation and stop the spread of illegal merchandise further poisoning the city.

Caitlyn knelt on a rooftop, her eye focused through her rifle’s scope, watching the enemy movements. Vi leaned back against a wall a few meters behind her. The tall woman with blue hair could feel Vi’s eyes on her, scanning every inch of her body. Another day, Caitlyn would have relished the attention, but tonight she needed to stay focused.

In the distance, crates shimmered and silhouettes danced beneath weak lamp light. Everything seemed in place, yet uncertainty lingered. And Vi, always allergic to silence, finally spoke.

"Why did you make all that up about me?" Vi asked, her voice low and tense. "Why say I was an Enforcer? Why claim we were... whatever you said we were?"

Caitlyn froze at the question, her fingers tightening around the rifle. Vi didn’t understand—none of it had broken through. But Caitlyn knew she couldn’t keep silent anymore.

"I didn’t make it up, Vi," she said, her voice trembling but honest. "None of it. I met you years ago in Stillwater. I approached you to help with an investigation. When you first looked at me, you had the same hatred in your eyes as now. Then we met Ekko, the Firelights, tried to help Zaun... so much happened."

She paused.

"We shared more than you can imagine. I know your past—your fears, your feelings for me, and mine for you. I know your family, how your parents died, about Vander... about Powder."

At that name, Vi stiffened. Her expression shifted into something raw and urgent.

"Powder? What do you know about Powder? What happened to her?!" Vi cried, her voice laced with desperation.

Vi moved closer to Caitlyn involuntarily, as if the name had pulled a thread that connected her to her lost sister.

Seeing her like that, Caitlyn felt her chest tighten. She knew then: the mission was compromised. Mentioning Powder had shaken Vi to her core. And before she could react, footsteps echoed in the alley.

"Vi!" she shouted, lunging toward her, but it was too late.

Two soldiers in dark, silent gear appeared out of nowhere. Their strike was quick and precise.

Caitlyn barely had time to turn when a heavy object struck her head. Darkness closed in. The last thing she saw was Vi’s panicked face, shouting her name before she too was taken down.

Chapter Text

Vi woke up with a pounding headache. The darkness of the cell surrounded her, but she wasn’t tied up. Her hands and feet were free, and for a moment, she thought it had been a dream—or more accurately, a nightmare. However, as she opened her eyes, reality struck. She was in a prison, a cage so small it barely allowed her to move. The cold stone walls made her feel trapped, like she was in a place with no way out. Her gaze drifted forward, and there she was. Caitlyn.

Cait was a little further away, sitting across from her with an expression that mixed frustration and amusement. Vi blinked a couple of times, still trying to figure out if she might still be dreaming back on the ship with Sarah, but as soon as she saw Caitlyn's expression, she knew it was real.

"Finally awake, sweetheart," Caitlyn said, her tone somewhere between sarcastic and annoyed, trying to mimic Sarah's affectionate way of speaking. "Thanks for getting us caught, sweetheart."

Vi, her head still halfway between sleep and consciousness, rolled her eyes, feeling her irritation rise within. She stood up.

"My fault?" Vi retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm, her hands moving in sync with her words. "We're not here because of me, Cait. You're the Enforcer, the commander of the great city of progress, Piltover. We're here because you're so rigid, so... meticulous. If you'd just decided to move forward and let me finish those idiots off, we wouldn’t be in this situation."

Caitlyn stood, stepped forward quickly with purpose, frowning just inches from Vi's face. Vi couldn’t help but lock eyes with her. The closeness, the warmth of her body against hers, the tension in the air. She realized how close they really were. Their faces were nearly touching, and for a moment, Vi felt something stir in her chest, something that made her hesitate. But she dismissed it quickly as Caitlyn's angry words landed.

"Rigid? I’m an Enforcer, Vi, not a brawler like you," Caitlyn shot back, her voice low, the irritation still blazing in her eyes. "I’m head of House Kiramman, a decorated Enforcer, and I trust in my procedures."

This time Caitlyn was visibly angry, her gaze locked onto Vi’s eyes with intensity.

"You never take anything seriously. Always with that attitude like you can take on everything without consequence. Look at what your recklessness caused." She gestured toward both sides of the cell.

Vi leaned in, their faces even closer, her breath mixing with Caitlyn’s.

"Why did you drag me into this mission if you knew it would end badly? You insisted. If you know me so well, then why did you do it? You’re just as responsible, Commander."

Caitlyn stared back, a heavy silence settling between them. Their eyes didn’t break contact, and it was clear that the closeness was stirring something in Vi. Was it anger? Frustration? No, there was something else, something pushing her to look deeper into those blue eyes. For a moment, she felt lost in them, like she was caught in a storm. And then, Caitlyn stepped back.

The Enforcer sighed, brought her fingers to her forehead, and her voice softened as if she were finally letting go of the anger she'd been holding.

"I'm sorry, Vi," Caitlyn said, looking at the ground, her voice almost breaking. "You’re right, I dragged you into this... because more than anything, I wanted us to go back to normal... I was more worried about you remembering than about protecting you. It shouldn’t have been like this. I’m sorry."

The blue-haired woman sat against one of the cell walls, her sadness and regret evident.

Vi, surprised by Caitlyn’s tone, stayed silent for a moment. Her mind struggled to process what she had just heard. The Enforcer... was she really saying her feelings clouded her judgment? Vi had never known an Enforcer to feel any empathy. All she had ever known from them was violence, beatings, injustice—and yet, in the few hours she had spent with her, she could feel that Caitlyn was different.

For a few seconds, the Zaunite said nothing, processing her words. Something about Caitlyn's vulnerability made her rethink what she thought she knew about her. She hadn’t expected an Enforcer to show even a flicker of doubt or regret. She moved closer and crouched beside her.

"Hey..." Vi said with a wry smile. "Don’t worry, Cait. I kind of love getting into trouble too, or better yet, causing it. I guess it’s my specialty."

They both smiled slightly, a brief moment of connection amidst the tension.

"Maybe we could be friends, as long as you don’t try to knock me down with a wrestling hold and leave me on the floor again," Vi said playfully.

Caitlyn, hearing those words, couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head. The tension between them eased slightly, their smiles bringing some calm to the moment.

"I assure you, that wasn’t the first time I beat you in a fight," she said with a mix of challenge and amusement.

Vi raised an eyebrow, feigning indignation at Caitlyn’s teasing tone.

"Yeah, right, Cait. I bet you’re just twisting the memories to your liking, huh?" Vi replied mockingly, grinning to the side.

Both women laughed softly, and although the situation was far from ideal, the moment became one of those rare instances of connection between them—unexpected, yet so necessary. Amid the tension, for a fleeting moment, the redhead felt as if everything was simpler. A brief breath in the middle of the storm.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the narrow corridor of the prison before two soldiers entered the room, their faces expressionless, their bodies heavy and imposing—a stark contrast to the warmth of the previous interaction. Without a word, they pulled the two women from their cell, tied their wrists behind their backs, and escorted them to another room where they were forced to kneel in uncomfortable silence. The space was so small the air seemed cut, and fear seeped through the cracks in the stone walls.

Vi, sensing the weight of the silence, looked at Caitlyn, who remained completely still, her eyes reflecting the courage of a fighter. It was that bravery that had brought her to become Commander of the Enforcers, but it was also her strange understanding of the taller woman that made Vi aware of the fear Caitlyn was hiding.

"Don’t be afraid, Cait," Vi whispered, her voice soft yet confident. "No matter what happens, I’ll protect you. Trust me."

Caitlyn looked at her, feeling the warmth of those words, the invisible bond that had tied them at the deepest level of their being. Her eyes became glassy, a subtle sign of hope. She nodded slowly. Vi’s words were all she needed to find strength and keep going.

The soldiers remained silent, watching the exchange between them, but soon the door creaked open. A tall, slender man entered the room, his frame elongated like that of a reptile. He didn’t look like a regular man; his skin had a greenish-yellow tint, with scales running down his neck and arms. His eyes were inhuman, cold as ice, and his bright red uniform stood out sharply against the dark surroundings of the prison.

Caitlyn, without breaking eye contact, felt a chill run down her spine. That uniform—it was from Noxus. A Noxian soldier? The city of Noxus was too far from where they were, and this figure seemed completely out of place. He looked at them with a mocking smile, approaching slowly, his voice increasing the tension in the air.

"What do we have here... the Commander of Piltover and her ‘girlfriend,’" the leader said sarcastically, glancing at Vi and then at Caitlyn.

Vi rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Not her girlfriend, but you’d love to have someone as sweet as her, tadpole," she said with disdain.

The leader laughed, enjoying the discomfort.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked, as if watching an amusing show. Without giving them a chance to answer, he continued mockingly. "Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I have two very valuable assets for our superiors. Don’t worry, everything will be clear soon enough."

"Who are you supposed to be? Who do you work for?" Caitlyn asked defiantly.

"My name is Slinker. I’m the leader of this gang. As for who I work for? Like I said, you’ll find out soon enough. I’m not authorized to reveal more yet."

Vi glared at him, her expression sharp. She wouldn’t let him mock them so easily. With a malicious smile, she leaned forward slightly.

"If you’re so brave and arrogant, why don’t you fight me? You think you’re some kind of leader, yet you just stand back and let others do your dirty work. Plus, you take orders from others? Some leader."

Her words were sharp, her eyes full of challenge.

The leader gave her a cold smile, though his expression quickly darkened. He knew he wouldn’t win easily. Vi was dangerous, and fighting her would be risky. Still, his voice stayed mocking.

"I don’t think I need to test my superior skills with you just yet. But when the mercenary arrives, maybe you’ll enjoy what little time you have left."

He motioned to the soldier at the door and left the room, leaving Vi and Caitlyn with a single guard—a shadow more than a threat, but still dangerous. The guard was armed and looked eager to prove himself.

Before they could react, the guard barked a command.

"Stay still," he growled. "And don’t do anything stupid."

He approached Caitlyn, eyes narrowing at her clenched jaw and visible anger.

"Maybe you and I could have a little fun," he sneered, grabbing Caitlyn’s face and pulling it toward him, his other hand moving to her chest.

Vi’s rage exploded.

"Fucking animal."

"Who the hell are you calling an animal, Zaunite trash?" the guard shouted, letting go of Caitlyn and turning toward Vi.

He grabbed her arm, ready to hit her, but Vi moved like a shadow. In one fluid motion, she freed herself from the bindings, dodged his blow, and knocked him out cold with a couple of strikes. No hesitation. No second thoughts.

"I told you I’d protect you, Cait," Vi said with a smirk as she began untying Caitlyn’s wrists.

Caitlyn, still stunned, nodded slowly. Vi might have lost her memories, but her instincts were intact.

"I never thought you’d save me in time, Vi," her tone was softer now, contrasting the intensity from before.

Vi looked at her with warmth and a touch of irony.

"I’ve always liked surprising people. And I’ll never get tired of saving a lady as commanding as you."

They shared a smile while Vi worked on the restraints. Time was ticking. Reinforcements could arrive any second, and this time the battle would be much harder.

The sound of a guard entering the room snapped them back to reality. Upon seeing the prisoners free, he panicked and bolted to call for backup.

"Shit," Vi muttered urgently. "We need to move now."

Caitlyn nodded, adrenaline rushing through her veins as Vi grabbed her hand and led her out.

"Wait, Vi," Caitlyn stopped suddenly. "I need my weapon."

"Cait, we have to go. There’s no time. You’ve got enough rifles back at the base."

"Believe me, Vi, we can’t let that weapon fall into the wrong hands."

Vi sighed and nodded. The two women moved through several rooms until they found the armory, guarded by a soldier over two meters tall. They ducked behind a wall, trying to figure out a way in.

"Listen, Cait," Vi whispered. "I’ll distract the idiot. Once I pull him away, you run in and grab your weapon."

She took a deep breath, eyeing the giant guard.

"Will you be okay?"

“Ha! I’m a strong girl. No giant soldier could take me down.” Vi smirked to herself before running straight toward the arsenal door.

“Hey big guy, did they leave you in the barracks while there’s action outside? I guess they don’t think you’re very smart, or maybe just dumb enough to be left behind.”

The hulking soldier stood from his chair and stomped toward Vi, visibly irritated by her taunts. Vi slowly backed away, luring him further from the arsenal.

“Guess those muscles are all air, huh? Otherwise, I can’t figure out why you’re so weak.”

The soldier charged, throwing a heavy punch, which Vi dodged easily.

“Wow, you’re slower than a slug.” The fight thrilled her—she grinned, enjoying every second.

Meanwhile, Cait crouched low and crept toward the arsenal door. It had a three-lock mechanism.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

She moved silently toward the soldier’s desk, rifling through the drawers, her eyes flicking up to check Vi, who continued to dodge blows with ease.

“C’mon, big guy. Is that all you got?”

Suddenly, the soldier hurled a barrel toward Vi. She rolled to avoid it, but as she rose, she didn’t see his incoming fist. It smashed into her face, sending her crashing into the far wall. Bones creaked, and the brutal sound drew Cait’s alarmed gaze as she kept searching for the damn keys.

Vi collapsed hard, pain radiating through her body. She trembled from the impact but forced herself up, spitting blood.

“That one hurt. Now I’m getting serious.” She readied herself, breathing heavily.

Vi rushed at the brute. He swung at her again, missing by inches. She countered, hitting him square in the face, then her left fist, followed by a knee to the gut. He staggered.

Vi didn’t hesitate—she swept his leg out and slammed him to the floor.

“Too weak for someone so big.” Vi mocked and spat at him.

But she’d underestimated him. He surged up and grabbed her throat with crushing strength.

“You bastard,” Vi grunted, struggling against his grip.

Her airways closed. Her vision darkened. Then—bang. A single shot rang out. The soldier dropped instantly, dead.

Cait stood behind him, rifle in hand.

“Vi, are you okay? I’m sorry I was late.”

“Cough—cough—You’ve got... great aim, Commander.”

Cait’s face clouded with sadness. Vi could see it had hurt her to kill. That gentleness was real.

“You saved my life, Cait. Thank you.” She placed a hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder. “Don’t feel guilty about it.”

Cait lowered her eyes, then nodded. Footsteps echoed nearby.

“We have to move, Vi. We can’t fight everyone.”

The red-haired woman didn't respond immediately. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, assessing every possible exit, every shadow that might hide a path. Vi had grown up in Zaun; she knew every corner of the city, every alley, every cobblestone street.

“Follow me,” she said with confidence, though her eyes were unsure. “I know the way.”

They moved fast, slipping through tight corridors. Vi knocked out soldiers with swift, efficient blows. Caitlyn followed closely, taking out enemies with precise, disabling shots.

“You sure you know where we’re going?” Caitlyn asked, panting.

Vi gave her a cheeky grin. “Of course, Cupcake. Trust me.”

Caitlyn blushed at the nickname. A warm spark lit in her chest—it felt like the first time she’d heard it.

They ran, twisting through Zaun’s dark alleys until Vi stopped at a dead-end.

"You said you knew where we were going," he said, his voice thick with frustration. "Now we're at a dead end. They'll catch us. At what point did I think it would be a good idea to trust someone who's lost their memory?"

Caitlyn looked around, searching for a way out, or at least a weak spot to create one, but all she found were cold, damp walls. Vi smiled, unconcerned by the apparent failure of the path.

“Don’t you trust me, Cupcake?” Vi grinned, prying open a hidden panel on the ground, revealing a tunnel.

“Powder and I used to play here all the time. After you.”

Cait eyed her warily. “Where does this go?”

“To the exit,” Vi said, nudging her in.

Caitlyn fell rapidly, the air swirling around her as she tried to maintain her balance. Vi followed without hesitation, closing the lid and gliding nimbly down the tunnel, making sure her trail was well covered.

When they finally landed, they both fell into a pile of trash. Caitlyn, visibly irritated, quickly got up, dusting off her hands and glaring at Vi.

"On the exit, you said? I'm in... a pile of trash," Caitlyn said, raising an eyebrow.

"Like it or not, it's a exit. Besides, with that smell, you blend in perfectly with the people of Zaun," Vi replied mockingly, looking at Caitlyn with amusement.

Caitlyn screamed in spite of herself, knowing that, at some point, this was all turning into one of those crazy things they used to share. She stood up and looked at Vi with a mixture of exasperation and something else.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, though warmth flickered in her voice.

Vi, walking with her characteristic flirtatious style, gave her a meaningful look.

"I guess that's why you can't resist my charms, Commander," Vi said, laughing as she moved through the tunnel.

Caitlyn followed her, a sigh escaping her lips, a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. She knew that, in some ways, everything she'd experienced with Vi up until now was complicated, confusing, and dangerous. But at the same time, she also knew she couldn't walk away from her. She didn't want to.

Seeking to prolong the interaction with the redheaded girl, Cait scooped up some pieces of trash and threw them in the other woman's face. Vi was covered in trash and impressed by this movement she hadn't seen coming from the Piltovian.

"Ugh, sooo charming," Caitlyn said, walking beside Vi with a lopsided smile and a mocking tone, holding her nose, a gesture evident in the face of the unpleasant smell of garbage.

Surely Vi would have attacked anyone who did that on other occasions, but she was different; her way of playing along seemed interesting to her, and she simply chose to wipe the dirt off her face, smile, and continue on her way behind the girl with the pretty eyes.

"Very mature of you, Commander."

Laughter quickly erupted from both of them as they walked aimlessly.

The tunnel smelled of damp and mold, and the air was thick. Vi breathed cautiously, aware that every step could give them away. Her boots echoed against the stone walls, barely louder than the sound of water dripping from the cracks in the ceiling.

Caitlyn, who could barely see in the dim light, kept pace silently. The quiet was almost tangible, and every movement seemed loaded with tension. But Vi remained calm, as if she knew the tunnels like the back of her hand, her steps quick but controlled, as if everything was part of a greater plan.

With each step, the atmosphere grew more oppressive, yet Vi didn’t flinch. Always alert, the Zaunite heard footsteps approaching quickly. Without thinking, she grabbed the enforcer's arm and guided her into a narrow side corridor between the tunnel walls, a space so tight it barely fit one person.

Vi pushed Caitlyn gently to the side, their bodies nearly touching in the cramped space. The soldiers’ footsteps faded, but in the brief silence, their breaths mingled. Vi could feel Caitlyn’s warmth, her breath, the accidental brush of their clothes.

Caitlyn looked at her, a flicker of doubt in her eyes, as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t. The tension between them built, creating an invisible current pulling them closer, as if everything around them had faded away.

The narrow space forced them to stay close, and they couldn’t avoid each other’s gaze. Vi felt a sudden heat in her cheeks and, without meaning to, got lost in the depth of Caitlyn’s blue eyes. The closeness heightened the tension. Vi remained caught in Caitlyn’s gaze, unable to look away, her heart pounding faster than ever before.

"Vi..." Caitlyn said, her voice low but filled with restrained emotion, as if she were about to say something important.

Vi, without thinking, whispered her name. "Cait..."

Caitlyn didn’t answer with words—only with a gaze full of something Vi still didn’t understand. Unable to resist any longer, Vi leaned in a little more, cautiously, as if the world had disappeared and only they remained in that stone cage. The warmth of their proximity wrapped around them like an electric current keeping them suspended. In an impulsive move, her lips brushed against Caitlyn’s. It was a slow kiss, unhurried, as if everything that had happened until now had led to this single moment.

Their lips devoured each other in that kiss that felt eternal and stirred sensations in their bodies from head to toe. No matter how it happened, Vi just wanted to keep feeling the warm touch of his lips against hers.

When they finally parted, both were breathing heavily, surprised and confused. The redhead felt her world shift, a subtle but profound change. This was different. Not like what she’d experienced with Sarah. This kiss, this connection with Caitlyn, felt different—more than a moment of affection. It was something more, something that had always been there, hidden, but now it was in the open, palpably real.

They stared at each other in silence, breaths uneven, with a mixture of confusion and something else. Desire, uncertainty, regret, or acceptance—it all mingled in their eyes.

"Cait... really, who are you?" Vi asked, her voice soft, weighted with emotion she didn’t want to admit.

Caitlyn, her heart racing, couldn’t tear her eyes away from Vi. For so long she’d wished for this moment, had longed to feel her near, even if just in silence, even in the midst of confusion. She had no good answer for Vi to understand her own past, so she kept the silence on her lips.

Her mind was trapped between hope and despair, between the joy of seeing Vi there and the pain of knowing she wasn’t the woman she remembered. But what she did know was that something had changed between them in that moment. Something Vi could no longer ignore.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12 - Wilted Flowers

The bustling markets of Piltover filled the air as Sarah walked among the merchants. The commander had done a great job in the city, and the tranquility across the streets was palpable thanks to the measures taken against crime.

The pirate entered one of the trading shops, making her presence known.

"Erik, aren't you going to greet your favorite pirate?"

"Oh, my dear Miss Fortune, it is always a pleasure to see you again. I suppose you have news."

The captain pulled out a finger with a ring from beneath her attire and tossed it onto the merchant's counter.

"The job is done, my friend."

The merchant carefully examined the finger and the ring, admiring the bounty.

"It's... fabulous. How did you do it?" He stopped and turned to look directly at the pirate. "I had sent thugs for that ring and no one could take it."

"Partner, you're not talking to just anyone. I'm a professional." She approached the merchant with her ever-triumphant smile. "I'd love to chat more, but I have other business to attend to. It's five thousand gold coins."

The merchant's expression turned cold before replying.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have that amount."

"Oh, friend..."

The pirate's expression changed completely. She turned her back on the man, then swiftly pulled a sharp knife and pointed it at his neck.

"I think you're not understanding—this isn't a negotiation. That ring with the sapphire stone is worth over five hundred thousand gold coins." She smiled. "You have two options: give me the money I'm asking for, or I'll make sure every piece I cut from your body ends up in a shark's mouth."

Sarah gently cut a fine line into the merchant's neck, drawing a thin stream of blood.

"Alright, alright!" the merchant screamed in fear.

The pirate sheathed her blade while the man bent down to fetch a chest of money.

"Here is all the money, just please don't hurt me."

Sarah quickly counted it to make sure it was all there.

"Alright Erik, it's all here." She approached the merchant again, placing her hand on his chin. "If only you'd made things easier from the start, you wouldn't have that pretty cut on your neck."

With a victorious gaze, the captain looked him in the eyes and then left the shop.

She continued meeting with different merchants she supplied with valuable items in exchange for money. It was all as normal as any other day, any other port.

Once back on the ship, she sat to watch the sunset while something lingered in her mind. Since she'd left Commander Caitlyn's office, the image of seeing Vi handcuffed wouldn't leave her thoughts.

Vi, always so predictable, in trouble again—she expected that. But there was something about the atmosphere in the office that had made her uncomfortable. Something between Vi and Caitlyn. That tension... that closeness that wasn't just professional. Of course, Caitlyn's name immediately reminded her of the orgasmic moan Vi had cried out during sex. Was this woman the "Cait" she'd named? Was there more between them than she'd seen at first glance? Jealousy sparked in her like a flare in the dark.

Sarah only knew Caitlyn by name. Previously, in her absence, she had only dealt with Steb as the acting commander, who had told her a bit about his superior. It wasn’t hard for her to recognize Caitlyn on sight and start a fluent conversation, but she hadn’t expected that scene in the office, with Vi handcuffed in a chair.

After long minutes lost in thought, her jealousy wasn’t just noticeable—it was burning in her chest. Even though she tried to rationalize it, she couldn’t help feeling foolish. She had no reason to feel that way, she’d only seen Vi and Caitlyn in the same room. And yet, it disturbed her deeply.

"Captain, you're early," said her second-in-command, approaching with a chair.

"Rogen, my friend, I tried to get through all the meetings as quickly as possible. I'm a bit tired today."

"Vi left the ship early today, but I guess you already knew that."

Sarah’s expression changed immediately.

"Yeah... I knew. I ran into her at the Enforcer Commander's office."

The burly man set aside his rough demeanor and burst into laughter.

"That woman finds trouble wherever she goes—it's fascinating."

"Too fascinating, I’d say," Sarah replied, showing a hint of doubt.

"Captain, we've known each other for years. We’ve sailed countless seas and found many treasures. Lately, I've felt you’re not quite yourself. I say this as a friend, not just your crewman."

A knot formed in Sarah's throat. If her own crew had noticed, then she needed to act before they saw her as weak. She took some cigars from her coat, offered one to the man, and lit one for herself.

"Rogen, I care about you. You looked after me when I was still a girl. I..." She paused, feeling her throat tighten. "I'm afraid that if they see me vulnerable because of Vi, I’ll lose everything I’ve built. I don’t want the crew to see me as weak, but each day that passes, I feel more trapped between who I am and what I want."

Rogen sighed deeply, looking at Sarah with understanding. His words came slow, filled with years of wisdom.

"Sarah, love is the most human thing we have. It's not just a feeling—it shapes us. It's incredibly beautiful when lived fully, but if you lock it deep inside, let it rot... it's like a bomb waiting to go off. Don’t let it destroy you from within. Don’t let it consume you before you even understand it."

His words made Sarah reflect on her own feelings.

"Remember, Sarah. The bomb won’t explode on its own. You make it detonate."

"Thank you, Rogen. I think I know exactly what I have to do now." Her expression shifted to one of hope.

"By the way, Captain. The crew and I love you two as a couple. Don’t get it twisted—showing how you feel isn’t weakness. The real weakness is not fighting for what makes you happy." He stood with a smile of approval.

Rogen’s words were exactly what she needed to feel a bit more at peace and begin planning her next steps.

The next day, after finishing her meetings with the merchants, Sarah left the city and stopped by a shop. She bought some beautiful flowers of various colors, something special to wait for Vi on the ship. She thought it would be a nice gesture, a way to make her feel special. She didn’t know if Vi would truly appreciate something so simple, but her gut told her to try.

With the flowers in one hand and a bag of cooking ingredients in the other, Sarah headed back to the ship. She decided to prepare a quiet dinner for the two of them, something made with love. Italian pasta, she thought. Nothing more romantic than a candlelit Italian dinner on a ship. At least, that’s what she wanted to believe as she prepared everything.

While setting the table, fear gripped her. Could Vi reciprocate the same way? What if this feeling was just a dream that would vanish into thin air? Sarah sighed, trying not to let doubt take over. She wasn’t sure if it was her heart speaking or just the fear of rejection. When the table was ready, she called Rogen.

"Rogen, I need the crew to take the night off. Here." She handed him a pouch of gold coins. "It’s all yours—go have a party."

The larger man laughed heartily.

"Alright, Captain. Honestly, I didn’t want to hear more of you two shouting tonight anyway." He laughed again. "I’ll tell the crew."

"Thank you, Rogen." The pirate was visibly blushing from the comment. "Take care of the crew."

She was anxious about the evening she had prepared. She knew the mission Vi was on had started the day before and would likely last until sunset today. She hoped the Zaunite would be just as happy to see the surprise.

As the hours passed, Sarah began to feel the weight of waiting. Vi still hadn’t arrived, and the silence grew heavier as the darkness settled in. She decided to wait in her room.

Her mind began to torment her—what if Vi never returned? Did the mission fail? Did she run away? Had she remembered her past? So many unanswered questions.

Her thoughts quieted when she heard Vi’s unmistakable heavy footsteps at the ship’s entrance. Sarah quickly stood and left her room. A smile formed on her face as she saw the woman she’d been waiting for.

"Darling, Caitlyn kept you longer than I expected," Sarah said with a playful smile, watching as Vi removed a heavy jacket she didn’t recognize.

Vi, visibly tired, replied, "We had some problems with the mission, but we managed to fix it."

Sarah scanned her from head to toe—her clothes had changed, and she noticed a slight tension in her posture. It wasn’t just exhaustion.

Now you can relax," said Sarah, approaching with a flirty smile. "I made us dinner."

Vi, however, didn't seem so willing to relax. A flicker of unease crossed her face as Sarah approached, and Sarah caught a glimpse of something unfamiliar in her eyes. Something had shifted in the atmosphere, and Vi seemed reluctant to get closer. In her mind, the image of Caitlyn and Vi in the office lingered.

"What smells so good?" Vi asked, shifting the focus to the food.

Vi and Sarah sat down to eat, and the conversation quickly turned to the mission.

"We reached a place in Zaun, Cait started watching with her rifle. We talked for a bit, and then we got attacked and captured," Vi paused before continuing. "We escaped, fought a giant soldier, and then made it out through one of Zaun's trash tunnels."

Vi began laughing heartily, recalling everything they'd been through.

"You should've seen Cait—she was completely grossed out after falling into a trash pile with me. She wouldn’t stop grumbling about sliding through the tunnel."

Sarah watched Vi as she spoke, noticing the bright smile on her face—a look Sarah rarely saw. Vi seemed genuinely happy, maybe even more than she'd ever seen her. As if she had reclaimed a lost part of herself.

Curious, Sarah let the conversation flow but couldn’t help herself.

"Whose clothes are those?"

The tension returned to Vi instantly.

"Cait gave them to me. We changed at the precinct after the tunnels. I didn't want to show up smelling like garbage. Trust me, you'd have hated the stench," Vi said, clearly distracted.

"What's going on with Caitlyn?" Sarah asked, the tone making the air heavy. "I felt something strange in that office, like... tension between you two. Is there something going on?"

That wasn't just a question. It was a veiled accusation. Something in Vi’s demeanor changed. Was there more between them than Sarah had seen?

Vi paused, locking eyes with her.

"Why are you asking that?" she replied, clearly uncomfortable. "It was my first time meeting the Commander. I don't like enforcers. Caitlyn is no exception. But the mission was interesting. I guess it’s what I needed."

Sarah frowned. Something didn’t sit right, but she didn't push further. Not yet. The conversation had taken a personal turn, and tension lingered in the air.

The night carried on with soft laughter and idle talk as shadows wrapped around the ship. But Sarah couldn't shake a nagging feeling. There was something unsaid. She had kept her feelings inside too long. It was time.

Vi looked relaxed, even content. But when tiredness crept onto her face, Sarah noticed immediately. Vi rose, stretched, and leaned down to kiss Sarah's cheek.

"I'm tired, Sarah. Thanks for everything. Dinner was great."

Sarah watched her, recognizing the goodbye in her eyes. But she couldn’t let her go. Not yet.

"Vi, can you stay a little longer?" she asked quietly. "There’s something I want to talk about."

Vi looked surprised, but she saw something in Sarah's eyes that made her nod.

"If you need me, I’ll stay," she said with a soft sigh. "You know I’m always here for you."

Sarah felt a strange warmth upon hearing those words, but also the feeling that things between them couldn't remain so diffuse, so undefined. The time had come to be honest with herself, to let out everything she'd been bottling up inside her chest. Sarah took a deep breath and, with a slightly hesitant voice, began to speak.

"Vi, what I want to tell you... I've been bottling it up for a long time. We've always been friends, companions, and a little more." Her nervousness is evident as she uses her right index finger to feel the edges of the glass in front of her. "But I feel like I want that 'more' to have a name. I want you to know that... I want you to be mine, officially."

Silence.

"Vi, would you be my girlfriend?"

Vi looked at her, bewildered, not fully understanding what Sarah had just said. It was an unexpected confession, something she hadn't anticipated, and it completely threw her off. The seconds dragged on as Sarah waited anxiously for a response.

"Girlfriends? Sarah, I didn’t expect this. I... I don't know what to say."

Sarah looked at her vulnerable, her heart racing. She knew the words she'd spoken weren't easy, but she felt ready to hear it all, to face whatever Vi had to say. She'd been direct, and her words betrayed a deep desire for honesty in her response. Their relationship up to that point had been an amalgamation of intense and sweet moments, but also complicated and messy ones. Now, Sarah needed to know if it wasn't just her idea and that there really was something more.

"I love you, Sarah. I care deeply for you... but..." Vi hesitated, her face showing a mixture of sadness and gratitude. "I don't think I see you that way."

The Zaun woman approaches the pirate, who is still surprised by Vi's response. She kneels beside the other woman's chair and caresses her cheek.

"There is nothing but deep affection between us, for all the good times we've had together and the trust we've gained over this time. Forgive me if our encounters made you think otherwise. I wish I had fallen in love with you."

The words were a blow to Sarah. The love she had nurtured in silence shattered. It wasn’t just rejection—it was certainty that she would never be enough.

"I’m sorry if that hurts, but I need to be honest with you."

Silence fell. Heavy. Suffocating. Sarah couldn’t speak. Her heart was suspended.

Vi stood, not wanting to inflict more pain, but unable to hide the sadness in her eyes. She walked toward her cabin.

"Is it her?"

Vi froze mid-step.

"Is she the one you called out to when we were together? I suppose she is."

Vi didn't respond.

Vi's silence was terrifying; she didn't answer Sarah's question. Meanwhile, the pirate had hidden under the table the gift she had prepared for Vi, the flowers she had thought would be the perfect touch, now seemed to wither before her eyes, no longer holding any meaning. In the darkness of the night, Sarah felt everything she had planned fading away.

"Forgive me, I don't know what or how to answer you. I think we should talk more calmly tomorrow."

After saying those words, Vi continued toward the cabin, closing the door behind her. Sarah stood there, holding the flowers, feeling the night chill creep into her bones. Vi was gone, and with her, all hope for a future together.

Sadness washed over her, but she knew she couldn't force Vi to feel the same. Vi's response had been even more direct, and that, though painful, gave her the clarity she needed. They couldn't force something that wasn't mutual, but Sarah wasn't willing to give up so easily. She couldn't let Vi go so quickly, not when there was a spark of hope in her heart that, in time, the red-haired woman might fall in love with her.

Sarah slowly rose from her chair. One thought lingered in her mind: it's not the end. While Vi didn't feel the same way now, Sarah knew things could change. The connection they shared wasn't something easy to break, not something that would fade with the passage of time. Vi had so much more to discover, and Sarah was determined to be patient, to wait for the moment when their hearts could align.

"You won’t leave so easily, Vi. I’m not letting you go. One day, you’ll love me," she whispered, staring into the sea.

She looked down at the wilted flowers in her hand. Their scent fading. But her determination didn’t.

She tucked them into her coat pocket—a symbol of what she would fight for.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn remained silent, words caught in her throat. Who was she really? She had been the daughter of the Kiramman family, the enforcer of Piltover, but who was this woman standing in front of Vi? She had always been logical, but now, when Vi's gaze pierced through her, she realized she had never truly thought about her own identity. She was the woman who fought for justice, but what did that mean when all she desired in that moment was to be near Vi? Was she just an enforcer? Or was there something more inside her waiting to be discovered?

Finally, Caitlyn regained her composure, though a faint sorrow crept into her chest. What mattered wasn't her identity, but who she was to Vi, because at that moment, Vi was the only person who truly saw something in her beyond the role of enforcer.

"I've already told you..."

Vi stared at Caitlyn intently, waiting for an answer. It was a simple question, but for her, it carried much more weight. She didn't just want to know who Caitlyn was in terms of her background, but who she was to her. Vi felt a connection so deep that she couldn't ignore it.

"I'm Caitlyn Kiramman, yes, but beyond my name or title, I'm someone who lost herself in the fight to do what's right. Maybe what matters is who I really am to you, Vi, because I've always been what Piltover needed, but here, with you, I'm not sure if that's all I am," Caitlyn said, her voice soft. "Who I am to you is not a question I can answer myself."

As Caitlyn spoke, Vi realized what had been missing from her own life: a real connection with someone who could understand her. And maybe, just maybe, Caitlyn was that person. For a moment, Vi felt a comforting warmth in her chest. A blush appeared on her face, but she quickly hid it. She couldn't let her feelings take over. She had to stay strong.

"Thank you," Vi murmured, not knowing what else to say, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions. "I'd like to talk about this more deeply, but we don't have time to stay here. We need to move quickly if we don't want to be caught again."

Caitlyn nodded, knowing Vi was right.

Vi squeezed Caitlyn's hand tightly, a gesture that spoke louder than words. In that grip was more than just trust. It was a silent promise, a support that went beyond the tangible. Caitlyn wasn't alone, and neither was Vi.

The two ran hand in hand through the tunnels, urgency in every step they took. Sweat began to trickle down their foreheads as they crossed the dark sewers of Zaun, until they finally found a ladder that led them toward the light.

They climbed quickly, and before Caitlyn could process what had just happened, they realized they had arrived in Piltover.

She looked around, relieved to have left the tunnels behind, but the weight of the situation remained. Why were Noxian soldiers in Piltover? This made no sense. Mel was in charge of Noxus, and if soldiers were here... then something was wrong in Noxus.

"That was close," Caitlyn said, trying to clear her mind. Time had slipped away quickly, and there were still too many unanswered questions.

After catching their breath, Caitlyn looked at Vi beside her, her clothes stained by the filth of the tunnels. She couldn't let her stay like that. She needed to clean up and change the outfit soiled by Zaun's streets.

"Vi," Caitlyn said. "Let's go to the barracks. You can shower and change there, but you definitely can't go out like that."

Vi, however, was reluctant.

"I don't need your help with fancy Piltover clothes. I'd never wear that," Vi replied, frowning, clearly uncomfortable.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, insisted, but Vi remained firm. Still, despite the small spark of jealousy that ran through her at the thought of Sarah, Caitlyn couldn't help but flash a playful smile to provoke Vi.

"Are you really going to let Sarah smell that stench on you?" Caitlyn joked, her tone a bit sharper than she'd intended, but making it clear that, despite her jealousy, she just wanted Vi to be comfortable.

Vi paused for a moment, observing Caitlyn, and after a sigh, reluctantly gave in. It wasn't just about Sarah—it was also because, deep down, she knew things wouldn't be so simple if she kept ignoring how she really felt.

Eventually, they headed to the barracks. The air was heavy with exhaustion, but also with a growing discomfort that Caitlyn couldn't shake. The mission had failed, and although they had escaped, the bitter taste of defeat still lingered. Too many unanswered questions, and the tension with Vi only made things more complicated.

When they arrived, the stench of their clothes didn’t go unnoticed. The guards couldn't help but look on with a bit of disgust at the putrid smell wafting from the two women.

"Officer, do you have something to say?" Caitlyn asked with a serious expression. "If so, I suggest you look me in the eye and say it."

"No, Commander. My apologies."

The poor guard had endured the wrath of the blue-haired woman, but Vi was amused to see how such a refined girl could put a man twice her size in his place, leaving him like a kitten.

After walking through the corridors of the barracks, Cait opened the door to her office and, with an almost mechanical gesture, went to a small closet where she kept spare clothes. These weren’t just any clothes—they had belonged to Vi. Caitlyn had kept them with care before becoming Commander, using them to remember her during moments of sadness and uncertainty.

She had begun to keep them as a way to feel that Vi was still close, to remember her every time she felt lost, unsure how to face the harsh reality of being Commander. Yet now, those clothes felt more like a memory of complicated times than something comforting.

Caitlyn opened the closet, touching the fabric with trembling fingers. These clothes were more than fabric—they were a piece of her past, of the times when Vi was her everything. She had kept them to remember, to feel that Vi was still nearby, even if she had never fully admitted it. Now, seeing Vi again, something in her chest told her she could no longer cling to the past. Was that what she had been doing with Vi? Clinging to what no longer existed? Caitlyn took the clothes and, with a mix of nervousness, handed them to Vi.

Her eyes conveyed something deeper than Caitlyn could decipher. Then, unable to help herself, she let out a teasing comment.

"Wow, the commander has good taste," Vi said, inspecting the clothes with a slight smile on her face.

It was a red jacket, striped pants, and a white shirt with blue trim around the collar.

Caitlyn paused for a moment, surprised by her comment, but said nothing. Vi couldn't know what those clothes meant to her. It was a mix of love and pain, memories of a past that had been left behind. But instead of continuing with her thoughts, Caitlyn decided to respond with a nervous smile.

"Don't flatter yourself. Those clothes are yours," Caitlyn replied, rolling her eyes as a wave of nostalgia washed over her.

Vi, upon hearing Caitlyn’s words, remained silent for a moment.

"Thanks for keeping them, I guess."

Without saying more, Vi headed to the bathroom to shower. Caitlyn stayed there, staring at the closed door, lost in thought.

While that was happening, she sat in her office, leaning back in the chair, the failure of the mission still echoing in her mind. It wasn’t just the failure that troubled her, but also what had happened with Vi and how she longed to feel those sensations on her skin again.

"Nora, can you come in, please?" the Commander shouted.

Nora quickly entered the office, awaiting instructions.

"I need you to send a message to Lieutenant Steb," she said, writing on a piece of paper. "He must go to this address with a few officers. Tell him it’s extremely urgent."

She handed Nora the message inside an envelope. Nora had proven to be truly dedicated and very professional.

"Nora, listen. This must go directly to the Lieutenant. It’s completely confidential."

"Yes, Commander. I’ll deliver it personally."

Caitlyn watched Nora rush out of the office, then turned her attention to the letters from Noxus that Nora had delivered earlier. There were four—one had already been read and dealt with commercial matters, while the others were marked to be read only by the Commander.

The letters spoke of Noxus, of the war with Demacia, and of Mel, but something about them felt strange.

The first letter had a formal tone. It spoke of her arrival and current situation in Noxus, of the progress of the war, and of Swain, LeBlanc, and Darius.

The second letter from Mel had changed in tone. It spoke of a strange sensation, as if something lurked in the shadows, though she didn’t know what. Mel’s tone was full of uncertainty. Caitlyn read the words again, searching for clues about what could be happening in Noxus, but found nothing reassuring.

The third letter was the most unsettling. In it, Mel wrote about how she had secured leadership in Noxus, how the noble houses supported her. Yet something in the way she wrote, in the words she chose, didn’t sit right. Everything seemed to fit, but something deep inside Caitlyn told her something was wrong.

She sat thoughtfully, holding the letters in her hands, wondering what was truly happening in Noxus. But her concentration broke when she heard the sound of the bathroom door. Vi was coming out, torso bare, with a towel wrapped around her waist. Caitlyn, distracted by Vi’s sudden appearance, couldn’t help but look. Vi, seeing the letters, looked at her intently.

"Is she your girlfriend?" Vi asked curiously, referring to the letters sent by Mel.

Caitlyn, surprised by the question, quickly turned toward Vi, a faint blush coloring her face at the sight of Vi looking at her with that mix of curiosity and humor. Besides the towel at her waist, she wore bandages over her chest, revealing every well-defined muscle of her abdomen. Of course, Cait knew every zone, every scar on her body—but to see her again was a wonder.

"What? She’s not my girlfriend. Those are enforcer matters," Caitlyn exclaimed, pulling a disgusted face at the insinuation. "I thought you were showering."

"I’ve never been in a shower like this before," Vi replied, rubbing the back of her neck with her right hand. "The water’s way too hot."

Caitlyn couldn’t help but smile, though the tension in the air lingered. She got up and went to the bathroom to explain how everything worked. As she did, Vi made a few jokes about how the rich lived in Piltover, making Caitlyn laugh, feeling a warm sense of comfort when she was close to Vi.

"So this is how the rich live, huh?" Vi joked, letting out a laugh.

Caitlyn, smiling, replied while explaining how to use the shampoo and conditioner.

"I remember you loved hot water," Caitlyn said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "The first time you stayed at the mansion, I had to explain how to use everything. Then you sat down and asked me to show you how it all worked. You were so lazy. We were just acquaintances, and yet I ended up washing your hair myself. You ended up with the best smell in all of Zaun."

Vi blushed at her words and, though she tried to hide it, couldn’t help but offer a shy smile.

"Could you... do it again?" Vi asked, a little embarrassed. "Would you help me with my hair?"

Caitlyn, feeling a whirlwind of emotions, nodded. She couldn’t resist. Something inside her longed for that contact, that moment of closeness with Vi.

Vi sat in the shower chair and Caitlyn sat behind her, beginning to wet her hair, gently massaging her scalp. The relaxation was evident on Vi’s face.

"How do you feel?" Caitlyn asked, seeing Vi close her eyes, clearly relaxed.

"I’ve never felt this relaxed in my life... You have a charming touch," Vi replied, smiling.

Caitlyn responded with a soft laugh.

"Now, who can resist my charms?"

The shorter woman let out a laugh but didn’t say a word. Cait kept caressing Vi’s hair with the creams she had. Once she finished, Vi slowly turned her chair and asked curiously:

"How did you end up becoming an enforcer?"

Vi couldn’t help but notice the contradiction in this woman: she had a much kinder, warmer personality with people, very different from the image Vi had of enforcers. In her mind, enforcers were cold and harsh—but Caitlyn... she didn’t fit anything Vi remembered.

Hearing the question, Caitlyn stayed quiet for a moment, thinking about how to explain it all. Finally, with a sigh, she began to tell her story.

"When I was little, I entered a contest with the city’s Sheriff—her name was Grayson. I won first place, but I always suspected she let me win. I thought my parents had paid her off," Caitlyn began, looking at Vi with a nostalgic gaze. "But what really happened was that Grayson did let me win, but for the wrong reasons I had in mind. She saw something in me. She taught me an important lesson. She told me it wasn’t out of pity or because of my family—it was because I had the potential to be a good sharpshooter and enforcer."

Caitlyn continued, remembering Grayson’s words clearly:

"Grayson, even though she let me win, made sure I really thought about why I shot. That I needed to have a reason for it. She saw something in me, something I didn’t even know I had. She taught me I could be stronger, smarter than I thought. And I was encouraged to follow that path, to fight for justice, to solve real crimes. I wanted to help both cities find peace."

Vi listened intently, never taking her eyes off Caitlyn. She observed her carefully, noticing how her words carried emotion and sincerity. She found her curious, tender, even more human than she had imagined. Despite the toughness Caitlyn tried to display in front of others, Vi had the privilege of seeing a side of her she didn’t show just anyone, and she felt lucky for that. In that moment, Vi could feel that Caitlyn was, somehow, more natural, more genuine, and it made her feel a closeness she hadn’t experienced before.

Though she didn’t say it aloud, the girl from Zaun was deeply moved by Caitlyn’s words. The young enforcer, who had seemed so rigid and distant, was now showing her a completely new side. Vi could see the humanity in her, and it gave her complete trust.

Reclining in the chair across from Caitlyn, she couldn’t help but notice the scar beneath the woman’s eyepatch—a visible reminder of the sacrifice she had made. Ever since they met, she’d always been curious about the story behind that mark, but had never had the courage to ask. Now, something inside urged her to finally address it.

"Cait, what happened to your eye? Why do you wear that patch?"

Caitlyn looked at her for a moment, surprised by the direct question, but also relieved that Vi had finally found the confidence to speak about something so painful and personal. Vi’s question was valid, and Caitlyn knew this was the right moment to open up, even if it wasn’t easy.

"It happened during the war. There was so much at stake... too much," Caitlyn paused, taking a breath before continuing. "We faced Ambessa Medarda, one of Noxus’s most powerful leaders. I knew that if I didn’t act quickly, not only Piltover would be in danger, but also Zaun, even all of Runeterra. I was ready to sacrifice myself for the city, for everyone. You could say it cost me an eye."

Caitlyn relaxed and managed a smile despite the painful memory.

Vi watched her with a mix of awe and respect, finally understanding the magnitude of Caitlyn’s sacrifice. She, who had always known the harshness of life on the streets, now saw Caitlyn in a completely different light. She wasn’t just an enforcer; she was someone willing to give everything, even when the price was as high as a part of herself.

"Wow... You sacrificed your eye to save the city. I didn’t know you were that... brave."

"Sometimes, courage is all we have left. What other choice did I have? If I hadn’t done it, it would’ve been the end for everyone. But I’ll tell you something else, Vi—I’d do it again without hesitation."

Vi remained silent for a moment, feeling the weight of her words. She knew there was so much more beneath that tough exterior Caitlyn showed, and the admiration she felt only grew. But something still lingered in her mind—something she’d been holding back since she reunited with Caitlyn. Finally, she said it.

"And Powder? What do you know about her?"

Caitlyn closed her eyes for a moment. The pain from that question pierced her like a dagger. Her breathing deepened as she tried to calm herself before answering. Talking about Powder, her sister, always brought her to the brink of tears. Vi noticed it instantly and realized just how deep the wound still was.

"Vi... Powder... she changed. After the battle you remember on the Piltover bridge, you two were adopted by Vander. When you were just a teenager—fourteen—something happened, let’s say." Caitlyn didn’t want to share the whole story and burden Vi with guilt. "After that, she found a place at Silco’s side while you ended up in Stillwater. Years later, I came along, got you out of prison, and we reunited with Powder. But she had changed... She was Jinx now. She wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the girl you once knew. She was completely lost, trapped under Silco’s manipulation. Far from who she used to be..."

Caitlyn paused. Vi’s eyes welled up with a deep pain as she pictured everything Caitlyn was recounting—the battle, Powder lost, Jinx born out of chaos.

"She developed schizophrenia. Everything she thought, everything she saw, was distorted. You tried to save her so many times... Then something happened that changed everything for the two of us..." She hesitated. "I became obsessed with capturing Jinx—the one who killed my mother... I hated her so much..."

Caitlyn’s hands began to tremble, her fingers curling into a fist from the pain.

"Before the war broke out, I was willing to let her go, to go with you—I knew how much you loved her and I didn’t want you to suffer because of your sister." She sighed and continued, now calmer. "She had the chance to leave, and I never expected it, but it was her arrival on the battlefield that changed the course of the war. It was because of her that we were able to win. Thanks to her, we made a difference. Thanks to her, I’m alive."

Vi stared at her, her eyes reflecting a mix of understanding and amazement. She couldn’t imagine everything Caitlyn had been through, the way she spoke of Powder. Vi had lost so much too, but she had never faced something as devastating as what Caitlyn endured. She had been able to forgive her mother’s killer just to make her happy.

"I’m so sorry..." she said after a few seconds of silence. "After the battle, what happened to Pow... Jinx? Where is she?"

Caitlyn closed her eyes again, pressing her lips together as she struggled with emotion.

"Vi, only you know where Powder is. You were the last one to see her alive. During the battle, that was the last time you two met. I don’t know where she is now. I don’t know if... if she’s still alive or if something else happened."

Silence filled the room as Vi processed Caitlyn’s words. It was a harsh blow, something she had feared but deep down always knew could be true. The distance between her and her sister, her endless search—everything she had done to find her—now felt even more hopeless.

Vi closed her eyes for a moment, giving herself time to listen to her heart pounding in her chest. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at Caitlyn intently.

"I’m going to find her, Cait. I promise. Whatever happened, I’m bringing Powder back."

Caitlyn looked at Vi with a mix of sorrow and determination. She knew that, despite the emotional distance and the confusion, Vi was the key to understanding what had happened to Powder. And if anyone could find her, it was Vi. But there were still so many unanswered questions.

Vi saw the confusion in Cait’s eyes.

"Cait, I know my sister did unforgivable things... I won’t ask you to support me in this search."

Sensing the emptiness in Vi’s eyes, a knot formed in Caitlyn’s chest, tightening her soul. Then, without thinking, Caitlyn stepped forward and embraced her with unexpected tenderness.

"Even if you don’t remember me, Vi, I’ll always be by your side—for better or worse, I’ll always support you." Her words were laced with vulnerability, as if her heart was open to Vi but at the same time struggling not to overflow.

Vi, holding the embrace tightly, felt the sincerity in Caitlyn’s words. Even though uncertainty lingered between them, Caitlyn was there, willing to stand by her through whatever came. For a moment, Vi allowed herself to relax, letting that embrace surround her with all of Caitlyn’s warmth. She felt a deep connection to the blue-eyed woman, beyond circumstance.

As they slowly pulled apart, their eyes met and held for what felt like an eternity. Vi, breathing heavily, felt the growing tension between them, the inexplicable desire that had been repressed for so long. Caitlyn, her heart pounding, saw the vulnerability in Vi’s eyes—a vulnerability only she could see. Without another thought, Caitlyn leaned in, and the world stopped the moment their lips met. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was the kiss they had both feared, full of tension, longing, and unspoken promises.

Vi closed her eyes and surrendered to the moment. She had never felt so cared for, so loved in her life. It was a kiss full of repressed emotion, of need and yearning. It wasn’t just physical—it was a meeting of souls, of hearts trying to understand each other in the midst of chaos.

The air was thick with palpable tension, and with each touch, Caitlyn’s body responded. A muffled moan escaped her lips when Vi kissed her again, deeper this time, almost as if each kiss stole their breath. Caitlyn bit her lip, holding back the desire, but her body had already spoken.

What began as a gentle brush of lips turned into a dance of desire. Vi felt the latent heat between their bodies and began kissing and biting Caitlyn’s neck, drawing ecstatic moans with every touch of her skin. She grabbed her by the waist and guided them both to their feet as she continued to explore Caitlyn’s neck with kisses. Vi knew how to kiss her, how to touch her, how to arouse her, and she began to awaken in Caitlyn the most primal desires.

Caught in the ecstasy consuming them, the Zaunite pushed Cait against the wall, accidentally hitting the water switch. They were surprised as water poured down over their heads, but amidst wide smiles, they realized it didn’t matter at all.

With skilled hands, the Zaunite began stripping her of the soaked uniform, sliding off the jacket. Caitlyn, almost immediately, removed the black slip she had been wearing, revealing her full, generous breasts. The fighter blushed for a moment, but curiosity soon took over as she gently touched Caitlyn’s nipples with the tips of her fingers. Caitlyn made a superhuman effort not to moan at her touch, but her eyes betrayed her—the need for that contact had taken root in them.

Vi overcame her apparent shyness and pressed Cait’s body against the wall, bringing her mouth close to her lover’s ear.

"You're absolutely enchanting," she murmured in a breathless tone that sent shivers down the blue-haired woman's spine.

She looked at her face again with special attention, taking care to remember every inch of her skin and delving into the depths of her eyes. Then she delicately moved down her neck, pressing her lips to hers, enjoying every tremor he caused. She moved her mouth to her left breast, sucking and hardening the nipple that pointed toward her.

Caitlyn moaned louder as she watched Vi's eyes turn from silver to a dark black of desire.

She could feel Vi's warm breath on her skin. A small, almost imperceptible nod was all it took to know they both wanted the same thing. There were no doubts, no words, just a connection so deep that words became unnecessary. The smaller woman smiled like a lovesick fool as she unbuttoned Caitlyn's pants and slowly pulled them down. Once outside, she rose to face level with the enforcer, took one of her legs, and wrapped it around her waist.

“I want to make you mine, Cait,” Vi whispered.

“I've always been yours,” Caitlyn replied, her voice trembling.

It was the response Vi was waiting for as she began rubbing her hand over her muse's bare thighs while kissing her way down Caitlyn's smooth abdomen. Reaching her pleasure center, she extended her tongue and slowly ran it over her, bringing the juices ready to her mouth.

“Agh...” Caitlyn closed her eyes and moaned, involuntarily running a hand through Vi’s damp hair.

Vi wanted to taste as much as possible; she wanted to fill herself with Caitlyn's fluids and give her the best orgasm of her life. Holding Caitlyn's buttocks firmly in her grasp, she pressed her head even tighter against her sex, using her tongue to pleasure her. Her tongue darted in different directions as she felt the swelling of her clitoris grow.

“Don’t stop,” Caitlyn pleaded between gasps, her eyes rolling back into a white haze.

Immediately, Vi stopped what she was doing, leaving the taller woman stunned by her disobedience. She stood up, kissed Caitlyn’s lips so she could taste the sweetness of her own desire, and then spread her legs to explore the inside of the blue-eyed woman with her hand.

"Of course not. I won't stop until I'm done with you," Vi replied, looking into her eyes and inserting two fingers into her vulva. She started slowly, making sure to hear every moan the older woman made. It was inevitable that she wanted more, and she began to pick up the pace, eliciting the delicious sound of her juices against the palm of her hand.

Her face had changed, reflecting malice and complicity, her smile mischievous as she watched Cait enjoy the ecstasy brought on by the Zaunite.

Caitlyn trembled when Vi touched her as if for the first time. It was a profound vulnerability, an exposure of everything she'd been holding back. For Vi, it was as if everything she'd kept bottled up inside came flooding back when she touched the blue-haired woman like that. Not only did their bodies meet, but somehow, their souls did too.

The intensity of his thrusts increased more and more, one after the other with moans that Cait couldn't hide in her mouth.

"Fuck me harder, Vi."

The redheaded woman didn't think twice, adding a third finger to Cait's already tight area. The woman's eyes widened as she felt a slight pain when the third finger entered, but it quickly gave way to more pleasure through unbridled screams.

"Be a good girl and call out my name, Cait."

"Vi!! Vi!!"

She couldn't handle the excitement anymore; the heat and pressure she felt against his fingers was so inexplicably delicious. Without realizing it, the arousal was so great that she herself began to moan in time with his thrusts.

"Good girl, keep going, you're mine," he whispered in her ear as a way of self-congratulation, knowing he was fucking her.

"I'm yours... Aggh... fuck me however you want..." Cait whispered while the other woman didn't stop.

It only took a few more seconds for her lover to start moaning her name again and approaching the climax of pleasure.

"Vi... Vi... I'm going to cum... Vi..."

This only made Zaunita ecstatic, and she began to moan along with her lover. She cupped his face with her left hand, pressing his thumb into her mouth.

"Cum, Cait, cum."

"Ugh... Vi!!"

Her hands moved quickly, almost without thinking. Each touch was more urgent, more demanding, as their hearts beat in unison. The air grew heavy, and every one of the woman's walls tightened as she screamed her name. An orgasm surged through every muscle in the taller woman, and that only served to evoke the same sensations in Vi's body, causing both women to expel fluids at the same time.

When they stopped, the silence was even more powerful. Vi looked into her eyes, breathing deeply, as if the world had disappeared for a moment. Their breathing had slowed, each of them carefully drawing in every breath as their bodies finally began to relax after the rush of adrenaline... Vi rested her forehead against hers, still holding her face with her left hand, and kissed her gently before whispering in her ear.

“You... You’re special…”

They stayed there, hands intertwined, laughing softly, the sound of their breathing gradually syncing. Caitlyn’s eyes sparkled as Vi looked at her with the same gleam. But despite the warmth of their closeness, something remained unresolved. The shadows of the past and the doubts about their future still lingered in their hearts. But for now, there were no words that could change what they felt. The future was uncertain, but at least they had found refuge in each other.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn stepped out of the shower, her face red not only from the hot water but from the swirl of emotions coursing through her body. Her mind remained trapped in the echoes of what had happened, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness left by broken memories. What she had shared with Vi had been so intense, so unique, that thinking about it now made it feel like a distant dream, as if it had never truly happened. She wasn’t sure of herself or of who she had been in that moment.

The woman tried to shake off her thoughts and focus on her duties as Commander, which couldn’t be delayed any longer: the situation with Noxus and Mel’s letters still lingered in her mind. Those letters were full of clues she still couldn’t decipher. Something wasn’t right in Noxus.

She failed again and again in her attempt to clear her mind and focus on her responsibilities. The city’s missions couldn’t wait, but every thought was interrupted by the image of Vi. Just imagining her there in her office's bathroom, naked, with water droplets gliding down her skin, made her want to go back in and this time, claim the Zaunite for herself. But that would have to wait.

Caitlyn sat at her desk, trying to concentrate on paperwork. Her feelings were deeply entangled, and the fact that Vi couldn’t remember the relationship they had shared months ago left her with a sense of powerlessness.

Finally, the door opened, breaking the silence of the room and Caitlyn’s turbulent thoughts. Vi entered, dressed in her usual clothes, the ones Caitlyn had first known her in. Her presence always had the power to change the atmosphere, but looking at her now stirred a whirlwind of unresolved emotions.

Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice that Vi had shaved the left side of her head again, where her hair had started to grow back over the past months.

Vi stopped a few steps from the desk, avoiding Caitlyn’s gaze, as if she were overly conscious or even guilty about what had happened between them in such an intimate space. Vi’s words, once so familiar, now sounded like a distant echo.

"Oh, sorry, I used your razor without asking."

Caitlyn couldn’t help but smile. There was something about the way Vi spoke, the way she moved, that still captivated her attention. She looked up and studied her carefully.

"It’s not a problem."

The blue-haired woman stepped closer and ran her hand through Vi’s now-clean reddish hair.

"I must say, I love how it turned out after the shower," she said, showing pride that it had been her who made Vi’s hair look so radiant.

Vi smiled, but then remembered something, and her expression turned flirtatious and teasing.

"Well, I have to say you have a real talent for this," her eyes scanned the other woman from head to toe. "Besides, I doubt you liked me much smelling like the garbage we fell into."

Caitlyn laughed softly, a laugh that was a blend of relief and warmth, a breath after the chaos of the mission and the recent tension of what they had shared in the bathroom. She stepped a bit closer to Vi and, with a sincere smile, responded:

"No matter how you smell, you’re always a delight to my eyes."

Vi smiled, a bit shyly, but then, as if remembering something, the smile faded slightly. Night had already fallen, and as always, Sarah was waiting.

"I have to go now. Sarah’s waiting for me on the ship."

Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice the weight in Vi’s words. A knot formed in her throat, and a sharp pain of insecurity settled in her chest. Vi with Sarah—that image stuck in her mind like a thorn she couldn’t remove. She had no right to feel that way, but the jealous twist in her stomach grew and clung without mercy, making the air feel thick and heavy. She tried with all her strength to ignore it, but it was impossible, and the words slipped from her mouth.

"What kind of relationship do you have with Sarah?"

Vi, surprised by Caitlyn’s direct question, hesitated for a moment, her eyes reflecting an unease she could barely hide. She knew she was revealing more of herself than usual, something she rarely did, but even so, she answered with palpable honesty. Her voice trembled slightly, as if testing how much she could trust Caitlyn.

"We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of weeks, romantically. I don’t remember exactly when it started, but that’s how it is."

Caitlyn felt a weight drop onto her chest, the feeling of jealousy intensifying. She tried to stay composed, but couldn’t help asking one more direct question, almost without thinking.

"Have you ever... been with Sarah, in a more... intimate way?"

Vi remained silent for a moment, surprised by the question, and Caitlyn could see her eyes darken slightly, as if she were holding something back. Finally, slowly and almost in a whisper, Vi responded:

"Wow, you’re direct, Commander," she grumbled, trying to lighten the mood. "Yes... more than once..."

Vi's words hit Caitlyn like a dagger, even if she wouldn't admit it. She felt something break inside her upon hearing them. The idea of another woman having touched Vi tore her apart, but there was nothing she could do about it. Not when Vi remembered nothing, not when she was still in the process of discovering who she was.

"And... what happened?" The question left her lips without thinking, as if seeking answers she probably shouldn't.

Vi, visibly uncomfortable with the question, began to explain, her words laced with shame and a hint of sadness.

"You already know... I don't have to explain it..." She paused at the awkwardness. "At first, it was just casual encounters. I... I didn't want to be pleased myself, but I wanted to please."

Cait was surprised by the Zaunite's response, more honest than she expected.

"There was only one time when... you know... she pleased me, but... when we reached the most... intimate moment... something in me couldn't help it." She stopped, looking around the room for something to hide her face as her cheeks flushed. "In the middle of the pleasure, while I was having an orgasm, I called out your name so naturally... Cait... I didn’t finish saying it, but it was enough. And then, that entire moment with Sarah was ruined."

Caitlyn, now even more surprised by Vi's words, remained silent for a few seconds. Vi looked so embarrassed, so vulnerable in that moment, Caitlyn couldn't help but laugh—though with a touch of disbelief.

"I can’t believe it... You really called out my name in the middle of an orgasm with another woman?"

Vi, blushing and smirking, tried to steer the conversation away.

"Don’t get cocky, Cait. I didn’t even know who you were, and yet your name was already on my lips."

They looked at each other for a moment, the tension between them softened by their shared laughter. Vi, still somewhat embarrassed, fell into thought, a smile forming as she recalled how much she'd tried to figure out that name—and now, she was facing the answer.

Caitlyn, also smiling, felt relieved by the change in tone. It wasn't easy to deal with her feelings, the fear of losing Vi, but in that moment, their bond kept growing, even in unexpected ways.

Vi’s words still echoed in Cait’s ears. Despite everything, her heart had calmed. Vi had remembered her name, even if only briefly and seemingly without meaning to. But Caitlyn couldn’t ignore that flicker of hope.

A small touch of certainty she clung to, as if it were proof that perhaps not everything was lost. Vi hadn't forgotten completely. A part of her was still alive in her mind, and that was enough for Caitlyn—for now. That gave her hope, the will to fight to bring her memory back, so she could be the same person she once loved.

Vi looked at her closely, as if reading Caitlyn’s thoughts.

"And now what?" Cait said.

Vi, after a brief moment of reflection, replied with her usual calm, though a trace of doubt lingered in her voice.

"Now I need to go to the ship and think for a bit."

Caitlyn watched her, not wanting to let her go, not wanting to lose her again. Doubt still lingered in her mind. Their relationship was still hanging by a thread, and the fact that Vi couldn’t remember what they had been added to the relentless pressure in her chest. Vi, seeing Caitlyn’s expression, continued in a lighter tone, trying to shift the mood.

"Relax. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. For someone so confident, jealousy clings to you like smoke on your skin." The redhead chuckled, making clear how obvious Caitlyn's feelings were.

Caitlyn, surprised, blushed but couldn’t help letting out a small laugh.

"Shut up!" she said with a slight smile, trying to hide the discomfort of being caught.

Vi grinned, clearly amused by Caitlyn’s blushing. Then her face softened again, and the conversation took a more serious turn.

"With Sarah... we got along, but the relationship felt forced. Loneliness drove me to it. At least on my part. She’s a good girl, but I’m not in love with her. It’s not fair to her after all we’ve been through—I know that, and I deeply regret giving her hope with my actions." She paused to catch her breath. "About us... I still can’t remember who we were, but I feel you living inside me as if we were destined to be together. Just give me some time to reflect on everything we’ve been through."

Vi’s words struck deep in Caitlyn’s heart. The doubts and insecurities she'd had about Sarah vanished for a brief moment. Vi, though lost and confused, had given her everything she needed to feel at peace.

"Even if your memory is gone, I love that your essence has always remained the same," she said, gently caressing her cheek.

Vi looked at her intently, her eyes showing a mix of tenderness and gratitude. For the first time in a long time, Vi let her heart fully open. Caitlyn’s words made her feel closer, as if, finally, the pieces were starting to fit together.

But there was still something Vi needed to resolve. Something that haunted her and couldn’t be ignored. She sighed deeply and looked at Caitlyn with a sorrowful expression.

"I wish I could remember everything. I want to know what happened with Powder. I want to find her, if she’s alive, and make sure she’s okay. I feel like I’ve failed as a sister."

Hearing those words, Cait felt her heart tighten. She knew how important it was for Vi to find Powder, to gain some peace. But she also knew they couldn’t rush into answers. They had to take it step by step—and she would be there to help her on that journey.

"Let’s go step by step, Vi. First, let’s find a way to bring your memory back. Then we’ll figure out which path to take. But we’ll do it together."

Vi remained silent for a moment, as if Caitlyn’s words calmed her, even though uncertainty still lingered. Then Caitlyn smiled gently, a smile of relief.

"By the way, you’ve paid your debt to the city. I’ll make sure the posters with your face are taken down. I’ll also inform the other regions about the situation."

Vi raised an eyebrow, unable to resist a joke.

"If that’s how debts are paid, I think I might commit more crimes."

Caitlyn laughed, and a flicker of complicity lit both their faces.

"If you get into more trouble, you’ll have to face me... and only me."

The playful tone between them softened the atmosphere, though Caitlyn still felt the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Vi smiled, then sighed and stood up to leave.

"Well, it’s time to take my path."

Cait nodded and began walking beside the Zaunite. After the long conversations, her body felt lighter, as if she’d lifted a great weight off her shoulders. Vi was starting to remember, and that was the only thing that truly mattered in that moment. Caitlyn looked at her with determination, knowing that no matter what happened, she wouldn’t let her drift away again.

As they left the office, both women walked down the hallway, and Caitlyn couldn't help but notice how a group of officers watched them furtively, as if some kind of rumor was taking shape in their minds about what had happened between the two.

The women stopped for a moment, and Caitlyn, with her refined hearing, caught the murmurs of the officers.

Officer 1: "She sounded like a schoolgirl, yelling and yelling 'Vi, Vi, fuck me, Vi.'"

Officer 2: "Who would've thought the Commander liked Zaunites."

Officer 3: "The woman looks well-built, those muscles could melt me. If she ever leaves the Commander, I volunteer to be her nighttime companion."

Officer 1: "Those muscles are probably all for show. What she needs is a man like me who works out daily. Look at these biceps."

Officer 3: "In that case, I'd rather stay single. I like tough girls like the Zaunite, what a treat."

The officers laughed and kept whispering among themselves.

"Officers, I assume there's no more desk work to do if you're so relaxed chatting, right? In that case, go see Lieutenant Goma for a special training session."

The officers went pale, chills running down their spines at the thought that the Commander might have heard everything. Seeing her standing before them with such authority, they fell silent, lined up, and left.

Caitlyn walked up to one officer with steady steps, her dominant presence filling the room. She stood inches from her face, gaze piercing, making the officer tremble slightly. In a low but firm voice, Caitlyn said:

"Miss, it's inappropriate to express your carnal desires so openly in the enforcers' headquarters, especially when speaking that way about people close to your Commander. If you want to continue your conversation, take off your badge and leave it on my desk. If not, shut your mouth and join your companions in training."

Officer 3 stood at attention, saluted, and broke from the line to follow the others.

Vi smiled at the way Caitlyn could so swiftly shift from one tone to another, admiring how people respected this woman who, just minutes earlier, had been screaming her name in desperation.

"You never cease to amaze me, you know that?"

Caitlyn smiled, her heart pounding.

"I just try to earn my officers' respect."

"Well, I’d say that officer nearly peed her pants with that scolding," Vi said with a playful grin. "Guess she won’t talk about my muscles again."

"Shut up," Caitlyn replied, smiling, knowing Vi would surely use this scene to tease her in the future.

When they reached the exit, Caitlyn said goodbye with a soft smile.

"I’ll be waiting for you at the office tomorrow so we can see what to do about your memory."

Caitlyn paused for a moment, her voice softening as she spoke the invitation. There was something in her tone, something that revealed more than just the offer of a roof over her head. What she was really asking of Vi was much more than that: it was her presence.

"I'd like to invite you to our house. I mean... it was your home too. When you’re ready, maybe you can live there with me again. What do you think?"

Vi, a little shy, looked her in the eyes and nodded with a smile.

"It’s a big change, but I promise I’ll think about it. I’ll come see you at the office tomorrow no matter what."

Before leaving, Vi added in a softer tone:

"Before that, I need to clear some things up with Sarah."

Vi began to walk toward the ship, while Caitlyn watched her go. This time, there was no uncertainty. She felt confident, secure, and for the first time in a long while, a spark of hope in her heart. Vi had returned, albeit in a different way, and Caitlyn was willing to wait however long it took to truly have her back.

Caitlyn walked in the opposite direction toward the mansion, where Tobias was waiting with his usual cup of tea.

"Cait, you’re finally back. I asked at the precinct and they said you’d been away on a mission for two days. Is everything okay?"

"Hi, Dad. Yeah, everything’s fine, but you won’t believe what happened."

Tobias raised an eyebrow curiously. Cait took his hand in hers.

"I finally found her, Dad. I found Vi." She picked up a cup to join him for tea.

Caitlyn’s eyes sparkled with joy as she told her father everything that had happened over the past two days and how Vi had started to remember at least her feelings. Of course, she omitted a few inappropriate details.

"I’m really happy for you, sweetheart. I haven’t seen you smile like this in a long time."

Just then, one of the mansion's servants entered.

"Miss Kiramman. An enforcer named Lieutenant Steb is waiting for you in the sitting room."

For Caitlyn, the fact that Lieutenant Steb had come to her house personally meant urgent news.

"Thank you for the tea, Dad. I’m going to talk to Steb."

She stood up immediately and hurried, wondering what updates Steb might bring. Had he caught the leader? Or perhaps had more information about Noxus?

Steb was sitting by the fire, his professional demeanor intact, and stood as Caitlyn entered the room.

"Commander."

"Steb, skip the formality. We’re in my house, not the precinct."

"Yes, ma’am."

"Tell me, how did the mission I gave you go?"

Steb paused, looking at the floor before meeting her gaze.

"Cait, we investigated the entire area you indicated. There was absolutely nothing. No goods, no people, not even a trace of anyone having been there."

Caitlyn’s face twisted in disbelief.

"What? That’s impossible."

"We searched everything, ma’am."

Cait paced, touching her chin with her right hand, thinking about what could have happened.

"Come with me to my office, please."

As they walked quickly through the mansion, Caitlyn wondered how they could have relocated everything in just a few hours. If that was the case, they were far more organized than she had ever thought.

Inside, she pulled out an updated map of Zaun and Piltover, laid it on the desk, and marked the locations related to the criminal gang.

"Here’s where we were ambushed. And this other area is where we woke up in a cell. Did you search both places?"

"Yes, ma’am. I even extended the search radius by a kilometer. We found some cages like you said, but no sign that anyone had been there. If that’s the case, these aren’t just common criminals."

"You’re right, Steb. This isn’t just any gang. I believe the city is once again in danger from Noxus."

Caitlyn’s expression turned pensive.

"Tomorrow at the office we’ll review how to proceed. For now, set up a patrol to keep an eye on the area in case any leads appear. And Steb..."

She paused and looked him seriously.

"All of this is confidential. No one outside of us and my trusted people can know about it until we know exactly what we’re up against."

Steb nodded and left the Kiramman mansion.

Caitlyn, for her part, was tormented by the thought of another possible Noxian attack as she ran her fingers over the scars left by the war against them.

Caitlyn stepped out of her office, still haunted by what she had learned and what remained unresolved. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, and once inside, let the weight of it all slip away, if only for a moment. She lay down on her bed, closed her eyes, and allowed the memories of Vi to flood her mind. The longing for things to go back to how they were consumed her, but she also found a quiet acceptance. That day had been a step forward, a small step on the long road toward what they could become.

With those images in her head, the blue-haired woman finally surrendered to the exhaustion of the past few days, drifting off into the first restful sleep she’d had in a long time.

Chapter Text

Vi softly closed the cabin door behind her. She took a deep breath and leaned her back against the cold wood, feeling a stab of guilt run through her body. The conversation with Sarah had torn Vi's soul apart. The brutal honesty had left scars she couldn’t erase. Guilt seeped into every corner of her mind, piercing through each thought like a cold needle. But in the end, she knew she couldn’t keep living a lie. Doing the right thing was what hurt the most.

Sarah had been her anchor in recent weeks, a constant force that kept her afloat in the storm. Her love for her was pure, and Vi felt it, though deep inside, she knew that love was different from the one she shared with Caitlyn. That love, though real, didn’t complete her in the same way. In her heart, the true struggle was with what had been, with what she felt for Caitlyn, the woman who still occupied every corner of her mind.

She walked slowly toward the bed in front of her and let her body fall onto it without taking off the clothes she was wearing. She stared at the ceiling for a long time, reflecting on everything that had happened in the last two days.

On one hand, her relationship with the Commander had progressed in unexpected ways. She still carried the memory of every friction between their skins, their kisses, their moans, the sighs her hands had provoked from the Piltovian. She was an intriguing woman, and they were deeply connected—there was no need to remember it to know it.

On the other hand, there was Sarah—the pirate everyone would dream of. A beautiful girl, confident, strong, passionate, and incredibly romantic. Though her relationship with Sarah had started as mere physical attraction, something deeper had grown between them. Sarah, with her warm and protective presence, had reached a part of Vi's heart she never expected. And that night, when the pirate confessed her feelings, Vi felt a sting in her chest, as if a part of her was slipping away by not being able to reciprocate those feelings.

Two women were fighting for her heart. Even though she had told Sarah "no," doubts remained—doubts about making a mistake and hurting the pirate.

The night was restless. Vi barely managed to sleep, haunted by the ghosts of her lost past and the emotions Caitlyn had stirred within her. Cait's memories repeated in her dreams, trapping Vi in a never-ending loop. Her face, her blue eyes that looked at her like there was no tomorrow, the warmth of her kisses—all felt so real in the darkness of her mind that Vi desperately wished not to wake up. She wanted to stay there, in that space where reality’s pain couldn’t reach her, where Caitlyn was only hers, and there were no conflicts to resolve.

As soon as the sun rose over the horizon, she decided to leave the ship before Sarah woke up. Though she had told Sarah they’d talk today, the truth was she wasn’t ready to face another uncomfortable conversation, nor to tell her what had happened with Cait. She needed air, clarity, and maybe some distance to think calmly.

She walked through the streets of Piltover, each step a reminder of the inner turmoil tearing her apart. The city’s bustle, the faces passing by, all felt distant, as if she were trapped in a void between two worlds pulling her in opposite directions. The weight of the decisions about Sarah and Caitlyn felt like a burden on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Then, as if fate wanted to play a cruel joke on her, Vi spotted a figure she knew all too well in a dark alley: Yuzul, the fight ring owner and leader of the gang she had abandoned. He was surrounded by several underage kids, probably recruiting them just as he had with her. Without thinking twice, she sped up and confronted him head-on.

“Yuzul!” Vi shouted, her voice trembling with restrained fury. Every word was laced with weeks of bottled-up rage. Seeing him again, after everything, made her feel like she was being dragged back to a past she couldn’t forget.

How long had it been since she’d last seen him? The same guy who had owned the fight pit and her old gang, now apparently more dangerous than ever, sneaking through Piltover’s streets. His laugh echoed from the past, from when they breathed the same air, when Zaun’s streets were their only refuge. Now, it all felt like a lifetime ago—a nightmare she couldn’t wake from. Yuzul stepped toward her, confident and menacing, danger radiating off him.

“Well, look who’s back!” he said with a sneer. “Come to pay your debts, Vi?”

“Debts? You’re the one who owes me—for using me as your war machine,” she answered coldly, instinctively clenching her fists. “What are you doing here in Piltover? Recruiting more kids into your criminal games?”

Yuzul let out a dry, mocking laugh and gestured with his hand.

“I expected no less from you, Vi. I knew you'd be back sooner or later. What I don't understand is how you’ve forgotten your debt. But don’t worry, my guys are here to help refresh your memory.”

At that moment, four shadows emerged from the surrounding alleys. They were the same companions from when she was part of the gang. Vi tensed, ready to fight.

“I always knew you were cowards, especially you, Ghostfer.”

“Oh Vi, believe me, I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time.”

“Enough talk—fight, damn it.”

Two of the thugs charged at her. She dodged the first blow aimed at her face but was struck hard in the side by the other. Pain shot through her, but she refused to fall.

Fueled by rage, Vi landed a powerful punch on the first attacker, knocking him out immediately. Three remained, and she was ready to take them down one by one, paying them back for the days she’d been one of the most wanted criminals.

Ghostfer moved like a shadow, his prosthetics enhancing his speed so much that Vi could barely keep up. Every blow she dodged was followed by an even stronger one. She tried to defend herself, but when his leg struck her abdomen, air exploded from her lungs. Her body tensed in pain, and she dropped to the ground.

The blow knocked her down, curling around the pain in her abdomen. Vi’s wheezing echoed in her mind, distorted and desperate, as her trembling hands tried to lift her body. Pain flooded every inch of her. She was bruised and battered, but her spirit refused to surrender.

“Tired already, Vi? I’m just getting started.”

Vi wasn’t one to give up. She stood again, now surrounded by the remaining three. She charged one, grabbing his head with both hands and slamming her knee into his face, knocking him out cold.

Another thug grabbed Vi from behind, trying to restrain her. Big mistake. She used her strength to lift him with her back, leaped, and slammed her body onto the ground, crushing his. She stood and kicked him in the head before he could get up.

“Bastard,” she spat.

Then, she turned her gaze back to the gang leader, who stared at her.

“You know, you could’ve been one of the best criminals, Vi.”

“You know I always knew you were a fucking pain in the ass, Ghostfer?”

“You never learn. Time to show you my true power.”

Ghostfer charged her with lightning speed, unleashing a series of punches to her face. Even for Vi, it was impossible to match his rhythm. For every five punches she blocked, one hit her. If this kept up, she’d be overwhelmed.

From afar, Yuzul watched with a pleased smile, puffing on a cigar.

Vi needed to think of a strategy, then it occurred to her. The Zaunite threw a punch toward Ghostfer's face, obviously easy for the latter to dodge, but she quickly feinted. Her target wasn't her face; her real target was Ghostfer's mechanical leg. She landed a clean blow that destroyed her robotic left leg, although it also rendered the fighter's right hand useless.

“Bitch.”

“I thought you came to teach me a lesson,” she smiled, satisfied and defiant. “Seems I missed class.”

Now both were nearly even—Ghostfer down a leg, Vi with a useless hand. They exchanged blows furiously, both bleeding, faces battered.

“Never underestimate your enemy in a fight, Zaunite.”

Ghostfer launched himself at Vi, bracing on his hands and landing a kick to her abdomen. The metal leg felt like a cement block. She couldn’t breathe; she guessed a couple of ribs were broken. She was covered in cuts and bruises.

Her body was failing. Vision blurry, she collapsed. Yuzul calmly approached, looking at her bloodied face.

“This is just a warning, Vi. Pay up, or pay the price,” he said with a cruel smile, exhaling smoke in her face. “Piltover will be your grave if you don’t keep your end. Ghostfer, knock her out.”

The leader stood with a metal pipe.

“Good night, Vi.”

The blow hit her head, and everything went black.

Almost an hour passed before Vi came to. Yuzul and the gang were gone. Everything spun, but she was still in the same alley.

When she tried to move, pain ripped through every muscle. She knew she was badly hurt—but not mortally. She needed a safe place to recover. There was only one place she could think of now: the precinct where Caitlyn worked.

She was only four blocks away, yet every step felt like an eternity. Blood trickled down her skin, leaving a trail of red on the pavement. Her right eye was so swollen she couldn’t open it, and with the other she scanned her path, feeling the judgmental stares of Piltover’s citizens—something she had never been a stranger to.

When she finally reached the precinct, two officers guarding the entrance recognized her immediately from the wanted posters. One stopped her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Halt, criminal. Where do you think you're going?"

"I want to see Caitlyn," Vi growled, trying to break free.

"The Commander? She doesn’t see criminals," another officer scoffed, tightening his grip.

"Listen, idiots, I don’t have time for this. I need to speak to Caitlyn," Vi snapped, resisting their hold. The officers responded with more aggression, striking her ribs and sending her to the ground in pain.

"We’ll teach you to respect authority, Zaunite."

One officer drew his metal baton and began beating her back with fury.

"Agh!" Vi cried out. "You’ll regret this, cowards."

"You’re nothing but trash. Society’s filth," the officer spat, readying for another blow.

Just as the other officer pulled his service weapon, ready to unleash his pent-up rage on Vi, Caitlyn appeared in the hallway, alarmed by the commotion.

"What is going on here?" Her voice rang with authority.

"Commander, we caught this criminal trying to infiltrate the precinct. One of the region’s most wanted. We gave her a lesson for trying to be clever."

Caitlyn’s face went pale at the sight of Vi’s condition. She rushed forward, shoving the officers aside.

"Let her go! Who authorized you to treat her like this? Have you lost your common sense?"

The officers looked at each other, stunned, and stepped back.

"We’re sorry, Commander, but—"

"Silence! No officer should attack a person like this, criminal or not. Excessive force is forbidden," Caitlyn snapped. "This woman is under my personal protection. If any of you touch her again, I will throw you into Stillwater myself. Understood?"

The officers nodded quickly, retreating in confusion and fear.

Vi, through the pain and admiration, managed a faint smile. Caitlyn gently helped her up, wrapping an arm around her waist and guiding her toward her office.

"Thank you, Commander," Vi whispered weakly.

"Don’t say anything," Caitlyn replied softly. "Come, we need to tend to those wounds."

Vi let out a tired chuckle and let Caitlyn lead her. As they passed through the long corridors, many officers cast subtle glances—some murmuring at Vi’s condition, others clearly surprised by the Commander’s protective behavior toward the wounded Zaunite.

Caitlyn shot them sharp glares, daring anyone to say something. Silence fell instantly; everyone returned to their duties.

Once in her office, Caitlyn carefully seated Vi and began gathering medicine and bandages. As she treated her wounds, their eyes met again.

"I swear I wasn’t looking for trouble this time, cupcake," Vi said with a half-smile.

"Of course not," Caitlyn replied with a tender irony, continuing to clean the wounds. "But trouble seems to find you."

They shared a soft smile. Amidst the pain and uncertainty, they found a brief moment of calm.

"This will sting."

Caitlyn dabbed alcohol on the open wounds.

"Agh!" Vi hissed at the burning.

Caitlyn was furious. Her own officers had beaten the woman she loved. One thing was clear: she would never again let anyone hurt Vi, no matter what it took.

Vi sighed deeply—not just in relief. There was something more, a knot in her throat she couldn’t release. Her body was tense, resisting the help Caitlyn offered. She hated being vulnerable, hated needing someone, even Caitlyn. But each word, each gesture from Caitlyn drew her toward an uncomfortable truth: she needed her.

"Can you tell me what happened?" the blue-haired woman asked.

"Got into a street fight. Some damn criminals."

She paused, staring at the floor lines. The initial gratitude gave way to silence, heavy with frustration and resentment. Finally, Vi looked up, revealing deep-seated anger.

"You know what, Cait? Your officers are no better than those damn criminals I just fought," she said bitterly. "Those hits... Do you think it’s fair for anyone not in uniform to be treated like that?"

Caitlyn lowered her gaze, guilt and frustration mixing within her.

"I know, Vi. I don’t agree with it either and—"

"It’s exactly what they did to my parents! What they’ve always done to Zaunites!" Vi exploded, standing despite her injuries. "Enforcers use their power however they want and hide behind their damned laws. What’s the difference between them and criminals?"

Caitlyn clenched her fists, stung by the words.

"It’s not like that, Vi, and you know it. They made a mistake, and they’ll pay. But you can’t lump us all together. I’m trying to change things, but it’s not easy or fast."

Vi laughed sarcastically, looking down.

"Feels like it’s easier to win a war than to change your gang of enforcers. Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted a Piltover woman... maybe I was wrong, Cait. This hurts more than I thought. I don’t know why I’m even here... Why should I trust you when everything I feel is tearing me apart?"

Vi felt the words choke her, as if her entire body had shut down completely. The fear of losing Caitlyn, the rage at not being able to control her own feelings—it was all suffocating her.

Caitlyn’s face hardened.

"Didn’t seem to bother you yesterday when we were in the shower together, did it, Vi?" she said, eyebrow raised, arms crossed. "Is that all I am to you now? Just a 'Piltover woman'?"

Vi fell silent suddenly. Shame and anger swirled inside her in an emotional storm. She was frustrated with herself for blurting those words out so unfairly toward Caitlyn, especially when she'd been one of the few people who'd truly shown her empathy and care since she'd lost her memories. But at that moment, her mind was too confused, angry, and hurt to admit it.

"Maybe we made a mistake," she muttered. "Who am I to you? A toy to satisfy your desires? Another problem for your enforcers?"

Caitlyn stepped closer, gently cupping Vi’s face, making her look into her eyes.

"Don’t say that again. You mean everything to me. I fought to find you and I’ll keep fighting. They made a terrible mistake. I’ll make sure every damage you and every unjustly punished Zaunite suffered is paid for."

Vi turned away, unable to hold her gaze.

"It’s unfair to think I’m using you," Caitlyn added, pain etched in her voice.

Vi felt stupid as she reprocessed the words that had left her lips toward the taller woman. Vi searched for words.

"That’s not what I meant... Cait... I’m sorry."

"You can’t say that and expect me to forget it."

Vi sighed.

"It’s been a shitty day and I took it out on you. I’m sorry. The gang I was with before I got here beat the hell out of me. I was unconscious. When I woke up, the only place I thought of for safety was your office. I didn’t expect your officers to hit me again."

Caitlyn frowned.

"I understand. I’ll investigate that gang myself. They won’t get away with this."

"I don’t want your help with that, Cait. This fight is mine. Just mine. I can handle it."

Caitlyn stepped back, irritated.

"Right, you handled it so well that you nearly died. Look at you!" she exclaimed. "Don’t be stubborn. Let me help you. You need it."

A heavy silence fell between them. Vi stood stiff, knowing Caitlyn was right but refusing to admit it. Finally, Caitlyn softened her voice.

"I know you don’t need me, Vi. I know how strong you are. But I’m here for you. I’m not just a commander or the girl you slept with. I’m someone who truly cares... someone who has loved you since the moment we met."

Vi felt a pang in her chest. Caitlyn's words, so sincere, so full of love, made her feel more lost than ever. What should I do? she wondered. On one hand, Sarah had shown her unconditional love, had offered her something simpler, less complicated. But Caitlyn... Caitlyn, in the short time she'd known her, had been her refuge, the place where she felt understood, protected. How could she reject all of that for fear of hurting someone else? She felt powerless, trapped in her own heart, afraid of breaking what was already broken.

Caitlyn sensed her silence, sighed, and walked to the window to give her space.

After several minutes, Vi spoke, her voice rough with emotion.

"I think I need to think, Cait. I really do," she said, sinking into the chair again.

"I understand," Caitlyn replied coldly. "But you don’t have to do this alone. You can always count on me."

Vi felt her heart tighten with the mix of emotions. She didn't know if the knot in her chest was love, guilt, or fear. She wanted to remember everything, she wanted to be able to trust completely, but the pieces of her life remained scattered, as if her heart were trapped between two worlds, two loves, two memories. The confusion suffocated her, and no matter how hard she tried to understand it, she couldn't find a way out.

Minutes passed in absolute silence for the two women. Vi took a deep breath before speaking, noticing how the tension in the room slowly began to dissipate. She felt she should be honest, especially after the intense and frustrating moment they had shared minutes before.

"Cait... There’s something else. It’s about the days after I woke up and became a criminal."

Caitlyn, intrigued, broke her gaze from the view outside her window and walked over to the side of the chair Vi was sitting in. She sat down in the other chair and, staring at Vi, tried to tilt her head slightly, inviting her to continue.

"I woke up in a place I didn’t know, with a guy with white dreadlocks."

"Ekko," Caitlyn thought.

“I escaped from there and found myself lost in Zaun, ending up in a... let's say, sketchy place,” Vi began, nervously lacing her fingers together. “A place where people bet on underground fights. There I met a man, a nasty type named Yuzul. He promised me information on Powder, or rather, Jinx. He told me he had connections and could help me find her if I joined his gang. I didn't think much of the consequences and agreed without question.”

Caitlyn listened, face hardening.

“The gang... well, we attacked RVs, robbed stores, did things I’m not proud of.” Vi looked down, ashamed. “All because that jerk promised to help me find my sister. But the debt I owed him was too high; he used me as leverage and blackmailed me by saying he had information on Powder. It was all lies, of course, but at the time... I was clinging to any hope. During the time we traveled, we had to make a certain payment for being there, just for practically existing. I didn’t care. In fact, when I left with Sarah, I took several valuables we’d gathered and brought them back to the ship. Now Yuzul threatened me; the beating I got was just a warning until I paid off the debt.”

Caitlyn’s face darkened.

"I can’t believe it... They used your desperation. I’ll bring them down. They won’t touch you again."

Vi raised a hand to stop her.

"Cupcake, I told you. This is my fight. I can handle it."

Caitlyn stood, arms crossed.

“Do you really think you can handle this alone after what happened today? Did you see how they left you?” Her voice rose slightly, revealing her suppressed frustration. “They could have killed you! They threatened you! And now what if they attack you again, Vi? What if you’re not so lucky next time?”

Vi bit her lip. Caitlyn’s words hit her pride—and her heart. A heavy silence settled again. Then, Vi sighed, resigned.

“Maybe you’re right, cupcake,” Vi finally admitted, softening her tone. “But I need to do this my way, at my own pace. Promise me you won’t send anyone after them.”

Caitlyn let out a deep sigh, trying to calm herself and reluctantly understanding Vi’s position. She knew that stubbornness well—that need to handle things with her own hands.

“Alright, Vi,” Caitlyn said at last, conceding with a soft but firm voice. “I respect that. But promise me that when the time comes, you’ll find me and we’ll deal with it together.”

Vi smiled faintly, nodding slowly and relieved by Caitlyn’s understanding.

“I promise,” she replied softly, but sincerely.

Caitlyn relaxed a bit more, knowing that at least she had secured that promise. Still, she wouldn’t leave everything entirely in Vi’s hands; she’d quietly look into it, track them, and take care of it herself.

After a few seconds of silence, Caitlyn looked up at Vi again, noticing something else moving behind her eyes. There was a restless doubt in them, something Vi wasn’t managing to hide completely.

“Is there something else?” Caitlyn asked gently, trying to read what Vi hadn’t yet said.

Vi took a deep breath, feeling her heart beat faster at the discomfort of what she was about to confess. She knew she had to be honest, especially after everything they’d been through.

“Sarah... asked me to be her girlfriend last night.” Vi’s voice faltered, afraid of what Caitlyn might see in her eyes. She looked down, ashamed of the weight of her words. By saying them, she was revealing a part of herself she didn’t quite know how to handle. Guilt and the need for honesty tangled inside her, and a bitter wave of discomfort filled her chest.

The blue-haired woman felt her heart stop for an instant. A pang of jealousy pierced her chest, making it hard to keep her expression composed. She tried her best not to let her face betray anything.

“Sarah asked you to be her girlfriend?” Caitlyn asked, striving to keep a neutral tone and control her voice.

Vi nodded slowly, feeling guilty as she watched the internal struggle clearly reflected in Caitlyn’s eyes.

“Yes. It was after the dinner she made for me on the ship.” Vi hesitated. “She said we’ve been together a long time, that we share a unique trust, and it made sense to make our relationship official. But I couldn’t return her feelings. I told her the truth: I care about her, but only as a friend. I can’t see her as anything more.”

Caitlyn let out a sigh of relief, though something still twisted inside her. The jealousy didn’t vanish right away, but she tried to ignore it. She knew she had no right to feel that way, but hearing Vi talk about Sarah had affected her more than she expected. She tried to smile, to stay calm.

“I understand,” Caitlyn replied quietly, feeling Vi’s honesty start to ease the anxiety that had taken hold of her. “How did Sarah react?”

Vi looked away, her face reflecting the discomfort of the moment.

“As you’d expect, it hurt her. She went quiet, couldn’t even get the words out. I could see her heart breaking, Cait.” Vi let out a deep sigh, the weight of guilt crushing her. “What I did to Sarah wasn’t fair, but how do I explain to her that my heart isn’t with her anymore, that what I feel for you is... bigger, deeper than I can understand? It’s all so complicated, Cait. And every time I try to sort through it, I just feel more lost.”

Vi paused for a moment before continuing.

“We were supposed to talk again today, to go deeper into last night’s conversation, but I got scared and left at dawn. It’s so hard for me to go back to the ship. I don’t want to face that discomfort, or hurt her more.”

Caitlyn felt her heart swell with tenderness for Vi, understanding how difficult it was for her to deal with these conflicting emotions, and seeing her open up completely, revealing her vulnerability.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go back to the ship tonight, Vi,” Caitlyn suggested gently, stepping a bit closer. “Come with me to my estate. My father’s a doctor—he can help properly treat your wounds. Rest there, and tomorrow you’ll be able to talk to Sarah more clearly.”

Vi looked up, hesitant. Caitlyn’s offer sounded incredibly tempting, especially for the chance to spend more time with her. But a part of her resisted; she felt she couldn’t just disappear.

“I don’t know, Cait... I don’t want to leave Sarah worried, not knowing where I am.”

Caitlyn smiled warmly, understanding the dilemma Vi faced. After a moment’s thought, she decided to offer a solution.

“What if I do this?” Caitlyn said with a kind smile. “After I get you settled at the estate, I’ll go to the ship myself and tell Sarah you’re okay. I’ll explain that you felt tired and chose to rest somewhere else tonight.”

Vi looked at Caitlyn in surprise. She hadn’t expected her to be willing to do something like that, especially knowing the jealousy she must still be holding.

“Would you really do that for me?” Vi asked, visibly surprised, her voice laced with tenderness.

Caitlyn nodded slowly, gently reaching out to touch Vi’s cheek.

“Of course I would. I just want to see you at peace, Vi,” Caitlyn whispered with a sincerity that reached every fiber of Vi’s heart. “Besides, I think Sarah deserves to know you’re safe and that you care enough not to vanish without a word.”

Vi smiled softly, her eyes shining with deep gratitude. She had never met anyone like Caitlyn—someone who not only cared for her but understood her, even when she didn’t understand herself. Vi felt more vulnerable than ever, but at the same time, incredibly lucky. Something in her chest felt lighter, like she was finally starting to trust the woman in front of her. Caitlyn truly was a fantastic woman.

“Thank you,” Vi said, gently taking Caitlyn’s hand in hers and softly caressing her fingers. “You’re an amazing woman.”

Caitlyn smiled again, feeling a wave of happiness and calm wash over her.

“Then let’s go,” Caitlyn said softly, rising to her feet. “The sooner we get to the estate, the sooner you can rest and I can keep my promise.”

Caitlyn gently took Vi's hand, helping her to stand. Her touch was gentle, as if she feared breaking her after everything she had been through. Together, they began to slowly walk toward the exit of the garrison, carrying the weight of all they had just shared in that conversation.

As they stepped outside, Caitlyn noticed the slight limp in Vi's steps—a direct consequence of the battle earlier that day. With each movement, a sharp sting of guilt pierced her heart. If only she had been there with her, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But now, all she could do was care for her and make sure she healed properly.

The ride to the mansion was short. Cait laid Vi across the back seats of the car and drove them home. Upon arriving at the estate, Vi looked in awe at the majestic structure. She had never been there before—or at least not that she remembered. She calmly observed every one of the impressive details, which clearly revealed the wealth and prestige of Caitlyn’s family.

They entered discreetly, and Cait led Vi upstairs to a cozy room. Carefully, Cait helped her lie down on the soft bed, adjusting a pillow beneath her head.

"Stay here, Vi. I'm going to talk to my father so he can take a look at your wounds," Caitlyn said, gently caressing her cheek. "I won't be long."

Vi smiled, grateful for Caitlyn’s genuine concern. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the peace of being in a safe place.

Caitlyn stepped out of the room softly, closing the door behind her. As she walked through the elegant hallways toward Tobias’s study, her thoughts drifted to her father.

Since her relationship with Vi had grown more serious in the past, he had never hidden his disapproval. How could he? It had been Vi’s sister who had taken away the love of his life—Caitlyn’s mother, the woman Tobias had so deeply loved and admired.

She sighed deeply, knocking on the study door before entering. Tobias sat reading a book and greeted her with a serious yet expectant look. They exchanged greetings, and after a few moments, Caitlyn briefly explained the situation, trying to maintain her composure.

"Dad, I know it's complicated for you to have Vi here," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "But I need you to help her. She's hurt, and I don’t trust anyone else to take care of her while I take care of some things at the harbor."

Tobias sighed, stood up from his chair, and carefully placed his book on the nightstand. He looked at his daughter attentively before responding.

"Cait, you know I don’t like seeing her here... She brings back bad memories... but I can see in your eyes and your actions how much you love her, and besides, I could never deny help to someone who needs it," he finally replied. "I'll do what’s necessary to tend to her wounds."

Caitlyn nodded in silence, understanding the burden her father carried. Unexpectedly, she hugged him with all the love a daughter could offer.

"Thank you, Father."

Tobias received the embrace with the sensation that his daughter had returned to who she once was. He couldn’t pretend that Vi was the partner he would have chosen for her, but she was the one who had brought her smile back.

Cait stepped away from him, thanked him once again with a soft gesture, and left the study feeling a profound mix of pain and relief for the conflicting emotions her father must be going through. But at least she knew he would take good care of the Zaunite woman.

She returned to the room to find Vi lying back, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. When she entered, Vi gave a slight smile that briefly dispelled Caitlyn’s worry.

"My father will be here soon," Caitlyn said, walking over to the bed with a smile and sitting beside her. "I’m going to the ship to talk to Sarah and explain what happened."

Vi looked at her intently and nodded slowly.

"Thanks, Cait. I know this isn’t easy for you."

Caitlyn slowly shook her head. She moved closer to Vi, gently taking her face in her hands and forcing her to look directly at her. The kiss on her cheek was soft but filled with a mixture of tenderness and pain, as if Vi’s words had struck her heart, and yet, she struggled not to show how nervous she felt inside about facing the pirate in what would be an uncomfortable conversation.

Vi, sensing the palpable tension, let her playful smile fade slowly. For a moment, they looked into each other's eyes in silence, and before Caitlyn could move or speak, Vi pulled her closer in a sudden motion that surprised her. The kiss was brief, but its intensity left Caitlyn speechless—a shaky sigh escaped her lips before she could even process it.

"You’re impossible, Vi," Caitlyn whispered with a faint, blushing laugh.

Vi gave a slight shrug with that mischievous smile Caitlyn adored.

"But you like it that way, don’t you?"

Caitlyn smiled flirtatiously and nodded.

"Maybe a little too much," she finally replied, rising from the bed. "I’ll be back soon. Get some rest, okay?"

Vi nodded, lying back down with a sigh. As Caitlyn left and gently closed the door, Vi turned her gaze back to the ceiling, lost in thought.

A wave of happiness washed over her—a soft warmth spreading through her chest. But there was also fear, a subtle dread of what was to come. She knew she loved Caitlyn, but the future still felt uncertain. Still, for the first time in a long while, Vi allowed herself to embrace that truth without needing to change it, even if she didn’t have all the answers.

"Maybe I don’t need memories to know what I feel for you, Cait," she whispered softly, closing her eyes and letting herself fully relax.

For the first time since she had lost her memories, Vi felt like her life was taking shape, even if the future remained unclear. She didn’t have all the answers. She didn’t know how to resolve her feelings for Caitlyn, and of course, she didn’t know how to face the situation with Sarah. But for once, she allowed herself not to have the answers to every question.

Perhaps the path to clarity began right there, in that quiet moment, knowing that the blue-eyed woman would walk beside her every step of the way.

Chapter Text

Night had already fallen, and Caitlyn drove slowly, her eyes fixed on the road as if each turn were an attempt to avoid the inevitable. Her hands, usually steady on the wheel, trembled slightly. She tried to remain calm, but a strange anxiety twisted in her chest. She knew she had to do it, she knew she had to face Sarah. But the mere thought of meeting her made her question if she was truly ready for everything that might follow.

There was something about Sarah—a silent strength and such an intense gaze—that made her feel vulnerable. In the little interaction they had shared, Caitlyn understood Sarah wouldn’t be easy to deal with. The pirate was direct, didn’t mince words, liked to lead the conversation, and didn’t intimidate easily. As she drove through the illuminated streets of Piltover, Caitlyn couldn’t help but recall those early days with Vi, when she thought she had lost everything. And now, not only did she have to tell Sarah that Vi was okay, but she also had to deal with what she didn’t want to face: her own feelings.

The idea was simple, she told herself: she only had to explain to Sarah that Vi was okay, resting at the mansion, and that there was no need to worry. But would it really be that simple? She knew enough about the pirate to know that she wouldn’t let the opportunity pass to speak with her alone.

"It’s just a quick conversation, nothing more," she kept repeating to herself, though her heart seemed to say otherwise. She didn’t want to admit it, but the idea of facing Sarah brought a discomfort that went beyond simple jealousy. She had seen how Sarah looked at Vi, the tenderness and genuine affection in her eyes. Despite Vi assuring her they were just friends, Caitlyn feared Sarah didn’t feel the same.

Her mind wandered to the moments when she thought she had lost Vi forever. Sarah had been the one who gave the fighter her smile back. While Caitlyn felt genuine gratitude toward the pirate, the idea of sharing Vi with anyone else was unbearable.

Finally, she parked the car in front of the pier where Sarah’s ship was docked. She got out slowly, took a deep breath, and walked determinedly toward the vessel.

The crew had already vanished, leaving behind a quiet ship that gently creaked under the weight of the night. The cool harbor breeze stirred small waves against the docks, a distant sound that mixed with the whisper of the wind. Caitlyn could hear the muffled voices of the city in the distance, but here, in this small corner of the world, everything seemed still.

The wind carried a salty chill, and the wood creaked beneath her feet with every step, as if the ship itself were watching and waiting. Here, in this secluded place, words felt heavier, more real. Just the two of them. No curious glances, no watchful eyes to interrupt the conversation she knew would be far more difficult than it appeared.

As soon as she boarded the ship, she saw Sarah sitting on a stack of crates, staring into the horizon. She looked lost in her own thoughts, perhaps as confused as Caitlyn herself. When she heard the footsteps, Sarah turned her head with a smile, expecting to see the red-haired woman—but was surprised to see someone else.

“Commander?” Sarah asked, slowly rising with a faint smile. “I was expecting someone else. Didn’t expect to see you.”

“Sarah,” Caitlyn greeted cordially, trying to keep her expression neutral. “Vi asked me to come tell you she’s alright. She’s resting at my mansion tonight. It’s been a difficult day, and she needed medical attention.”

Sarah didn’t take her eyes off Caitlyn, watching carefully, measuring every word that left her lips. It wasn’t just curiosity. It was a need to understand, to grasp the depth of what existed between Caitlyn and Vi. Caitlyn couldn’t ignore the growing sensation of being an intruder in a love that had begun to take shape between the two women—and yet, she believed she had every right to be there.

“Thanks for coming to tell me. I appreciate it,” Sarah responded, though her voice lacked its usual strength.

Though a slight smile touched her lips, they trembled faintly. A glimmer of vulnerability, something she didn’t show often, passed through her eyes. Caitlyn noticed the hesitation, the way Sarah seemed unsure whether to say more. It was clear that her words alone weren’t enough to silence the doubts circling in Sarah’s mind. She was a rival, but Caitlyn was human, and it hurt not being able to do more.

“What happened to her?” the pirate asked.

“She’s hurt, but she’ll be fine. My father is treating her personally. Nothing to worry about.”

“Who did it?”

“Some Zaunite criminals. But like I said, she’s being taken care of and just needs rest.”

Sarah nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact with Caitlyn. An uncomfortable silence fell between them, as if both were waiting for the other to say what they truly wanted to express.

“Do you smoke?” Sarah asked in a softer tone, almost like she was looking for an excuse to ease the tension. She pulled a cigar from her coat, lit it, and let it burn between her fingers before offering one to Caitlyn. Smoke rose in spirals, dispersing like a metaphor for the distance between them.

Caitlyn looked at it, hesitating—not because of the cigar, but because of what it represented. The pirate wasn’t just offering a gesture, but an invitation to lower her guard, to share more than just words.

“No, thank you. I don’t smoke.”

“Your loss.”

Sarah turned to gaze at the horizon again, exhaling smoke.

“Cait, can I ask you something?” Sarah finally said, turning to face Caitlyn and stepping closer. Her footsteps pierced the atmosphere like needles. “I know this is awkward, but I need the truth.”

Immediately, Caitlyn tensed, anticipating what was coming, but nodded calmly. She could see the struggle in Sarah’s eyes. The pirate wasn’t naive, and her questions weren’t born of simple curiosity. They seemed more like an attempt to understand her place in Vi’s life, a place she wasn’t ready to surrender without a fight. Caitlyn felt an odd empathy for Sarah in that moment, seeing herself reflected in her—someone who also feared losing something precious.

“Of course, Sarah. Go ahead.”

The pirate stepped even closer, her face nearing Caitlyn’s as she took another puff from her cigar.

“I’m not naive. What exactly is your relationship with Vi?”

After the question, Sarah exhaled smoke into Caitlyn’s face—a clear warning that she was not to be underestimated.

“When I found you two in the office, I felt tension, like it wasn’t the first time you had seen each other. She mentioned your name while we were... alone. There’s something more between you, I can feel it. But it’s also obvious that Vi doesn’t remember, so I’m asking you directly: Who are you in Vi’s life?”

Caitlyn felt cornered, but not intimidated. She maintained her composure, crossing her arms firmly. She thought carefully before replying.

“Vi and I... we have history. We’ve been together for a long time, since before she lost her memory,” she finally answered, her voice firm. “And even if she doesn’t fully remember everything we shared, feelings aren’t so easy to forget.”

Sarah remained silent, clearly affected by Caitlyn’s honesty. A flicker of sadness passed over her face, but she held her posture strong and proud.

“I understand,” she replied softly. “That explains everything. I knew there was something more. I saw it in the office and felt how things changed during dinner with her. Her distance, her silence.”

Caitlyn felt a mix of relief and sorrow at those words. She had been honest, but the sadness on Sarah’s face struck a painful chord. She hadn’t meant to hurt her, but she knew she wasn’t doing anyone a favor by sugarcoating the truth.

“Sarah, Vi spoke very highly of you. I know you mean a lot to her, and I’m deeply grateful you took care of her when she needed it most,” Caitlyn added gently. “But I can’t deny what I feel, or everything we lived together. Our story... it’s more than you could imagine.”

The pirate turned back to lean on the railing.

“There’s something else I need to know... What happened during the mission? Vi came back different, she wouldn’t meet my eyes, and she wore clothes I’d never seen before. I assume they came from you.”

Caitlyn instantly recalled the fiery moment in the bathroom. The kisses, the touches, the intimacy were still deeply etched in her memory, yet it wasn’t something she wanted to share with anyone else.

“Yes. Those clothes are hers, I’d been keeping them in my office for a long time,” she replied, maintaining her composure. “The mission had some complications, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Sarah smiled faintly, understanding that Caitlyn’s answers were mere crumbs against her curiosity.

“Thanks for your honesty, Cait,” she said with a note of resignation.

The pirate inhaled and exhaled the cigar smoke to ease the tension. Several seconds passed in silence before she spoke again.

“Cait, did you sleep with her?”

Sarah’s question hit Caitlyn like a bucket of cold water. How could she answer without hurting the pirate’s feelings? It wasn’t something she wanted to confess to anyone.

“I don’t think it’s my place to talk about that, Sarah. That’s a conversation you and Vi need to have.”

The pirate burst into laughter, taking another puff of her cigar and turning to lean against the railing, facing Caitlyn.

“Not answering is an answer in itself. I don’t need Vi to confirm it—it’s clear now.”

It was inevitable for Caitlyn to feel some compassion toward Sarah’s pain. She lowered her gaze, searching for words, but found none to console the woman before her.

“Well, Sarah, that was the reason for my visit. I should go. Have a good night,” she said, turning to leave.

Hearing Caitlyn's words, Sarah clenched her fists, feeling her chest burn with a mixture of frustration, jealousy, and defiance. She wasn't going to just keep quiet. She took a few quick steps forward, raising her voice slightly.

“Cait!” she shouted.

Caitlyn stopped next to a pile of crates and turned to face her. As she turned, she felt the air split beside her cheek. A sharp knife had flown past, embedding itself in a crate. She hadn’t seen or sensed it. She simply hardened her gaze at the pirate with her hand still raised.

“I want you to understand something: I respect your history with Vi, I respect what you may have had. But don’t think for a second that I’ll stand aside and hope everything turns out fine for you two,” Sarah declared, her voice steady with a slight tremor betraying the intensity of her emotions. “I don’t plan to give up so easily, Commander.”

The thrown knife wasn’t just a warning—it was a challenge, the start of a rivalry. The pirate stepped closer, her eyes burning with a mix of pain and determination.

“I know you have the advantage. You have history with her, memories I can never fully grasp. But what I feel for Vi is real and strong enough not to surrender without a fight,” Sarah continued, breathing deeply to steady her voice. “Maybe she’s chosen to stay with you for now. But I’ll be there when you fail her. And believe me, Cait, people always fail, sooner or later. And when that happens, I’ll be there.”

Caitlyn felt her chest tighten at those words. In other circumstances, she might have reacted with anger or pride, but now she only felt adrenaline and a strange understanding. She knew what it meant to love Vi—to be desperate enough to fight for her with all you have.

The two women stared each other down in a fierce, tense silence until Sarah slightly softened her expression, without losing the fire in her eyes.

“I don’t hate you, Cait. On the contrary, I respect you. I really do,” she said in a calmer voice. “But if I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that you have to fight for what you want.

Caitlyn held her gaze, her teeth clenched and brows slightly furrowed, recognizing the sincerity and strength in those words. She nodded faintly, accepting the challenge, but also feeling a new weight press on her shoulders. It wasn’t just about helping Vi recover her memory anymore—now, she also had to prove to the pirate why she deserved that love more than anyone else in the world.

"I understand, Sarah," Caitlyn finally responded, her voice calm and her facial expression beginning to soften, though still brimming with certainty. "But trust me, there won’t be any need to wait for me to fail. She’ll be just fine by my side."

Sarah smiled with self-assurance, a confidence that masked the jealousy and turmoil stirring inside her.

"I suppose time will tell," she finally replied. "Until then, may the best woman win, Commander."

With that final statement, Sarah stepped back toward the ship's railing, folding her arms with a mix of determination and pride. Caitlyn, with nothing more to add, turned toward the exit, aware of Sarah's gaze trailing her until she disappeared into the night.

Once off the ship, Caitlyn climbed into her car and drove home, her thoughts trapped in that brief yet charged exchange. She knew Sarah wouldn’t give up easily, but now more than ever, she was certain that neither would she. The rivalry had only just begun.

By the time Caitlyn returned to the mansion, her mind was still swirling with the conversation. The knife that had sliced through the air between them had been a subtle but powerful warning—a sign of what a wounded woman could become.

Crossing the threshold of the main door, she took a deep breath, steadying her expression before heading straight to her father's study. She knocked gently and stepped inside.

Tobias sat behind his desk, sifting through old documents. Upon seeing her, he looked up with a warm smile.

"Cait, my dear, you’re back. Everything alright?"

Caitlyn exhaled quietly, her face still bearing traces of concern and adrenaline.

"Yes, everything’s fine. I took care of things at the harbor. How is Vi? Is she alright?"

Seeing the tension in his daughter’s face, Tobias set the papers aside and walked over to her slowly. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, a simple gesture that said more than words ever could. He knew Caitlyn was strong, but he also knew she was carrying far more than she should. Life had never gone easy on her—it had handed her endless responsibilities, struggles, and heartache. And even though he wasn't the most expressive man, he understood exactly what his daughter needed in that moment.

She wasn’t okay. Her soul was caught between exhaustion and hope. Caitlyn was strong, yes, but even strength needs rest.

"I know what that girl means to you," Tobias murmured, his voice gentle and full of the wisdom only a father could offer. His comfort was not just physical, but deeply emotional—a shelter in the storm. He continued, "She has a couple of fractured ribs, but nothing that won’t heal with rest and patience. She’s strong. She’s survived worse."

Caitlyn sighed in relief, grateful to hear there was no serious damage, but her concern lingered. There was another question circling her mind, one she hadn’t dared to voice until now.

"Dad, do you think there's anything we can do about her memory? Is there any way we can help her remember?"

Tobias's face turned serious and contemplative. He slowly shook his head.

"That’s something I can’t answer with certainty, Cait. Head trauma and memory loss are complicated. Some patients recover everything, others only fragments, and some... some never remember who they were."

He paused, recognizing how painful those words were for his daughter.

"Unfortunately, we can’t control that process. It depends entirely on Vi—and time."

Caitlyn lowered her gaze, disheartened. The uncertainty was once again a heavy burden. If Vi never regained her memory, did it mean the love they shared would fade too? She didn’t know how to cope with the idea that the woman she had shared so much with might never recall their most treasured moments. And yet, her love for Vi hadn’t wavered. Nor had her hope.

Noticing her distress, Tobias took her hands gently in his own.

"Don’t lose hope, Cait. That woman crossed all of Runeterra, lost her identity, made new friends, and still—without a single memory—ended up here, as if something deep inside her was pulling her back to the place she was happiest."

Caitlyn smiled faintly, grateful for his words. After a moment, another thought surfaced, one she hesitated to voice.

"Dad... do you think Mom would have accepted Vi? After everything that happened with... Jinx."

A flicker of guilt and sorrow crossed her face. Tobias was thoughtful for a few moments. It wasn’t a simple question. Vi's arrival had shaken not only Caitlyn’s world but that of the entire Kiramman family. Finally, placing himself in the shoes of the woman he had loved so deeply, he answered softly but firmly:

"Your mother loved Piltover dearly, but more than anything, she loved you. I’m convinced that, despite everything, she would have understood and accepted Vi if she saw how happy she made you. And believe me, Cait, your happiness was always your mother’s greatest wish, above any resentment or pain."

Tobias’ words brought peace to Caitlyn’s heart, her eyes misting with emotion.

"Thank you, Dad. I needed to hear that more than you know."

"I’ll always be here for you, my girl," he replied with a paternal smile. "Now go to her. I left some food and tea in the room. I’m sure she’s eager to see you."

Caitlyn nodded and left the study, her steps lighter now. She had found calm amidst the emotional storm.

When she entered the room, Vi was sitting up in bed, arms folded behind her head. She greeted Caitlyn with that mischievous smile that always made the world slow down.

"Do you know how much I missed you during those endless minutes you were gone?" Vi teased, her voice playful but tinged with a gentle affection.

Caitlyn smiled instantly, catching something in that look—a sense of unspoken promise that no matter what happened, Vi would face it all with her. The night’s tension melted away, replaced by quiet warmth. Vi’s grey eyes always made Caitlyn feel at home.

"Oh, I know. You were probably counting every second until I came back," Caitlyn replied, joining the banter with a playful smile.

They shared a soft laugh, breaking any lingering tension. Caitlyn then noticed Vi’s weary expression and approached gently.

"How are you feeling?"

Vi feigned exaggerated pain, lightening the mood.

"Let’s say I’ve had better days. But your dad’s got good hands—at least he didn’t break any more ribs."

Caitlyn sat beside her, eyes full of concern and affection.

"I’m sorry you had to go through all that, Vi. I wish I could do more than just watch you recover. I wish I could help you get your memory back."

Vi gently reached up, caressing Caitlyn’s face with an unexpected tenderness that contrasted with her usual bold demeanor.

"Hey. I appreciate everything you do for me. Maybe my mind’s blank in some areas, but it seems like my heart still remembers the important stuff."

Vi smiled, and that simple expression made Caitlyn forget everything else. As she lay beside her, their breathing synced, and for a moment, the world disappeared. No more haste, no more pain—just the quiet haven of being together. No matter what happened beyond those walls, this felt right.

"Will you tell me what happened on the boat with Sarah?" Vi asked with gentle curiosity.

Caitlyn took a breath before replying, intentionally leaving out the more uncomfortable details.

"I told her you were here, resting. She didn’t take it well, but eventually, she accepted it."

Vi nodded slowly, sensing Caitlyn was holding back, but choosing not to push.

After a brief, strangely comfortable silence, Vi looked at her softly, her eyes full of a vulnerability only Caitlyn ever saw.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" she whispered. It wasn’t just about physical closeness, but the need to feel safe, to know she wasn’t alone. Vi, who had spent so much of her life fighting and isolated, simply needed Caitlyn near.

Caitlyn didn’t hesitate.

"Of course. I’ll be right here with you, Vi."

She lay carefully beside her, mindful of her injuries. Vi, smiling, wrapped an arm around the taller woman. Their breaths mingled, creating a serene atmosphere. Caitlyn closed her eyes, listening to Vi’s heartbeat, embracing the calm only she could give her.

"Good night, cupcake," Vi murmured sweetly, placing a kiss on Caitlyn’s forehead.

"Good night, Vi," Caitlyn whispered, feeling her heart finally rest in the arms of the woman she loved.

The room was peaceful, lit only by moonlight filtering through the window. The softness of the mattress was their haven, a small corner of calm amidst the chaos. Caitlyn felt, in the stillness of the night, Vi’s heartbeat merging with hers. The warmth of her embrace was the only medicine Caitlyn needed.

The tea and food had grown cold, but in that instant, everything else faded; nothing else mattered, because they were exactly where they wanted to be.

Chapter Text

Vi's body warmth offered Caitlyn a reprieve she hadn’t felt in months. Her life as Commander felt like a web of decisions and unending obligations, but here, in this fleeting moment, everything else seemed to fade away. Yet the hours demanded her departure from that refuge, just as the looming war called from the shadows.

She kissed Vi softly on the forehead, who only murmured in her sleep, and rose carefully from the bed, making sure not to wake her.

After a shower, Caitlyn dressed in her usual Commander uniform—the one she always appreciated wearing. Before leaving, she took one last look at the woman sleeping peacefully. For a moment, she wished to forget the world and its duties and remain in the serenity only Vi could give her. But duty couldn’t wait.

In the kitchen, her father was already serving breakfast. He seemed to have planned a meal for three, which was surprising, considering the conflicting emotions he carried every time he looked at the redheaded woman.

“You’re up early, Dad.” She sat next to him at the table. Tea was already poured, and the scent of scrambled eggs filled the air.

“Responsibilities don’t wait, daughter.” He took a sip of tea before continuing. “The community hospital we built on the Zaun-Piltover border is seeing a lot of activity. Lately, a surprising number of people from Zaun have come for treatment—more than usual.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow.

“Do you know why?”

“Not really. Probably the usual: fights, assaults. A few have come in with gunshot wounds.”

Caitlyn sighed. Crime in Zaun had decreased, but not enough.

“If that’s the case, I’ll have to visit Sevika in Zaun to see what’s going on. Hopefully, it’s just isolated incidents, but at worst, we might be facing a new criminal organization.”

“Be careful, daughter. That place is dangerous.”

“You’ve never been to Zaun, have you?”

“No. But most of the people I treat were attacked there.”

Caitlyn smiled slightly. Most Piltover residents had no idea what Zaun was really like. Their fear was rooted in ignorance, unaware that much of Zaun’s misfortune stemmed from Piltover’s abuse of power.

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ve been to Zaun before—I know how to handle myself.”

They finished breakfast quietly until Caitlyn indicated she needed to leave for work.

On the way, she mentally reviewed her priorities: the gang that had attacked Vi, the possible involvement of Noxian forces, and the need to speak with Sevika about Zaun’s current situation. She also needed to reexamine Mel’s strange letters. Though they appeared normal, something about them left her uneasy. Could it be linked to the organization that had abducted them?

Upon arriving at the precinct, her attention was drawn to a familiar figure waiting near the entrance. It didn’t take long to recognize Ekko, ever alert, scanning his surroundings with his usual caution.

“Ekko?” Caitlyn approached, surprised. “What are you doing here so early?”

“When were you planning on telling me Vi was back?” Ekko replied, his tone a mix of relief and reproach. “I’ve spent weeks scouring nearly all of Runeterra looking for her, only to find out she’s been here with you this whole time.”

Caitlyn looked down, understanding his frustration. So much had happened in those few days that she had completely forgotten about Ekko’s search.

“I’m sorry, Ekko. Everything happened so fast. I only found her a couple of days ago. I didn’t have time to reach out.”

Ekko sighed, his features softening as he saw the guilt on Caitlyn’s face.

“What matters is she’s here. I was worried I’d never find her. How is she? Has she remembered anything?”

“Not much, not yet. But I think some memories are starting to resurface. At the very least, she seems to remember how she feels.” Caitlyn smiled faintly, hope glimmering in her voice.

“That’s something.” Ekko nodded with a weak smile. “I looked for clues in every city, even Bilgewater. I found nothing. Hearing that she’s back in Piltover is a relief.”

“Soon, I’ll bring you to the mansion so you can talk to her,” Caitlyn offered, meeting his eyes. “Thank you for never giving up. She still has a long road ahead, but I think we’re moving forward.”

“I’ll always be there for you both,” Ekko said earnestly. “Now tell me—what’s going on? You look worried.”

Caitlyn’s expression hardened.

“Got time? Come with me.”

They entered the precinct and headed straight to Caitlyn’s office. Locking the door, she caught him up on everything: how she found Vi, the pirate companion, the Zaun gang, the potential involvement of Noxus. She even pulled out Mel’s letters.

“There’s something off about these,” Caitlyn said. “Mel changed her tone too quickly. Something’s not right.”

Ekko examined the letters, nodding as he read the carefully written words.

“Mel doesn’t change her stance that easily. Something’s pressuring her.”

“My fear is that it’s tied to what’s happening here, with the gang and potential Noxian agents.”

“Want me to look into it? Zaun’s my territory—someone there must know something about those thugs.”

“Yes, please,” Caitlyn replied. “I’ve got a lot to handle and need to verify everything before acting. Talk to Steb too; he’s helping with surveillance. Be careful—these are dangerous people.”

Just as they finalized their plans, a soft knock interrupted them. It was Nora, punctual as always.

“Commander, sorry to interrupt,” she said, peeking inside. “Members of the high society have requested an urgent meeting.”

“Did they say what it’s about?”

“No, Commander. Only that it’s urgent.”

Caitlyn’s expression turned grim. Ekko stood up, sensing it was time to go.

“I’ll let you work. I’ll keep you informed of anything I find. Take care of Vi, Caitlyn. She may look strong, but inside, she’s more vulnerable than ever.”

“I know, Ekko. I’ll protect her—even from herself.” Caitlyn replied with fierce sincerity. “Thank you again, truly.”

Ekko nodded, saluting with a hand gesture as he left.

“You can count on me, Commander.”

As Caitlyn watched him leave, she took a deep breath and headed toward the meeting room. She knew the coming days would be crucial. The city seemed to be on the brink of something big, and she would have to find a way to balance her heart with her duty, no matter how hard that might be.

Caitlyn entered the meeting room where the high society members of Piltover were already waiting, seated around a large oval table. She could feel the piercing gazes and low murmurs of disapproval that always accompanied these gatherings, but she maintained her upright and confident posture.

“Commander Kiramman, thank you for attending us so quickly,” said Lord Gerold, a noble who had always been particularly insistent on reinstating the old council.

“It’s no trouble,” Caitlyn replied politely, taking a seat at the head of the table. “Tell me, what urgent matter brings you here today?”

Lady Enora, an influential woman known for her political cunning, was the first to speak clearly.

“Piltover is going through a period of uncertainty and chaos after the war. The time has come to reestablish the council as it once was. We need solid and firm leadership, and while we acknowledge your work at the head of the city, Commander, we believe that one person alone cannot bear the weight of so many important decisions.”

Caitlyn sighed, nodding with some reluctance.

“I agree, the council must return. Piltover cannot continue without a stable government structure,” she replied calmly. “But my concern remains the same as always: we must ensure proper representation not only from high society, but also from Zaun. We cannot repeat the mistakes of the past.”

The nobles exchanged uneasy glances. Lord Gerold cleared his throat and cautiously responded:

“We know you can handle things, Commander. But acting is not just about ideas. What is it exactly that you propose?”

Caitlyn took a few seconds to carefully choose her words. Her concerns were not separate from what they were requesting, and she had spent the past few days reflecting on the new government structure.

“I propose the following: reestablish the council with seven members—five from Piltover’s high society, one representative from Zaun, and one special seat, at least temporarily, for myself as both Commander and councilor. My seat would remain valid for a maximum of six months. After that period expires or if I step down, the councilor seat will pass to another Zaun representative, leaving a total of five Piltover councilors and two from Zaun. The Zaun representatives will be chosen by me, to reassure the council. Does that sound fair?”

The tension was palpable among the nobles. Murmurs arose from every corner of the room. Faces twisted in expressions of distrust and disdain. Caitlyn calmly observed each one of them, analyzing their reactions as she awaited the vote. She knew her proposal would not be welcomed without opposition, but she hadn’t expected such ferocity. Finally, after a few minutes, calm returned.

“After discussing it among the house members, we have decided to accept your proposal, Commander,” said Lord Gerold.

“Since we’re in agreement, and before you select Piltover’s representatives, I’ll announce my choice for Zaun’s representative.”

The Commander stood from her seat and placed her firm hands on the table, leaning forward with purpose, a clear sign of confidence. She knew this could go terribly wrong, but she was prepared to face the nobles’ outrage if it meant bringing justice to Zaun’s people.

“My chosen representative for Zaun will be Sevika.”

The reaction was immediate. The room erupted in shouts and whispers, the air thick with disdainful murmurs. The nobles couldn’t hide their mistrust. Some slammed their fists on the table in protest, while others barely contained their outrage. Caitlyn knew that beneath their sweet words of “unity,” what they truly saw was a threat. And that only made her more determined.

“This is absurd!” shouted one of the more conservative nobles, Lord Vannis, slamming the table with visible displeasure. “A criminal! This is nothing but a betrayal of the city!”

Lady Enora, always the diplomat, raised her hand to calm the room.

“It may not be a popular decision, but we know Zaun must be heard, and Sevika has the strength to make that happen. If we want peace, we must include all the citizens of Piltover and Zaun in this council. This is the right path.”

“I agree with Lady Enora,” spoke a firm and unfamiliar voice.

A mysterious woman stepped through the doorway and moved among the people until she reached Caitlyn’s side. The Commander narrowed her eyes to get a better look at who was approaching.

“It’s good to see you again, Cait,” said Shoola, visibly pleased, then turned to affirm Caitlyn’s stance. “Sevika fought nobly in the battle against Noxus to protect Piltover and Zaun—something many here didn’t do for their own city.”

Caitlyn relaxed at the sight of her, finally seeing a familiar face among the bitter expressions of the nobles. The whispers and shouts resumed until Caitlyn raised her hand firmly to impose silence, her eyes scanning the room with authority.

“Thank you, Shoola. You’re right. Sevika fought fiercely at our side. She’s a natural leader who knows Zaun better than anyone here. She has the respect of her people and has worked tirelessly to rebuild the undercity. If we truly want to unite Piltover and Zaun, we need someone strong to speak for them. Sevika is the right person.”

The firmness in her voice seemed to partially ease the tension. Lady Enora cleared her throat, trying to calm the room further.

“Though it’s not a popular choice, I support the Commander’s position,” she added diplomatically. “Sevika might be a controversial pick, but she may also be exactly what we need right now.”

After several more minutes of palpable tension, the nobles finally gave in—though clearly not without discontent.

The heated moment gave way to the formal voting of Piltover’s representatives, while Caitlyn observed closely, mentally noting every reaction and exchange. Taking advantage of a short pause, she discreetly called Nora to her side.

“Nora, send a message to Sevika immediately. I need to speak with her as soon as possible. Tell her to come see me in my office today.”

“Of course, Commander,” Nora replied, quickly retreating to carry out the task.

The voting continued for a couple more hours, and although Caitlyn remained composed, the tension within her steadily grew. Finally, after lengthy deliberation and multiple rounds of voting, the new members of the council were officially appointed.

On Piltover’s side, the appointed councilors were as follows:

• Lord Gerold: An influential noble from the aristocratic circles of society. He had been one of the most insistent voices calling for the council’s reinstatement. A staunch advocate for the centralization of power, he represented the city’s highest nobility. A traditionalist, conservative, and highly elitist figure—he was everything Caitlyn despised about Piltover’s upper class.

• Lady Enora: A shrewd and deeply political woman, known for her manipulative prowess and remarkable skill in playing different factions to her advantage. While, like all nobles, she worked to maximize profits in her many ventures, she was also clearly invested in preserving Piltover’s political stability.

• Baron Delacroix: The leader of one of Piltover’s oldest and most powerful families, renowned for their economic strength and heavy investments in the city’s industrial and technological sectors. The Delacroix family maintained close ties to Piltover’s corporations and industries, making the Baron a natural choice to represent economic and industrial interests. His influence likely extended to decisions involving trade, technology, and innovation.

• Adele Vickers: A young but promising figure in Piltover’s scientific and technological spheres. Hailing from a family that had long supported research and innovation, she stood as a key voice for the city’s scientific interests. With technology and science thriving in Piltover, her role would be vital in keeping the city at the forefront of progress. She could serve as a young and progressive voice within the council, championing technological advancement.

• Shoola: A strong-willed woman and a leader in military and strategic matters. Though not a part of Piltover’s traditional high society, her authority, prior experience, strategic insight, and loyalty were highly valued. She had been unwavering in her service to both the people and to Caitlyn during the war with Noxus, making her a natural figure to represent the city’s military and defense interests.

The agreement was sealed beneath a veil of tense silence, one that still hinted at mutual distrust. One by one, they signed the formal document that affirmed their commitment, thus marking the official reformation of the council.

Caitlyn thanked the nobles formally and dismissed them. Shoola remained seated to catch up with Caitlyn.

“It seems you've done a good job in this place, Commander.”

“I don’t really think so. I’ve only been awake from the coma for a couple of days.”

“So I heard. And I also know the citizens’ perception of your work as Commander has improved.”

Caitlyn tried to smile, but the bitter truth of her thoughts stopped her. Had she really done the right thing by accepting the position? Her decisions had led her here, and she couldn’t escape the consequences.

“What’s wrong, Cait?”

“I feel the battle with Noxus was just the beginning, Shoola. Sometimes I think I should’ve never accepted the role of Commander. My decisions led us here, to a destroyed city... Piltover was thriving, and now it’s just a memory of what it once was.” The blue-haired woman stood up and walked toward the seat that once belonged to her mother, placing her hand gently upon it as a symbol of remembrance and longing. “I made many decisions that led to this.”

The burden on her shoulders was heavy. Shoola looked at Cait with understanding and allowed a few seconds of silence before speaking.

“We all make mistakes, Cait, some with heavier consequences than others. It’s neither noble nor necessary to blame yourself. The past is irreparable, but the future carries seeds we can still plant.”

Caitlyn knew that, but it was impossible not to feel the guilt gnawing at her every time she thought about her time as Commander under Ambessa. After a brief breath, she looked at Shoola and continued the conversation.

“What about you? I thought you’d left the city. I didn’t see you at the last meeting with the nobles.”

“I wasn’t ready. I left for a while to travel across Runeterra seeking knowledge and introspection. The battle was hard on everyone, and we all experienced it in different ways.”

“Yes, you’re right. I’ll be selfish for a moment, but I have to say I’m glad you’re back and on the council.” The two women smiled. “There’s something you should know. It’s confidential, of course.”

Caitlyn looked around the room to ensure no one could hear them.

“I strongly suspect that Noxus is planning an armed attack against Piltover.”

Shoola’s expression changed, her face hardening. Caitlyn continued.

“When I was surveilling a new criminal gang in Zaun, I was kidnapped and held for a few hours. But that’s not the important part. I stood before their leader, and he was wearing what appeared to be Noxian clothing.” She cleared her throat before going on. “The worst part is that only hours later I sent Steb to investigate, and there was nothing—no merchandise, no traces, absolutely nothing.”

“So there are no leads?”

“No, nothing for now. I asked Ekko and Steb to keep digging. Now that you're back, I’d like you to take charge of the city’s defense. We’ll likely need to reinforce ourselves against a possible foreign attack. This must be done without alarming the public.”

“I’ll handle everything I can. However, we’ll need council funds to strengthen the city.”

Caitlyn nodded, knowing she’d soon have to face the council again. Shortly after, Councilor Shoola left the room.

Once alone in the chamber, Caitlyn took a deep breath. She knew the decision to appoint Sevika as councilor would bring significant repercussions, but she also felt it was the right step to unite both cities under equitable leadership.

She returned slowly to her office, feeling the weight of responsibility heavier than ever. Upon arriving, Nora was waiting with a comforting smile.

“I’ve already sent the message to Sevika, Commander. She’ll be here as soon as possible.”

Caitlyn nodded with gratitude and entered her office. Nora was an excellent assistant—dedicated, professional. Caitlyn was delighted with her hiring; she made things much easier in that place full of vultures.

Her thoughts shifted to her next objective, mentally preparing for the upcoming conversation with Sevika. She knew it wouldn’t be easy. Sevika was tough, rude, often moody—but if they wanted to move toward a better future, they had to try.

Meanwhile, she reopened Mel’s letters on her desk, reading again those words that had unsettled her so deeply. Her intuition told her something far greater and more dangerous was coming, and she’d have to be ready to protect the city she was born and raised in.

She took a pen and paper, beginning to write a letter:

“Mel,

I hope this letter finds you well. I received your latest missives, and although they appear proper and diplomatic, I can’t help but feel there’s something more behind your words.

You know my training, and no matter how hard I try not to overanalyze each sentence, it would be negligent of me to ignore my intuition. Your shift in stance was abrupt, and coming from you, that can only mean one thing: you’re under pressure. I don’t know if it’s political or personal, but whatever it is, it’s shaping your decisions.

Mel, I need to know the truth. The city I swore to protect is in danger. Recently, I was kidnapped by an organization with possible ties to Noxus. One of the leaders wore insignias similar to those some soldiers used during the war. And though I lack solid evidence, I’m starting to believe what we’re facing is more than a simple criminal gang. It’s an organized structure, well-funded, with clear geopolitical interests.

I know you’re no longer part of the Piltover Council. I know that better than anyone. But I also know your love for this city that watched you grow is immense. If you know anything—anything that could help me protect Piltover and prevent another catastrophe—I beg you to tell me.

I’m not writing to you as Commander. I’m writing as someone who once trusted you, and who still believes that somewhere inside, the determined and brilliant woman I once knew is still willing to do what’s right.

Please, I sincerely ask you to respond with the truth. Even if it’s between the lines. I’ve already learned how to read them.

Sincerely,
Caitlyn Kiramman
Commander of Piltover”

She reviewed each word over and over, making sure nothing was left out until she finally sealed it. That letter was her hope for answers.

“Nora, come into my office, please,” she called out so her voice could be heard through the door.

“Yes, Commander. What do you need?”

“Send this letter to Noxus. It’s for Mel Medarda, strictly confidential, so find the most trustworthy messenger you know to ensure she receives it in person.”

The assistant nodded and left quickly, leaving Caitlyn alone with her thoughts.

When Sevika entered Caitlyn’s office, she did so with her usual imposing and slightly defiant air. Caitlyn, for her part, watched her seriously and slowly rose from her desk to greet her. She walked toward Sevika with firm steps, extending her hand in a formal gesture.

“Welcome, Councilor Sevika,” Caitlyn greeted, keeping her serious expression for a few seconds before a slight smile formed on her lips.

Sevika’s reaction was immediate. Her face quickly shifted from initial confusion to a mix of surprise and skeptical curiosity.

“What did you just say?” Sevika asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

Caitlyn widened her smile, setting aside the moment’s formality.

“You heard me right, Sevika. From now on, you are the new councilor representing Zaun on the council. I hope you’re ready for plenty of boring meetings and endless debates.”

Sevika scoffed slightly, shaking her head and crossing her arms with an expression somewhere between annoyed and amused.

“You could’ve told me earlier, Kiramman. Didn’t it occur to you that maybe I’d like to have a say in this decision?”

Caitlyn softened her smile, approaching the woman with a more serious and sincere look.

“I know I should’ve told you beforehand, but Zaun needs someone who can truly defend its interests. You are that person, Sevika. I know no one more capable, with the strength and authority to represent them properly before the council.”

Sevika sighed lightly, relaxing a bit as she listened to those words.

“What exactly do you expect from me?”

“For the council, I need you to be Zaun’s voice and carry the people’s requests. For me, I need you to be my eyes and ears in Zaun.” Caitlyn looked around to ensure no one was nearby. “The other day, while Vi and I were monitoring a gang, we were kidnapped. The leader wore Noxian garments, so I sent Ekko and Steb to investigate, but this is bigger than we imagined.”

The commander took a few steps toward the window overlooking Piltover’s streets.

“There’s something strange going on with Noxus. Mel has sent me unsettling letters; I can’t clearly explain why, but something’s off there. I fear their soldiers are hiding in Piltover, plotting in secret. I ask you to let me know if you hear any rumors about this in Zaun.”

Sevika looked at Caitlyn in surprise before answering.

“Vi is back?”

Of course, Caitlyn had forgotten that few knew about Vi’s return. The mere mention had alarmed Sevika.

“It’s a long story, Sevika, but she’s fine. She hasn’t recovered her memory yet, but we’re working on it.” She sighed and continued. “I need to know you truly heard and understood everything I just said.”

Sevika nodded slowly, grasping the gravity of the situation. The reunion with Vi could wait.

“Alright. I’ll do it for Zaun, not for you or your damned council,” she replied firmly, though her eyes shone with sincere determination.

Caitlyn handed her some documents she had prepared on her desk.

“Here’s all the information to catch up on council matters. Sorry to burden you so suddenly, but I know you can handle it.”

Sevika took the documents with resignation and frustration, eyeing the amount of information she had to process.

“You owe me big after this, Kiramman,” she said with irony.

“Believe me, I know,” Caitlyn replied with a slight smile. “By the way, my dad told me he’s been treating a lot of people from Zaun lately, some with bullet wounds. Do you know anything about that? Maybe an organization or gang forming?”

The Zaunite woman thought for a moment before answering.

“There’s an area called Silo-13. None of the Chem-Barons wanted it. It’s a forgotten zone, irrelevant to most people. I’ve heard rumors of a man named Nerón Vault forming his own faction, aiming to become Zaun’s next Chem-Baron.”

“A new Chem-Baron? Why hadn’t you told me?” Caitlyn asked, giving her a questioning look.

“Princess, if I got paid for every rumor in the underground, I’d be rich. For now, it’s just a rumor.”

“Then we must confirm if it’s truly just a rumor.”

Sevika looked at her curiously.

“You want to investigate?”

“How did you guess? I want to see what’s happening there for myself, and I need you to take me and my enforcers.”

Sevika nodded, but her fierce gaze remained fixed on Caitlyn, a shadow of doubt in her eyes.

“What if this goes wrong? You could spark conflicts and deepen mistrust between Zaun and Piltover. I don’t trust the ones upstairs like you do, Cait.”

Sevika was right and didn’t hesitate to challenge Caitlyn, doing so without fear. But behind her words lay genuine concern. Caitlyn took a moment to reflect and respond.

“We’ll go just the two of us. Maybe you don’t trust the people upstairs, but I ask you to trust me.”

Sevika looked at her intently, pondering her words, then answered:

“Alright, Kiramman. But you know not everyone in Zaun will be happy to see the Commander in the undercity. I wouldn’t be either.” She added, voicing her own doubts. “Wait for me at sunset on the bridge.”

After a brief exchange of knowing glances, Sevika left the office. Caitlyn sat behind her desk with a sigh, feeling she had just overcome one of the day’s most complicated obstacles.

Her mind immediately returned to her next priority: the criminal gang that had attacked Vi. Her expression hardened once more. She needed answers—needed to end this threat before anyone else got hurt.

She opened her desk drawers, reviewing recent reports on criminal incidents. Her resolve was clear: no one would lay a hand on Vi again without facing the consequences. And this time, she would handle it personally.

The documents revealed no new or relevant information that could help her find those responsible for the beating Vi had received. She had only one option to learn more without Vi finding out: she needed to talk to the pirate.

Hours passed quickly while Caitlyn searched for clues. When she finally looked at the clock, there were only thirty minutes left before meeting with Sevika. The plan to meet Sarah would have to wait. Tonight, she had to investigate Zaun.

After briefly organizing the papers on her desk, Caitlyn grabbed her coat and left the office, determined to end this matter before it could get any worse.

“Nora, I need you to send a message to the Kiramman mansion. Let my father and Vi know that I won’t be home tonight due to an investigation. Make sure to tell them everything’s fine and I’ll see them tomorrow.”

“Yes, Commander. I’ll deliver the message.”

She continued on her way and, upon passing through the main hall of the precinct, approached Steb, who was sorting through some papers with a couple of officers.

“Steb, I need you to take charge of the precinct for the rest of the afternoon. I have urgent matters to attend to outside,” said Caitlyn, handing him a couple of signed reports. “If there’s any emergency, you know how to reach me. By the way, did Ekko contact you?”

“Understood, Commander,” Steb nodded with seriousness and respect. “Yes, I passed along all available information, but we still have no leads. I assigned a team of enforcers who are still patrolling in search of clues.”

“Thank you, Steb. That’s good. I need to go now. You’re in charge.”

Before leaving, she stopped and turned to say something else.

“By the way, Steb, you’ve done a great job—both in the battle with Ambessa and afterward when you took over the city.” Her words were filled with pride.

“Cait... I mean, Commander. There’s no need to thank me. It’s my duty as part of the enforcers. Serving this great city and you as Commander will always be a pleasure.”

Caitlyn gave a brief smile before heading out. She got into her car and set off for her meeting.

She arrived at the bridge at the agreed time. The cool evening breeze blew gently, but her mind was heavy with tension. So many pieces to fit together, so many threats to face. She leaned against the railing, staring at the horizon as the sun began to descend. It was a moment of calm before the storm she knew was coming.

In the distance, she saw Sevika’s imposing figure approaching, walking with her firm and confident stride as if the bridge itself were her territory. Her presence, always defiant, quickly drew the attention of passersby.

“Was it hard to get here?” Sevika asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she stopped in front of Caitlyn, wearing a sardonic smile that, though aimed at the situation, didn’t take away her air of superiority.

“Not really,” Caitlyn replied in a serious tone, though her face couldn’t help but show a slight ironic smile at Sevika’s challenging demeanor. It was too late for games, and she knew it.

“Ready to investigate?” Sevika asked, raising an eyebrow with curiosity.

“Of course, that’s what I’m here for.” Caitlyn took a step toward Sevika. She understood the gravity of the situation but fully trusted Sevika and her ability to stay strong.

The two women walked together, their steps echoing across the metal structure of the bridge. They got into the car and set off. The city of Piltover receded slowly behind them as they headed toward the darkest edges of Zaun.

Caitlyn couldn’t stop thinking about everything at stake. Vi, the criminal gang, Noxus... the combination of factors was dangerously close to becoming a threat that could endanger the peace between the cities.

The drive to the old abandoned factory was silent, each woman lost in thought. The vehicle glided through Zaun’s dark streets, a place Caitlyn had come to know during her years of service but that never ceased to unsettle her. The distant cries, flickering lights, and dense air were a constant reminder of the inequality dividing the people of Zaun and Piltover.

Sevika, seated next to Caitlyn in the passenger seat, didn’t seem as affected by the environment. Her gaze was fixed ahead, watching for any movement that might indicate something out of the ordinary.

“What did you find out about Nerón Vault?” Caitlyn asked after a long silence, wanting to seize the moment to address the rumors Sevika had mentioned.

Sevika looked at Caitlyn, then toward the dark streets of Zaun.

“After leaving your office, I investigated the lower depths of Zaun. It doesn’t seem to be just a rumor. Nerón is recruiting the city’s strongest and most dangerous individuals. And he’s not afraid to challenge anyone. These aren’t the kind of people who make threats without already planning something big.”

Caitlyn nodded thoughtfully. This "Nerón Vault" could be a new Chem-Baron preparing to take control of Zaun.

The vehicle stopped at the entrance to the old factory, a crumbling structure of metal and brick. The place was deserted and grim, the city lights of Zaun barely reflecting on the deteriorated walls. No sound came from inside, casting a heavy tension in the air.

Cait parked the car where it wouldn’t be visibly noticeable.

“We go on foot from here,” Caitlyn said as she stepped out of the vehicle, looking at Sevika. “I don’t want anyone to know we’re nearby.”

Sevika nodded, and both women entered the building. The heavy air inside, mixed with the smell of burnt oil and rusted metal, engulfed the dark space. Each step echoed like a reminder they weren’t alone. Caitlyn couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, a pressure in her chest that grew with every corner they turned.

“How do you expect we’ll find anything here?” Sevika asked, scanning the area for signs of life.

“We will find something, Sevika. This place has to be hiding something.” Caitlyn pulled a flashlight from her belt and began inspecting the facility, pointing toward the rusted machinery covering the ground.

The deeper they went, the denser the atmosphere became. A muffled sound broke the silence, followed by rapid footsteps echoing against the broken walls. Something wasn’t right, and both women knew it.

They turned instantly. In the distance, a shadow darted down a dark hallway.

“Follow me!” Caitlyn shouted, grabbing her rifle and quickly advancing toward the sound.

The hallway was narrow and dark, but Caitlyn and Sevika moved like shadows. The flashlight beam revealed more abandoned machines and layers of dust.

In a flash, a figure emerged from the darkness. The hooded figure hid his face. He was one of Nerón’s men, likely a sentry, and before they could react, he pulled out a gun.

“Don’t move!” the man shouted, pointing directly at Caitlyn.

Sevika reacted instantly, lunging at the man and disarming him with a precise blow. The gun fell to the ground, but before they could advance, the man drew a knife and attacked swiftly.

Caitlyn dodged the first strike, but the blade tore through her coat. Adrenaline surged as Sevika blocked the attacks, waiting for the right moment to bring him down.

“I’ll crush you, bastard!” Sevika shouted as she moved with force.

With a skillful move, Sevika knocked the man down with her mechanical arm and pinned him with a lock that rendered him unconscious.

Now immobilized, the man could only glare at his captors. Caitlyn approached cautiously, glancing at Sevika before speaking.

“Who are you?” Caitlyn asked firmly.

“You don’t know what’s coming,” the man whispered with a smirk before Sevika knocked him out with a punch.

Though brief, the man’s words nearly confirmed her suspicions. Something bigger was happening here.

“Whatever Nerón Vault is planning, we’ll stop it,” Caitlyn said to Sevika with newfound resolve.

They tied the man up and continued exploring the facility. The man was only a sentry, which made Caitlyn assume there was more to hide in that factory. They eventually found hidden passages leading to a massive underground chamber.

It looked like an auditorium. The two women walked through it, scanning every detail of the facility.

“Cait, look at this,” Sevika said, pointing to the wall.

What Caitlyn saw stunned her—rows upon rows of what looked like robots, hundreds of them.

“How could they create all this so quickly and without us knowing?”

“No one comes to this factory, Cait. It’s a useless site. No one would think anything was happening here.”

“This could be a greater threat than we thought...” Caitlyn paused for a few minutes. “Sevika, we need to stay and watch. Judging by how quickly they built this, they must come here daily. If I’m right, Nerón will come to show off his progress at some point.”

Sevika nodded.

Hours passed, and dawn barely crept over Zaun, dim through the dense chemical fog crawling across the area. The flickering lights of old generators barely lit the worn walls of Silo-13, now silent but heavy with tension.

At first, they investigated more deeply, finding traces of unknown technology. Eventually, the two women hid. Caitlyn and Sevika stayed concealed in a corner of the old factory, watching from the shadows as a group of armed men and women entered the building and headed toward the auditorium.

One of the men, imposing and commanding, stepped to the center of the room. “That must be Nerón Vault,” Cait thought. He spoke softly, yet with undeniable authority. His mechanical exoskeleton glowed faintly in the surrounding vapors, and his mask reflected the light of a crude torch.

“Zaun has been ignored, trampled, reduced to rubble and smoke. We won’t beg anymore. We will take what’s ours.” His voice pounded like a drum, steady and full of conviction. “The traitor Sevika is allied with the ones above and no longer fights for our cause.”

Sevika exhaled sharply through her nose, rejecting Nerón’s words. Caitlyn grabbed her arm to calm her.

It took Nerón just a few seconds to press a set of buttons that activated the platform holding the robots, raising them before everyone in the room.

“Everything is going according to plan. The robots are already built, and our engineers are working on harnessing geothermal energy from nearby volcanoes as fuel for them,” he said, smiling under a veil of arrogance. “Once they have the necessary power, we’ll activate their artificial intelligence and won’t lose a single one of our own warriors. They’ll do our dirty work—destroying Piltover and glorifying Zaun.”

His followers roared in response. Caitlyn observed, taking note of every face, every weapon, every symbol painted on the walls, every word spoken. This was no longer a rumor: it was a revolution.

Clearly agitated, Sevika leaned toward Caitlyn and whispered:

“He’s got at least twenty people here. Handmade weapons, but effective. Some with implants. Robots aren’t active yet, but they’d be dangerously lethal in the future. It’s well organized.”

Caitlyn nodded, considering her next words.

“Sevika, we need to destroy this factory and arrest Nerón. If what he says is true, destroying his robots will slow their progress—but we’ll need to find the engineers still working on the project.”

The two women moved stealthily through different parts of the factory, placing bombs that Caitlyn would detonate with a remote control.

As they returned to their vantage point, one of the sentries spotted them.

“Intruders!”

In an instant, chaos erupted. The lights went out and the echo of gunfire rang through the facility. Caitlyn and Sevika instinctively separated, moving between columns and rusted machinery.

Nerón Vault, far from fleeing, rose above his followers.

“Capture them alive!” he bellowed joyfully.

Caitlyn, hiding behind an old control console, tried unsuccessfully to contact Steb. The signal was blocked. Meanwhile, Sevika was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with two of Nerón’s soldiers, defeating them with brutal precision. The place had become a labyrinth of shadows, steam, and crossfire.

Eventually, Caitlyn managed to regroup with Sevika.

“We have to reach the command center. From there I can send the signal.”

They moved through the gunfire, covering each other until they reached an elevated structure protected by a metal dome. Caitlyn attempted to use the console to send the signal while Sevika held off the attackers. Within seconds, the signal was transmitted. Reinforcements were on the way.

Seeing his position compromised, Nerón Vault ordered a retreat. His followers began to scatter.

“We need to go and blow this place up,” Sevika shouted.

“Not without Nerón.”

Caitlyn sprinted toward the man, breath labored, feeling time slipping through her fingers. Each step carried the weight of her decision, the urgency to act before it was too late.

“Hands up, Nerón.” She aimed her rifle at his head.

“Commander, I didn’t expect you at this moment, but it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a grin. “I have a bomb on me that will detonate in about two minutes. I estimate you have one minute to ask a question and one minute to run.”

“What?” Caitlyn asked, realizing the man preferred death over giving up information. “Why are you going to sacrifice yourself? Are you working for someone else?”

“I work for Zaun. My life isn’t really important. I will die, but the rebellion won’t. Other Chem-Barons will rise, and on the Day of the Black Sun, Piltover will fall, making way for a new regime.”

Caitlyn didn’t fully understand what he meant, but she knew time was up.

Sevika ran over and lifted Caitlyn with her mechanical arm, slinging her over her shoulder as she headed for the exit.

“Sorry, princess, but I’m not letting you blow up into pieces,” she muttered with a smirk. “Vi would kill me.”

From Sevika’s strong shoulder as she ran, Caitlyn looked back and saw Nerón smiling at her—a wide, fearless grin.

“The Day of the Black Sun is coming! You won’t be able to stop it!” Nerón shouted through laughter.

A massive explosion erupted from his body. There was no need to trigger their planted bombs—Nerón’s detonation destroyed everything, blowing up most of Silo-13.

Sevika set Caitlyn down and helped her stand. The Commander couldn’t stop staring at the site of the blast.

“That man... he didn’t even flinch at death,” Caitlyn said, apparently in shock.

“One thing you need to learn about Zaun, princess, is that we wake up each day expecting death,” Sevika replied.

An hour passed before the place was secured by enforcers, who combed through the smoking rubble, retrieving bodies and debris. There was no body of Nerón Vault—only scattered remains from the explosion. His followers were either dead or had fled. The revolution had crumbled before it even began.

But for Caitlyn, this wasn’t a victory. It was only a brief pause before the next storm.

Nerón’s words still echoed in her mind like a dark omen: “The Day of the Black Sun is coming.” Was it a threat? A prophecy? A warning that she hadn’t seen the worst yet?

She looked up at Zaun’s murky sky, where smoke mingled with the ever-present fog. And for an instant, she could’ve sworn she saw the sun vanish behind a denser veil than usual—as if the omen had already begun to take shape.

Sevika approached quietly, her breath still heavy.

“You alright, Kiramman?”

Caitlyn nodded, though inside, nothing felt alright. The weight of the future had landed on her shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Even if Nerón is dead... I feel this was only the beginning.”

And as the shadows stretched across the ruined walls of Silo-13, Caitlyn understood that to save Piltover, she would have to stare into the abyss—and decide how far she was willing to go.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn accelerated the car, letting the city of Zaun vanish quickly in the rearview mirror. The streetlights flickered as the cool night air slipped through the window. The silence surrounding her made her feel more alone than ever. Sevika had stayed behind at the scene, looking for any clue that might help decipher the enigmas. Even though the mission had been a success, Neron's words kept echoing in her mind. Had they truly destroyed the revolution, or had they only postponed the inevitable?

She gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to push those thoughts away. The curve toward the mansion pulled her out of her reverie, but the engine's sound was the only thing breaking the morning's stillness. Upon arrival, she calmly parked the car, still immersed in her thoughts.

She climbed the stairs slowly, her heels echoing in the empty hallway. She entered Vi's room and found her lying in bed, asleep, her face peaceful, oblivious to everything. It was still early, but Caitlyn couldn't help herself. She lay down beside her, gently lifted one of the blankets, and wrapped herself in it. Carefully, she embraced her from behind, feeling the warmth of her body through the fabric. Vi remained motionless for a moment, but soon, she slowly turned around, her eyes fixed on Caitlyn's.

"Did I wake you?" Caitlyn asked softly, her voice cracked from the sleepless night.

Vi blinked slowly, as if still caught between sleep and wakefulness.

"No," she replied in a low but calm tone. "I've been awake for a while."

Caitlyn looked into her eyes, those gray eyes that had always given her a sense of peace. Despite her worries, Vi had always been her anchor, and just the fact that those eyes looked at her so tenderly made everything worth it.

"I haven't slept at all," Caitlyn admitted, resting her head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. "The mission was exhausting, but we managed to dismantle a criminal organization that could have been terribly harmful to everyone."

Vi was silent for a moment, but then, as if she'd been waiting to speak, her words came out in a whisper.

"I haven't slept much either," Vi said, her voice barely a murmur. Her eyes wandered to the ceiling, as if searching for something in the room's shadows. "I had a dream or a nightmare, I don't know, but it felt so real..."

Curious, Caitlyn slowly turned toward her. Vi seemed lost in those memories, her face softer than Caitlyn was used to seeing. For a moment, the image of the tough and strong Vi she had always known vanished, revealing the vulnerable woman inside.

"What was it about?" Caitlyn asked, almost in a whisper, as if afraid to interrupt the flow of Vi's words.

Vi turned her head to Caitlyn, her gaze now more open, even more vulnerable, as if her skin might break with a single touch.

"About the last time I saw my sister," Vi replied with a hint of sadness in her voice. "I remember being on the ground, wearing those huge gloves I used to fight. With one hand I held hers, while a monster with sharp claws clung to her leg."

Sadness filled Vi's face before she continued.

"She was bigger than I remember, but I know it was her... She looked at me and deactivated the glove, a kind of sphere came out of it and fell along with the monster. I just cried and screamed, I saw her take out a bomb and explode it, a bunch of blue and pink sparks burst from the explosion."

Silence took over the room, and upon hearing those words, Caitlyn felt her heart break even more. Vi had lost so much, and if her dreams were real, then she had also lost her sister.

Without thinking, Caitlyn hugged her tightly, pressing her face against Vi's hair. The silence between them was filled with a calm found only in moments of intimacy, where words became unnecessary. Vi clung to her, as if the embrace were the only thing holding her together at that moment.

The Zaunite closed her eyes, her voice breaking.

"She's dead, Cait. I wish everything were different. But I can't deny it... I'm sure my dream is a hidden memory in my mind."

Vi let the repressed tears flow, her body trembling from the pent-up emotion. Caitlyn, heartbroken, held her tighter, wishing she could give her the peace she so desperately needed.

"I refuse to believe it... Ekko found you at the Hexgate, and as far as I know, there was no body or trace. As long as there's a chance, I promise I'll find any clue that tells us exactly what happened," Caitlyn said, her voice trembling but firm. No matter how many days passed or how many memories surfaced, she wouldn't let Vi face this alone.

Vi closed her eyes, not responding immediately. Caitlyn could feel how her words began to sink into her heart. The war, the chaos, the loss... all of it weighed on them, but there was something else: hope. And for the first time in a long while, Vi allowed that hope to seep into her mind.

Still embracing her, Caitlyn stayed there, by her side, hoping that time and words could heal the wounds of the past. Vi finally let out a sigh, and Caitlyn saw her face relax.

"Are you going to sleep now?" Vi asked, her voice soft but with a hint of mischief.

Caitlyn smiled, a gentle touch of tenderness on her face.

"If you sleep..." Caitlyn replied with a smile, her tone more relaxed.

Vi, despite everything, smiled too and closed her eyes, letting sleep finally take her. Caitlyn remained by her side, listening to Vi's soft breathing, holding her close, wishing to keep her like that forever.

Eventually, Caitlyn also gave in to exhaustion and closed her eyes. The two women slept peacefully for the rest of the morning.

Caitlyn woke up slowly, the soft murmur of Vi's breathing the only thing surrounding her. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle golden haze over the room. Vi was still asleep, her face serene, as if she hadn’t lived through all that she had. Caitlyn watched her for a few moments, her heart still heavy with the memories shared by the woman in front of her.

However, Caitlyn's thoughts wouldn't settle. Vi's words about her sister echoed over and over in her mind. Vi had witnessed the death of someone she loved, but how could she be so sure? With no body, no trace, Caitlyn refused to believe it was truly the case. Something didn’t add up, and she wasn’t going to let that mystery fade into the air.

Despite the calm in the room, she felt the tension of Vi’s sadness lingering in her chest. The need to find answers, to move forward, to protect Vi, drove her to rise from the bed carefully so as not to wake her lover. She got up, still wearing her commander’s uniform, which she hadn’t taken off to sleep. She only removed her jacket and let down her hair, then left the room quietly.

Caitlyn descended the mansion’s stairs, each step echoing in the silence. The mansion was quiet, almost unbearably so, like a refuge trying to deceive her. Outside, Piltover continued its course, but here, in this place, stillness reigned, as if the silence itself surrounded her, pushing her to think only of Vi and what had happened.

She reached the hallway and headed toward the office that had belonged to her mother, a room filled with history and family secrets. There, she often found the peace she needed to process the mountain of responsibilities weighing on her shoulders.

The office door closed softly behind her as she approached the desk. In the lowest drawer, she found the Kiramman key, an old and heavy iron key she had inherited from her mother. She knew what it meant: access to the family's vast collection of secret files, documents kept only for the Kiramman to know.

She sat in front of the table, placing the Kiramman key and, for a long while, investigated all the family’s archives. The images of the previous night, Vi’s suffering, and Jinx’s possible sacrifice kept circling her mind, but she was determined to find something that could help.

Caitlyn was deeply lost in her thoughts, bent over the maps spread in front of her. Her gaze, intense and calculating, meticulously scanned each possible route of the tunnels near the Hexgate, trying to decipher any clue that might reveal Jinx’s whereabouts. Doubts consumed her mind, and frustration began to show in small gestures: a restless hand holding a piece belonging to one of Jinx’s bombs.

One section of the map caught her attention. There were ventilation ducts in the area where Jinx had vanished. What if she had survived that way? Vi had mentioned the pink rays, and Jinx, when using her abilities, left traces of that color. An idea, or perhaps a hope, began to form in her mind. What if Jinx had escaped through those ducts? Her ability to move quickly could have allowed her to use that route, and maybe the Shimmer had given her a chance to flee before the explosion reached her.

The woman rested one hand on her lips, pondering that possibility.

Suddenly, amid that heavy silence, a soft melody floated from some corner of the mansion. Caitlyn looked up, startled, instantly recognizing the familiarity of that humming. A smile appeared on her lips upon hearing that so familiar voice. She stood up, letting herself be guided by the sound and went in search of it.

She walked down the hallway, unhurried, and upon reaching the living room, she saw her sitting on a table, one leg on it, the other on the floor, staring into the fire while her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Caitlyn approached, sitting beside her. She gave Vi a little nudge with her elbow and, with a smile, spoke while staring at the Zaunite.

"Is that singing?"

Vi looked at her slowly, her face reflecting a mix of nostalgia but also a sadness Caitlyn recognized as part of her being. Vi had always had that deep connection with her past, and it was something that at times seemed to haunt her.

"It's just a tune my mother used to hum," she replied, her gaze lost in the flames, as if trying to recover a fragment of her past.

Caitlyn rested her head on Vi’s shoulder, letting the fire’s warmth envelop the scene.

“Are you still in this fighting, Violet?” she asked softly, her voice full of concern and a hint of sadness. Even if she couldn't read her thoughts, she knew the memories of Jinx had stirred a deep sorrow in her.

Vi thought for a few seconds, then turned to look at Cait, her eyes determined but carrying a sense of inevitability.

“I am the dirt under your nails, cupcake,” Vi said with a determined look. Then she rested her head on Cait's shoulder. “Nothing's gonna clean me out.”

Caitlyn smiled, recognizing in those words the resilience and courage she had always admired in Vi. Despite everything she had lost, she remained strong—stronger than anyone could truly understand.

After a while of silence, as both enjoyed the fire in front of them, Caitlyn looked at the clock. It was almost night. She had spent the whole day between resting and searching for some clue—some hope that Jinx was still alive. But she had other matters to attend to.

“Hey,” Caitlyn said to the shorter woman still leaning on her shoulder. Vi lifted her head, looking at her in silence. “I have to go do some research at the headquarters. I'll be back later, alright?”

Vi lifted her head, her tired but intense eyes fixed on her.

“Alright. I’ll be waiting here,” Vi replied with a small smile.

Caitlyn stood up, slowly approaching her. She kissed her gently on the lips, letting that kiss carry all the affection and the promise to return soon. She caressed her cheek before stepping away, determined that no matter what she had to do, she would always come back to her.

She had lied to Vi, and though she knew it was necessary, the guilt still gnawed at her. The decision to hide the fact that she was going to see Sarah ate away at her. But in her mind, she was convinced it was for Vi’s own good. She needed to handle this. She wouldn't let anyone hurt the Zaunite woman again.

She left quickly, heading to the car. Caitlyn felt a knot in her stomach as she drove toward the port. The memories of the explosive confrontation with Neron Vault were still fresh in her mind. Meanwhile, in her heart, the anguish over Vi remained. Every time she thought about what had happened to her, the fear that something worse could happen haunted her—especially with her own instincts telling her Noxus was still lurking in Piltover.

On the way, her thoughts circled around Vi. She was afraid something else might happen to her; she couldn’t bear to see her suffer again—not after everything she had already been through. Though she was uncomfortable having to turn to Sarah, she acknowledged that the pirate had valuable information. Moreover, after their last encounter, she knew Sarah would do anything to protect Vi.

When she arrived at the port, the commander stepped out of the car firmly. In front of her stood Miss Fortune’s imposing ship, softly illuminated by the sunset. She boarded without wasting time and found Sarah surrounded by her crew, amidst laughter, toasts, and anecdotes.

Noticing her presence, the crew fell silent. Sarah turned around, observing her with an expression between surprise and interest.

“Commander,” Sarah greeted with an intrigued smile. “What a surprise to see you here again. Care to have a drink with us?”

“Thank you for the offer, Captain, but that’s not why I came today.”

The pirate’s expression hardened.

“Is everything alright with Vi? Did something happen to her?”

“Vi is fine. Still resting at my mansion,” Caitlyn replied, trying to keep her composure. “But I need your help.”

Sarah arched a brow slightly, showing genuine interest.

“What happened?”

Caitlyn looked around—too many people to discuss such sensitive matters.

“Can we speak in private?”

Sarah nodded and turned to her crew.

“Well, I have business to attend to. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

She stood and invited Caitlyn into her cabin.

“Feel privileged, Commander. The only one who’s ever had the pleasure of entering my cabin was Vi—and for more... pleasurable reasons,” she said as she sat on her bed and crossed her legs, carefully listening to what the other woman had to say.

Clearly, Sarah’s comment was meant to irritate Cait. It worked. She didn’t want to show it, but jealousy was practically bursting from her eyes and trying to escape through her lips. She pushed aside her baser instincts and focused on explaining the situation.

“I’m not here to talk about your adventures with Vi. The criminal gang she used to be with attacked her the other day. They beat and threatened her. I need to locate them,” Caitlyn said coldly and determinedly. “I know Vi trusted you enough to tell you what happened while she was with them. I need you to tell me how to find them.”

Sarah remained silent for a few seconds, clearly noticing the worry and restrained fury on Caitlyn’s face. Finally, she nodded seriously.

“Vi told me everything about them. They’re not exactly discreet,” Sarah said, standing and slowly approaching as she recalled the information Vi had given her. “It’s a gang run by a guy named Yuzul, who owns a clandestine fighting zone. He usually meets with the gang members in an old abandoned factory near the Broken Lights district, on the border between Zaun and Piltover.”

Caitlyn pressed her lips. She recognized the place perfectly.

“Thank you, Sarah. That’s all I need to go after them,” she replied sincerely, turning to leave.

“Hold on a second, Commander,” Sarah said, stopping her before she could take another step. “You’re not going alone.”

Caitlyn frowned slightly, confused.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m going with you,” Sarah affirmed firmly. “I won’t let anyone hurt my woman without facing the consequences.”

Caitlyn’s heart pounded at those words. She felt an uncomfortable sting, a mix of jealousy and irritation, but tried to remain calm.

“You know, you don’t need to come with me. This isn’t about—” Caitlyn began, but Sarah cut her off.

“About what? Protecting Vi?” Sarah interrupted, crossing her arms. The seriousness in her tone showed this wasn’t just a joke anymore.

“This is dangerous, Sarah, it’s not just another mission,” Caitlyn said, her voice firmer now. “I appreciate your help, but don’t think Vi will love you more just because you’re coming with me to beat up those idiots.”

Sarah, with a mischievous smile, stepped closer to Caitlyn, her tone less provocative, more sincere. For a second, the rivalry between them seemed to fade, leaving them simply as two women who, by strange circumstances, shared a purpose.

“Commander, I’m anything but weak, and I hope last night made it clear how dangerous I can be,” Sarah said with a teasing smile. “I want those guys to feel the fear of having touched my woman.”

Caitlyn let out a slight laugh, almost against her will. She couldn’t deny she admired Sarah’s boldness and persistence—no matter how frustrating it was.

“Alright, then let’s not waste any more time,” Caitlyn finally accepted. “But make two things clear, Sarah. First, Vi doesn’t know about this, and if she finds out, she’ll probably be angry at us. Second, I don’t give a damn about her anger. I’m doing this to protect her.”

Sarah nodded slowly, keeping that defiant gaze she was known for.

“Same here,” she replied confidently. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her, of course.”

They left the cabin, and Sarah turned to Roger.

“Roger, you’re in charge of the crew. I have to go with the Commander on a special mission,” she said with conviction and ease. Then she addressed the entire crew. “Tonight, Roger’s buying the beers.”

The crew’s cheers were immediate at the Captain’s announcement—except for Roger, who gave her a look of frustration.

To Caitlyn, that cheerful, chaotic scene contrasted starkly with the dangerous mission they were about to undertake.

Immediately, both women descended from the ship in silence, mentally preparing to face the threat awaiting them in the shadows. Each had her own reasons to fight. In this moment, they would join forces for a common cause: protecting Vi.

Caitlyn’s car moved through the streets of Piltover, heading toward the darker districts where Yuzul’s gang had their hideout. The city lights flickered as the engine roared in the tense silence inside the vehicle. Caitlyn kept both hands on the wheel, her gaze fixed on the road, while Sarah, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced at her sideways with a smug smile.

“So... Are you going to tell me your story with Vi?” Sarah asked, breaking the silence with her usual cheeky tone.

Caitlyn sighed. She knew the topic would come up eventually, but had no intention of giving the pirate an advantage.

“That depends,” she replied calmly, not taking her eyes off the road. “Are you going to tell me first how you met her?”

Sarah let out a soft laugh and crossed her legs, settling into the seat.

“There’s not much to tell,” she answered with a carefree air. “Vi arrived in Bilgewater with no memories but with an energy that fit the pirate life. She approached while two big guys were fighting over me. When one of them fell on me, she came in like she was rescuing a damsel in distress.”

‘Yeah, that sounds just like Vi,’ Caitlyn thought.

“She fought one of them off and scared the other away. That’s when I knew she was special. I invited her to join my crew, and to my surprise, she said yes. Since then, we traveled together, shared adventures, looting and, well... other things too.”

Once again, Sarah was clearly trying to provoke the blue-haired woman, and Caitlyn, of course, fell for her traps. She had a lot of curiosity—or rather, obsession—about the details they had shared.

“Anything else?” she replied in a neutral tone.

Sarah smiled playfully, noticing the slight shift in the commander’s voice.

“Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean,” she said, winking. “But the truth is, I never saw her truly happy... not the way someone should be when they’re with the right person.”

Caitlyn allowed herself a triumphant smile.

“That’s because someone else was already in her heart,” she answered confidently.

Sarah looked at her attentively, waiting for her story.

Caitlyn took a breath and began recounting her story with Vi—from their first encounter in Stillwater, the confrontation with Silco, how they tried to save Jinx together, the tragedy of the Piltover-Zaun war, her confrontation with Ambessa that cost her an eye... every word came with a weight of nostalgia, but also pride in her voice.

Sarah listened in silence, without interrupting. When Caitlyn finished, the pirate let out a soft whistle.

“Wow... You’ve been through a lot.”

Caitlyn nodded solemnly.

“Vi has been part of my life in ways I can’t explain with simple words. I’ve loved her in the worst moments and enjoyed the best with her. I don’t want to lose her again.”

Sarah leaned an elbow on the window, thoughtful.

“I get it,” she finally said. “But Cait... this competition is pretty unfair when there’s so much water under that bridge.”

Caitlyn allowed herself to relax her shoulders a bit, but Sarah didn’t give her too much time to get comfortable.

“But tell me, Commander,” Sarah continued with a sly smile, “since we’re sharing... why don’t you tell me about yourself? I’ve always heard of the flawless Commander of Piltover, but I want to know the woman behind the badge.”

Caitlyn arched a brow and glanced sideways at Sarah.

“There’s not much to say.”

“Don’t make me beg, darling,” Sarah teased. “I know you’ve got an interesting story to share.”

Caitlyn sighed, but decided to give in to the conversation. She lowered her gaze, looking at her hands on the steering wheel as she began to speak.

“I don't think it's very interesting, Sarah. The life my parents gave me didn’t prepare me for the reality I had to face. I wasn’t ready to lose the people I loved,” she began. “I was born into a high-society family in Piltover. From a young age, I felt I didn’t fit with everything my family expected of me. I was raised to be the perfect daughter, the perfect heiress... but I never wanted to follow that path.”

Sarah nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“What really interested me was justice. Not the justice of the rich and powerful, not politics, but the real kind—the one that protects the innocent. That’s why I became an enforcer. Thanks to that, I met Vi.” Caitlyn paused, her voice darkening. “Though not everything was bright. Meeting Vi also meant meeting Jinx. She... she killed my mother when she shot at the Piltover council.”

Sarah watched her carefully.

“How can you look at Vi and not remember, not feel everything you felt in that moment?”

Caitlyn pressed her lips before answering.

“I was bitter for a long time. We fought, we separated... but when we finally saw each other again, I learned that life isn’t just black and white. Jinx is Vi’s sister. Maybe I’ll never be able to forgive her, but as much as it hurts, I know it’s not all her fault. People are a product of what they’ve lived through, of the wounds they carry. And Jinx is no exception.”

Sarah remained silent for a moment, watching her. Then she smiled softly.

“You’re more noble than I thought, Commander.”

Caitlyn snorted ironically.

“Did you expect me to be a spoiled aristocrat with no empathy?”

Sarah laughed.

“Something like that. But I admit you’ve got guts.”

The car continued down the road, and the mood between them had shifted. It was no longer one of jealousy or rivalry, but something more like a truce.

Sarah looked out the window and then at Caitlyn.

“I told you you had an interesting story,” she said with a smile. “If things had been different, I think we could have even been friends.”

Caitlyn glanced at her and, with a small smile, replied:

“Maybe there’s still time for that.”

Sarah fell silent for a moment, thinking about what Caitlyn had shared. Then, with a sigh, she settled into the seat and looked at the commander with a more serious expression.

“You know,” she said in a slower voice, “I always thought people from Piltover were born with everything... wealth, stability, safety. But at the end of the day, everyone has their own battles to fight.”

Caitlyn nodded.

“It’s true. Even if our battles are different, we all end up suffering in some way.”

Sarah let out a bitter laugh and looked out the car window.

“Well, I guess it’s my turn.”

Caitlyn looked at her with interest.

“If you want to share...”

Sarah gave a fleeting smile before looking forward again.

“My story isn’t as elegant as yours. I grew up in Bilgewater, a place where the only law that matters is the one held by the biggest gun and the strongest will to use it. My parents were good traders, hard-working people, but that didn’t mean anything when Gangplank decided they were no longer useful to his cause.”

Caitlyn listened carefully as Sarah continued.

“Gangplank was the uncrowned king of Bilgewater, a tyrant with more blood on his hands than I can count. One day, he decided my family had to pay for something we didn’t even understand. My mother...” Sarah paused, her jaw tensing. “They killed her in front of my eyes. They tortured my father to death, and I... I had to learn to survive.”

Caitlyn felt a knot in her stomach.

“I’m sorry...”

Sarah shook her head.

“I don’t need pity, Commander. What happened made me who I am. I learned to shoot, to sail, to negotiate with the rats on the docks. I made a name for myself on the seas, and when the time came... I got revenge.”

“You got revenge?” Caitlyn asked curiously.

Sarah smiled coldly.

“I blew up his ship with him inside. Gangplank died the way he lived: surrounded by fire and ruins. Since then, I took his place as the new captain of Bilgewater.”

Caitlyn looked at her with more respect.

“You’re more than just a pirate.”

Sarah chuckled softly.

“I know. But the real question is... Do you really know how dangerous I can be, Caitlyn Kiramman?”

Caitlyn allowed herself to smile.

“Maybe.”

The car kept moving through the darkness of the night. Now, both shared something more than the mission: a mutual understanding of what it meant to lose, to survive, and to keep going.

Fate, however, had other plans for them. As they neared the gang’s hideout, the conversation faded. Now, all that remained was to focus on the battle ahead.

The car stopped a few meters from the abandoned warehouse. Caitlyn turned off the lights and engine, observing the building’s structure carefully. The place had all the traits of an improvised criminal hideout: rusted metal walls, broken windows barely letting any light through, and a couple of guards at the entrance, sharing cigarettes and laughing in murmurs.

Sarah, sitting beside her, crossed her arms and looked at the building with a confident smile.

“A proper rat’s nest,” she commented with amusement.

Caitlyn didn’t respond. She was focused, analyzing every possible entry point. She counted the roof vents, the cracks in the walls, and the optimal path to enter undetected.

Finally, she pulled a small oxygen mask from her jacket and handed it to Sarah.

“We’ll enter through the roof pipes. We’ll need this when the time comes.”

Sarah raised a brow but took the mask without complaint. Both exited the car and infiltrated through a nearby alley. Caitlyn climbed the side wall using an old, rusty fire escape. Sarah followed easily, her pirate life granting her excellent agility.

When they reached the rooftop, Caitlyn removed one of the ventilation grilles, and they both slipped inside. The duct was narrow, but they moved quietly, guided only by the distant echoes of a conversation in the main hall.

Caitlyn moved toward a wider grate and stopped, peering into the room. From her position, she could see Yuzul, the gang leader, surrounded by the four thugs who had attacked Vi. His voice echoed with authority.

“This time, the choice is solid,” Yuzul said, arms crossed. “Jhin isn’t just anyone. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s more than proven he wants to be part of the Zaun gang.”

One of the henchmen laughed.

“That’s what you said about Vi. And what happened? Another one who’ll betray us?” Ghostfer, the leader, challenged.

Yuzul’s face hardened.

“Vi will pay for her betrayal. The beating we gave her was just a warning.”

From her position, Caitlyn felt rage growing inside her. She clenched her jaw and took a deep breath to stay calm.

She looked at Sarah, who was also listening closely. The pirate nodded, and both put on their oxygen masks. With a swift motion, Caitlyn dropped gray gas bombs through the grate. Within seconds, the room filled with dense fog.

The ruffians coughed and staggered, the gas tearing through their lungs. Caitlyn and Sarah descended swiftly from the pipes, sliding through the duct with precision as chaos erupted around them. The air was thick with dust and smoke as they landed amidst the confusion, the sound of their boots echoing over the debris-strewn floor.

Caitlyn raised her Hextech rifle and aimed.

“Weapons down, hands up!” she ordered firmly.

The henchmen raised their hands immediately, their eyes red from the gas. But Ghostfer, the gang leader, was faster than Caitlyn had anticipated. He moved like a predator, his motions precise and lethal, his heavy breathing cutting through the air. In a blink, he was beside Caitlyn, knocking the rifle from her hands and delivering a blow to her chin that sent her flying to the ground.

Sarah, without hesitation, shot at the man’s legs. One of his prosthetics was damaged, and the other partially destroyed, slowing him down but not enough to take him out of the fight. He turned toward Sarah with fury and lunged at her.

As Sarah fought the leader, the other thugs used the opportunity to escape.

“Caitlyn, wake up!” Sarah shouted desperately upon seeing the rest fleeing. “Go after them—I’ll handle this one!”

Cait, still recovering from the blow, saw them running for the exit. She took a deep breath, stood up, grabbed her rifle, and gave chase.

The two guards at the entrance stood no chance against Caitlyn, who knocked them out with a few strikes of her rifle.

She exited the warehouse just in time to see the thugs turning the corner. Without hesitation, she aimed and shot at their knees. One by one, she saw them fall to the ground with cries of pain.

She took out her communicator and contacted Steb.

“I need backup at my location, I’m at a factory in the Broken Lights district, on the Zaun-Piltover border. We have multiple injured criminals ready for arrest. Bring reinforcements just in case.”

“Copy that, Commander. We’re on our way.”

While she waited, she walked toward Yuzul, but stopped when a chilling sensation crawled down her spine. Instinctively, she moved. A shot whistled past, grazing her cheek and leaving a burning pain on her skin. Caitlyn dropped to the ground, rolling and taking cover behind a car, pressing the wound on her cheek with her free hand.

She gritted her teeth, fear slicing through her as sharply as the bullet. She looked toward where the shot had come from, searching for the sniper with barely restrained fury. Despite the distance, the shooter was frighteningly accurate.

Yuzul, lying on the ground with his leg bleeding, crawled toward Caitlyn.

“You’ve got no chance, enforcer,” he said with a laugh. “Jhin is an artist. A marksman like no other—he never misses.”

Before he could say more, Yuzul’s head exploded.

Blood splattered, and drops landed on Caitlyn’s face as she watched in horror, seeing Yuzul’s lifeless body twitch with death’s last involuntary movements. Within seconds, the other three thugs were also executed with perfect shots. Even the unconscious guards Caitlyn had left behind were finished off.

Caitlyn felt everything—the droplets running down her forehead, the cold sweat covering every inch of her skin. She had faced deadly shooters before, but Jhin wasn’t just a marksman. His deadly precision was terrifying, as if fate itself guided his aim. In seconds, her own captives had fallen, one by one, with no hesitation from the sniper.

She felt fear. Not for the mission or herself. She feared for Vi and what Jhin might do to her if he made it out of this alive. And if Jhin stood in her way, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to protect her.

The distant sound of sirens broke the tension of the moment, like a scream for help echoing in the night’s stillness. The air, thick with gunpowder and dread, seemed to grow heavier with every passing second. The reinforcements had finally arrived.

“We have a sniper on the rooftop of a building north of this location,” she reported through the radio. “The subject’s name is Jhin, no physical description. Proceed with caution.”

From her hiding spot, she watched as Jhin’s silhouette, with a disturbing elegance, vanished without a trace. It was as if he had never been there.

Caitlyn forced herself to calm her breathing as the echo of the gunshots still rang in her ears. With officers securing the scene outside, her priority now was Sarah.

Clenching her jaw, she rushed back into the warehouse, her boots echoing against the floor. She passed the lifeless bodies of the thugs, the stench of gunpowder still thick in the air. She made herself look away from the corpses; there would be time to analyze the scene later. Right now, Sarah mattered most.

Upon reaching the room where they had fought, her heart clenched at the sight of her. Sarah was slumped against an overturned table. Blood flowed from a wound on her side, staining the white fabric of her shirt, and Caitlyn couldn't stop the knot forming in her throat. Sarah’s hand pressed against her wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Her breathing was heavy, but her expression still held that characteristic arrogance, dulled by pain.

“Did you get him?” Sarah asked with a broken smile, wiping blood from her split lip with the back of her hand.

Caitlyn frowned, walking briskly to stand in front of her. Her eyes scanned every injury: several cuts on her face and arms, a blow to the temple, and most concerning, the deep wound on her side.

“How the hell do you let yourself get hit like this?” Caitlyn murmured, her tone wavering between concern and anger.

Sarah let out a pained chuckle, followed by a grunt when the pain flared up.

“Not all of us can be invincible and wear fancy armor, Caitlyn,” she joked, though her voice was worn. “It was nothing I couldn’t handle. That guy got what he deserved.”

“Sure, I can tell,” Caitlyn replied ironically, glancing at Ghostfer’s motionless body before kneeling to better assess the wound.

Sarah tried to pull away slightly, but Caitlyn held her firmly by the arm.

“Do you want my help or would you rather bleed out here?”

The pirate sighed and let her head fall back briefly, resigning herself.

Caitlyn carefully removed Sarah’s hand from her side and examined the wound more closely. It didn’t seem too deep, but it was bleeding more than she liked.

“It’s a nasty cut, but you’ll survive,” she said more calmly, pulling a clean handkerchief from her belt and pressing it firmly against the wound. “You’re lucky the guy you fought wasn’t the sniper.”

Sarah opened one eye and raised an eyebrow.

“Sniper?”

“Jhin,” Caitlyn said seriously, not looking away from the wound. “He eliminated Yuzul and all the others in a matter of seconds.”

Sarah whistled softly, visibly impressed.

“Damn, that’s efficient. And you okay?”

Caitlyn instinctively brought a hand to her cheek, where Jhin’s bullet had grazed her, leaving a deep cut. Blood was still oozing.

“He almost killed me. If I hadn’t moved at the right moment...” She paused and exhaled. “I don’t know exactly who he is, but he’s a killer with perfect aim.”

Sarah watched her in silence for a few seconds before smiling sideways.

“Well, looks like someone else in Runeterra has better aim than you, Commander.”

Caitlyn shot her a sharp look, but Sarah only chuckled, clearly enjoying provoking her even while wounded.

“It’s not a joke, Sarah,” Caitlyn muttered, removing the bloody cloth from the wound and pulling an improvised bandage from her belt. “If he really wants to kill us, we’re in trouble.”

The enforcer hadn’t noticed, but her body was still trembling from the fear she had felt.

Sarah sighed, letting her weight fall against the table as she observed Caitlyn’s shaking hands.

“You know,” she said after a moment of silence, “as much as I enjoy this little rivalry, I’m starting to think we fight better when we’re on the same side.”

Caitlyn looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re just realizing that now?”

Sarah smirked with her usual mischief.

“I like fighting with you, enforcer. It keeps things interesting.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the slight curve of her lips.

“Well, try not to die of boredom while I finish this,” she said, securing the bandage around her torso with care.

When she was done, Sarah straightened with a grimace of pain, but without complaining.

“So, they’re all dead?”

Caitlyn sighed and nodded.

“I had them on the ground, restrained. Like I said, Jhin killed them before I could interrogate them.”

Sarah clicked her tongue.

“Guy really doesn’t leave loose ends, huh?”

“No. And that’s what worries me.”

Sarah looked at her curiously.

“Because he’s dangerous?”

Caitlyn shook her head.

“Because Vi is caught in the middle of this... and if Jhin is involved, I don’t think he’ll just let her go.”

Sarah lowered her gaze, her face hardening, but she nodded slowly.

“Then we need to get ahead of him.”

Caitlyn looked at Sarah with some surprise.

“‘We’? So you’re going to help me?”

Sarah shrugged with a confident smile.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss the fun if it means helping my girlfriend survive a deadly assassin.”

Caitlyn let out a soft laugh, surprised at how their rivalry seemed to melt away in moments like this.

“Alright. But first, you need to rest and treat that wound.”

Sarah faked a dramatic sigh.

“And you’re leaving me in the hands of your progress doctors?”

“Of course. But not just any doctor—my father.”

Sarah gave her a defiant smile.

“Fine, but only if you carry me.”

Caitlyn scoffed and stood up, extending a hand.

“You can walk just fine, Captain. It’s not a fatal wound.”

Sarah chuckled softly and, with some effort, took Caitlyn’s hand to stand.

The sound of officers securing the area grew louder around them.

They looked at each other for a moment, as if recognizing that, for all their personal rivalry, they were a formidable team on the battlefield.

“Let’s go home,” Caitlyn murmured, and for the first time since they met, Sarah didn’t argue.

As they walked toward the car, Steb approached the commander with a serious expression.

“Commander, there’s something you need to see.”

He handed her a still-warm bullet casing, wrapped in a small evidence bag. Caitlyn took it carefully, and under the streetlight, she saw it.

A symbol was etched with surgical precision into the metal surface: a split theater mask, one side smiling sweetly, the other crying in silence.

Caitlyn’s stomach twisted.

“He left his signature...”

Sarah, beside her, looked over her shoulder and let out a slow whistle.

“Well, that’s definitely...”

Caitlyn closed her fingers around the casing, her brow furrowed, and cut her off.

“The mark of an artist... preparing his masterpiece.”

Chapter Text

The mansion doors swung wide open, the warm light inside casting a glow over their exhausted, battle-worn faces. In the distance, the city still echoed with the recent threat they had faced. Sarah leaned lightly on Caitlyn, blood staining her right side, though her proud expression refused to yield to the pain.

Tobias, waiting for them at the entrance with a face marked by worry, shot a glance full of irony and concern.

“Bringing in wounded again, Caitlyn?” he asked softly, though he was already rushing forward to assist. “Take her to the lounge, I’ll get my tools.”

Caitlyn carefully laid Sarah on the couch, and as soon as Tobias returned, she prepared to hurry upstairs.

“Take care of her, Dad. I need to check on Vi.”

Tobias frowned and gently caught his daughter’s arm before she could walk away. His gaze fixed on the cut on her cheek.

“Let me see that wound first. It needs immediate care.”

Caitlyn shook her head, with a desperation just beneath the surface.

“Not now, Dad. Vi’s upstairs—I need to see her.”

“Caitlyn, please...” Tobias pleaded, his eyes full of paternal concern. “I understand your worry, but don’t neglect your own health.”

“I know, but it’s Vi...” Caitlyn whispered, her voice breaking, her eyes glassy. “I need to make sure she’s okay.”

Tobias took a deep breath, finally understanding the emotional gravity surrounding his daughter. He let go of her arm with a resigned nod.

“Go ahead. I’ll stay with the young lady.”

Her eyes silently thanked him before she turned and rushed up the stairs. Each step felt steeper than the last, her heart pounding wildly. Her mind kept projecting images of the massacre she had just survived. What if Jhin had come for Vi? She couldn’t bear the thought of losing her—not again.

When she opened the door, she found Vi lying on the bed, playing with her fingers and looking utterly bored. As soon as she heard the door open, she turned her head with curiosity, but her expression shifted immediately upon seeing the cut on Caitlyn’s face and the bloodstains on her clothes.

“What the hell happened to you?” Vi asked, sitting upright.

Caitlyn shut the door behind her and sighed. She knew Vi wouldn’t take it well, and was bracing herself for the yelling.

“I went after the gang that attacked you,” she said matter-of-factly.

Vi clenched her fists, a cold panic rushing through her body. What if she hadn’t come back? What would she do in a world without Caitlyn—her only point of stability?

She jumped to her feet, her expression shifting from panic to fury in seconds.

“I told you to stay out of it!” she snapped, pointing at her. “This isn’t your fight, Caitlyn. You can’t go around fighting my battles!”

“Vi, listen...” Caitlyn tried to calm her, but Vi was already moving, looking for her boots.

“No, I won’t listen to anything,” Vi growled, fists clenched. “They dared to hurt you—now it’s personal.”

Caitlyn stepped forward and, without warning, wrapped her arms around Vi, stopping her. Vi froze for a moment, feeling Caitlyn’s warmth against her.

“It wasn’t the gang, Vi,” Caitlyn whispered in a much softer tone. “They didn’t do this to me.”

Vi frowned and slowly began to relax, though her breathing was still heavy.

“Then who did?”

Caitlyn took a deep breath and met her eyes.

“His name is Jhin.”

A chill ran down Vi’s spine, her jaw tensing visibly at the mention of the unfamiliar but ominous name.

“Never heard of him... but sounds like someone I’d love to punch in the face.”

“He’s not just any enemy, Vi,” Caitlyn said, holding her shoulders to make sure she was paying attention. “He’s a precision sniper—probably better than me. He killed Yuzul and his whole gang in seconds.”

Vi clicked her tongue and clenched her fists, clearly frustrated.

“Great. Now there’s a psycho on the loose with perfect aim and a thirst for blood.”

Caitlyn nodded gravely.

“I’ll find him, and I won’t let him hurt us,” Caitlyn declared with confidence.

“You mean we’ll find him. You’re not going without me.”

The shorter woman took Caitlyn’s hand. Caitlyn simply smiled and nodded at her words.

Vi took a deep breath, still processing everything Caitlyn had told her, but then noticed her hesitating. Her expression changed, and the redhead tensed.

“What is it?” she asked suspiciously.

Caitlyn lowered her gaze before dropping the bomb.

“Sarah’s here.”

“What?”

“She got hurt during the fight. My dad’s treating her right now,” Caitlyn explained calmly. “She’s fine, but she needed help.”

Vi visibly tensed at Sarah’s name. Her expression wavered between genuine concern and something harder to read before she bolted from the room, leaving Caitlyn behind.

Caitlyn’s heart lurched painfully as she watched Vi rush downstairs. Why did she feel such anguish? Was it fear of losing her—or fear of not being enough for her?

The enforcer sighed, leaning against the door. She knew Vi would go straight to Sarah... and she knew that made her chest ache. But at least Vi was safe. Now they had a new enemy to face.

As she listened to Vi’s hurried footsteps echoing through the hallways, Caitlyn raised a hand to her cheek, gently touching the wound. Soon, she would have to face another war—one in which she didn’t yet know her enemies.

She took a brief moment to process everything, then headed downstairs to the lounge where everyone had gathered. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on Vi and Sarah. Vi sat near the fireplace, speaking quietly with Sarah. Upon noticing her, Vi turned to look, but before she could say anything, Sarah spoke first.

“Relax, Vi,” Sarah said in her playful tone. “It’s just a scratch. Not even close to the amount of love I feel for you.”

Vi had meant to scold Caitlyn for involving Sarah in the mission, but instead, she could only let out a nervous laugh at Sarah’s words. Meanwhile, Caitlyn rolled her eyes instinctively. She tried to stay indifferent, but a pang of jealousy was unavoidable.

Tobias, oblivious to the tension between the three women, simply nodded approvingly.

“The bleeding has stopped. There shouldn’t be any lasting damage, but try to avoid any sudden movements for a few days, Sarah.”

Sarah smiled, relaxed.

“Sudden movements? How boring,” she said, turning her head toward Vi with her usual flirty grin.

Caitlyn snorted and looked over at Vi, who chose not to respond. The tension in the air was palpable, but she let it pass.

As the conversation continued, the criminal gang and Jhin’s threat became the central topic. Caitlyn shared everything she had discovered, while Sarah and Vi exchanged comments and strategies. The mood was serious, but there was a strange sense of camaraderie in the mansion, as if, despite everything, they were a team with a common goal.

As night deepened, Caitlyn leaned toward Vi and whispered in her ear.

“Sarah should stay here, in the guest room,” she said quietly, making sure Sarah didn’t hear. “And you... if you don’t mind, could sleep with me in my room.”

Vi stayed silent for a few seconds, considering the proposal, then nodded slightly.

“Yeah, makes sense.”

She turned to Sarah and said casually:

“Hey, Sarah, I think it’s better if you stay in the guest room I’ve been using these past few days, so you can rest properly. I’ll take another room.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow and gave her a mischievous smile.

“Sweetheart, there’s no need to change beds,” she said seductively. “You can sleep with me.”

Vi swallowed hard, suddenly caught between the crossfire of two intense stares. Caitlyn glared without saying a word, but her expression said everything. Vi felt a chill down her spine.

She let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of her neck.

“Uh... it’s just for comfort, Sarah. Besides, I guess Caitlyn would want to make sure I don’t do anything crazy tonight.” She turned to Caitlyn with a tender look.

Caitlyn understood that Vi was giving her the place she deserved. She took a slow breath, silently promising herself she wouldn’t back down. She wasn’t going to lose now. After a few seconds, she seized the opportunity to jump into the conversation.

“Don’t worry, Sarah,” she said with a sharp smile. “I’ll take care of Vi tonight.”

The tension in the room spiked. Sarah didn’t flinch and, instead of backing down, leaned her elbow on the armrest and smiled smugly.

“Really, Commander?” she said with feigned innocence. “Why don’t we let Vi decide what she wants?”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, her smile challenging Caitlyn. The commander kept her gaze cold and firm, silently making it clear she wouldn’t let anyone stand in her way.

Silence fell again. Vi felt the pressure in the room multiply, like the air had vanished completely. Sarah’s confident, playful stare clashed with Caitlyn’s icy determination, and caught in the middle, Vi felt her heart pounding.

She looked at Caitlyn, then at Sarah, and finally sighed.

“I’m going to sleep with Caitlyn,” she said simply. “Sorry, captain, but I can’t follow your orders this time.”

Sarah watched her for a moment before letting out a small laugh, though her expression carried a deeper seriousness.

“Of course, Vi,” she said softly. “Whatever you say.”

Caitlyn felt immense satisfaction hearing Vi’s answer, though she didn’t show it. Sarah, on the other hand, just lay back with her arms behind her head and closed her eyes, as if the conversation no longer mattered.

But Caitlyn knew Sarah wouldn’t give up that easily. Not after what she had said back on the ship.

Vi stood up, feeling the tension in the room was too much for her taste.

“Alright, I think it’s time to rest. Good night, everyone.”

Sarah watched the two women disappear upstairs, her sharp smile hiding something darker and deeper. Her gaze lingered on the empty space, perhaps reflecting the silent determination of someone who doesn’t give up easily.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Caitlyn finally spoke in a low voice.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

Vi gave a small smile.

“More than uncomfortable, I feel like the spoils of war between two captains.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help laughing.

“Well, at least this time you chose the right ship.”

Vi stopped in front of Caitlyn’s bedroom door and looked at her for a moment.

“I don’t know, Commander. We’ll see if it’s the right ship or if I’m just jumping into a shipwreck.”

Caitlyn smiled smugly, opening the door and letting her in first.

“If you sink, at least you’ll do it with me.”

As they entered the room, both felt the familiar silence and warmth of the space soothe the emotional storm still raging in their hearts. Caitlyn let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the day on her shoulders. Vi, however, seemed focused on something else. She crossed her arms and looked at her seriously.

“Lie down,” she said firmly.

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, surprised by Vi’s tone.

“Excuse me?” she asked, amused.

“Lie down on the bed,” Vi repeated as she approached. “You need that cut treated before it gets infected.”

Caitlyn sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. Vi left the room without another word, and Cait watched her disappear through the door. Her mind still lingered on the encounter with the strange sniper.

A few minutes later, Vi returned with a small kit Tobias had given her. She set it on the nightstand and opened it, pulling out gauze, alcohol, and a needle with thread. Caitlyn eyed each instrument with some suspicion.

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Vi gave her a teasing smile.

“Let’s just say I had to learn a few things while living on the streets of Zaun. Now, stay still.”

Caitlyn scoffed but obeyed. She lay back with her head tilted so Vi could work on the wound.

Vi took a cotton pad soaked in alcohol and gently dabbed the cut. Caitlyn hissed, clenching her teeth at the sudden sting.

“Don’t complain,” Vi murmured with a crooked smile. “It’s just a scratch. I’d expect the great Commander of Piltover to be tougher than that.”

“It’s easy to say when you’re not the one with a sliced face,” Caitlyn protested, wincing again as Vi cleaned the area more precisely.

Vi chuckled under her breath and continued her task, threading the needle with skill. Silence settled over the room, broken only by Caitlyn’s soft groans as the thread pierced her skin. Vi, however, was completely focused, her eyes fixed on each tiny motion.

Finally, after tying the last knot, she set the tools aside and gently traced her fingers around the wound, checking her work.

Then, before pulling away, Vi spoke softly.

“Don’t do that again,” she whispered.

Caitlyn blinked, puzzled.

“Do what?”

Vi took a few seconds before answering.

“Putting yourself in danger like that...” she said with a heavy sigh. “I know I don’t have all my memories, but...”

She paused, searching for the right words, her eyes darting slightly.

“What I feel for you is clear as day. I don’t know how to explain it, but the thought of losing you scares me. Since I found you, I feel like I found my place in the world.”

Caitlyn said nothing, her chest tightening with Vi’s vulnerable honesty. Seeing her like this stirred something warm and deep in her heart.

“Vi...” she whispered, but Vi cut her off.

“Now I know that if something happened to you, I’d fall to pieces,” Vi murmured, her voice cracking. “So please, Cait... promise me you’ll be more careful.”

Caitlyn felt a lump in her throat. Moved, she reached up and cupped Vi’s cheek, gently stroking it.

“I won’t leave you, Vi,” she whispered. “Not now, not ever.”

Vi swallowed hard, her heart pounding. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Caitlyn’s freshly stitched skin, right at the edge of the cut.

The contact was light, almost imperceptible, but it sent a shiver through Caitlyn’s body. Their breaths mingled in the air, and then, without warning, Caitlyn lunged, capturing Vi’s lips in a desperate, deep, and needy kiss.

Just the thought of possibly dying and leaving Vi alone was devastating. With that in mind, she wanted to make every second count.

Vi responded with equal fervor, clutching Caitlyn as if the world were crumbling around them. Their lips moved in sync, exploring with urgency, devouring with bottled-up hunger. Caitlyn’s hand slid to the back of Vi’s neck, fingers tangling in her hair, while Vi gripped her waist, pulling her closer.

The air grew thick, heavy, filled with unresolved emotions. Caitlyn didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to separate for even a second. Vi was hers, and she was Vi’s. Memories lost or time apart didn’t matter. In that moment, in that room, nothing else existed.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Caitlyn pulled back just slightly, resting her forehead against Vi’s as they both tried to catch their breath.

“You know,” Caitlyn whispered with a playful smile, “if this is the kind of care I get, maybe I should start getting into trouble more often.”

Vi chuckled softly, resting her hand on Caitlyn’s hip.

“Copycat, that’s my line. But you better not, cupcake. I won’t always be here to stitch you up.”

Caitlyn smiled and, in one last affectionate gesture, stroked Vi’s cheek before settling more comfortably on the bed.

“Lie down, this is your bed too,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

Vi didn’t respond right away. Instead, she watched her in silence, her gaze tracing every detail of Caitlyn’s face. The room’s soft light highlighted the contours of her skin, the shine of her parted lips, the breath still unsteady after their kiss.

Then, with a tenderness that contrasted the urgency in her body, Vi slid her fingers along Caitlyn’s jawline, tracing the outline of her face. Caitlyn closed her eyes briefly, savoring the touch, and when she opened them again, she saw Vi lying beside her, those grey eyes burning with intensity.

“I don’t know what you do to me,” Vi murmured, her voice husky and deep.

She remained still, her fingers still gently caressing the skin near the freshly stitched wound. They looked at each other deeply, as if sharing every unspoken word. The room filled with a reverent stillness before their lips met again. This time slower, deeper, filled with unspoken promises.

Vi deepened the kiss with mounting need, her hands exploring every inch of the familiar body. But Caitlyn wouldn’t let Vi take control this time.

With a smooth and decisive motion, she rolled on top of the Zaunite. Vi, surprised by the shift, made no effort to resist. Caitlyn looked down at her, a blend of tenderness and authority igniting the room.

“Let me take care of you this time,” Caitlyn whispered, her voice calm but firm, like someone who knew exactly what she wanted.

She placed a hand on Vi’s chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat beneath her warm skin.

Vi swallowed hard and nodded, surrendering completely to the power of having Caitlyn above her, so sure of herself, so eager to devour her.

Caitlyn liked to take things slow. She began with a single finger, trailing down from Vi’s neck in soft curves over her chest, her abdomen... until stopping at her belt. She hooked a finger in her shirt and ordered:

“Take it off.”

Vi shivered. That commanding voice thrilled her. She obeyed without hesitation, pulling off the shirt and tossing it to the floor.

The enforcer devoured her with her eyes. She frowned playfully.

“I still don’t see your skin,” she said, referring to the bandages wrapping her breasts.

“Are your words orders, Commander?” Vi smiled, aroused by the thought of being dominated.

Caitlyn leaned in, their mouths almost touching, eyes heavy with desire.

“You’re supposed to say, ‘Yes, Commander,’ and I don’t accept objections.” She caressed Vi’s cheek gently before returning to the heat of the game.

Vi obeyed instantly, removing the bandages and letting them fall to the floor. Her bare skin was now fully exposed to her lover’s reverent gaze.

“Is this how you like it, Commander?” Caitlyn replied in a husky voice, caressing her torso, enthralled by every shiver.

“This is how I like it,” Caitlyn repeated, her voice rough, her touch worshipful.

She knew how much it turned Vi on to be dominated. It was so unlike her... and so delicious.

Caitlyn kissed her earlobe, drawing out the soft moans she loved, and trailed down her neck, gently biting the skin near her collarbone.

She paused for a moment, locking eyes with Vi. Their breaths mirrored each other. In that silence, they knew this went beyond desire—it was a silent vow.

“Oh Cait... You’re evil,” Vi whispered, breathless.

The enforcer grinned, trailing kisses down the toned abdomen of the woman she loved.

“This is in the way,” she said, tugging on Vi’s pants.

The redhead undid them and stripped completely, offering herself up to her commander.

“What now, Commander?”

Cait leaned in to kiss her but stopped just short of her lips. Instead, she slid her hand between Vi’s thighs and began stroking her clit in slow circles, watching every reaction, every moan.

“Vi...” she whispered near her ear.

The Zaunite arched her back, her body ablaze. She wanted to flip them over and take control, but just as the thought formed, Cait slid a finger inside her, and Vi surrendered in gasps.

"Cait..." she moaned, breathless. "I... I want you to go down..."

Vi didn’t know how to say it without sounding crude to the lady above her.

"You want my tongue on you?" Caitlyn whispered, eyes fixed on her center. "Tonight, I'm no damsel, Vi. Say it. I want to hear it."

Cait’s boldness left her disarmed. Before she could answer, she already felt her descending. Her tongue grazed the wet skin of her thighs, making Vi shudder. She teased her, licking around without touching her clit just yet.

When she finally did, the moan was inevitable.

"Oh god... don't stop."

Vi’s hands tangled in Caitlyn’s hair, pressing her head closer.

"Yes, fuck. You're so good at this..."

The rhythm grew frantic. Caitlyn reveled in control—but also in giving pleasure. She listened to every word, every high-pitched moan, every plea.

"Cait... fuck..."

Vi’s voice was urgent, broken between gasps. Cait could feel her nearing.

"Cait! I'm gonna cum... fuck!"

Vi’s body trembled in a wave of pleasure. Caitlyn received her without pause, staying at her core. When she felt her relax, she lay beside her, admiring her peaceful expression after the climax.

Lying next to Cait, their bodies still entwined, hearts pounding in sync, they smiled at each other, understanding silently that this night was only the beginning of something much deeper.

As Vi caught her breath, Caitlyn gently stroked her arm, drawing soft circles on her skin. "I love you," Caitlyn thought, and even if she didn’t say it aloud, she knew Vi could feel it.

Once Vi finally caught her breath, her body still trembled slightly under Caitlyn’s loving caress. Cait smiled in satisfaction, fingers tenderly tracing her lover’s skin. Then she looked into Vi’s dark eyes and understood: one orgasm wouldn’t be enough—there was more to come.

Vi grabbed Cait and straddled her with a dangerous smile.

"Commander, I’m taking over. You’ve been very bad."

She tore at Cait’s clothes, then flipped her over, exposing her back. Her fingers traced invisible lines on Caitlyn’s warm skin, kissing her slowly and deeply down her spine.

She took Cait’s hands and pinned them to the pillow, her hips wet with desire, grinding against Cait’s body. That friction sparked something new in the taller woman.

"I have something for you to punish me with," she whispered, pulling a strap-on from the nightstand. "Punish me for my sins."

Vi wasted no time, fastening the harness. She grabbed Cait’s hips and lifted her, leaving her exposed, head sinking into the pillow.

She brushed the tip along Caitlyn’s wet folds, drawing an instant moan.

"Give me my pun... oh..." Cait gasped as Vi entered her slowly.

She pushed in, inch by inch, loving her from behind. She grabbed Cait’s wrists, pinning them on her back with her left hand while holding her hips with the right.

"This is the punishment you deserve."

She began thrusting, at first with control, then deeper, more intense. Caitlyn screamed her name in desperation.

"Make me yours. Fuck me!"

"You are mine. Completely mine, Commander."

Vi stimulated her clit, and Caitlyn's pleas intensified.

Her cries echoed through the mansion.

"Vi... Vi... I’m cumming."

Vi kept the pace steady until she felt Caitlyn's trembling climax wash over her. The image of Cait shaking because of her burned into her memory.

They stayed like that for a moment, panting heavily, calming.

When it was over, Vi removed the harness slowly, eliciting one last moan from Caitlyn.

She gently lowered her lover to the bed and lay beside her. The Zaunite kissed the nape of Caitlyn’s neck and caressed her bare back. For the first time in a long while, Vi felt like she truly belonged to someone.

"You did amazing, Cait."

There were no more words—just their breathing, tangled together. Memories lost and time passed didn’t matter anymore. Only the love and desire they shared in the dark of that room.

Caitlyn sighed contentedly, intertwining her fingers with Vi’s. They both knew there was still so much to discover, and neither of them wanted the night to end.

"Now I feel this deep emptiness inside me," she laughed like a teenager.

"I can fill that whenever you want," Vi murmured mischievously.

Caitlyn smiled, looking into her eyes. She gently stroked Vi’s hair and kissed her forehead.

"I’ll always be yours, Vi," she whispered.

Vi smiled faintly, placed a hand on her waist, and pulled her closer.

"And I’ll always be yours, cupcake." She paused, then added, "But don’t think I’m done yet."

"Wow, you’re hard to satisfy—but I don’t mind."

The mischievous looks returned, and soon their hands found each other again with renewed hunger. That night would know no pause or limits; every inch of their bodies would be explored, every moan would carry a promise, and the mansion would bear witness to Vi and Caitlyn giving themselves to each other over and over, as if time itself melted into the sheets, leaving only their bodies, their story... and a night that refused to end.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn exhaled, aligning the sight of her rifle with the center of the target. Her index finger rested lightly on the trigger, waiting for the right moment to shoot. Her mind was focused, but the image of the previous day kept invading her thoughts. Jhin. The way she had felt his aim lurking, the coldness of his precise shots, the sting of the cut on her face... she had almost died. For the first time in a long while, Caitlyn felt the cold edge of vulnerability piercing her chest. She knew her own skills well, but in front of an enemy like Jhin, there was no room for mistakes.

She closed her remaining eye, calculated the angle, and shot. The sound of the impact echoed through the training room, but she didn’t feel satisfied. She couldn’t afford to be slower than him.

"Wow, cupcake, you should see how sexy you look when you're so focused."

Caitlyn turned her head, and a soft shiver ran down her spine as she discovered Vi leaning against the doorframe, a sly smile lighting up the room and her eyes shamelessly scanning her.

"Vi." Caitlyn responded, a mix of surprise and satisfaction at seeing her there.

"I guess they’ve told you before, but you're an excellent shot." Vi said, walking into the room. "I wouldn’t want to face you."

Caitlyn set her rifle on the table.

"After what happened yesterday, I don’t know if I’m good enough with a rifle."

Vi tilted her head with feigned doubt.

"Well, last night I got to see another one of your shots, and I have no complaints."

Caitlyn felt her cheeks flush, but a smile appeared on her lips. She liked the flirtatious tone of Vi and, even more, she liked the way Vi devoured her with her gaze.

"Pervert." Caitlyn responded, rolling her eyes.

Vi chuckled softly and moved slowly, until she was only a few steps away from Caitlyn.

"The Vi I knew never used a weapon. Have you done it since you lost your memory?"

Vi blinked at the question. She had never even questioned picking up a weapon. Her fists were enough to defeat anyone who got in her way.

"No, never. I’m more of a ‘use my fists to solve everything’ kind of person, and I suppose the Vi you remember was the same."

"Yeah, that's right." Caitlyn took another shot, hitting the center of the target. "Then it’s time for you to learn."

Vi grimaced, a mix of doubt and fear showing at the idea.

"I think I’ll pass. I don’t want to end up shooting my own foot."

"Don’t be a coward."

"I’m not a coward."

"Alright, then take the rifle."

Vi sighed but took the weapon, feeling it heavier than she had expected. Caitlyn moved closer, pressing her back to Vi’s and placing her hands over Vi’s. Vi felt every muscle in her body tense instantly. Caitlyn’s firm hand on hers, her chest gently pressing against her back, and the warmth of her breath brushing her neck.

"First, the stance." Caitlyn’s voice was soft but firm in her ear.

Vi swallowed hard. Every word Caitlyn said seemed to evaporate before reaching her ear, consumed by the scorching heat building between their bodies. Her pulse quickened, not from the fear of the rifle, but from the proximity of Caitlyn, which awakened feelings much deeper than any weapon.

"Vi, focus."

"Uh? Yeah, yeah, of course, stance, uh-huh."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes with a smile and adjusted the way Vi held the rifle.

"The butt of the rifle should rest against your shoulder. Don’t hold it too loosely or it’s going to push you back."

Vi felt a tingling run down her spine when Caitlyn’s body shifted slightly against her back. She briefly closed her eyes, intoxicated by the closeness. She breathed deeply, trying to focus on what Caitlyn was saying and not on how deliciously close she was.

"The sight will help you align the shot. If you close one eye and adjust the angle..."

Vi did as Caitlyn instructed, aiming at the target on the other side of the room.

"Good. Ready? Now gently squeeze the trigger."

"Are you sure I won’t blow my head off?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes... But not myself."

"Don’t worry, I’ve got you."

She sighed, placed her eye on the sight, aimed, and...

BANG!

She fired at the target. The recoil was stronger than expected, and her body shifted slightly backward. If Caitlyn hadn’t been holding her firmly, she would have lost her balance.

"Shit!" Vi let out a nervous laugh. "I almost flew off!"

Caitlyn also laughed but then gave her a light tap on the arm.

"That’s why I told you to hold the butt firmly."

"You say that like I actually heard anything you said."

Caitlyn sighed, smiling at Vi’s provocations.

"Alright, let’s try again."

They spent the next hour like this, correcting each other, firing missed shots, and laughing. Vi began to improve, finding her rhythm and getting used to the weight of the rifle. Finally, with a precise shot, she hit the center of the target.

"Ha! I did it!" Vi raised her arms in victory.

Caitlyn crossed her arms, watching her with a proud smile.

"You’re a good student."

Vi turned on her heels and looked at her, staring intently.

"I’m good at a lot of things, cupcake."

The tone of her voice sent shivers down Caitlyn’s spine. Caitlyn knew that with Vi, desire always arrived disguised as a challenge.

"Oh yeah? What else are you good at?"

Vi moved closer, shortening the distance between them.

"Do you want me to show you?"

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow with a challenging smile.

"One thing is being good at something, and another is being able to beat me."

Apparently, Caitlyn knew Vi’s weakness. If there was one thing Vi liked, it was challenges and provocations.

"That’s exactly what I want." Vi said, making sure to look her directly in the eyes with a seductive and provocative tone.

The tension between them grew, a spark of desire shooting through the air like a bullet.

Caitlyn took a breath and smiled, knowing that if they kept this up, they wouldn’t leave the training room anytime soon, or at worst, they’d spend the whole day in her room.

"Let’s go have breakfast. I need to continue my research."

Vi sighed, feigning disappointment.

"And here I thought we could continue our 'lesson' elsewhere."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes and turned back to the Zaunite.

"That kind of lesson will have to wait." She smiled and kept talking. "Come on, let’s eat before you starve to death."

Both left the training room and walked together to the dining hall, where Tobias and Sarah were already having breakfast. The captain, with her characteristic laid-back air, was sipping coffee while watching the newcomers with curiosity.

"Well, you two finally show up." Sarah rested an elbow on the table with a mocking smile. "There was a lot of noise in this mansion last night. I suppose, Commander, Vi was teaching you how to pronounce your name."

Vi and Caitlyn froze in their tracks, feeling the heat rise to their faces. Vi quickly diverted her gaze to an unspecified point on the table, pretending to suddenly take interest in her empty plate, clearly uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, Caitlyn pressed her lips together, trying to maintain her composure. A knot of tension tightened in her chest. Her jaw clenched imperceptibly, holding back a biting reply that threatened to escape.

"Yeah, sure... I woke up really hungry today, let’s eat." Caitlyn quickly said, sitting down and pretending nothing had happened.

Vi also sat down, trying to ignore Sarah’s amused smile.

The breakfast went by relatively peacefully, with Caitlyn focused on her food and Vi trying not to look at her too much, fearing her eyes would betray her and the pirate would use that excuse to bring the topic back to the table.

After a while, Caitlyn broke the silence with a question.

"What are you doing today, Sarah?"

The pirate finished her coffee and sighed.

"I have a few days left in this place. I was planning to go to the market to buy some things for my trip. I’m guessing you found your place in life." She looked directly at the Zaunite.

For Caitlyn, the mere thought of Sarah taking Vi away from Piltover made her stomach twist uncomfortably. She tried to silence the pang of insecurity growing in her chest.

Vi, on the other hand, stood still and silent for a moment.

"Are you leaving?"

Sarah smiled tenderly, but there was a melancholy gleam in her eyes.

"Yeah, sweetheart. I wasn’t planning on staying much longer. My crew is waiting for me, and Swampspire needs its captain."

Vi felt a stab of sadness. Despite everything, Sarah had been a pillar in her life these last few months.

The pirate noticed her expression and, gently, took Vi’s chin, forcing her to look at her.

"Sweetheart, if you want me by your side, just ask me. I’d stay for the rest of my life for you." The pirate winked at her.

An uncomfortable pang pierced Caitlyn’s chest, discreetly tightening her jaw and closing her fingers into a fist beneath the table. She kept her gaze on her plate and took a deep breath, trying to contain the urge to respond. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of showing how much her words affected her.

Vi gave Sarah a genuine smile.

"I couldn’t ask you, I know how much you love the sea and how your crew respects you." She turned her gaze to Caitlyn with tenderness in her eyes and continued. "And yes... I’ve already figured out that this is my place. I hope someday you come back and we can spend time together. I’ll miss you. Thanks for everything you did for me."

Sarah nodded, though a faint shadow crossed her gaze.

"The same goes for you, Vi."

Sarah stood up, straightening her coat. Then, she turned to Caitlyn and looked at her with a playful expression.

"Thanks for the hospitality, Commander."

Caitlyn nodded formally, but just as Sarah passed by her to leave, she leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"I’ll be watching you, Commander. Don’t think I’ll give up so easily, as I told you, everyone fails at some point, and I’ll be there when it happens."

Caitlyn kept her expression neutral, but a small, defiant smile formed on her lips.

"Good luck, captain."

Sarah smiled, though her mind was moving much faster. Piltover had never been her place, but leaving Vi behind was harder than she wanted to admit. She left the dining hall with her characteristic confident walk, heading for her ship.

Vi and Caitlyn stayed, finishing their breakfast. A long silence settled between them until Caitlyn cleared her throat and spoke.

"Would you like to come with me to the barracks? It’s not that interesting, but I’d like you to come."

Vi looked at her, thought for a few seconds, then smiled mischievously.

"Only if you promise that no enforcer will hit me again."

Caitlyn laughed softly and walked closer to her, taking her hand.

"No one will do anything to you. Remember, I’m the Commander."

"I know, those guys are terrified of you. When you get angry, even I want to hide."

"It’s called imposing respect." Caitlyn said with a playful tone.

"I doubt it’s respect." The Zaunite said, laughing.

The blue-haired woman just rolled her eyes, smiling.

They finished their breakfast and left the mansion together, ready to face a new day in Piltover.

As they entered the barracks, the air was thick with the smell of burnt coffee and old leather, reinforcing the military formality of the place. As soon as they crossed the entrance, the same enforcers who had hit Vi before were standing guard. Vi recognized them instantly, and her expression hardened. Her fists clenched involuntarily. Caitlyn, alert to every movement Vi made, noticed how her muscles tensed and immediately took control of the situation, stepping forward.

"Officers, I suppose you have something to say to the young lady?"

Her voice was firm, imposing. The enforcers exchanged nervous glances before lowering their heads in shame. It was clear that Caitlyn’s authority left them no room to evade responsibility.

"Yes, my Commander... Miss, please accept our sincerest apologies. We made a terrible mistake the other day, it won’t happen again." One of them murmured, avoiding her gaze as the other nodded.

Vi, with her arms crossed, watched them for a few seconds. While her anger was still there, the fact that Caitlyn was demanding this on her behalf made her feel... strange. It wasn’t that she needed their apologies, but she appreciated Caitlyn’s efforts to change the institution that had done so much damage to her, her family, and all of Zaun.

She sighed and relaxed her expression.

"Yeah... It’s fine, I accept your apology." She responded, although her tone was still serious. "Just make sure not to treat anyone like that again."

Caitlyn nodded, satisfied with Vi’s response, but her gaze turned severe again as she directed it to the enforcers.

"This isn’t optional. I won’t allow this kind of behavior to happen in my ranks." Her gaze was serious and full of authority. "Follow me."

She led them into the barracks and walked to the center of the place, stepping onto a raised platform in the middle of the courtyard. She looked at everyone seriously without saying a word, and that was enough to grab everyone’s attention.

Caitlyn’s gaze was so firm, so deep and heavy, that the other enforcers quickly gathered together, forming a semicircle as they awaited her words. Vi stood to the side, watching the scene with interest.

She took a breath and spoke firmly.

"For years, we’ve seen high repression without justification towards different sectors of the population. While I’m Commander, our institution will not be seen that way." She paused before delivering the news. "Starting next week, I will implement a mandatory training course for all enforcers. It will be taught by a specialized lieutenant and will cover everything from assessing danger in a situation, reducing threats without excessive use of force, to the right moment to use service weapons."

Murmurs started among the crowd. Some nodded, while others exchanged confused or surprised looks.

"I already have our first volunteers." She said, pointing to the enforcers who had hit Vi.

They lowered their heads, not just out of fear of Caitlyn’s authority but out of genuine recognition that the old practices needed to change. Piltover was in transition, and they too had to adapt.

"The Lieutenant Steb will be handling voluntary sign-ups. But don’t be mistaken." She paused and looked at each of them. "Everyone will go through this course sooner or later. Piltover needs enforcers who protect, not dominate. Justice, not brutality. And I will make sure it happens."

The room fell into a heavy silence, as if each word spoken by the Commander was marking a before and after for Piltover. Then, murmurs began again, but this time with a different tone. Some seemed to agree with the measure, while others were simply shocked.

Caitlyn stepped down from the platform with the same confidence with which she had spoken and walked with Vi toward her office.

As they moved through the hallways, Vi, hands in her pockets and a mischievous smile on her face, broke the silence.

"You’re inspiring, Cait."

Caitlyn relaxed her expression a little and, without stopping, shot a fleeting glance at her.

"It’s my job."

Vi smiled to herself. There was something about the way Caitlyn handled things that made her look completely imposing and, at the same time, incredibly attractive.

"And that makes you soooo sexy."

When they reached the office, Caitlyn and Vi found Nora waiting for them at the entrance.

"Commander, good morning. Mr. Ekko is inside, waiting for you." The secretary informed Caitlyn in her usual professional tone.

She nodded and opened the door. Ekko, who was sitting at the table reviewing some documents, immediately stood up with a surprised and joyful expression upon seeing Vi.

"Vi!" He exclaimed with a bright smile, stepping towards her.

Vi instinctively stepped back, her breathing becoming erratic. In her mind, Ekko’s image distorted between the friend her heart recognized and the captor her fragmented memory still feared. As soon as she saw his face, her body tensed, her expression darkened, and she stepped back with distrust. She remembered the first time she woke up after losing her memory... Ekko had been there, looking at her with worried eyes, and in her fragmented mind, she had seen him as her captor.

Caitlyn immediately noticed the change in Vi’s posture and, in a calm voice, tried to soothe her by squeezing her hand.

"Vi, listen to me. Ekko isn’t your captor. He’s a childhood friend, someone you’ve always trusted."

Vi looked at her uncertainly, then looked at Ekko, who, far from being upset by her reaction, maintained a serene expression. Little by little, Vi felt her breathing stabilize.

She felt guilty seeing Ekko’s understanding gaze. How could she distrust someone who clearly cared so much for her? But her mind wouldn’t allow her to be sure of anything.

"I’m sorry, Ekko. I didn’t mean to react like that... It’s just that everything is still chaos in my head."

Ekko smiled and shook his head.

"It’s okay, Vi. One day you’ll remember everything, and we’ll catch up." His gaze shifted from tenderness to coldness. "I came here because I have important information."

Caitlyn moved toward the window, letting the morning light highlight her figure against the worn wooden floor.

"Tell us."

Ekko crossed his arms and looked at both of them seriously.

"I’ve found something about the organization that kidnapped you."

Caitlyn, who had been calm up until then, straightened up and listened attentively. Since they escaped their captors just a few days ago, they hadn’t had a single day of true peace, and this could be their first clue to finding the criminals.

"What did you find?" She asked.

Ekko sat down again and began explaining.

"Since you were kidnapped, the organization has moved locations. The area where you were captured was clean, not a single trace, but I searched the outskirts of Piltover and found a camp. Also, in these last few days, I’ve been investigating the docks and I found something."

"The docks?" Caitlyn frowned. "Are you saying they’re operating from there?"

"Not exactly." Ekko shook his head. "What I found was a ship called Red Anchor. They use it to ship goods out of Piltover and send them by truck to the new camp."

Caitlyn, who had been staring out the window, half-turned and exchanged glances with Vi.

"What kind of goods?" She asked, walking toward the Zaunite.

"I’m not sure." Ekko admitted. "But what I saw at that dock made it clear to me that it’s not just a smuggling operation."

Caitlyn leaned forward.

"What do you mean?"

Ekko took a breath before continuing.

"I saw soldiers. They weren’t wearing Noxian armor, but their movements were perfect, disciplined. They were Noxian soldiers, I’m sure of it."

Caitlyn felt a chill run down her spine. Everything was starting to fit too perfectly with her suspicions. It wasn’t just a criminal gang anymore; they were facing a nation. Her mind focused on the memories of Ambessa, whose intervention had almost brought Piltover and Zaun to the brink of destruction.

"Then..." Ekko hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I saw their leader. I don’t know his name, but I saw him sitting at the center of the dock, drinking beer while his men worked. He had a reptilian look. He acted with total confidence, as if he knew no one would dare challenge him."

"Slinker." Vi mentioned, remembering the reptilian-looking leader who had stood in front of them when they were captive. "What else?"

Ekko took a deep breath.

"He wasn’t alone. I saw another man approach the dock."

Caitlyn and Vi paid even more attention.

"He was tall, thin, with pale skin and black hair. His eyes were brown, but what bothered me the most was what he was wearing— a theater mask."

Caitlyn felt everything around her go distant, as if she were slowly falling into a dark pit she couldn’t escape. Caitlyn’s hands began to tremble lightly; her breath became shallow, as if her body recognized the threat before her mind did.

"A theater mask?" She repeated incredulously.

Ekko nodded.

"Yes. He was covered with a large white cape and elegant clothes. He moved with almost theatrical grace, like every step he took had been rehearsed. He had a huge weapon, but he held it like a staff, announcing his presence with every step."

Caitlyn’s heart raced.

"Who is he?"

Ekko shook his head.

"I didn’t hear his name, but he didn’t seem like someone who took orders from anyone. He doesn’t look like a new recruit; I’d say he works alone."

Caitlyn felt her nails digging into her palm. She knew that the next encounter with Jhin could be definitive. A mistake in front of him wouldn’t just mean her death, but also the death of those she loved. When was the last time she felt so unsure? Jhin had shown her that even perfection could be broken with a single well-calculated shot.

Ekko crossed his arms.

"Whoever he is, he’s not just a criminal. We need to be extremely careful with him."

The air in the office grew heavy. Caitlyn, Vi, and Ekko immediately knew that the situation was bigger than they had imagined. And with Jhin in the equation, the threat became even more lethal.

"We need to get to that ship and find out more."

"Cait, if the Commander of Piltover steps onto that ship, it will be clear to them that we’re after them." Ekko replied.

"Yeah, you’re right..." She ran her right hand across her chin, thinking. "But there’s another way we can get information. Let’s go, we need to leave."

Caitlyn hurried out of the office while the others followed. They moved quickly toward the port. Caitlyn’s destination was clear: Sarah’s ship. If anyone knew more about Red Anchor, it was her.

When they arrived at the dock, Sarah’s ship gleamed brightly in the sun. The three boarded and found Sarah’s crew busy with the final preparations for their imminent departure. The sails were being reinforced, barrels of provisions were rolling across the deck, and the wood creaked under the footsteps of the sailors rushing to finish their work before setting sail.

Sarah stood overseeing everything with her laid-back posture and her characteristic confident air. When her eyes spotted Caitlyn, Vi, and Ekko approaching, a mocking smile appeared on her face.

"Well, well... Looks like you can’t forget me?" She commented with a playful tone, crossing her arms.

Vi rolled her eyes with a smile, but it was Caitlyn who spoke first.

"We have questions, and we think you might have answers."

Sarah raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly, as if her curiosity had been piqued.

"What kind of questions?"

Ekko stepped forward, going straight to the point.

"A ship called Red Anchor." He pointed with his eyes and index finger at the ship in the distance. "It’s been transporting suspicious goods to the Piltover dock, and we think it might be connected to the organization that kidnapped Cait and Vi."

Sarah fell silent for a few seconds, her sharp eyes evaluating the information.

"Red Anchor used to belong to a well-known pirate in Noxus." She finally said. "The last time I talked to him, he had retired and sold his ship to someone from Zaun. I thought it was strange for a pirate to have come from the land of progress, but I didn’t think much of it."

The three of them exchanged glances.

"A recent sale..." Caitlyn murmured. "That sounds like a distraction. A move to cover tracks if someone decided to investigate."

Sarah nodded with a gesture.

"Exactly. I don’t think he’s involved in this, but the new owner might be. If that ship is transporting something important, they don’t want it to be associated with Noxus. But what are the Noxians doing here?"

"That’s what we’re trying to find out." Vi responded, crossing her arms. "But for that, we need firsthand information. And that’s where you come in."

Sarah raised both eyebrows, intrigued and curious.

"Do you want me to infiltrate or something?"

Caitlyn shook her head.

"Not exactly. We need your charm and your... presence to talk to the people on the ship. If anyone can get information from those pirates without raising suspicion, it’s you."

Sarah smiled mischievously.

"Commander, are you asking me to use my charms?" Her provocative gaze fixed intensely on the Zaunite woman standing next to Caitlyn.

Vi coughed awkwardly and looked away. Caitlyn, unfazed, maintained her firm stance.

"We’re asking for your experience, influence, and knowledge of the pirate world for an important mission for the city." She addressed the pirate, capturing her attention and gaze.

Sarah smiled widely. There was nothing she enjoyed more than a good challenge, especially if it meant proving no one could beat her at her own game.

"Well, Commander, when you put it like that... How could I refuse?"

"Then, will you help us?" Ekko asked, eagerly.

Sarah looked at her crew. Her ship was almost ready to sail, but she knew that if she didn’t resolve things here, she wouldn’t be able to leave in peace.

"Yes, I’ll help you." She finally said. "I’ll stay a couple more days, but don’t expect it to be for free. One day, I’ll collect the favor."

Caitlyn nodded.

"Deal."

The two rival women shook hands, with an unspoken meaning of truce between them. However, their firm gazes showed that this truce wouldn’t last forever.

Vi looked from one woman to the other, feeling the tension in the air, and broke it with her words.

"Thanks, Captain. Your help is vital."

Sarah withdrew her gaze from the Commander and focused on Vi with playful eyes. She didn’t say another word, but walked away with determination.

Caitlyn watched Sarah leave the ship with her characteristic confidence. She knew that the success of their plan depended greatly on Sarah’s unique ability to navigate dangerous waters.

She walked toward the ship’s rail. She gazed out at the horizon with the unsettling certainty that a storm was coming. Something told her this would be the last calm before they were submerged in a battle where there would be no second chances.

With Sarah on their side, they had one more weapon in their arsenal. Caitlyn couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that they were walking into a deadly trap. Now, they just had to figure out who would make the first mistake.

Caitlyn stared at the deep waters of the dock. Beneath the calm surface, she knew something dark was waiting for them, patient, ready to devour any mistake.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn gazed at Piltover from the window of her office, observing the visible scars from the recent conflict. She not only felt the weight of the city on her shoulders but also a deep concern that went beyond the professional. The threat of Jhin, silent and deadly, loomed in some dark corner. Her mind replayed every detail of the last encounter, reminding her that Piltover needed immediate protection.

She sighed deeply, aware that she had to proceed with caution. Her encounter with Jhin and the information provided by Ekko a few days ago were pieces she was not yet ready to fully share with the council. She feared that revealing too much might cause panic or, worse, paralyze any effective action due to internal debates. She needed to approach the situation with a perspective of precaution and defense, without fully revealing her cards.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Nora, always efficient, entered with a carefully wrapped box in thick paper.

"Your orders have arrived, Commander." She said, placing the box on the desk. "Do you need anything else before the Council meeting?"

Caitlyn gently shook her head and moved towards the desk, caressing the surface of the paper that wrapped the package.

"No, this will do. Thank you, Nora."

The secretary nodded briefly and left the office, leaving Caitlyn alone again. The Commander carefully untied the strings around the larger box, slowly opening it to reveal a pair of new gloves. They were sturdy, reinforced with steel at the knuckles, and designed specifically for someone who preferred to resolve conflicts with bare hands. She smiled faintly, imagining them on Vi, sure they would be a natural extension of her.

She knew these gloves wouldn’t be enough to face a threat like Jhin or a possible external military intervention directly, but she also understood that sometimes, a simple gesture could mean more than any speech. She knew Vi well enough to know that she wouldn’t easily accept any other type of help; these gloves would be her subtle way of assuring her that she was with her, without reservation.

Caitlyn closed the box again and carefully stored it in a drawer of her desk, aware that now was not the right time to give them to Vi. She straightened her uniform, took a deep breath, and headed towards the door to make her way to the Council building.

Piltover was on the brink of a silent storm, and she knew it was her responsibility to prepare the city before it exploded.

The Council room radiated a solemn and majestic aura; huge windows allowed the golden light of the sunset to flood the space, highlighting the intricate details of the ornate walls and the long polished marble table. Every seat was occupied by council members, influential figures whose faces reflected both concern and impatience.

Caitlyn stood at the front, her expression a calculated mix of determination and seriousness. She knew she was treading dangerous ground; any sign of doubt would be used against her, especially with such a delicate issue at hand.

Lady Enora, with her rigid and calculating posture, was the first to break the silence.

"Commander Kiramman, you requested this emergency meeting, mentioning possible foreign attacks on Piltover. Could you elaborate on the reason for such a statement?"

"Of course, Lady Enora." Caitlyn replied, keeping her voice firm and confident. "We have reliable information suggesting the infiltration of external forces into our borders. Highly trained mercenaries whose presence represents a clear threat to the stability of our city."

The tension in the room increased significantly. Shoola, in charge of military and strategic matters, immediately straightened her posture, showing full interest in Caitlyn's words.

"Do you have concrete proof, Commander?" Lady Enora questioned, her analytical eyes watching Caitlyn intensely.

"Yes, Councilwoman Enora. We’ve recorded suspicious movements in the peripheral areas, and my informants assure me there is activity at the docks related to these forces. I request the council allocate resources to strengthen the city’s defenses preventively."

"Forgive my skepticism, Commander." Baron Delacroix intervened with his deep, authoritative tone. "But Piltover has always been a neutral city, solely dedicated to commerce and technological innovation. Do you truly believe that spending significant resources to strengthen our security is the most sensible option?"

Caitlyn took a deep breath before answering, her eyes challenging but controlled.

"Baron Delacroix, I understand your economic concern. However, I find it reckless to assume that our historical neutrality will protect us forever. Security and stability are precisely what have allowed Piltover to prosper. Losing them would mean irreparable damage to our economy and our image throughout Runeterra."

"Commander Kiramman." Lord Gerold interrupted, leaning forward with a sharp gaze. "Excuse me, but I can’t help but wonder if this sudden interest in reinforcing our security is influenced by certain personal conflicts. It is publicly known that you maintain a close relationship with a woman from Zaun, and also an ex-prisoner from Stillwater. Could this be clouding your judgment and making you see threats where perhaps none exist?"

A subtle murmur ran through the room, revealing the discomfort and anticipation at the councilor's direct accusation.

Blood boiled beneath Caitlyn’s skin as she heard Lord Gerold’s voice accusing her. Part of her wanted to stand up and confront him immediately, but the commander within her remained cold and calculated, aware that every word spoken had consequences.

The accusation was unjust and petty, though predictable. For a moment, she imagined all the possible consequences: how far was she willing to go to defend her integrity and her relationship with Vi? She subtly clenched her fists against the table, forcing herself to regain composure before responding.

"Lord Gerold, I assure you that my decisions as Commander have never been influenced by my personal relationships. My priority has always been and will always be the safety of Piltover. I will not allow your insinuation to divert this meeting from what truly matters: protecting our city before the threat materializes in front of us."

Silence flooded the room again, heavier than before. Caitlyn carefully observed each face, silently analyzing who might support her and who would oppose her plans. She knew this meeting was the first decisive step in a much greater battle, one that Piltover could not afford to lose.

Lady Enora gently raised her hand, interrupting calmly.

"Lord Gerold, while I share some concerns about our budgetary priorities, I consider it inappropriate to bring this discussion to personal grounds. We must focus on the facts and what Piltover truly needs."

Baron Delacroix placed his hands on the table, intervening with his deep, authoritative voice.

"I agree with Lady Enora. Commander Kiramman, we understand the seriousness of what you present, but we need concrete proof before committing the city’s resources to such broad defensive measures."

Caitlyn breathed slowly, controlling her frustration.

"The proof has already been presented in preliminary reports that have been systematically ignored. If we don’t act now, any future threat could catch us completely vulnerable. Councilwoman Shoola, what is your opinion from a strategic and military standpoint?"

General Shoola nodded gravely, her serious eyes evaluating the situation.

"From a strictly military perspective, strengthening our defenses is never a waste. There is enough evidence to justify at least basic preventive measures. The security of the city must be our top priority."

Lord Gerold snorted in disbelief.

"What about our economy? Should our citizens bear even higher taxes to finance a threat that may not even exist?"

Adele Vickers spoke softly but firmly.

"Gerold, I understand the economic concern, but no fortune is useful if we don’t have a safe city to enjoy it in. I propose we carefully study the costs, but not automatically discard the Commander’s proposal."

Sevika, who had remained silent until now, watched Caitlyn with an unreadable expression, her fingers intertwined.

"I agree we must proceed with caution." She finally said, measuring her words. "But the Commander is right. We can’t be naive. Piltover and Zaun have always been coveted targets, which is why the last battle was provoked. Ignoring the signs would be irresponsible."

Caitlyn felt a slight sense of relief upon hearing those words, though she knew the battle was still far from won.

Lord Gerold pressed his lips together, visibly upset.

"If we’re going down this path, I demand that the Commander’s relationship with Zaun be thoroughly examined. I will not allow personal conflicts to jeopardize the future of our city."

A brief pang of insecurity pierced her chest. This wasn’t the first time her decisions had been questioned, but it was the first time her personal life had been used as a weapon. Her heart raced, aware that this battle wasn’t just political; it was also personal.

Caitlyn stood with determination, fixing her piercing gaze on him.

"Go ahead, investigate whatever you want. I have nothing to hide. My only interest has been, is, and will always be the safety of Piltover and its citizens. And if any of you have further doubts about my loyalty or my motives, I invite you to express them right now."

The silence that followed was absolute. Caitlyn, without waiting for more answers, sat down again, her posture straight and firm, challenging anyone to question her integrity once again.

Some members exchanged uncomfortable glances, Adele Vickers shifted slightly in her seat, while Shoola gave a barely perceptible approving nod.

She breathed slowly, aware that she had just placed her private life under the public scrutiny of the entire Council. A brief pang of worry ran through her; she wasn’t afraid for herself, but for how this might affect Vi. Their relationship was no longer just something personal; it was now exposed to the judgment and questioning of Piltover’s elite.

Finally, Shoola broke the tension, her voice resonating firm and clear.

"We've already wasted too much time questioning intentions. If Commander Kiramman is alert, it’s for a reason. No one here can deny that Piltover has been vulnerable for a long time. Perhaps too long. I propose we start by reinforcing patrols at the critical access points to the city and evaluate a long-term emergency plan." Her gaze fixed on Caitlyn with determination. "Commander, I’m willing to coordinate with you directly on this."

Caitlyn nodded, grateful for Shoola’s decisive stance.

"It will be a pleasure, Councilwoman Shoola. In the meantime, I can commit to providing regular reports to support our initiative and maintain open communication on any developments that might affect the security of Piltover."

Lady Enora nodded approvingly, but Baron Delacroix still seemed unsatisfied.

"Well, it seems that at least something has been decided." Delacroix commented with a sigh. "However, I insist on the importance of keeping this situation under control and not unnecessarily alarming the population. Piltover’s economic and political stability cannot be compromised by unfounded rumors."

"Agreed." Caitlyn accepted, though her gaze remained defiant. "But keep in mind that informing with transparency is not alarmism; it’s our responsibility. The more prepared the citizens are, the less likely a crisis will catch them by surprise."

Lord Gerold remained silent, observing with a rigid expression. It was clear that, although he had lost ground in the discussion, he wasn’t willing to give up completely. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke coldly.

"I will be watching your movements closely, Commander. I hope you don’t give me reasons to regret trusting you."

Caitlyn held his gaze without backing down.

"You can watch as much as you want, Lord Gerold. You’ll find exactly what I promised: transparency and an unwavering commitment to the safety of Piltover."

Sevika then intervened, her voice calm but full of authority, seeking to end any additional tension.

"Then it’s decided. We will implement these preliminary measures and continuously monitor the situation. Any relevant information should be immediately shared with all Council members. Are we clear?"

The Commander nodded firmly, as did the rest of the Council.

"Very well." Adele Vickers said with her usual conciliatory tone. "Then let’s consider this meeting adjourned. Piltover is counting on us, and we can’t let it down."

With those words, the Council members began to rise slowly from their seats, some exchanging quiet comments as they headed for the exit.

Caitlyn stayed a few more seconds in the room, breathing slowly as the weight of the meeting slightly lifted. She knew this was just the beginning, but at least she had taken an important step toward the preparation and protection her city so desperately needed. Still, the Commander was fully aware that the real challenge was just beginning. The latent threat was still there, beneath the surface, waiting for any sign of weakness to strike.

The Council meeting stretched on for a few more minutes, with discussions and debates on the costs and benefits of reinforcing Piltover's defenses. Finally, Caitlyn left the room with a mix of relief and frustration. The resources that the council decided to divert to the city's defense were less than expected, but she had to admit that at least she had gained some ground.

As she walked through the hallways of the building, immersed in her thoughts, a firm voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Commander."

Caitlyn turned around and saw Sevika approaching, with an unreadable expression. The representative from Zaun had a solid, intimidating posture, though there was an evident tension in her face.

"Sevika." Caitlyn greeted, with a slight nod. "Thanks for your support in there."

Sevika nodded seriously, crossing her arms as she stopped a few steps away.

"I didn’t do it out of courtesy, princess. I did it because I know you’re right. Zaun can’t afford to face another crisis right now, especially because of the council's indecision."

Caitlyn studied the woman in front of her carefully, aware that every word exchanged with Sevika was like playing chess. She knew Sevika had her own goals, but she also trusted that, at least for now, their interests were aligned with the survival of both cities.

"So, what do you propose?" Caitlyn asked.

"We need to be prepared. Zaun and Piltover must work together on this." Sevika paused for a moment before continuing. "But I need to know something else, Commander. How serious is this threat really? You’ve told me about the letters and the criminal gang, but I felt like you were holding something back in the meeting."

Caitlyn stared at her for a moment, her eyes briefly searching for any sign of distrust, but she found only the same raw determination that was always present in Sevika. Finally, she decided she could reveal a little more without compromising too much.

"The threat is serious, Sevika. More than I’ve been able to tell the Council. Besides what I’ve already told you, there’s a dangerous individual involved. An assassin. We don’t know exactly how they’re connected to the operation, but he’s extremely lethal."

Sevika raised an eyebrow, intrigued and surprised.

"An assassin? Someone known?"

"I’m still investigating." Caitlyn replied evasively, lowering her voice slightly. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the cold precision with which Jhin had aimed at her, the feeling of absolute vulnerability in front of an enemy who moved in the shadows. "I prefer not to give names until I’m completely sure. But trust me, we can’t afford to underestimate this threat."

Sevika nodded slowly, understanding that the Commander was only sharing what was necessary.

"Okay. I’ll keep my eyes open in Zaun. Let me know if you need anything else."

With one last gesture of recognition, Sevika turned and walked away with firm steps.

Caitlyn walked back to her office in the enforcers’ headquarters, a sense of heaviness on her shoulders.

As she walked through the building’s corridors, she could feel the curious gazes of some employees and officers, probably already partially aware of the confrontation that had just taken place in the Council room. Ignoring them, she entered her office and closed the door behind her with more force than necessary.

She placed her palms on the desk, breathing slowly to calm the frustration still simmering inside her. Lord Gerold’s words still resonated loudly in her head, hitting her harder than she would have liked to admit. She felt a bitter mix of anger, helplessness, and worry, knowing that now she would have to protect not only the city but also defend her personal life from constant intrusions and suspicions. She knew that, although she had defended her integrity in front of the council, the seed of doubt had already been planted.

With a sharp movement of frustration, she swept everything off the desk. The papers and objects flew to the floor with a crash. Her breathing quickened for a moment, feeling her heart race, not just from the contained rage, but from a deep anxiety that she couldn’t afford to show anyone else.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her frustration. Caitlyn looked up in surprise, but the tension in her shoulders eased slightly when she recognized the familiar and comforting figure of Vi entering slowly into the room.

"Bad time, cupcake?" Vi asked cautiously, walking into the office and closing the door behind her gently.

Caitlyn sighed deeply, walked around her desk, and collapsed into her chair with evident exhaustion.

"No, it’s a good time." She replied, gesturing for Vi to sit in front of her. "In fact, I was just thinking about talking to you."

Vi sat slowly, observing her attentively. Her face showed equal parts concern and curiosity.

"Did something go wrong in the meeting with those stuffed shirts?" Vi asked with a slight smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Caitlyn couldn’t help but smile, though it quickly faded.

"It could be said that it didn’t go exactly as I expected." She admitted honestly. "I was able to present our concerns about security, especially with everything related to Noxus and the possible external threats. Shoola and Sevika supported the need to reinforce the defenses, but other members, especially Lord Gerold, questioned my motives..."

Vi frowned.

"What exactly do you mean by ‘questioned your motives’?"

Caitlyn paused for a moment, momentarily unsure of how to phrase it.

"Lord Gerold openly insinuated that my judgment was compromised because of my relationship with you." She finally said, looking directly at Vi. "He claimed that my connection with a woman from Zaun, who was also a prisoner in Stillwater, makes me less objective and puts the city at risk."

Vi visibly tensed, her jaw tightening with force as her gaze took on a dangerous gleam.

"That bastard..." She muttered under her breath. "And what did you tell him?"

"I assured him, in front of the entire council, that my integrity and my decisions have never been influenced by personal relationships." Caitlyn said firmly. "I made it clear that any investigation into my conduct would be welcome, as I have absolutely nothing to hide."

Vi relaxed slightly, though she was still clearly upset.

"They shouldn’t question you like that, Cait. You’ve given everything for this city, and they should know that better than anyone."

Caitlyn gently shook her head, her expression turning serious again.

"I’m not surprised. I knew that my relationship with you would eventually become a point of attack for some of them, especially for someone like Gerold, who looks for any excuse to keep the status quo and avoid uncomfortable changes."

"Do you think this will cause problems for you in the long run?" Vi asked, concerned. "Maybe we should..."

Knowing the words Vi was about to say, the Commander interrupted her.

"Possibly, I will have more problems down the road." Caitlyn responded honestly, slowly standing up to approach Vi. "But I wouldn’t take back a second of being with you, Vi."

She crouched down to gently place a hand on Vi’s cheek, looking deep into her eyes.

"I want you to have that clear. They can say and do whatever they want, but my decision is made. You are a part of my life." The blue-haired woman whispered firmly, gently stroking Vi’s skin with her thumb. "And that will never change."

Vi stood up and looked at her in silence for a few seconds, finally relaxing her shoulders.

"I appreciate that more than you think. But I don’t want to be the cause of more problems for you."

Caitlyn took a small step closer to Vi, getting even closer and gently taking her hands, intertwining their fingers with affection.

"Listen to me, Vi. The only ones responsible for the problems this city faces are those who refuse to see the reality. Not you, not me, not our relationship. We’ll move forward, no matter the obstacles they try to put in our way."

Vi smiled softly, squeezing Caitlyn’s hands tightly.

"I guess we’re a team then, Commander."

Caitlyn nodded with determination.

"We always were, and we always will be."

Vi took a deep breath, noticing how her chest rose and fell slowly, revealing a vulnerability that was unusual for her normally tough and challenging posture. Her gaze, usually hard and defiant, now showed a fragility that was rare in her, clearly revealing how much those words meant to her.

The two women shared a long silence filled with complicity, reinforcing the shared determination in the face of an uncertain future.

Caitlyn knew the days ahead would test her strength, her leadership, and also her bond with Vi. But deep in her mind, a chilling reminder lingered, telling her with cold clarity that Jhin’s threat was still there, waiting patiently for any sign of weakness to strike.

Chapter Text

The light of dawn entered softly through the large windows of the mansion, bathing every corner with warm, melancholic tones. Caitlyn stood by the window in her room, thoughtfully watching the distant streets of Piltover. A heavy unease settled in her chest. From the window, Caitlyn tried to appear calm, but the shadow of something she could not ignore flickered in her blue eyes.

On the bed behind her, Vi focused on properly bandaging her arms. The Zaunite quietly noticed the strange stillness in Caitlyn, a stillness that usually hid something deeper. She finished what she was doing and then slowly approached the commander.

"Hey, sweetheart... Are you okay?" Vi asked softly, placing a warm hand on her shoulder.

Caitlyn took a deep breath before turning to face Vi. Despite her attempt to hide it, her mind was still filled with the anxiety that had followed her throughout the night. Vi, with her sharp gaze, quickly noticed the change, and Caitlyn could see the concern reflected in the Zaunite's eyes.

"Yeah, just..." She paused, carefully choosing her words. "Just making sure I haven't forgotten anything."

Vi furrowed her brow slightly, not fully believing the simple excuse. She had learned to read Caitlyn's eyes, those blue eyes that now showed a worry that went beyond the mission itself.

"Are you sure?" Vi insisted, her voice soft but firm. With a tenderness that only she possessed, she cupped Caitlyn's face in her hands, forcing her to look directly at her. Her eyes, deeply sincere, reflected a concern that went beyond the physical. "I know we haven’t been together long, but you’ve seen what I’m capable of. You can trust me, you know that, right?"

Caitlyn closed her eyes for a moment, as if the weight of the mission was crushing her. The warmth of Vi's hands on her face gave her some comfort, but her mind remained tormented by the anxiety. The chaos of the mission surrounded her, and the fear of not being able to protect Vi strangled her. What she felt for her was more than affection, it was a need to keep her safe, a promise still unfulfilled. But she knew she couldn’t control everything. Her heart raced, as if afraid of losing her. In her voice, a vulnerability she never showed:

"I know... But right now, I just need you to be ready, Vi. I don’t want anything to happen to you. If something goes wrong..."

Vi looked at her in silence, as if understanding everything that was left unsaid. She took Caitlyn's hands, unhurried but with a touch so gentle it almost seemed like a whisper. Then, without breaking eye contact, she kissed Caitlyn’s knuckles in a kiss full of promises, charged with all the love she felt for her. When she pulled away, her eyes shone with fierce determination but also with the tenderness of someone who isn’t afraid to show their devotion.

"I’m ready. I’ll always be ready. Especially when I'm with you. No matter what happens, we’ll face it together."

Caitlyn nodded slowly, her mind still floating in Vi's words, but her heart thudded harder as she moved toward her desk. She opened a drawer with trembling hands, pulling out a carefully wrapped box, as if this simple gesture carried the weight of a million unspoken promises. Every fold of the paper, every detail, seemed even more significant. As she extended the box toward Vi, her voice was barely a whisper.

"This... this is for you."

Vi raised an eyebrow, surprised by the softness of the moment, something unusual coming from Caitlyn. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unwrapped the box, as if it were the first time someone had given her such a personal gift. With a small sigh, she let out a soft irony but couldn’t hide the emotion in her voice.

"For me...? I don't remember anyone being so... well, so thoughtful, outside of my family."

As Vi unraveled the paper, the carefully crafted gloves were revealed. The metal on the knuckles reflected the light in the room, while the sturdy leather seemed to have been made to measure. Caitlyn watched in silence, as if the object held much more meaning than its simple function. Vi looked at them with a mix of surprise and skepticism, as if the gesture were unexpected and still hard to believe. Caitlyn swallowed, her throat dry, and the question Vi was about to ask hung in the air.

"Cait..." Vi's voice trembled slightly, that unexpected vulnerability reaching her without warning. "Why?"

Caitlyn took a deep breath before answering, her eyes filled with an intensity that said more than any words could express. The gesture of giving the gloves was much more than just a simple gift; it was a commitment, a promise that didn’t need to be explained, but that Caitlyn couldn’t help but say.

"I wanted to make sure you’re protected." Her voice was soft but firm, as if those words were the most important she had ever said. "Because no matter what happens, I’ll always be with you."

Vi slid the gloves onto her hands with a gentleness that reflected both awe and gratitude. They fit perfectly, as if they had always been hers. Vi looked at her for a long moment, her eyes softer now, with a new understanding. She couldn’t believe that someone so distant, so reserved like Caitlyn, could be capable of such generosity. Her words came out as a sigh:

"I didn’t know... that someone could care this much. Thank you."

Vi, although smiling on the outside, couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more in Caitlyn, something that wasn’t said with words. A knot of worry wasn’t the only thing she saw in her eyes. She moved closer, too close, until their breaths mixed. The air between them grew heavy with the intensity of the moment, as if they both knew something more was at stake, something they couldn’t name.

"Is there something you’re not telling me?" Vi asked, her tone soft but filled with an unease she could no longer hide.

Caitlyn hesitated, her breath becoming deeper. There was something about Vi, in that closeness, that made her feel exposed. The truth she didn’t want to admit was inside her, that feeling that, despite everything, she couldn’t protect her completely. The anguish crossed her, and her throat closed for a moment.

"I just know I need you to be safe in case...," her words cut off, and a crack of vulnerability slipped into her voice. The pain of that idea strangled her. "In case something goes wrong."

Vi shook her head gently, the gesture calm but firm. Her eyes fixed on Caitlyn reflected a promise that transcended words. With a slow, almost imperceptible movement, she brought her face closer to Caitlyn’s, closing the distance between them. Her voice, filled with certainty, was a silent affirmation of everything she felt for her.

"Nothing’s going to go wrong. You know why?" The softness in her tone contrasted with the intensity of what she said next. "Because if the world turns against me, I’ll break it with my fists before I let anything happen to you, Caitlyn Kiramman. Nothing or no one is going to tear me away from you. This will be like the mission you dragged me into when we first met... Well, I hope we don’t get kidnapped again."

Vi’s smile, though light, broke the tension that had gripped Caitlyn for a moment. The little joke she made about the previous kidnapping made Caitlyn laugh briefly, with a relieved sigh, but the gravity of the moment still hung between them. Caitlyn couldn’t help but smile, but the emotion she felt went much deeper than just reacting to the joke. They leaned in slowly, as if time was stretching in the stillness of the moment. Caitlyn’s lips met Vi’s in a deep kiss, full of unspoken promises and the awareness that, maybe, the future was uncertain. Every second, every touch, told them that the only sure thing was this moment, this kiss.

They parted slowly, and Caitlyn, with a breath caught in her chest, caressed Vi’s cheek, as if trying to carve the outline of her face into her memory, as if afraid to forget the softness of her skin.

"But we’ll solve it, together." Caitlyn whispered firmly, trying to convince herself more than anyone else. "Always together."

"Always." Vi replied, more of an affirmation than a promise, as she hugged Caitlyn tightly, pressing her against her chest. Her hands, often relentless in combat, were now soft and protective. Vi tried to dispel Caitlyn’s doubts, as if her embrace could wrap them both in the certainty that, at least for now, they were safe. Vi’s mind was full of thoughts, but she knew that in this embrace, there was no room for more words.

In that moment, embraced in the warm silence of the room, they both understood without needing to speak it that, though their words seemed simple, every gesture, every shared sigh, was imbued with a silent awareness: what they lived could be fleeting. But what they shared was eternal, unbreakable. And though the future was uncertain, right there, in that embrace, everything else faded away.

A few moments later, a maid from the mansion gently knocked on the door before entering, with a respectful yet somewhat tense expression. Caitlyn glanced at her briefly before responding.

"Miss Kiramman, Mr. Ekko has arrived, and he’s waiting for you in the entrance."

Caitlyn nodded, feeling the tension in her chest increase. Her mind kept returning to Vi, their relationship, the danger that lurked around every corner. She took a breath, gathered her courage, and looked toward Vi.

"Thanks for letting me know," Caitlyn said, her voice barely a whisper. "It’s time we head out, Vi."

"You go ahead, I’ll change and be right down."

Caitlyn nodded, her hand running over the cold metal of her Hextech rifle before taking it and heading toward the foyer. Her body was in motion, but her mind remained caught in the same spiral of doubts and fears, leaving behind the warm room she had shared with Vi in search of the answers that only the outside world could provide.

Ekko arrived just after dawn, the sun beginning to light up the high towers of Piltover. His worn jacket and backpack filled with gadgets reflected the very essence of Zaun, while his eyes shone with determination. Upon crossing the entrance, he searched for Caitlyn with his gaze, finding her in the foyer with a slight nod.

She greeted him with a faint smile, but something in her posture, her distance, betrayed that her thoughts were far from there. There was something restrained about her that morning, something she couldn’t shake.

Suddenly, the sound of Vi’s footsteps breaking the silence made Caitlyn look up. Vi appeared on the staircase, with a relaxed, almost carefree energy, as if she had no idea of the weight pressing down on Caitlyn. Her gauntlets gleamed slightly under the morning light, but the smile Vi wore wasn’t the same one Caitlyn had seen hours earlier. It was a reminder of how unstoppable she was, one who always found a way to stay strong.

Vi descended the stairs with a firm step, the sound of her boots echoing in the stillness of the house. When she reached the foot of the stairs, her eyes met Caitlyn’s, and a playful smile appeared on her face. Without wasting time, she moved toward Caitlyn, a step away from where Ekko was already waiting, with his backpack and worn jacket.

"What’s up, commander? Ready to roll?" Vi said, her tone casual, as if it were just another ordinary mission for her. Her playful look clashed with Caitlyn’s seriousness, but her presence always brought a touch of lightness to the dense air that surrounded the room.

Caitlyn, despite the emotional weight she carried, couldn’t help but let out a small smile. Vi always had that ability to soften the mood, even though her carefree nature didn’t do justice to the danger they were facing.

Ekko, who was standing aside, watched with a slight smile on his face. There was something about the interaction between Vi and Caitlyn that always intrigued him. The two of them, so different, but always synchronized.

"Ready?" Caitlyn asked, picking up her jacket. Her rifle rested on her back like an extension of herself.

"Always," Vi replied with the confidence that characterized her, her tone and smile so light that, for a second, it seemed like everything was going to be fine. Then, with a glance toward Ekko, she added:

"And you, little man? Are you going to fall behind or are you going to keep up?" Vi shot a teasing look at him.

Ekko, laughing lightly, raised a hand, brushing off the joke, but the spark in his eyes showed that he wasn’t taking the situation lightly.

"Don’t worry. You know I’ll never let you down."

The atmosphere, though still tense, began to clear, thanks to the usual rhythm they all shared before any mission. Vi’s words, always in her confident tone, created that little break they needed before going out to face the unknown. Caitlyn, though grateful for Vi’s lightness, couldn’t help but have a moment of reflection. When she looked at Vi, something in her eyes spoke more than any words could say. This moment had much more meaning than they were willing to admit. The mission might be just another task, but for Caitlyn, being with Vi, knowing she had her by her side, was more valuable than any objective they were trying to achieve.

Caitlyn took a step toward the door, and Vi followed closely, walking by her side. Ekko followed them, though at a more relaxed pace. But in the air, there was a tension that wouldn’t dissipate easily, as if every step was a small reminder of what was at stake.

It was at that moment when Tobias appeared at the entrance, his calm and familiar presence contrasting with the heavy atmosphere that had formed in the room. He was holding a half-finished cup of tea, looking at his daughter with that expression of his, a mixture of affection and some curiosity.

"Going on a special mission?" He asked casually, as if it were just any other day.

Caitlyn, though her father’s calm was reassuring, couldn’t help but let her gaze grow more serious. She took a step toward him, wordlessly, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, a brief gesture but loaded with a deep affection that wasn’t expressed verbally. The farewell, as brief as it was, seemed more significant than any other.

"An investigation on the outskirts of the city," she replied with calm and a warm smile. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Tobias, not noticing the pressure his daughter was carrying with her, nodded with a relaxed smile. He didn’t see how Caitlyn’s shoulders tensed, nor the faint flash of anxiety in her eyes as she held him a second longer than usual, as if she wanted to etch that moment in her memory before facing what was to come.

"Be careful."

Caitlyn, with a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes, nodded and took a step back. Her gaze, somewhat lost, lingered on her father for a moment longer, as if it was hard to leave him behind. Something in her wanted to stay, even though she knew she couldn’t. She stepped out to the courtyard and opened the car, the old restored vehicle that had once belonged to her mother. She sat at the wheel without saying anything else, but in her chest, there was a feeling of farewell that she couldn’t ignore. Vi climbed into the passenger seat without a word, and Ekko settled into the back seat, looking out at the horizon with a faint unease he didn’t try to hide.

The engine hummed softly, a familiar but unsettling sound at the same time, as the vehicle began to pull away from the mansion. Caitlyn kept her gaze fixed on the road, but her mind was elsewhere. She observed every detail as if it might disappear at any moment: the reflection of the sun on the towers, the birds crossing the sky, the breeze coming through the window. Everything felt too... vivid.

"I still remember when I met you, Cait." Ekko finally said, breaking the silence with a bittersweet smile that somehow conveyed nostalgia and a hint of discomfort.

Caitlyn looked at him in the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow, and her expression shifted slightly, as if she was expecting a story.

"Do you mean when you kidnapped us, covered our heads, and tied us to a beam?"

Vi, who hadn’t been as aware of their past with Ekko, furrowed her brow, confused.

"Did that happen?"

Ekko let out a short laugh, as if reliving the memory with a mix of amusement and a touch of regret.

"Yeah. It was in Zaun. You and Cait were getting into places you shouldn’t. You had gone to find Jinx, and I thought you were part of the problem, not the solution."

Caitlyn, with a touch of irony but a sincere smile, responded.

"And you thought that was the best way to welcome us, huh? To reunite with your old friend?"

Ekko, unbothered, responded in a somewhat serious tone but with a faint smile.

"I didn’t do it for fun. We thought Vi was dead. It was shocking to see she was alive, but even more so to see her strolling through Zaun like nothing had happened, accompanied by an enforcer."

Caitlyn fell silent for a moment, her gaze lost in some thought. The truth was that meeting like that had been the beginning of something, though not in the most ideal way.

"It wasn’t the ideal way for us to meet." Caitlyn said, but her tone softened the harshness of the phrase. "But I’m thankful it happened. Everything happens for a reason, even if we didn’t understand it at the time."

Vi watched them both in silence, as if she were hearing for the first time a part of their history that was unfamiliar to her. The amnesia that still haunted her prevented her from remembering that encounter, but she could sense in the air the familiarity between them. No jealousy, no discomfort, just that feeling of entering a life that had once been hers, but that now she could only piece together in fragments.

"It’s weird to hear you talk about things I don’t remember." Vi finally said, her voice slightly distant. "It’s like I’m watching a movie I starred in, but I don’t remember filming it."

Ekko looked at her through the rearview mirror, his tone immediately softening, a mix of understanding and support.

"You don’t need to remember everything to be yourself, Vi. You were already a force of nature before, and you still are."

Vi smiled faintly, a mix of gratitude and melancholy crossing her face.

"Well..." She said, her tone now lighter but carrying a hint of hope. "I guess at least I’ll have the pleasure of creating new memories."

She looked at Ekko in the rearview mirror and then turned her gaze toward Caitlyn with a broad smile.

"With both of you."

Caitlyn, without taking her eyes off the road, smiled too, but in a more reserved manner.

"Today... more than ever, I want everything to go well, that we all come through this safely. That this story has another chapter, not an epilogue."

Vi, hearing the softness in Caitlyn’s words, glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, noticing how her knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.

"Was that a bad feeling, commander?" Vi joked, trying to ease the tension, but there was still a slight seriousness beneath her smile.

"Let’s just say I want to make sure that, if this were a book, we don’t leave any pages unread."

Ekko, squinting and taking the joke with some surprise, responded.

"That was poetic... and a bit dark for someone like you."

Caitlyn let out a small laugh, but immediately, seriousness returned to her face.

"I just make sure you two don’t get too comfortable, no mission is as simple as it seems."

Ekko and Vi exchanged a glance through the rearview mirror, sharing a look that reflected their understanding of Caitlyn’s words. Though the joke had lightened the mood, they all knew that the mission ahead might not be as easy as they had hoped. A slight nod from both confirmed it.

The vehicle now traveled down a less crowded road. The city was fading behind them, and the air began to smell different. The calm before the storm settled heavily in the atmosphere. Every laugh, every shared story on that journey felt laden with an invisible weight. As if they all, deep down, knew that this journey might not have a return.

And yet, none of them turned back.

The mission awaited. And destiny, silent, had already begun writing the next pages.

The vehicle came to a gentle stop at the edge of a dirt path, hidden among the thick brush, surrounded by a deep silence that seemed to absorb every sound. Caitlyn turned off the engine slowly, the soft hum fading into stillness like a sigh from nature itself. The tension that had been building throughout the journey now felt like a pressure in the air, an almost palpable weight.

Vi jumped out of the passenger seat with an alert look, her eyes quickly scanning the surroundings. The discomfort clouded her mind, but her body was trained to remain calm. Her hand gripped the glove Caitlyn had given her that morning, as if the simple gesture was an anchor connecting her to reality. Ekko stepped out on the other side, casting a long look toward the horizon, his brow furrowed, reflecting the same uncertainty that Caitlyn felt inside.

In front of them, there was nothing but an empty landscape, as if the world had been carefully erased. The area Ekko had indicated as the enemy camp looked completely deserted. There were no tents, no signs of movement, not even fresh footprints in the damp ground. It seemed as though no one had been there for weeks.

"This can’t be," Ekko murmured, stepping forward a few paces. His tone cracked with a mix of frustration and confusion. "They were here, I swear. The goods, the soldiers, everything. I didn’t imagine it."

Vi, with her usual sarcastic tone, couldn’t help but speak up.

"Buddy, looks like you need glasses, this looks like a damn desert." The teasing left her mouth with an ironic smile, but even in her relaxed tone, the discomfort of the situation was clear.

Caitlyn said nothing at first. She stepped out of the vehicle calmly, though her steps were slower than usual, as if each one was marked by a growing sense of unease. Her rifle was already secured over her shoulder, the familiar weight of the weapon a reminder that the threat could be just around the corner. She stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze scanning the desolate landscape before her. Something didn’t add up.

The scene was too perfect, too clean. The kind of emptiness that wasn’t caused by escape, but by calculation. Her stomach tightened, and a shiver ran down her spine. “This is too clean... too organized. This isn’t an evacuated camp. It’s a trap. It has to be.” The thought struck her with certainty, making her shudder as if the air around her thickened.

Her breathing grew deeper, heavier, and the feeling that something was lurking in the shadows of her mind became uncontrollable. "What if this is the last time I see her?" The thought quickly shifted to Vi, and though she tried to hold it together, a moment of panic overtook her for a second. She couldn’t let that happen.

Caitlyn took a deep breath, forcing her mind to focus, to maintain control. With a controlled motion, she walked toward the trunk and pulled out three bulletproof vests. The metallic sound as she opened it resonated in the air, a noise that seemed far too loud for what should have been a quiet moment.

"Put them on," she said, her voice firm but in a low tone that reflected the gravity of the situation. "It’s in case something happens."

Vi frowned, looking at Caitlyn with slight surprise, but she didn’t argue. She quickly grabbed the vest and adjusted it with agile hands, her eyes still scanning the emptiness around them. Ekko mimicked her in silence, the same expression of uncertainty hanging over him. Caitlyn, without taking her eyes off the clearing in front of them, put on her own vest, each movement measured, as if preparing for the inevitable.

"Do you think they knew we were coming and escaped?" Vi asked, breaking the silence.

Caitlyn didn’t respond immediately. She walked over to one of the nearby trees and crouched, running her hand over the ground. Displaced earth, barely visible marks beneath the foliage... but there was no clear direction, just an orderly chaos, as if someone had been there but then turned around, erasing every trace.

"I don’t know. But this isn’t just an evacuation. This was... meticulously cleaned."

Ekko approached her side, his expression still scanning the surroundings, looking for answers in the same soil Caitlyn was examining.

"Do you think someone tipped them off?"

Caitlyn squinted.

"It’s a possibility. But it’s also possible they knew we were coming before we did."

The wind blew between the trees, soft but charged with a palpable tension. A distant crack of a dry branch echoed in the distance. A chill ran down Caitlyn’s spine. Everything in her body screamed that they were being watched. Instinctively, she reached for her rifle, as if contact with her weapon gave her some control over the rising anxiety consuming her.

"Down. Now!"

A sharp shot broke the air, the sound of the bullet cutting through the wind like a whip, tearing the silence of the landscape. Caitlyn barely reacted in time, jumping to one side, the ground trembling beneath her feet with the force of the impact. Dust rose in a thick cloud, sweeping toward her, invading her lungs and leaving a metallic taste in her mouth. The heat of the explosion reached her, her skin burning as it came into contact with the hot air, while her heart raced, accelerated by adrenaline.

Her hands, covered by the gloves, gripped the rifle with the tension of a stretched wire, the cold metal in her fingers contrasting with the growing fury within her.

"Cover up!" Caitlyn shouted as she dove behind a rocky formation, her body moving purely on instinct.

Vi and Ekko rolled in opposite directions. Vi, with her characteristic agility, collapsed to the ground, quickly taking up position. Ekko, with his sharp gaze, slipped across the terrain, his body moving like a shadow, fast and silent. Caitlyn looked up, her breath ragged, her pulse racing, and then she saw him.

On a hill, silhouetted against the sky, stood a man with a theater mask.

Jhin.

His elegant and pale figure looked more like a specter than a man. His cloak billowed, almost like part of a deadly symphony he was composing. He wasn’t carrying his long sniper rifle; instead, he held a more compact weapon, but no less deadly. Jhin didn’t fire immediately. He lowered his weapon slightly, watching them with an unsettling calm, as if evaluating his prey, observing his work in its final phase. Then, he tilted his head slightly, his voice reverberating with a theatrical tone that sent shivers down the spine of anyone who heard it.

"Oh, commander..." he said, his tone filled with macabre joy. "You’ve arrived just in time for the final act. Isn’t it charming when art and blood meet in perfect harmony? This will be... my masterpiece."

Vi, looking up and recognizing the enemy, squinted her eyes.

"That’s Jhin, right?"

Caitlyn nodded, her gaze fixed on Jhin’s figure, but her words were sharp, with a cold determination.

"Yes. And this time, we won’t let him escape."

Ekko, ready with a smoke bomb, was already advancing with lethal speed. Vi, with her fists clenched, felt the crunch of her gloves under the pressure of her contained rage. Caitlyn raised her rifle, her pulse steady, her mind at maximum alert. Every fiber of her being was focused on what was coming next. There was no turning back now.

The silence that preceded the next shot seemed eternal. But then, suddenly, the calm was shattered by the deafening sound of another bullet. Caitlyn barely managed to dodge in time, the projectile whistling past her face, causing her skin to tingle. The tension broke, and with it, chaos was unleashed.

"We need to split up!" Caitlyn shouted, quickly moving toward a nearby rock formation to take cover. "Cover me while I call for reinforcements."

Vi was already on the move. With the gloves securely fastened, she surged forward with a roar, the rage in her eyes as intense as the fire burning in her chest. Every muscle in her body was in action, and the world seemed to fade away around her. Ekko, quicker, took a lateral route, sliding between the remnants of the terrain, like a shadow, his interference bombs ready to be used.

Jhin, standing on a rock, spun around with a grace that bordered on the macabre. The sound of his weapon, a dry snap, cut through the air. Each shot seemed calculated, meticulously choreographed, like a deadly symphony. The bullets whizzed around them, the distance between life and death narrowing with each shot. The wind kicked up dust from the ground, dragging the metallic smell of gunpowder into Caitlyn’s nostrils. The heat of the battle became tangible on her skin, the sweat running down her forehead as her eyes remained locked on Jhin, waiting for the next move.

"Don’t run." He said in a melodic voice, filled with dark joy. "We’ve got time to make something worthy of this theater."

Vi, with the speed of a feline, launched herself at Jhin with uncontrollable fury, but at the same time, the risk of her move became clear when Ekko shouted.

"Watch out, right!"

Vi felt the bullet’s whistle pass so close she could smell the burned gunpowder in the air. With a roar, she surged forward, her body leaping in a fluid and furious movement. The gloves creaked under the pressure as she threw the punch, feeling the tension in her muscles. The impact was almost perfect, but Jhin moved like a shadow, dodging the punch with such precision that his face seemed to defy gravity itself.

Caitlyn quickly took out her radio and called for backup.

"Steb, do you copy?"

"Yes, Commander. What’s happening?"

Caitlyn couldn’t help the tension in her voice as she spoke.

"We’ve been ambushed, the place we were going to is a trap, send reinforcements to the north of the city, exactly at..."

A blast tore through Caitlyn’s radio, destroying it in midair, the sound of the explosion echoing. Caitlyn glanced toward Jhin, who now had the gun pointed directly at her.

"Commander, we don’t need more people here, this show is just for us."

Caitlyn, rage consuming her, started shooting, aiming at the center of Jhin’s chest, but the assassin dropped with a somersault, rolling out of her reach.

"You know, commander?" Jhin whispered as he shot toward her without looking. "I’ve always wanted to portray a love story. How tragic it would be for your body to bleed out in front of her eyes."

"YOU’RE NOT TOUCHING HER!" Vi roared, and for the first time, her voice wasn’t just fury; it was desperation.

Vi, without hesitation, reacted before her mind could process it. There was no room for doubt, only action. But deep down, something always held her back, a moment of reflection that overwhelmed her: if something happened to Caitlyn... what would remain of her fight?

Ekko, reacting quickly, threw an electric bomb. The buzzing of the energy disoriented everyone for a moment.

"Now! Vi, left flank!" Caitlyn ordered, her voice sharp like a whip, while her body was already moving instinctively toward the next step.

The ground trembled with every movement. Jhin launched carefully calculated shots, deadly, while spinning with an eerie grace, as if each action were part of a macabre choreography. Vi, almost like a shadow, kept pace, dodging each bullet with swift, chaotic movements, her body filled with uncontrollable rage.

Dust lifted from the ground with every step, while the flashes from the bullets illuminated the scene like rays of light. The faces of the fighters, marked by tension and determination, showed the brutality of the confrontation. Caitlyn's eyes were focused with concentration, her mind sharp like a blade, every step calculated, her breath controlled despite the palpable threat.

Ekko, from above, appeared hanging from an improvised rope. Quickly, he threw a blinding bomb into the center of the enemy formation. The symphony of chaos was reaching its climax, and everyone felt it.

Vi clenched her fists with a near-ferocious strength, her rage transformed into something more controlled, more precise. She slid beneath a bullet that grazed her hair and, with a guttural roar, propelled her body upward. With brutal speed, she landed an uppercut to Jhin's chin, sending him staggering backward.

"Wasn’t this what you wanted, artist?" Vi shot back, her smile crooked, filled with fury, but also with satisfaction at seeing Jhin stagger.

Jhin didn’t lose his composure. With an even more intense gleam in his eyes, he shouted with macabre excitement.

"Fight with everything you have, this is getting interesting." The fun in his voice was palpable. "Violence is true art, don’t you see? Every fall is a perfect curve on the canvas of chaos."

"Vi, right flank!" Caitlyn shouted, and Vi nodded, panting but ready, positioning herself skillfully as she aligned with Ekko’s attack.

The movement was perfect synchronization. Caitlyn, with her rifle raised, shot with surgical precision, forcing Jhin to retreat, to change position. At the exact moment, Vi connected a blow that sent Jhin falling on his back.

"Cait, now!" Ekko shouted.

Caitlyn, with her pulse steady, aimed, held her breath... but before she could fire, Jhin was already back on his feet. In a subtle movement, he pulled a device from his belt and sent it directly toward Ekko.

The device exploded before reaching his body. Ekko was thrown through the air, rolling across the hill for several meters and crashing his head into a stone. Caitlyn spun around quickly, her heart stopped when she saw Ekko’s lifeless body.

"Ekko!" Caitlyn screamed, her voice breaking. That second of panic, that fraction of time, was all Jhin needed.

The dry sound of the shot sliced through the air, and Caitlyn felt the impact before realizing what was happening. A burning pain seized her chest, her mind clouded completely. The projectile pierced her flesh, her body tensed and then collapsed, the rifle falling to the ground with a dull thud.

The scene slowed for Vi, her eyes widening as she watched Caitlyn fall like a ragdoll, blood already beginning to stain the earth around her.

"No, no, no..." Her lost gaze couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

First, she felt the burn, then the silence. The world became distant, an echo fading away. Caitlyn didn’t hear the shot; she felt it. The agony that pierced her chest was the last thing she experienced before losing control of her body. As her mind faded into the fog, one thought raced through her mind with desperation: "I can’t... I can’t leave her."

Caitlyn’s hands trembled as they searched for something to cling to, but the world was already crumbling around her. With a tear sliding down her cheek, she thought, almost unaware of herself: "I’m sorry… I’m so sorry..."

"CAITLYN!" Vi roared, her voice a mixture of terror and fury, burning in her throat. Vi no longer thought, she only acted, moving toward Caitlyn with desperation consuming her body. Her heart was beating at an inhuman speed, and the image of Caitlyn falling before her eyes flooded her with a pain so deep it felt like the earth itself was opening beneath her feet.

Jhin, watching with coldness calculated in every step, approached Caitlyn, admiring her fall with the same attention of an artist before his incomplete work.

"The tragedy..." Jhin said to himself as he adjusted his weapon, his voice soft and contemplative. "It’s the purest form of beauty."

Vi ran to her, without thinking or planning, driven only by a torrent of panic and rage. Her heart beat like a drum in her chest, and the image of Caitlyn falling in slow motion before her eyes overwhelmed her with sharp pain, as if the ground itself opened beneath her feet. Her legs seemed to move in slow motion, her body reacting before her mind could catch up, as if she couldn’t accept what was happening. "No, no, no..." she thought, but the words didn’t come to her lips. The only thing left was desperation.

But Jhin intercepted her with a brutal blow to the jaw, and Vi felt the impact like a lightning strike. She staggered backward, the pain exploding in her face, but before she could react, he shot her directly in the right thigh. The pain was immediate, unbearable. Her leg gave way, and she fell to her knees. A wave of helplessness flooded her, mixed with blind fury. "I won’t fall... not now..." She thought, but her body failed her. She couldn’t even get up.

"Get up!" She gritted through her teeth, trying to force herself to move to help Caitlyn. "Get up, damn it!"

"Do you see it?" Jhin said, leaning in close to Vi, as if contemplating a broken sculpture. "This is the true beauty of pain... a perfection that cannot be ignored."

Vi, between sobs, could barely keep her focus. Tears fell uncontrollably, but rage kept her standing, clinging to the last spark of hope.

"I’m not going to let it all end here."

Jhin smiled with pleasure, enjoying the spectacle he had created, as if he were a conductor watching his piece reach its climax. Every shot, every fall, felt like a masterpiece taking form.

He approached Caitlyn, admiring her fall with the gaze of an artist pleased with his work.

"Perfection is never clean..." he whispered, his voice soft and reflective. "It’s raw, unpredictable... and that’s what makes every detail sublime. Thank you for participating."

He stood up with a satisfied smile, walking away with the confidence of someone who had created their masterpiece. He disappeared into the distance, leaving behind a battlefield turned into his final canvas of blood.

Jhin had sealed his masterpiece, leaving three figures motionless on the ground, trapped in the bloody canvas of his final art. The tragedy echoed in every corner of that macabre stage.

Chapter Text

The darkness devoured her, damp and pulsating, as if the whole world were breathing against her. Vi tried to move, but her limbs seemed anchored in an endless void. A distant echo resonated in her mind, a mix of voices and indistinguishable sounds that dragged her toward the unknown.

Suddenly, a dim light pierced the darkness, revealing blurred contours that slowly took shape. Vi found herself in a narrow, gloomy corridor where cold, damp stone walls closed in around her. The air, heavy with mold and sweat, enveloped her, and each step echoed in the silence of the prison like a whisper from the past.

In front of her, a cell submerged in shadows, with no echo of light. Inside, a female figure was banging against the wall. Vi took a step forward but stopped dead when she saw another woman standing in front of the bars: Caitlyn.

But something was different. Caitlyn looked younger, her hair straight and loose, unlike the ponytail Vi had known her by, and her expression was hard with distrust. Vi observed carefully, feeling a strange disconnect, as if she were an invisible spectator of a scene already lived.

The Caitlyn before her spoke, her voice firm with an aggressive look.

"I took a look at your file. There's no record of you or your crimes. Whay are you here for?"

The figure in the cell paced back and forth, and when she passed through a faint light entering through the bars, a familiar face was revealed: a younger version of herself, with short hair, a look filled with distrust and contained rage. A chill ran through Vi as she recognized her own reflection.

"My sunny personality." spat the younger Vi, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

"You attacked a inmate. Why?"

"Why not?"

"He was a witness in an ongoing investigation."

"Hmm, bummer."

Vi, now simply an observer, felt the weight of past distrust pierce through her like a sharp needle. Not only did she see her past self, but the intensity of those feelings crushed her again. She wanted to intervene, warn her past self about the importance of that alliance, but her words drowned in the heavy air of the prison.

The conversation continued, marked by palpable tension. Caitlyn tried to build a bridge, but the imprisoned Vi, with her contained rage, raised higher walls than ever before.

"This was a waste of time," said Caitlyn as she moved away to leave.

"Couldn't have put it better" said the imprisoned Vi. "Hey, give Silco a kiss on that winning eye of his, will you?"

Hearing her own voice full of venom, Vi felt a sharp pang of shame that squeezed her chest. Those words, which once seemed powerful, now felt empty, as if they had come from a version of herself that no longer existed. She remembered the rage that had consumed her, the hopelessness that had led her to destroy everything good around her.

Caitlyn stopped abruptly, walking back to the cell and standing in front of the imprisoned woman.

"Silco? The industrialist?"

"Okay, this is getting old. Can you just send in whoever's gonna kick the shit out of me, so I can get on with my night?"

Caitlyn sighed, but instead of leaving, she took out a notebook, stepped closer to the cell bars, and showed it to Vi.

"Does this mean anything to you?"

The imprisoned Vi tensed at the sight of Caitlyn's sketchbook. Her eyes widened in surprise, a flash of recognition in them. She lunged violently at the bars, surprising Caitlyn, who stepped back, eyes wide open.

"Where did you get this?"

"My question first. you worked for silco?"

"Uh, they all do. How can anyone not know that? Where did you find this?"

"There was an attack. This is the evidence. I need proof, I'm to belevie what you're saying about Silco."

"I could get it for you, just not from in here."

Cait laughed and spoke again.

"What mad world would I trust someone like you?"

"Someone like me? You enforcers are all the same, just criminals in fancy uniforms. You know what? Find Silco yourself."

"I will, thanks."

Cait turned and walked away.

"Under city is going to eat you"

Before Vi could see more, the scene began to fade, the shadows reclaiming the space once again.

Vi, as an observer, tried to hold onto the image, but the darkness dragged her back like an overflowing river. The shadows took control, and the past swallowed her again, like a distant echo fading once more. However, a persistent sensation remained in her chest: the understanding that this encounter had been the first step toward an alliance that would change her life forever.

The darkness began to fade again, and the Zaunite emerged from the shadows, her consciousness floating between blurry images and sounds that were beginning to take shape.

The air was thick with cheap incense and sweet perfume, a heavy mix that seeped into the skin. The low, sensual, and monotonous music vibrated in the chest like a call to chaos. The warm, reddish lights revealed thick velvet curtains, worn floors, and figures moving between private rooms.

"This place..." murmured the real Vi, immediately recognizing the brothel in the suburbs of Zaun. "This was... before."

In front of her, two figures entered the place, walking down the hall: an obviously uncomfortable Caitlyn and a younger Vi, with short hair, a red jacket, and a defiant smile on her face. They walked together, yet seemed to be walking in different worlds.

"The one place all the secrets are spilled," said the younger Vi.

The real Vi stood still, watching how her past self spoke with a confidence that seemed foreign. That scene, which had remained forgotten in the deepest part of her mind, now returned with force.

"How exactly do you propose we go about this?" asked Caitlyn to the other woman.

"ley him think you work here," said the young Vi, turning her back to look at Cait.

"Excuse me? I will not," Caitlyn commented, annoyed by what the Zaunite woman had suggested.

The real Vi gave a nostalgic, almost amused smile. She remembered how uncomfortable Cait had been at that moment. How clear it was that this world felt strange to her... and how much Vi enjoyed provoking her.

"You know what your problem is?" The young Vi started to approach Caitlyn.

"Please. Tell me."

"You expect everyone to give you what you want. If you really want people to talk to you, you have to let them think you have them what they want."

"And what do I have?" Caitlyn asked with curiosity.

The young Vi circled her and scanned her up and down shamelessly, pausing for a second at every curve. Then she smiled mischievously and got closer to Caitlyn's face.

"You're hot, cupcake."

The real Vi let out a soft laugh, touching her head as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard.

"Did I really say that like that?" she sighed, both amused and embarrassed. "You were so cheeky, Vi. Although... I think it worked."

Caitlyn stepped back until she softly bumped against the wall. The remembered Vi put her arm against the wall next to her face, cornering her.

"So, what will it be? Man or woman?"

The remembered Caitlyn was perplexed. Her gaze moved from Vi to the hallways, searching for an answer she clearly didn’t have.

The real Vi crossed her arms, watching with a mix of nostalgia and clarity, as if she were seeing the origin of everything that would come later.

"You didn’t expect it... and I didn’t expect to meet someone like you." She whispered, knowing Cait couldn't hear her. "Nor did I expect that night to be one of the first times I felt I could truly trust."

At that moment, a man with a mask walked by them. The remembered Vi grabbed his arm naturally.

"Hi, I'm Pim. What's your name?"

"Matilda. But you can call her whatever you want," the young Vi smiled at Caitlyn.

"Yes, Matilda. My parents named me Matilda after my great-grandmother Matilda..."

The real Vi laughed softly to herself as she walked down the hall.

"And there you were, trying to maintain dignity with that absurd story. How adorable you were at that moment, Cait..."

The young Vi walked down the hall, entering a room and leaving Caitlyn behind in that awkward situation. The real Vi followed, like a shadow trapped in her own memory.

As they passed through the room, they returned to the same hallway, and the young Vi stopped halfway to the exit. Through a partially open curtain, she saw Caitlyn talking to one of the girls from the brothel. Cait was relaxed, smiling, speaking easily, almost flirting. Vi watched her with interest and smiled.

The real Vi, standing next to her younger self, also smiled, but with something deeper in her gaze. That smile wasn't just fun; it was revealing.

"It was there," she whispered. "It was there I knew you liked women. And it was there I started to realize... how special you were."

The scene began to blur again. The lights started to fade, the sounds turned off as if someone had lowered the world's volume.

The real Vi wanted to hold onto that image of Caitlyn smiling. But she couldn't reach it.

Everything turned dark again.

"Don't leave yet..." Vi whispered in the darkness. "Don't leave again..."

The world slowly began to light up again, as if someone had turned on a light after a long darkness. Vi blinked in confusion as the shadows took form and the contours of a new scene were defined. This time she wasn’t alone in the dimness: the environment was recognizable, rough and humid, with a dense air that smelled like rust and despair.

She was in the tunnels of Zaun.

A few steps ahead of her, Caitlyn and her younger version were leaning against opposite walls of the tunnel, their words tense, full of a reality Vi still didn’t fully understand.

The real Vi took a step forward, but like in the previous memories, her body had no impact on the world around her. She was invisible, incorporeal. Just a spectator of herself.

"I think we should cut the others loose" said the remembered Vi in a grave tone, her voice broken between determination and exhaustion. "Listen, if that he idiot is telling the truth, Jinx is going to have surprises in store for us."

Caitlyn, much tougher than in the previous memories, responded coldly.

"All the more reasons to bring backup."

The real Vi frowned. Caitlyn's expression wasn't the one she was used to seeing in her memory. It was rougher, her gaze colder. Still, there was a glimmer of pain and vulnerability hidden in her eyes. A pain Vi now remembered: the death of her mother.

"She'll smell their nervous you maile away and find a way to use them against us" the young Vi continued, looking at Caitlyn. "Tell me I'm wrong"

The Piltover commander didn't respond immediately. She lowered her gaze for a second, as if holding back emotions that threatened to break her.

"I can't let her away again. Are you sure you're...?"

"My sister is gone," the young Vi interrupted with a voice full of a harshness even the real Vi felt foreign. "There's only Jinx now. It has to has end."

A shiver ran through her body, as if the weight of what had been dragged her again. The remembered Vi who had lived those moments no longer existed, but she could still feel her scars.

"That's not true..." the real Vi whispered. "She was still there... somewhere, still Powder."

"I'm so sorry about your mother," the remembered Vi continued with evident sadness. "I'm sorry I can't bring her back, but please, just... Everyone in my life has changed. Promise me you won't change."

The real Vi felt the weight of those words in her chest. She had never fully understood just how much Caitlyn had really asked of her in that moment: not just to be her anchor, but her only certainty.

Then Caitlyn approached. The real Vi held her breath as if the memory was touching her directly. Without warning, she raised her hand and gently placed it on Vi’s cheek. It was an unexpected gesture, intimate, filled with desperate tenderness. Her eyes locked with Vi’s, as if searching for something that would endure beyond the chaos surrounding them. She leaned in softly, and after a few seconds of hesitation, brushed her lips in a slow kiss, filled with tenderness and desperation.

The Commander pulled her lips away from the Zaunite and stared at her before saying anything.

"I won’t" Caitlyn said confidently.

The real Vi placed a hand on her chest, feeling a wave of clarity flood her. It was the first time she felt everything so intensely: the heat of the kiss, the softness of the touch, the deep connection. It was as if her body was responding from the inside, as if her heart were clinging to that image with all its might.

Then, the memory broke.

As if a violent wind swept it all away, the kiss disappeared, and in its place came fire, screams, and violence. They were in the fight against Jinx and Sevika. The battle. The real Vi tried to advance, help, stop the bloodshed... but she couldn’t. She could only watch.

Her past self threw herself into battle with Jinx, while Caitlyn was fighting Sevika. The battle unfolded like a ballet of fury and desperation. Punches, gunshots, screams. Jinx's face distorted by rage. Sevika's metallic arm gleaming with every strike. The chaos was total.

The real Vi gritted her teeth, rage clouding her thoughts. She hadn’t realized just how close she had come to losing Caitlyn to Sevika. The fury of the battle had blinded her, but now, reliving the scene, she felt the terror of having almost lost Caitlyn forever.

Among the memories of the battle, everything darkened again, and another memory appeared. The battle was over, and both bodies lay exhausted on the ground in another place, seemingly outside where the fight had taken place.

Caitlyn stood up, staggering. There was no tenderness left in her gaze. Only contained rage, and she ran toward the exit where they had been expelled. She struck a rock with the back of her rifle, frustrated.

The real Vi recognized this scene. She knew what was coming. And still, her body trembled at seeing the next sequence.

"Cait..." the remembered Vi whispered, still kneeling but getting up to go to the other woman.

Caitlyn didn’t look at her at first, continuing to try to remove the rocks from the exit. Then she stopped, furious, and without looking at Vi, spoke.

"You stopped me."

Vi removed her gauntlets and walked slowly toward her.

"I shouldn’t had to," the remembered Vi exclaimed.

"I had the shot," Caitlyn's voice was cold and frustrated.

"That was a kid. What if you missed?"

"I wasn’t going to miss."

The real Vi closed her eyes. She remembered feeling fear, but not because of Jinx. Fear of what Caitlyn was becoming... fear of having lost her on the inside.

"What’s wrong with to you?" Vi asked, her voice barely audible, seeking an answer in the eyes of the woman she loved.

"I keep telling myself that you're different, but you’re not," Caitlyn spat. "It's her blood in your veins."

Then, she turned. She walked toward the stairs, but Vi grabbed her by the arm.

"Then why are you the once acting like her?"

Caitlyn sighed, angrily, spun around, and with the back of her rifle, struck Vi hard in the stomach. Vi fell to her knees, gasping for air. The enforcer looked at her as if she no longer saw the woman she loved but a mirror of everything she had lost. She turned halfway and climbed the stairs without looking back, her silhouette disappearing into the darkness.

The real Vi felt how the blow took not only her breath but a piece of her soul. The strike wasn’t just physical; it was the crack that shattered their bond into pieces.

The remembered Vi watched, tears falling, as the woman she loved walked away. Her present self, now kneeling beside her, felt an unbearable pressure in her chest, as if she could embrace the pain to contain herself. Silent tears ran down her face. She was reliving all the pain. All the love. All the hate. All the loss.

But she was also starting to remember. To feel. To understand.

"She didn’t keep her promise," she whispered. "But I brought her to this point, I hurt her so much by letting Jinx shoot at the council."

Her fingers clenched into fists on the non-existent floor of her memory.

"I don’t want to hurt her again. I don’t want to lose her again..."

The tunnel dissolved into shadows, but this time, the darkness didn’t bring confusion; it brought clarity.

Vi began to wake up, not from a dream, but from a deep amnesia that had clouded her being. From abandonment. From herself.

And what came next would be definitive.

The darkness wrapped around her once again, but this time, it didn’t feel like an escape. It was a preparation, as if everything lived up to that moment, only a prelude to something definitive. Something that would change everything she knew.

The darkness disappeared like a curtain slowly being raised over a familiar stage. Vi found herself again in the cell that had once been her prison, staring at the wall, her fists clenched, and her breath shallow. The air was dense, filled with buried emotions and unsaid words.

From outside the memory, the real Vi observed in silence, immediately recognizing the place. Her gaze stopped on herself, on that broken, exhausted version of herself, wounded not only physically but emotionally shattered. She was no longer just a spectator. Something had changed. She felt every breath, every tremor, as if her body wanted to merge with the memory, as if the past demanded its place in the present.

The clinking of keys interrupted the silence, and the remembered Vi turned her face toward the entrance. There stood Caitlyn, standing tall, serious, with her gaze fixed on her.

"Had a feeling I might find you here," Caitlyn said, her voice firm but with an undertone of worry that she couldn’t hide.

Vi didn’t respond. She just lowered her head toward the wall, closing her eyes for a moment before clenching her fist against it.

"I really believed she'd help," she murmured with a broken voice, recalling the moments before when she tried to save Jinx from that prison. Then, without looking away from the wall, she spoke again. "Say it. You told me so. I was an idiot to trust her. I went behind your back. I choose wrong every time."

She struck the wall in frustration and placed her hands on the back of her neck before continuing.

"And because of it... I've lost everyone."

The words hit the real Vi like a painful echo that reverberated in her chest. They weren’t just memories; they were open wounds that bled again before her eyes.

Caitlyn took a few steps until she was next to her, resting her head against the wall, her gaze serene and calculated, and her body relaxed.

"You really think I needed all the guards at the Hexgates?" she asked with a confident tone, but full of meaning and warmth.

The remembered Vi lifted her head sharply, meeting Cait's eyes. And in that moment, she understood. Cait had prepared her escape. She had given her the opportunity to leave with her sister. She had set aside the hatred and resentment toward Jinx, just for Vi’s happiness.

Cait smiled faintly.

"Sorry to say... you’ve grown a bit predictable."

Unable to contain herself any longer, Vi rushed toward Caitlyn, their bodies so close that every breath echoed the suppressed desire. With a firm hand on Caitlyn's neck, she pulled her toward herself, kissing her with a passion she hadn’t allowed to flourish until now. Caitlyn was surprised, her eyes opened for a second before closing to give in to the kiss. Her hands rose, resting softly on Vi's back as their bodies united with the desperation of those who had been apart for too long.

The real Vi felt her breath quicken with the memory, her heart pounding as emotions enveloped her. The kiss wasn’t just physical: it was the reunion of two souls that had been lost for so long.

Vi began to kiss Caitlyn's neck softly, the warmth of her lips causing a soft sigh between them. The salty taste of Caitlyn's skin mixed with the perfume of her hair, and every kiss was a silent promise of what still needed to be said.

But Cait pulled Vi's hands away timidly and took a step back. Her eyes searched Vi's, and her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Listen... while you were gone, I... saw someone."

The remembered Vi looked at her with a mix of surprise and tenderness. A small smile curved her lips.

"Cait... I don’t fucking care."

She kissed her again, this time with more force, more desire, with the urgency of reclaiming lost time. Her hands rose to firmly hold Caitlyn's face, who also held her face, pulling her toward herself. The air grew thick, filled with breath, desire, and contained emotions.

They took a second to breathe, their foreheads coming together and their eyes meeting in harmony of the moment.

Then Caitlyn took the initiative, spinning Vi and gently pushing her against the wall of the cell. Cait placed and lifted her right leg between Vi's legs, causing an instinctive reaction that made Vi lower her head, resting it against the neck of the blue-haired woman, breathing hard, caressing her back with reverence.

Cait pulled back slightly. Her gaze locked with Vi’s. Without saying a word, she slowly removed her black sweater and threw it aside, revealing her upper body. Vi, eyes wide, gazed at her from head to toe, almost unable to believe what she had before her. Cait blew a lock of hair from her face and leaned in again.

With slow movements, she began to unbutton Vi’s shirt. The fabric slowly fell, revealing the marked skin, tattoos on her back and arms, the scars that told her story. Cait's gaze moved across every inch of the Zaunite before resting on the wound covered by a patch on her side. Her face grew sad for a moment, remembering how that wound was inflicted during the battle at the commune, and the pain she felt seeing that woman on the ground, clutching her stomach. She gently placed her fingers on the bandage.

The remembered Vi stopped her, grabbing her arm and pulling her forcefully toward herself. Their lips met again, merging into a dance of kisses, desire, and reunion that neither wanted to end.

Cait ran her fingers from Vi's neck down to her clavicle, slowly moving across her skin as the passionate kisses continued without rest. Then it was Vi who took control. She spun Cait, pinning her against the wall.

Their lips kept building the moment of passion until Vi began, with some awkwardness, to unbuckle Caitlyn's belt. It was a tense moment... and also somewhat comical. They both looked at each other, laughing between gasps, while Vi kept trying to undo the belt. That laugh was intimate, one of those shared only with lovers who would give everything for each other, a tacit complicity marked in that instant.

Finally, Vi managed to unbuckle it and pulled Caitlyn toward her, squeezing her in an embrace, hands on the waist of the taller woman, continuing to kiss her neck while Cait's hands explored Vi's marked back.

Vi’s lips slowly descended, starting from Caitlyn’s neck and making their way down her body. Cait, with a look of desire, her eyes half-closed, followed Vi’s movements.

Vi reached her lower body, kissing her belly and a little further down, when the blue-haired woman closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall, emitting a soft moan that left no doubt about how much she was enjoying the moment. The air thickened, the breaths heavy in the cell. Skin against skin, total connection.

The remembered Vi savored each moment while Cait's muscles tensed. It was a passion unleashed, a total surrender. Cait's moan marked the climax, the end of a wild intensity and the beginning of a deep reconciliation.

The real Vi then felt the emotional blow. It was as if her soul, lost between dreams and memories, returned to its place. The weight of all the memories fell on her: the struggle, the love, the loss, the hope.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she merged with the scene. No longer were there two Vis: memory and present had collided into one soul. And in that instant, the memory shattered into a thousand pieces of light.

The darkness began to dissipate slowly, like a torn cloak in the wind. In its place, a storm of memories erupted in her mind: dull blows, the warmth of blood, the whisper of voices fading away, fragments of what had been… and what had been lost.

She saw her rage, her pain. The defiant look of her younger self, Caitlyn's anguish, the moments when she thought she was about to break and yet, kept moving forward. All the memories returned with suffocating clarity.

Everything was there, compressed into a single heartbeat, a single sigh.

Finally, the pieces clicked together. The emotions flowed with force, and she finally understood the magnitude of what she had lived. Each of those moments had defined her, and she finally remembered them all: the good, the bad, what she'd learned, and what she'd lost.

A broken sigh pierced her chest, as if she could finally breathe after a long time of suffocation. The pain in her thigh, the pressure in her chest, the blood, all of that disappeared for an instant, submerged in the whirlwind of her mind. Only memories remained. Unkept promises. The love that had been ripped from her life. Caitlyn's face, her gaze, her voice.

Vi opened her eyes, not a physical awakening, but something deeper. Something that had been buried in the bottom of her being, waiting to be freed.

The first thought that crossed her mind was her name, a truth as clear and urgent as the air she could no longer stop breathing.

"Cait..." she whispered, with a need that rose from the depths of her being.

It was a whisper, as soft as the wind, but with an intensity that left no doubt. A feeling of urgency ran through her body, a need to know that Caitlyn was still there. That she hadn't lost the person who mattered most to her.

She didn’t know if the name had escaped her lips or if it only resonated in her mind. She just felt her skin burn, not only from the pain in her thigh but from the intensity of the memories taking hold of her. The softness of the kisses, the urgency of the caresses, everything she had left behind... and the fear of having lost it forever.

Chapter Text

Smoke from the harbor rose lazily, blending with Piltover's dull sky, while the old masts creaked in rhythm with the wind. The salty breeze struck Sarah’s face, running along her skin like a cold slap. The sound of water gently lapping against the stone dock was lost among the shouts of fishermen and the clatter of rusty cranes. In the air lingered a dense smell of salt, oil, and something else… something filthy, as if the harbor itself were burdened with secrets buried deep within its depths.

Every step Sarah took on the worn wooden planks creaked, as if the dock itself were trying to speak to her, to warn her. Her gaze drifted for a moment over the dark waters sliding beneath the pier. In the distance, the dim lantern lights flickered, almost as if the fog itself were swallowing the city whole.

She stopped at the main gangway, fixing her eyes on the silhouette of the ship in question. Dark, smaller than she had imagined, but undoubtedly imposing. The Red Anchor looked out of place among the transport and patrol vessels. It flew no flag. And there was no movement on board.

"And who does this ghost belong to?" she muttered to herself, chewing the unlit cigar between her teeth.

Days earlier, she had remembered Caitlyn’s words when assigning her the case. Cold, formal. As always since what had happened with Vi.

"We need your charm and your... presence to talk to the people on the ship. If anyone can get information from those pirates without raising suspicion, it’s you."

Sarah understood the subtext. Caitlyn was giving her the green light to use her charm... but not without drawing an invisible line. She could use her flirtation as a tool. Just not with certain people. And they both knew exactly who she meant, even if the name wasn’t spoken.

A dockworker passed by Sarah, carrying a heavy box wrapped in canvas. He glanced at her, his face marked with wrinkles that spoke of years working at the port, but when their eyes met, something in his expression shifted. Not fear, but caution. As if Sarah wasn’t the first to come asking uncomfortable questions.

"I'm looking for information about that ship."

"What ship are you talking about?" he asked, not stopping, a forced smile on his face.

Sarah paused her stride and studied him more closely, noticing the leather bag slung at his side. Probably full of contraband—enough to know her curiosity might cost more than a few coins.

"The Red Anchor." Sarah's voice was low, almost a whisper. The words hung in the air between them, suspended like an unspoken threat.

The man visibly tensed, as if she had struck a nerve. Beneath the surface of indifference, Sarah saw something else: fear, maybe a warning, maybe regret.

"I don’t know anything. It’s not from around here," the man said quickly, and Sarah noticed how his tone grew more evasive, as if hiding something.

Sarah smiled, letting her gaze rest on him with warmth—warmth that was calculated. She knew how to make men feel comfortable... or uneasy, depending on what she needed. She stepped a bit closer, her eyes glinting with a mix of charm and curiosity.

"Are you sure you don’t know anything?" Her voice was soft, almost musical, as she played with the end of her cigar, letting it slide slowly between her lips. "A lot of people come through this port, but you... you have that look. The kind that says you know more than you're telling."

The man hesitated for a moment, eyes lost on her face. With the grace of someone who had played this game before, Sarah let her body lean just a bit nearer. No need for pressure. Sometimes, words weren’t the only thing that spoke.

"And the owner of the ship?" Sarah asked in a low tone, letting a thread of complicity slip into her words, as if she were sharing a secret just between the two of them. "Don’t you have a little story about him?"

The man swallowed hard, clearly more relaxed now under her spell. He knew he'd fallen into the trap, but also that he couldn’t resist Sarah’s softness.

"Name's Jasper Ruin... you can find him in a brothel in Zaun, in the Shrouded Souls District," he replied quickly, almost without thinking. The tension vanished from his face, replaced by a mix of relief and... something else.

Sarah nodded, smiling in complicity. A valuable bit of information. But she didn’t stop there. She kept approaching, letting her closeness grow a little more, never breaking her composure.

"And who runs the ship?" Her voice was even softer now, barely a whisper.

The man, visibly more relaxed now under her influence, let out a slow sigh.

"Only the captain. We never saw him disembark. Sometimes he shows up, gives orders, then disappears." His answer hovered near revelation, but Sarah knew it wasn’t enough.

Sarah's smile widened. A man who hides. That was all she needed to know that something wasn’t right.

She thanked him with a subtle gesture, holding his gaze as her smile remained. A simple gesture, but effective.

"Thanks, darling. That’ll be useful," she said as she turned on her heel, casting one last glance over her shoulder, making sure he left with the feeling that he hadn’t walked away without giving everything he had.

Sarah continued along the docks, her mind processing the information she had just obtained. As she passed two more workers, also from Zaun, she noticed the same pattern. Bought silence. All just as evasive, all more than willing to haul boxes without asking what or why. No one had boarded the ship more than once. No one remembered the captain's face.

"Silence bought. Loose pieces," Sarah thought, finally lighting the cigar, letting herself be enveloped in the thick smoke as her thoughts revolved around what she had uncovered. There was something dark in that cargo, and she wouldn't rest until she unraveled everything behind that floating shadow.

She stopped again in front of the Red Anchor. The wind carried a metallic creak from inside. That ship was hiding something, and she intended to find out what, even if she had to walk straight into the wolf's mouth.

That night, Sarah didn’t go home. She wandered the dark streets of Lower Piltover, her mind burning, the name "Jasper Ruin" ringing in her head like a cracked bell. She had been drinking for hours, trying to calm the anxiety gnawing at her, but the alcohol only made things worse. Each drink masked the tension momentarily, but at the same time, it made the weight of the unanswered questions heavier. A name that reeked of rust and old resentment. If the Red Anchor was a shadow, he was its anchor point—the origin of all the unease that haunted her.

The next morning found her with dark circles carved by insomnia, and the hangover burned in her throat like a bitter reminder of the useless effort to find peace. When she finally reached the Shrouded Souls District, the sun was just beginning to brush the windows of the rusted buildings, lighting a city that looked frozen in time.

The brothel was there, more a ghost trap than a pleasure haven. It had no sign. Just a chipped door, worn down by time, and an unlit streetlamp that made it seem like there was no life inside. Everything was wrapped in a thick fog of desolation, as if the district itself didn’t expect anyone to come back looking for answers.

Without asking a single question, Sarah pushed the door, which creaked open as if the place itself were protesting her intrusion. The interior was dark and heavy, reeking of cheap perfume, stale sweat, and trapped humidity. The dim light of a few flickering bulbs illuminated cracked brick walls that seemed as worn as the atmosphere itself. The place was silent, broken only by the faint murmur of distant conversations and the soft, scratchy music playing from some hidden corner.

An older woman, her face lined with deep wrinkles like cracks in the walls, watched Sarah from behind the bar. Her eyes, empty and tired, locked onto Sarah with a mix of distrust and something else—perhaps fear. The woman’s skin looked as though it had been stripped of all softness, like time and life in that place had left marks that could never be erased.

"I’m looking for Jasper Ruin." Sarah’s voice was direct, no frills, sharp as a blade. She didn’t have time for small talk, and the woman could feel it.

The woman took a moment to respond, her gaze fixed on Sarah with a blend of pity and what might have been caution. For a second, it seemed like she wouldn’t say anything, but eventually, a low sigh slipped from her lips.

"Upstairs. Second door on the left..." she said in a cracked voice, like each word cost more than the last. "Though I don't think you want to see him."

The warning hung in the air between them, but Sarah didn’t stop. She knew she had to press forward, no matter what she might find behind that door.

She moved deeper into the brothel, observing the worn walls, the flickering lights, and the thick air of despair that seemed soaked into the place. As she climbed the stairs, whispers rose behind her, murmurs that told her she wasn’t alone. Something in the atmosphere made her uneasy, like she was being watched—but no one confronted her.

When she reached the room where Jasper Ruin was supposed to be, something strange caught her attention. The door was slightly ajar, but a faint trail of dust on the floor showed a footprint. It wasn’t from an ordinary boot—it was larger and heavier, fresh, like someone had recently been there. Who else could have visited Jasper?

The door creaked as it opened, echoing through the stillness of the place. The nauseating stench that invaded her nostrils made Sarah pause, swallowing hard to avoid vomiting before she could investigate. Jasper Ruin’s body lay there, a horrifying vision of what had once been a man, now reduced to a putrid mass.

His once-dark hair was stained with black splotches, and his skin seemed to have decomposed rapidly. His eyes, wide open, stared at Sarah as if blaming her for his fate. An unsettling feeling crawled up her spine as she looked at the face frozen in terror.

"Damn it..." she muttered, her voice cracking from the disgust.

The window was closed. No one had aired out the room. The body had been decaying in the shadows for days, as if no one had dared touch it. At first glance, it looked like an overdose: a syringe still dangled from the edge of the bed, an empty vial on the floor.

But something was off.

Sarah leaned closer to the corpse, examining it carefully. There were no fresh marks on his arms. The syringe hadn’t been pressed. The neck... bore a small bruise. A thumbprint.

Sarah frowned. She slowly straightened, scanning the room. There were no signs of struggle, everything too neat... too staged.

It wasn’t an overdose. It wasn’t an accident. Jasper had been killed, and whoever did it made sure it looked like something else.

The thought churned her stomach worse than the sight of the body. She staggered into the hallway and barely made it before vomiting against the wall.

The stench clung to her clothes. The echo of silence pounded in her head: the only person who could have told her something about the Red Anchor was dead, and someone had made sure to silence him.

With trembling hands, Sarah wiped her mouth. She couldn’t let fear or despair stop her. It was time to move forward, because something much bigger was at stake. She lit a cigarette with unsteady fingers, took a deep drag, and descended the stairs without another word. Each step drew her closer to the next chapter of this dark mystery.

Her boots echoed in the silence, the weight of the information she'd found upstairs still hammering in her mind. The brothel’s atmosphere, still thick with grime and desolation, wrapped itself in a veil of mystery. At the foot of the stairs, she came face to face with the woman from before.

"What happened to the man in that room?" Sarah asked, her tone cold and calculated.

The woman looked at her like she didn’t want to get involved. Her eyes flicked toward the closed door where Jasper had been. Clearly, she had no intention of helping, but Sarah needed answers.

"I don’t know anything," the woman replied quickly, her gaze avoiding Sarah’s. "People come and go fast here. I just run the place. I don’t even see their faces."

Sarah frowned at the answer but didn’t press. The woman was probably scared—or just didn’t want trouble. Without another word, she turned toward the exit. She would go back to the port. If she wanted answers, she would get them one way or another.

When Sarah stepped out of the brothel, the previously clear sky was now covered in clouds, as if it knew something wasn’t right beneath it. She headed back to the port, her black jacket zipped to the collar, her hand resting near her revolver. She wasn’t expecting violence, but she had learned never to underestimate the dead—or the living who swore they knew nothing.

She went to the loaders’ rest area, an old shed where dockworkers took refuge between shifts. The smell of oil and sweat was thick and cloying. She spotted a group of young men sitting on crates, sharing stale bread and heavy smoke. Their eyes turned to her with distrust the moment she entered.

"I’m looking for the ones who worked with the Red Anchor," she said bluntly.

One of them, with tangled hair and a Zaunite accent, straightened up with a mocking smile.

"Lots of ships at this port, miss. Hard to say which is which."

Sarah pulled a gold coin from her pocket and spun it between her fingers.

All eyes locked on her immediately.

"One for every honest answer," she said, holding his gaze. "And only for the one who speaks first."

The boy hesitated... and cracked.

"I did. Three days ago. They hired us outside the port, not through official channels. We went up in shifts, one at a time. We loaded boxes... unmarked, no labels. Completely sealed."

"Who hired you?"

"A guy in a long coat and a hat. Never gave a name and paid in cash. Never came back."

Sarah tossed him the coin and turned to another of the youths.

"You were there too?"

The second hesitated... then nodded, nervous.

"Yeah, I saw a symbol... just for a second. On one of the crates. It was covered, but the cloth slipped. It looked like... an axe with a face in the middle. Like Noxian insignias, but older."

A chill ran down Sarah’s spine. Noxus. In Piltover. If the symbol was what she thought, it was special weaponry. Military contraband. Who was bringing it in? And why on a ghost ship?

"Anyone else talk about the cargo?"

"No. We were all hired not to say a word. We signed something, but no one read it. It was short, just one clause: 'What you see, you didn’t see. What you carry, you didn’t touch. What you know, you forgot.'"

Sarah narrowed her eyes.

"And you signed it anyway?"

"The pay was good," the first one said, shrugging. "And we all need to eat."

The pirate left the shed without answering. She lit another cigarette with shaking hands. The fog at the port was starting to thicken, like the place itself wanted to hide the sins it held.

"If all this is real, Caitlyn was right to worry..." she thought.

Vi’s name flashed through her mind, like an open wound. She had to find out what was happening and protect the person she loved. She wasn’t going to sit and wait. If something bigger was brewing on that ship, she was the right person to uncover it.

As Sarah moved along the docks, an older man watched her from a dark corner. His eyes, aged and weary, seemed to have seen more than they should. When Sarah passed close by, the man held her gaze for a moment, as if weighing her intentions.

"It's not wise to mess with those ships, miss," the man said, his voice hoarse, like someone who had spent years talking only to himself.

Sarah paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow. She had no time to waste on hollow warnings, but something in the man's tone made her hesitate.

"Why do you say that?" she asked, not turning, her voice casual but alert.

"Because those ships don’t show up without a good reason," the man coughed softly, his gaze darkening. "And when they do, they leave a trail of destruction behind. No one dares to dig deeper."

The man's words lingered in the air, echoing in Sarah’s mind. She didn’t like veiled threats or warnings, but something about his voice told her he wasn’t just rambling. There was something in his caution that matched what she felt in her bones. The Red Anchor wasn’t just a ship. Something dark clung to it. And the man, though vague, was right about one thing: the trail it left behind wasn’t just physical.

Sarah exhaled slowly. If what he said was true, then the only way to get answers would be to sneak aboard the Red Anchor. The idea of infiltrating the ship became a necessity, not a choice. If the port was just the tip of the iceberg, the ship was the core of the mystery.

"Time to slip aboard the Red Anchor," Sarah thought, deciding in that instant that she wouldn’t let fear or warnings stop her. If that ship was hiding something bigger than a simple shipment, she had to see it with her own eyes.

Night fell like a damp veil over the harbor. Lights flickered in the distance, and the echo of water lapping against the docks was the only sound breaking the silence. Sarah advanced along the rear gangway, hidden by the mist. She didn’t need authorization—only the stubborn impulse that had always driven her: to go beyond what was allowed.

She made sure no one was watching and climbed onto the Red Anchor using a loose rope hanging from the side. The metal hull was cold, its edges rusted. The ship seemed asleep... but something inside it throbbed.

Sarah crossed the empty deck, every step echoing in her ears. The air was heavy, dense, as if something were about to happen. The feeling that the Red Anchor wasn’t just a ship but a floating prison settled over her. Its structure, its shape, the way the planks creaked beneath her weight—everything gave her the sense the ship was alive. Was it possible that something inside was worse than what she had already uncovered?

The port lights barely reached the ship’s hull, as if the fog were devouring it. There were no signs of life, no captain giving orders, but Sarah could feel something watching from the shadows. It wasn’t paranoia. It was instinct. As if every corner of the ship hid a truth no one dared uncover.

She moved forward, dodging ropes and dirty tarps. Everything was silence and shadows. The main cabin door was slightly ajar. Sarah drew her weapon and pushed it open with her foot.

The interior smelled of mold and old dust. Maps of ancient sea routes covered the walls. The captain’s log was the only thing she found inside. At first, it looked like standard notes: navigation routes, dates marked without any notable entries. But near the end, something made her stop. It was written hastily, as if someone had been rushing to close the book before being caught.

"Cargo secured. Destination: interior. Do not open. Trust no one. If something goes wrong... sink the ship."

Sarah looked up, heart pounding like a drum. She left the cabin and descended through a hatch into the main hold. The creaking of the wood followed every step. Down there, among disorganized crates, she spotted one that stood out: covered in torn tarps, tied with loose chains. She crouched and struggled to undo the locks.

Inside was a miniature hell.

Bombs, armor, military-grade explosives, bearing Noxian manufacturing seals. Some still had visible codes. And next to them, heavy rifles wrapped in leather blankets marked with symbols she didn’t recognize... but they weren’t from Piltover or Zaun.

Sarah staggered back, swallowing hard. This wasn’t ordinary smuggling. This was a covert operation. And whatever they were planning, it was about to erupt.

Suddenly, a loud creak shattered the silence, and Sarah spun toward the sound—but before she could react, a shadow slipped behind her. Strong arms grabbed her from behind, pinning her against a solid torso.

The Captain.

The grip was so sudden and brutal that the air left her lungs. Sarah struggled to move, but the Captain's arms were like iron anvils, unyielding. His metal mask brushed her cheek, his heavy breath on her neck.

"Curious, huh?" the Captain's voice was deep and rough, laced with a silent threat. "Poking where you shouldn’t."

Sarah fought back, elbowing behind her, but he held fast. His grip around her torso was crushing. Her muscles tensed, seeking a way out.

The Captain chuckled softly, as if he had her right where he wanted. But he didn’t know Sarah. She never gave in. With a sudden twist, she leaned hard to one side to create space. Her right elbow struck his stomach—not enough to break the hold.

Desperate, Sarah reached for the revolver at her belt with the one hand she could still move. Time was running out. The Captain began to squeeze harder. She was on the edge of blacking out.

With a final effort, she turned her wrist and fired blindly. The bullet sliced the air and hit the Captain in the side, just under the ribs. He grunted, the hit jarring him, but still didn’t let go.

Seizing the opening, Sarah slammed her elbow backward again, this time striking his face. The Captain faltered. In that moment, Sarah twisted with all her strength and threw her weight forward, forcing him to stumble. She broke free, lunging ahead.

Adrenaline surged through her. Fear gripped her. The Captain tried to recover, but Sarah didn’t hesitate. She still held the gun. Hands shaking, she turned and aimed at him.

He moved to rise, but the terror of being caught again took over. Her finger squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, loud and final. The bullet hit his chest with a heavy thud.

The Captain gasped, eyes wide in disbelief, then dropped to his knees and collapsed.

Sarah stepped back, breathing hard, mind reeling from what she’d just done. The Captain lay before her, motionless, a dark stain quickly spreading across his shirt. It had been fast—but costly. The immediate danger was over. Yet she felt something far worse still lurked in the shadows.

The Captain’s fall left a cold echo in the air. His body didn’t move. Sarah stared at the scene, torn between shock and relief. Her heart pounded, breath ragged.

"I killed him..." she murmured aloud, the weight of it hitting her.

Her mind tried to justify it, but she knew the bullet hadn’t come from strategy. It was raw desperation. Her legs trembled as she stepped away. The ship, wrapped in mist, felt like it had swallowed the moment whole.

She walked to the gangway, each step ringing in her ears. The Captain was still on her mind, but she forced herself to focus. The Commander. Jasper Ruin. The Red Anchor’s secrets. She had to move forward.

She couldn’t stay there, buried by everything she’d uncovered. Something still didn’t fit. And it was time to tell Cait.

The golden sunrise bathed Piltover's rooftops in a warm glow, as if the sun were gently waking the city. Sarah arrived at the precinct with clenched jaw, dirty boots, and determination etched into her face. The night had been long—too long. And what she had found aboard the Red Anchor wouldn’t let her rest.

The hallways were quiet. Some enforcers sipped coffee, others prepared for shift change. She ignored them all and headed straight to the commander’s office.

Nora sat at her usual desk.

"Good morning, Miss Fortune, the commander—"

Sarah didn’t greet or wait. She pushed the door open hard.

Steb was inside, seated at the desk, reviewing documents with a grumpy expression. When he saw her enter without knocking, he raised an eyebrow.

"Didn’t sleep?" he asked flatly.

"Didn’t have time. Where’s Caitlyn?" Sarah asked, urgency in her voice.

Nora followed behind, looking alarmed.

"Sorry, Lieutenant, I didn’t get a chance to announce her."

"Don’t worry, Nora. I’ll call if I need you," Steb said, and she nodded, closing the door on her way out.

Steb sighed, setting the paper aside and facing Sarah.

"Caitlyn didn’t come in. She had a recon mission planned days ago outside Piltover. Said she’d be back by dusk if nothing went wrong."

Sarah clenched her fists. She couldn’t wait until dusk. The situation with the Red Anchor was urgent. The cargo, the explosives, whatever was happening...

"I need to speak with her now," she said, her voice tight with worry.

Steb, clearly annoyed by the pressure, stood and moved to a nearby table where the comms radio rested. He turned it on. A low hum filled the room. He adjusted the frequency. Nothing but static. He tried again. Still nothing.

"The damn radio's off," he growled, turning to Sarah. "Not even the commander left it on."

Sarah took a deep breath. She had to act.

"Steb, we don’t have time. The Red Anchor is carrying Noxian weapons. Whoever's behind this is planning something big. I need you to send reinforcements to the port. Now."

Steb watched her for a long second, weighing her words. Finally, he exhaled.

"You're right," he said, his tone shifting. "I'll send backup. You're not going alone." He turned toward the door, issuing orders. "Daemon and Lynn will go with you. They know the port. They move fast."

Sarah nodded. She knew this would take more than a couple of enforcers. But time was running out.

"Have them ready," she said, already heading for the door. "We leave the second they are."

Without waiting for a reply, she spun on her heel and stormed out. As she raced through the precinct halls, only one thing filled her mind: the port. The Captain's body. The vanishing evidence. Every second mattered.

Sarah headed straight to the parking lot where Daemon and Lynn were already waiting beside their bikes. Both enforcers looked at her immediately, matching the seriousness she felt.

"We're ready, ma'am," said Daemon, adjusting his jacket and glancing toward the distant port. "What's at the Red Anchor?"

Sarah nodded, wasting no time on unnecessary explanations.

"Explosives, military contraband, and a corpse."

The two enforcers exchanged puzzled looks.

Lynn, a woman with short hair and a fierce gaze, stepped forward with steady steps. But when she stopped in front of Sarah, her expression shifted subtly. Something in her eyes—a glint of curiosity, maybe admiration—betrayed that Sarah’s presence didn’t leave her indifferent.

"Do we know exactly what we're looking for?"

"Noxian weapons," Sarah replied gravely. "Everything we’ve seen so far is just the tip of the iceberg. We need to get in fast and disarm whatever’s there."

Lynn gave a quick nod and mounted her bike, waiting for Sarah to climb on. Sarah didn’t hesitate, getting on behind her. When she wrapped her arms around Lynn’s waist to steady herself, she noticed a slight tension in Lynn's body—as if that contact meant something more.

Daemon mounted his own bike, and within seconds, the engines roared, drowning out the quiet morning hum. They sped off toward the port, the thickening fog behind them like a curtain closing on everything they left behind.

___________

Steb remained in the office for a couple more hours, handling paperwork. At one point, he glanced at the radio with a worried expression. Eventually, he decided to turn it on one more time.

With trembling hands, he powered up the device and adjusted the frequency. The room filled with static. He left the radio on.

Some time passed before the noise faded slightly.

"Steb, do you copy?" Caitlyn's voice came through the radio, distorted by poor signal.

Steb straightened immediately, relief washing over him.

"Yes, Commander! What’s your situation?" he answered quickly.

"We were ambushed," Caitlyn's voice came clearer, though tired. "The site we were headed to was a trap. Send reinforcements to the north side of the city, at—"

The transmission cut off. Steb tried to recalibrate, but all he got was more static. The air felt heavy, and anxiety built in his chest. Something bigger was unfolding.

Steb took a deep breath and sprang into action. His mind raced as he moved to the gear locker. He needed to act fast, and every second mattered. Without delay, he grabbed his pistol, slipped it into his belt, along with a few extra mags. He knew chaos could break loose at any moment, and being ready was the bare minimum.

Once prepared, he returned to the radio and began coordinating the response.

"This is Steb!" His voice sliced through the static. "All units with transport, prepare to mobilize! I need you heading north immediately, to locate Commander Kiramman. We have no time to waste!"

He paused, waiting for acknowledgment, then continued.

"This is not a routine recon mission. The commander has been ambushed. We need immediate backup. Be armed and ready for anything!"

Without delay, he switched to the emergency medical frequency.

"Lieutenant Steb here. Dispatch ambulances to the northern sector immediately. Possible mass casualties. Repeat: multiple injured. Priority one."

He ended the call and exhaled, trying to keep the panic at bay. He had done his part. Now it was a matter of reaching them in time.

Steb didn’t waste another second. He surveyed the office one last time, adjusted his jacket, and stepped out with resolve. Time was running out.

_________

The port fog thickened even more as Sarah and the two enforcers, Daemon and Lynn, approached the Red Anchor. The ship lay silent, and everything around it felt desolate. No one moved. No one spoke. The air was heavy, as if something was about to happen.

Sarah stopped in front of the ship and scanned the area. Nothing. No signs of life. The Red Anchor’s deck was empty, ropes hanging loose, everything in place. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

"We're checking everything. Every corner," Sarah said firmly.

The two enforcers nodded and began inspecting the ship and its surroundings.

Daemon climbed aboard first, his footsteps echoing on the rusted metal. Lynn followed, while Sarah remained on the dock, watching. No one had seen the Captain leave the ship, but there was no trace of him onboard either—no blood, no signs of struggle.

Time felt suspended as Sarah walked along the side of the ship, eyes scanning every inch. Nothing. The hold was empty, no cargo, no movement. The crates were stacked, but looked like they’d been sitting there for weeks. No explosives. No contraband. Just an eerie, unnatural silence.

Sarah frowned. The Captain should have been there. She had shot him. Heard the body hit the floor. Where was it? Had he really died?

"Nothing here," Lynn called from the cabin, her voice edged with uncertainty.

Daemon climbed back down, looking worried.

"Nothing in the hold. No sign of the Captain," he said, his voice low, as if the emptiness unsettled him too.

Sarah moved to the center of the deck, scanning once more. Nothing. The Captain was gone. If he had commanded the ship and she had killed him, the body should be somewhere—in the cabin, on the deck, visible.

But there was nothing. Only silence and desolation.

Tension mounted. Sarah gritted her teeth, her instincts screaming that something was wrong. The Captain was dead, but his body had vanished.

Who, or what, was manipulating everything?

The question hung in the air with no answer. Sarah stood there, staring at the empty Red Anchor, feeling the puzzle pieces slipping further apart. Something didn’t fit, and the weight of uncertainty pressed on her chest.

At that moment, the silence of the port was broken by the static of the enforcers' radio. The crackle snapped Sarah out of her thoughts, and as soon as she picked up the device, Steb’s voice came through, thick with urgency.

"This is Steb!" he said, cutting through the static. "All units with transport, prepare to mobilize! Head north immediately, find Commander Kiramman. We have no time to waste!"

Sarah felt a knot in her stomach. Caitlyn. Vi. The last time she saw Vi flashed through her mind—the silent anguish, the weight of everything unspoken.

"This is not a routine recon mission," Steb continued, his voice sharp and commanding. "The commander has been ambushed. We need immediate reinforcements. Be armed and ready for anything!"

Fear took root in Sarah’s chest. They were in trouble. Caitlyn and Vi could be in danger. This wasn’t just a failed mission. It was something far worse.

Adrenaline rushed through her as she turned to Daemon and Lynn, ready to issue orders.

But before she could speak, a dull sound cut through the air—something large moving through the water.

Sarah froze. She turned slowly toward the horizon, where the fog was thinning slightly, revealing the silhouette of a ship.

It was dark, long, and like the Red Anchor, flew no flag and had no escorts. There seemed to be no one aboard, but something about it was deeply unsettling. It approached the port at a crawling pace, as if the fog itself were dragging it forward.

Sarah clenched her teeth, a shiver running down her spine. Steb’s voice and Caitlyn’s warning momentarily faded from her mind. All her senses locked onto the approaching vessel.

Daemon and Lynn had stopped as well, both staring at the ship with the same unease.

There was nothing normal about it.

The radio crackled again, but Sarah barely noticed. Every part of her focused on that ship—that shape emerging from the mist like a harbinger of everything they had been trying to avoid.

As it crept closer, a figure at the prow began to take shape. Still too distant to see clearly, but there was something about it... something wrong.

And deep down, Sarah knew: this ship wasn’t here by accident. Whatever was aboard it, whatever force moved it through the mist, was connected to everything they’d uncovered. And it had just arrived.

Chapter Text

Chapter 24 - The Wish List

The world came back to her in pieces.

First came the sound. Not just any buzz, but a piercing, high-pitched vibration, as if a thousand invisible needles were trying to pierce her eardrums from the inside. Then, the cold. That cold clinging to the skin, mixed with moisture, dirt, and a metallic hint that could only be blood.

Her vision was a blurry, flickering stain. As if her eyes couldn’t, or wouldn’t, focus completely. Vi blinked once, twice. She felt something rough on her cheek. Dust and ash. A sharp pain shot right through her temple. Like a lightning bolt without thunder.

She tried to move. Big mistake.

Her right thigh erupted in flames at the slightest attempt. The air escaped her in a low grunt, barely contained by clenched teeth. She brought a hand to her head; the skin was sticky, her scalp hardened by dried blood. Her jaw hurt as if hot nails had been driven beneath her skin. But that was bearable.

The unbearable was in front of her. Just a few meters away, Caitlyn lay motionless.

Vi tensed, and a new wave of pain shot through her body. She didn’t care. She used her elbows and pushed herself forward with her good leg. The gauntlet scraped against the stone beneath her, her breathing was a ragged gasp. She dragged herself, leaving a dark, wet trail behind. Every inch gained was torture.

"Cait..." she murmured. Her voice was barely a harsh breath.

The world narrowed to the body in front of her. Caitlyn lay on her back, blood pooling beneath her. The armored vest was destroyed right over her chest, and the wound kept bleeding by the second. Her skin was ashen, and her lips pale. Her chest didn’t move.

Vi felt the void swallowing her soul.

"No..." she whispered, pulling strength from nothing.

She searched for her pulse. Nothing. She leaned over and started chest compressions with trembling hands, no technique, no rhythm, only desperation. Then, forcing her aching jaw, she blew air into her lungs.

"Come on, Cait... please..."

She repeated, again and again. Compressions. Breath. Compressions.

The world trembled around her. And then, footsteps, voices, heavy loads, metallic echoes. To her dismay, they weren’t paramedics. Not yet. They were the enforcers Caitlyn had called in for reinforcements during the battle.

Vi barely raised her gaze. Steb was at the front, giving instructions to secure the area. A few seconds later, his eyes landed on them. He ran over, immediately kneeling beside Caitlyn and looked at Vi urgently.

"Let me!" he tried to take over.

"No!" Vi growled, not stopping. "I have to do it!"

"Vi... you're hurt."

"Then support me! But don't take this from me!"

Steb stayed silent for a second. Then, with a tense expression, he knelt on the other side of Caitlyn and began clearing space, cleaning blood, removing fragments of the broken vest. While helping Vi coordinate breathing, he used his basic equipment to bandage her leg, and still Vi kept applying compressions without letting go.

"Please..." she whispered. "Stay with me."

Then, from the corner of her eye, she spotted red and blue lights. More frantic voices echoed through the area as paramedics rushed in.

"Female patient, non-responsive! Severe thoracic wound!"

The paramedics moved quickly, but Vi didn’t let go of Caitlyn’s hand.

Electricity coursed through the woman’s body via the defibrillator. Vi felt time freeze as she waited for a miracle.

"Save her..."

"Clear!" one ordered. Vi barely moved, just enough not to obstruct.

The shock jolted Caitlyn's body, followed by a few seconds of absolute silence.

"Charging again!"

Second shock.

"We have a pulse! Slow, but it’s there!"

The team moved as one. They passed gauze, bandages, and tubes back and forth. The monitor started beeping in a soft rhythm.

"Immediate transport! Now!"

Vi's mind was racing, analyzing the scene for any comfort, something to understand what had happened. Then, her eyes locked onto Caitlyn’s shiny weapon lying a few meters away. She looked at Steb.

"Give me her rifle."

"What?"

"Her rifle, Steb!" she pointed to the weapon with her finger.

He hesitated for a second but then nodded. He stepped away, picked up the fallen weapon among the debris, and handed it to her.

Vi took it with both hands. She knew its weight and shape, but something felt off. She turned it, opened the compartment, looked for the core, and immediately her face hardened.

"The gem's gone..."

Steb frowned.

"What?"

"The Hextech gem. It’s not here... Someone removed it."

Her voice cracked between rage and panic, but a new voice pulled her out of her trance.

"Let me through!"

Vi raised her head.

A man in a white coat approached with a firm stride, pushing personnel aside with authority. Graying hair, face hardened by years of experience. His eyes scanned the scene in seconds. But when he saw the patient’s face... he froze.

"No..." he whispered.

The others looked at him, confused.

"Doctor Kiramman," one of the paramedics said, recognizing him. "Are you okay?"

Tobías didn’t respond. He quickly leaned down, checking Caitlyn’s condition. His daughter. His face shifted from disbelief to complete control.

"Prepare the line with double stabilizer. Keep pressure on the wound and monitor saturation. Don’t let it drop below eighty."

The doctor’s voice sliced through the air with authority, without raising his tone. The paramedics obeyed immediately. No one argued when he spoke.

Tobías Kiramman stood in front of Vi. His expression was stern, as always. Unyielding. But for a moment, just one, something cracked in his gaze when he looked at Caitlyn’s wounded body.

Vi felt her stomach clench. She tried to speak, but words stuck in her throat. All she could do was lower her head slightly, as if that gesture alone could contain the guilt burning inside her.

Tobías looked at her for one more second. He said nothing; there was no need. The silence between them weighed more than any scream.

"Stretcher ready," one paramedic informed.

"Let’s go," Tobías said, regaining control. "Ambulance is ready. I’m riding with her."

"Me too," Vi said, without hesitation.

The paramedic hesitated, but one look from Tobías was enough for him to relent.

Steb helped Vi up just enough to climb aboard. The pain in her leg was unbearable, but she hardly noticed. She settled beside Caitlyn, took her hand, and didn’t let go.

Tobías climbed in after. He sat across from them, arms crossed, lips pressed tight. He didn’t look at her, but he was there, present, holding back a world behind his eyes.

The ambulance took off, and though the heart monitor beeped constantly, Vi felt time had ceased to exist. Every second was an eternity, but she couldn’t stop clinging to Caitlyn’s hand, as if that were the only thing keeping her anchored to reality.

They sped like thunder through the illuminated streets of Piltover. Inside, everything was urgency—equipment running, air compressors, oxygen flowing. Caitlyn’s heart monitor was a constant echo, a fragile pulse that still held hope.

The ambulance thundered through the streets of Piltover. Inside, urgency reigned—machines humming, oxygen hissing. Caitlyn's heart monitor beeped steadily, fragile but present.

Vi didn’t move from her side. She held Caitlyn’s hand tightly, her dirty forehead pressed against Caitlyn’s knuckles. Her breathing was ragged, though not from physical pain. The weight in her chest was deeper.

"I couldn’t..." she whispered suddenly, not raising her head.

Tobías barely turned his head toward her. He had been watching the monitors, but his ear had caught her voice from the start.

"I don’t know if I did everything I could," Vi repeated, her voice hoarse. "I didn’t make it in time. I saw her slipping away in front of me and I didn’t... I didn’t know what to do. I gave her air, I gave her everything I had, but it wasn’t enough."

Her voice broke, not dramatically, but like something collapsing slowly from within.

"I tried," she added, even lower. "I swear I tried."

Tobías finally looked at her, his face still serious. The same face that had delivered impossible diagnoses, that had shut operating room doors knowing not all would come out. But now there was a different nuance, a small crack in the armor.

"I know," he said, his voice low and grave.

Vi lifted her head. Her gaze was full of pain.

"I wasn’t enough," she said. "I protected her with everything I had, but... he was faster, colder, more calculated. I... failed."

Tobías didn’t look away.

"It wasn’t your fault," he replied, firm and direct. "You can’t carry the responsibility for what they did to her."

A brief silence.

"I saw what you did," Tobías added after a few seconds. "I saw the trail you left dragging yourself to her, the blood on your hands, the marks on your clothes... No one does that for someone they don’t love more than their own life."

Vi didn’t answer immediately. She stayed still. Then she nodded once, head lowered.

"She is..." she began to say, but her voice trembled.

"I know," said Tobías, cutting her off before she could finish.

The tension between them didn’t vanish. There was no soft reconciliation, no easy words, just truth, raw and shared.

"If she makes it..." Vi said, her voice barely a thread. "I’m never letting go again."

"Then make sure she has something to come back to," he replied, eyeing the blood running down Vi’s thigh.

That was all. A few short words that said more than any hug. Then, both looked at Caitlyn again. She was still unconscious, pale, so fragile she seemed unreal.

The monitor began to emit a different tone. One of the paramedics immediately moved to the equipment.

"Pressure dropping."

Tobías leaned in suddenly.

"She’s going into shock."

The monitor's beep became sharper. Then, slower.

"Pressure dropping," the paramedic repeated, tense.

"She’s going into shock," Tobías said, now standing, face hardened.

Everything changed in seconds.

"Prepare Ringer’s lactate solution, direct IV!" he ordered while putting on new gloves with automatic movements. "Saturation?"

"Seventy-four. Dropping."

"We need to maintain perfusion! Increase oxygen to one hundred percent!"

Vi stayed next to Caitlyn, but the tremor in her body intensified. It was as if oxygen was starting to run short in her own lungs. Seeing her like that... so close to disappearing again... it tore her apart.

Tobías worked without hesitation. He precisely removed the temporary bandage, evaluated the wound, and applied pressure again with new gauze soaked in chemical hemostatic. One of the paramedics inserted a second IV. The liquid began to flow quickly.

"Mild fibrillation. She hasn’t lost the pulse, but she’s unstable," a technician informed, reading the monitor.

"Keep her that way," Tobías said, focused. "If it drops below sixty, we’ll lose her."

Vi leaned in a bit more, gripping Caitlyn’s hand with trembling strength, as if trying to pass her willpower through the touch.

"Hold on... please..." she whispered. "Don’t leave me."

Her voice broke, but she didn’t back away. She felt her leg like a block of fire, the bandage soaked, but all that was secondary... only she existed.

Tobías looked at her for an instant, just one. And for the first time since they boarded, his voice softened.

"Talk to her," he said without looking. "Sometimes that helps more than any medicine."

Vi did so without thinking.

"Cait... it’s me," she said, leaning even closer to her face. "I’m here, can you hear me?"

She passed her thumb gently over the back of her hand, and the world reduced to that touch.

"Remember our promises. Everything we dreamed... you can’t leave without fulfilling them."

The beep dropped for a second. Then, it stabilized—slow, irregular, but it climbed back up.

"Rhythm recovering," the paramedic announced.

Tobías exhaled deeply for the first time.

"Keep talking."

"You owe me a date without explosions, a night without alarms. You owe me years of adventures, everything we haven’t lived yet."

Vi leaned in and pressed her forehead against Caitlyn’s, as she had done before.

"I love you. Stay with me."

The monitor beeped again, steady now. Low, but firm. The numbers, though fragile, were no longer dropping.

Tobías sat down slowly again. The barely contained tremor in his hands betrayed him.

Vi didn’t move, didn’t cry, didn’t collapse. She just stayed there, holding that hand as if it were the only reason she had left to keep breathing.

Then, the ambulance stopped with a brief screech, the tires marking the end of the race.

The back doors opened immediately, and a gust of humid air blew in forcefully. Outside, the sky was covered with dense, gray, motionless clouds, in contrast to the blue sky of just hours earlier. It wasn’t raining, but the world felt paused, as if even the weather was unsure of what would happen.

"We’re here!" one of the paramedics announced.

Activity in front of the hospital was immediate. A medical team already awaited at the entrance with a ready stretcher. Tobías got out first, exchanging quick instructions with the staff. Everything was movement, voices, hurried steps.

Vi was still inside holding Caitlyn’s hand, her glove stained with blood. Her whole body trembled, but she wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t. She felt that contact was the only thing keeping her tied to this plane of existence.

The paramedics lowered the stretcher. Caitlyn didn’t move. The bandages on her torso were thick, the oxygen mask covered most of her face. Every heartbeat was assisted. The portable monitor emitted constant beeps, a reminder that the line had not yet been broken.

Vi climbed down with difficulty. A nurse approached to help her, but she pushed him away with a brusque gesture. She limped, her leg bleeding through the soaked bandage, her vision blurring at times, but she kept moving.

"Female patient, severe thoracic trauma, pressure stabilized but fragile!" a doctor shouted as they entered the main emergency hallway.

"Prepare OR two! Immediate surgery!" another ordered.

The hospital was buzzing. The hallways were full, the sound of monitors and medical radios mixing with the hurried murmurs of the teams. Vi saw none of that. Only her.

"Miss, you can’t go on," a nurse said, intercepting her.

"I have to be with her," Vi's voice was hoarse but firm.

The nurse's eyes scanned the Zaunite from head to toe, noting her injuries.

"You're losing a lot of blood. You need urgent attention too."

"I don't care."

The OR doors were already open. Caitlyn was crossing the threshold surrounded by doctors, tubes, and hands trying to save her.

"Cait!" Vi shouted. "I'm here! Don't go, damn it!"

Tobías appeared beside her. His face was still serious, but his eyes revealed a different kind of exhaustion: not physical, but emotional.

Vi staggered. Her legs were no longer responding properly, yet she remained standing out of sheer stubbornness. Her eyes were fixed on the OR doors, closing like a silent threat.

"I can’t lose her..." she said suddenly, her voice barely audible. But that phrase held a tangle of feelings.

Tobías stopped and looked at her sideways. And for the first time since arriving, something in him softened. Not entirely, but enough to show the man behind the doctor.

"As long as I keep breathing," he said firmly, "I’ll do everything possible to save her."

It wasn’t an empty promise. It was a declaration of war against fate.

Vi swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a second.

Tobías didn’t wait any longer. He turned without another word and entered the OR with determined steps. The doors closed behind him, taking with them the last spark of stability keeping Vi on her feet.

She took a step, then another—and immediately her legs gave way completely.

The nurse beside her caught her just in time.

"Careful!" she shouted.

"Room four, right now," a medical voice ordered. "She’s at her limit. Control that leg!"

Vi barely murmured:

"Don't leave her alone..."

And then, the world went dark for her.

The world was white at first. Not the clinical white of hospital lights, but a soft, diffuse white, like fog lit from within. Vi didn’t know if she was floating or walking, only that the pain had disappeared, as if someone had pressed pause on her body.

Then she heard a laugh, low, elegant, unmistakable.

She turned—and there she was. Caitlyn.

Sitting with her legs stretched under a tree that shouldn’t exist anywhere real. Its leaves were violet, like those in the Kiramman Mansion gardens, but they glowed with an impossible light. Caitlyn wore street clothes, no vest or badges, just a light, loose coat and her hair casually tied back.

She was smiling.

Vi stayed still. She didn’t know if she should move, if she dared to approach.

"Are you going to stare at me for eternity?" Caitlyn said with one eyebrow arched, that tone between amused and bossy she always used when Vi acted clueless.

Vi walked toward her. There was no pain, no weight, no fire in her leg.

She sat beside her, placing a hand on the blue-haired woman’s thigh.

"Are you..." she began to ask. Didn’t finish.

"Dead?" Caitlyn completed, still smiling. "I don't know. Don’t worry about that now."

Vi frowned.

"It’s not fair you look this good in my dreams. I’m all messed up out there."

"As always," Caitlyn replied sweetly. She scooted a bit closer, the wind (if that was wind) playing with her hair. "But also, as always, you're still standing."

Vi lowered her gaze. Caitlyn, for her part, rested her head on the fighter’s shoulder.

"I tried, but everything happened so fast..." Vi said, voice cracking.

"Vi..." Caitlyn said gently. "You held me when I needed it most. You went into the fire for me. Do you think that doesn’t matter?"

Vi looked up at her with shining eyes. She felt a small spark of hope, the same she had when she saw her breathe for the first time.

"You’re forgiving me in a dream. That doesn’t even count."

Caitlyn laughed, and that laugh hurt Vi in a beautiful way. Like a wound beginning to heal.

"Then wake up," Caitlyn said, leaning closer to her lips. Her hand cupped Vi’s cheek tenderly. "And hear it from my lips."

Vi closed her eyes at the touch and the proximity of her lips.

"Are you coming back?"

"That depends..." Caitlyn whispered. "Will you be there waiting for me?"

"Always."

The image began to blur. Like ink dissolving in water.

"Cait..." Vi tried to hold onto the moment. "Wait..."

"I’m right here," was the last thing she heard. "I’ll always be here."

And then, the white filled everything again.

The return was slow, confusing, as if her body took time to accept it still existed.

Vi opened her eyes slowly. The light filtering through the window was no longer morning light. It was warm, orange, tinted by the sunset. The sky remained clouded, but the sun slid between them in long, faint lines, painting the room with a soft, distant glow.

Breathing was difficult.

Her head throbbed, wrapped in a thick heat. Her throat burned. And her leg... her leg was an anchor, heavy, hot, and numb. Glancing sideways, she saw empty bags hanging from a metal stand. Blood. Two of them. Maybe three.

She tried to move, but a spasm stopped her. She groaned softly, teeth clenched, feeling a stab from hip to foot.

"Hey, easy," said a familiar voice, soft but firm. "Don’t get up."

Vi turned her head. Ekko was sitting in a chair beside her bed. He had a bandage on his head, his hands clasped, his eyes darker than usual.

"Where...?" Vi asked, her voice broken.

"Room four, Piltover Hospital. You're alive, barely, but alive." He attempted a smile that didn’t quite form.

Vi blinked several times. Everything was blurry and yet crystalline.

"How long...?" she murmured.

Ekko looked at her seriously.

"Almost six hours since you came in. You passed out from blood loss. They had to give you an immediate transfusion. A nurse said your blood pressure was so low they didn’t think you’d wake up."

Vi turned her head slowly toward the window. The shadows were long. The day was ending without anything improving.

"Cait...?" she murmured, barely a breath.

Ekko looked down. He took a second to answer.

"Still in surgery. Tobías is with her. No news yet."

Vi nodded slowly. Silence filled her, like stagnant water. It settled into her bones, slow, cold. She closed her eyes. Not from physical pain, though that still lingered, but from the other pain. The one with no name.

The image came to her again and again: Caitlyn in the ambulance, unconscious, skin as pale as the sheets, body jolting from the defibrillator, the monitor beeping as if undecided between surrendering or continuing the fight.

Vi clenched her teeth. She couldn’t erase it, not even if she tried. But then she remembered her dream, and a latent hope filled her soul.

"She’s strong..." she murmured, almost as if speaking to herself. "She’s been through worse. This... this won’t be what takes her down."

Ekko looked at her in silence. His posture remained tense, but there was something softer, more human in his expression.

"Caitlyn doesn’t go down easily," he said with a faint, restrained smile. "If anyone can pull through, it’s her."

Vi didn’t answer immediately. The tremor in her hands was still there, but that small affirmation, coming from someone who also knew Caitlyn, who had fought beside her more than once, lingered in her chest.

"She’s always been the cool head in chaos," Ekko continued. "The one who doesn’t break, just gets tougher."

But the silence that followed wasn’t peace. It was emptiness.

Vi's gaze fell on her own hands, bandaged, marked with dry blood. A familiar pang hit her chest.

"Sometimes I think..." she said quietly, "if she hadn’t gone to Stillwater. If I’d never crossed her path..."

Ekko looked at her, attentive, without interrupting.

"Maybe she’d be okay now. Maybe she’d still be the perfect daughter of House Kiramman, leading from the safety of her offices... not... not bleeding because of me."

Her lips trembled slightly.

"I’m the crack in her life. The mistake that ruined everything. I knew it from the start and still... I stayed. I let her love me."

The tone wasn’t dramatic, it was sincere. Harsh, like someone who had said this many times in silence, but now, for the first time, voiced it aloud.

"And now look at her..." she whispered. "She’s paying for something she should never have carried."

Ekko frowned and leaned slightly toward her.

"You know what I think?" he said calmly. "If you gave her a choice, she’d do it all over again. Every time. Because she doesn’t love you for how you arrived, she loves who you are when you’re with her. And because you saved her too, even if you don’t see it."

Vi closed her eyes. She swallowed hard, her jaw hurt. Her heart too.

"Then let her have the chance to tell me that again," she murmured. "Just one more chance. That’s all I ask."

Vi took a deep breath, letting the silence settle again. But there was something still turning in her mind from before, from the clearing blackened by gunpowder. Something that hadn’t left, not even among the blood, pain, and the ambulance.

"Before we boarded..." she said suddenly, her voice low. "I asked Steb to give me Cait’s rifle."

Ekko looked at her attentively.

"I guess... I didn’t want to let go of anything that represented her. Even if she was unconscious, barely breathing... I needed to have something of hers in my hands."

Vi looked down, remembering.

"But as soon as I held it, I knew something was wrong. The weight, the balance. I opened it and checked." She fell silent for a moment. Then lifted her gaze, steady. "The Hextech gem was missing."

Ekko frowned, though his reaction was more contained than before. As if deep down, he had already suspected it.

"They took it?"

"Yeah. It wasn’t broken, didn’t fall. It was stolen."

"It was Jhin," Ekko said bluntly.

Vi nodded.

"He knew what he was doing, what it meant. He didn’t just want to hurt us... that ambush was carefully planned to get the gem. That’s what I think."

Ekko took a deep breath.

"We’re getting it back," he said.

Vi nodded and looked carefully at the white-haired man.

The silence returned, thick like old fog. Vi stayed still, eyes fixed on some point on the wall, seeing nothing. Ekko remained close, not speaking, respecting the weight of everything left unsaid.

And then, the sound came.

First, distant: the whisper of wheels over smooth floor, fast, precise.

Then, closer: footsteps, controlled voices, movement behind the double doors in the hallway.

Vi lifted her head suddenly, ignoring the pull in her bandaged leg. Her heart jumped, painful and alive.

Ekko also straightened in his seat, eyes alert.

The door opened.

Two nurses entered pushing the stretcher, followed by a doctor reviewing a clipboard with charts and notes. Vi barely breathed, her gaze going straight to her.

Caitlyn was there, motionless, pale as marble, almost unrecognizable under the white sheet. Her chest rose and fell with difficulty, supported by an artificial respirator. A tube passed through her mouth, connected to a machine that exhaled for her in a mechanical, relentless rhythm. Her hair, damp and messy, clung to her forehead. A thick, blood-stained bandage crossed her torso, and an IV line clung to the back of her left hand. The portable monitor beeped slowly, each sound graver than the last.

She was still alive. Not breathing on her own, but the machine was doing it for her, pushing air into her lungs in a forced, foreign rhythm.

Vi didn’t move at first. Not a word, she just looked at her, as if the world had stopped in that image.

"She went into cardiac arrest during surgery."

The voice came from the side, serious, grave, but above all, familiar.

Vi turned her head slowly. Tobias was there, standing by the door, still wearing his medical uniform stained with blood, his face etched with hours of tension. His eyes were fixed on Caitlyn, but he spoke to Vi.

"It was sudden. We lost the pulse for a few seconds. We had to do everything we could."

Vi felt a knot form in her stomach.

"And now?"

Tobias took a moment to respond.

"We managed to stabilize her, closed the thorax, contained the bleeding. She's stable, but still critical. The wounds... are deeper than we thought and the odds are against her."

Vi looked at Caitlyn's pale face, every breath through the mask a tiny miracle.

"Now it depends on her," Tobias continued, softer now. "Whether she has the strength to keep fighting."

Vi nodded without a word, but the gesture was as firm as a vow.

Tobias watched her a moment longer. Then he spoke more gently, without losing his direct tone.

"She's here because you didn’t give up. Whether you know it or not, that kept her anchored to this world. Now... don’t let go."

Vi didn’t respond. Silence stretched out a few more seconds. The heart monitor gave its low, steady beeping, reminding them that life was still there... hanging by a thread.

She swallowed hard. Caitlyn's face, so still, so unlike the woman she knew, felt like a threat. A countdown.

Then she looked up, her eyes locked on Tobias.

"What if we used Shimmer?" Vi asked urgently.

Tobias looked at her, his face solemn.

"Shimmer might help regenerate tissue, but we don’t know how her body would react. There are too many risks."

Vi clenched her jaw, not wanting to hear warnings.

"But it could save her..." she insisted. "Will you do it or not?"

Tobias didn’t look away.

"It could give her a clearer chance," he admitted after a pause. "But we don’t have access to Shimmer here. Not since its use was regulated after what happened in Zaun."

Vi clenched her jaw tighter. Her mind already working faster than her body.

"What if I get it?"

"You?" Tobias asked, frowning. "You’re in no condition to move, and I can’t authorize something like that from this hospital."

"I’m not asking for permission. I just need to know if it would work."

Tobias looked at her for a few more seconds, then gave a single nod.

"I promise nothing. But if you manage to get a pure, uncontaminated dose, we could consider using it. But it will be risky."

Vi didn’t hesitate.

She turned to Ekko, still in the chair beside her hospital bed.

"Ekko..." she called, her voice hoarse but clear. "Are you good for a mission?"

He looked up. The tiredness in his face vanished in an instant. He already knew what was coming.

"What do you need?"

"Shimmer. A pure vial, as fast as you can."

Ekko stood immediately.

"Where?"

"You know where. Sevika."

Ekko nodded. No questions, just a silent understanding between two people who had faced chaos and lived to tell it.

"I’ll bring it," he said. Then, softer: "For her."

"Thank you..."

Ekko didn’t wait. He left on the errand, while Tobias turned around and walked out without a word, disappearing down the hallway.

The room returned to silence, but the air was no longer the same.

Without waiting any longer, Vi stood. She didn’t care about the pain from her injuries, nor the multiple tubes and needles, which she tore out immediately with her own hands. She sat in a chair beside Caitlyn’s bed and remained in silence for a long time, Caitlyn’s hand held in hers.

Being by her side, it felt like all the world’s noise had vanished. No more monitors, no voices, no footsteps in the hallway, just the rhythm of the ventilator keeping her alive, and the faint warmth of a hand that didn’t respond but was still there.

She leaned in, slowly, until she was closer.

"Hey, cupcake," she murmured, barely a breath.

She didn’t expect a reply, but saying it gave her something. A memory. A promise.

"You know what the worst part is?" she went on. "I ran out of witty lines. No sarcasm. None of that stuff I always used to mask what I felt."

She brushed Caitlyn's knuckles with her thumb.

"You scare me," she confessed. "Not you, or who you are. What you mean to me. I never thought I’d need someone like this."

She laughed very softly, a laugh half-broken.

"And of course, it had to be you. The one who always walks straight, who dives into the lion's den with tight lips and a clear head. Me... I'm the opposite. Pure disaster. Chaos wrapped in leather."

Her voice trembled slightly but didn’t break.

"But even so... you saw me. Not what others see, not what I’ve done. Who I could be."

She lowered her head until her forehead touched Caitlyn’s, with infinite care.

"And now I need you. More than ever."

Caitlyn’s chest rose and fell slowly. As if fighting to wake up.

Vi pulled back just a bit. She looked at her, and her face was so still it hurt.

"I don’t know if you can hear me," she murmured. "But if you are... you better be faking this coma to avoid getting scolded. Because I swear, Cait, when you open those eyes, you're in for a serious lecture."

She caressed her cheek gently, as if afraid to break her. A loose strand of hair covered part of her forehead, and Vi brushed it aside tenderly.

"What did I tell you about going in alone? Always so brave... so stubborn. Did you have to stand right in the line of fire? Again?"

She allowed herself a faint smile. One of those that doesn’t quite reach the lips but does reach the voice.

"And don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily. Because when you wake up, we’re going to talk about your dramatic heroine stunts. Yes, I’m talking about throwing yourself in without backup like you’re invincible."

Her thumb traced the line of Caitlyn’s fingers, going over each one with care.

"Even with all this... you still look beautiful. Even all bandaged up, hooked to tubes, with that monitor beeping. Of course, you have to show me up even now, right?"

The joke barely covered the emotion filling her throat.

"I told you I’d take care of you... and I meant it," Vi whispered, leaning closer. "My memories came back, Cait. All of them. Now you’re the only one missing."

A tear slid down the redhead's cheek as she stared at Caitlyn.

"As long as you're fighting to come back... I’ll be making a list," she whispered, barely a breath. "A list of everything we still have pending. Because yeah, cupcake... you’re not done with me. Not even close."

She stroked her face with her fingertips, slowly, as if tracing an invisible path back.

"First... I want us to leave Piltover. Just you and me. A couple days away from all this. No reports, no responsibilities, no weight from your family name. Just you, me, and clean air. I want to see you walk without looking over your shoulder."

She smiled softly, feeling the weight of nostalgia mixed with something like hope.

"Then... we’ll have dinner with Jericho. And yeah, I know the last time I offered you one of his slugs you looked at me like I was insane... but this time we’ll do it right. You pick the dish, I pretend I’m not offended, and he promises not to kick us out of his kitchen. Deal?"

Her fingers drifted into the blue strands of Caitlyn's hair.

"And we’ll eat ice cream. We never did, you know? I don’t know why. Maybe we were always running, hiding, fighting... But this time, we will. I want to see you complain it’s too sweet and then watch you steal mine without an ounce of shame."

She paused. Took a deep breath.

"And also... I want us to go to a party. A real one. With ugly lights, loud music, and people sweating everywhere. I promise I won’t sneak out after the first song. I’ll even dance with you."

She leaned in more, as if whispering to her was part of some healing ritual.

"And after all that... I’m going to tell you everything. Properly. No sarcasm. No walls. Because I’m not afraid to love you like this anymore. So openly."

Vi closed her eyes a moment. Her lips gently brushed Caitlyn’s hand.

"But for all that to happen, I need you to come back. Do you hear me? Don’t leave me alone with this list. You and I still have so much to live."

The sun was sinking behind the clouds, painting the sky a grayish orange. Light streamed through the hospital window, casting long shadows across the floor. Everything slowed down. Quieted. As if the world, too, was holding its breath.

"I’ll be waiting for you..."

With those words, she sat down and rested her head beside Caitlyn's on the bed, saying no more. She just gripped her hand tightly, as if that gesture alone could keep her in the present. As if it were enough to stop her from slipping away.

She didn’t know how much time would pass. Didn’t know if Caitlyn had heard her. But she would be there. With the list in her head, with her heart wide open. Waiting for the smallest sign, a look, a word, anything to mean her cupcake was coming back.

The day faded.

But Vi didn’t move, nor did she intend to.

Chapter Text

The flames danced over the brazier, casting sinuous shadows on the black marble walls of her chambers. Mel Medarda stared in silence at the map of Runeterra spread across the table before her. Her finger slowly traced the line separating Noxus from Demacia—just a stroke of ink between two opposing realities.

Noxus stood at a crossroads. War was no longer just a matter of the battlefield; it had become a question of internal stability. Swain wove his plans with the subtlety of a seasoned strategist, while LeBlanc, ever on the periphery, manipulated the shadows of politics. More than ever, Noxus needed a clear direction, and the power struggle within the war council only deepened the crisis. The recent defeat at the hills of Kindelspire had left visible scars on the army, and the whispers of weakness among their ranks were growing louder by the day.

Mel frowned. If Noxus didn’t quickly consolidate its control, the lesser houses might begin to question her leadership—and in that power vacuum, Swain would surely strike.

"War is not just the battlefield," she told herself, as her finger hovered over the path to Demacia. "It’s a war for the soul of Noxus. And tonight, I decide its fate."

A man forged by steel, incapable of seeing beyond the immediate. And yet, she needed him. His strength, his presence, his influence among the lower ranks of the army. If she wanted to solidify her control over Noxus without unleashing chaos, she had to bend him—or at least make him believe he held the power.

She rose and walked to the window. From there, the towers of the stronghold cut sharp lines against a crimson sky. Her reflection stared back at her, calm and indifferent, but within her chest pulsed a clear strategy: she couldn’t seduce him with flowers. Only with fire.

"What have I become?" she asked herself, not for the first time.

A thousand memories of glorious days in the City of Progress flickered in her mind—every person she’d known, every laugh she’d shared. But there was no room for sentiment now. That life was far behind. Darius, on the other hand, was here. Raw. Harsh. Predictable. Useful.

And that was enough.

She returned to her desk, took a small scroll, and wrote a few words in black ink:

"General Darius,

Tonight. High Command chamber. No escorts. Only war and truth.

Mel Medarda."

She signed it with her house seal, rolled the message, and sealed it with red wax. Summoning a courier, she watched as he disappeared down the corridor. Then, she allowed herself one last glance in the mirror.

"Noxus does not kneel," she murmured. "But its men do."

The smile that followed was as sharp as a naked blade.

The High Command chamber was one of the few rooms in Noxus devoid of military symbols. No banners, no swords hung on the walls, no suits of armor displayed as trophies. Mel had demanded it that way. Tall candles cast flickering light upon the red silk curtains, the dark walls, and the massive black stone table where a single map lay open: the southern border of Demacia, stained with drops of wine that looked like dried blood.

She stood waiting, leaning against one of the pillars, a wine glass in hand, wearing a dark, form-fitting dress that clung to her figure with the poised elegance of someone who knew how to wield beauty as a weapon.

When the door opened without warning, she didn’t flinch. The hard thud of boots echoed across the stone floor. Darius never asked for permission. He never did.

The general entered still wearing his armor, sans helmet. His expression was the same as always: a scowl of distrust, furrowed brows, and eyes that scanned every corner as if expecting an ambush.

"No guards?" he growled, not even offering a greeting.

"Were you expecting a trap?" Mel replied, turning toward him slowly, glass raised, as if the gesture were more calculation than invitation.

Darius didn’t react immediately. His gaze slid across Mel’s form, assessing each movement. It wasn’t lust he felt—it was calculation. What political move was this? What advantage was she seeking?

"I’ve always distrusted those who use seduction as a tool," Darius muttered, eyes locked on hers.

Mel smiled, letting the poison of her answer seep slowly into the room.

"And I’ve always distrusted those who think power is just a matter of muscle. You’re wrong, Darius. Power lies in words, in ideas, in the ability to move men like pieces on a board. It’s not about crushing—it’s about conquering."

Her tone was soft, almost melodic, but the words hit like a whip. Darius remained silent, tension growing between them.

"What you fail to understand," Mel continued, stepping closer, each stride drawing them nearer to a point of no return, "is that Noxus needs more than a general. It needs someone with vision. Someone who knows when to strike—but also when to pull back. And you, Darius, you only know how to advance."

Darius clenched his jaw.

"You’ve come to teach me how to rule Noxus from the weak side of the council? A Medarda cast out by her own clan into foreign lands?"

Mel felt the sting of the words, but didn’t let it show. She stepped forward, unshaken. Her gaze locked onto his, daring.

"I’m here to remind you that wars aren’t won with fists. They’re won with foresight. With strategy. With allies. And you, Darius…"—her head tilted just slightly—"you’re a weapon without a direction. Fearsome, yes. But without purpose. If you don’t know where to strike, you’re not a general. You’re just a hammer."

The silence was thick.

Darius didn’t speak. He stepped forward. His heavy boots cracked against the stone floor. Only a few steps now separated them.

"Careful, Medarda. No one guides my blade. Not even you."

Mel held his gaze. Unflinching.

"That remains to be seen."

For a long moment, the only sound was the hiss of a candle burning too fast. Their stares clashed like blades in the air before the first blow. There were no smiles. No coy glances. No cheap seduction.

Only tension.

Mel turned slowly, circling the table, letting her fingers trail along the edge of the map laid out across it. She stopped at the opposite side, her gaze cold and unwavering.

"I have a plan. One that needs a man with your strength. But also someone who knows when not to fight."

Darius narrowed his eyes.

"And what do you offer in return?"

Mel leaned in, just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage without making it overt. Her voice dropped a register.

"A victorious campaign. A legacy. And perhaps... other forms of satisfaction."

Darius didn’t answer immediately. He simply stared at her. Something in his expression shifted—not from desire, but from recognition: this woman wasn’t playing. She was betting everything.

Mel turned, poured him another glass of wine, and handed it to him without asking. Then she sat, legs crossed, unhurried and assured.

"Take it. If you’re able."

Darius took the glass.

Not in submission.

But because he had already accepted the challenge.

The silence that followed was more telling than any reply. Darius drank without looking away, and in that gesture, Mel knew the shift had begun. The tension had changed its shape. No longer resistance. Now, anticipation.

Got him, she thought. He let me in. Now I just have to pull him to the edge.

Mel rose with slow grace, fully aware of his eyes on her. Her fingers adjusted her dress, hugging it more tightly to her form. No need for words—the language of power had changed dialects.

Her hands trembled slightly as she moved around the table, her fingers brushing over the cold black stone. Despite her composed exterior, something inside her boiled: anticipation, strategy, danger. Every word, every stare from Darius reminded her that this was more than a game—it was survival.

Darius didn’t move. Only turned his head to follow her with his gaze. Still. Tense. Like a beast unsure whether to strike or allow the game to unfold.

Mel stopped in front of him. Even standing still, the general’s presence was overwhelming—his sheer existence seemed to distort the space around him. She raised her hand and traced the edge of his armored shoulder with her fingertips.

"Heavy," she murmured. "Cold. Like the ego you wear over your shoulders. And unnecessary, for what comes next."

Darius said nothing, but his jaw clenched.

Mel used the silence. Her fingers moved to the clasp at his collar, easing it loose with deliberate care. The metal piece dropped to the floor with a hollow thud.

"What are you doing, Medarda?"

His voice wasn’t angry. Just curious.

"Exploring your shape," she replied, arching one brow. "You’re a fortress, general. I want to see how easy you are to breach."

Darius growled—his patience fraying—but didn’t stop her as she unlatched the next segment, exposing his throat and part of his chest. The heat of his skin clashed with the cold of his armor.

He didn’t retreat. Not a single step. Even unarmed, he was a monster ready to tear through anything. But... he was yielding. She could feel it.

Mel placed both hands on his bare chest, solid as stone. The skin bore old scars, faded lines of ancient battles told without words. She pressed her fingers into him—not to comfort, but to assert control.

"Your body is history, Darius. What I want is to write the next chapter."

Then he grabbed her waist with a force that nearly lifted her from the ground. Mel held her breath for a heartbeat. There was no violence in his grip, but there was a threat—a silent reminder that he could shatter her if he chose.

She smiled.

"Do it."

The heat of the candles mixed with the cold steel of the room, and as Darius stepped closer, his presence grew so heavy Mel could feel his footsteps vibrating through the stone floor. Still, she didn’t flinch. Her stance remained upright, jaw tense, eyes locked onto his. The air thickened, crackling with something more primal than desire: dominance.

What followed was a brutal ballet of power. Darius shoved her against the table, sweeping aside maps with disregard. The sound of crumpling parchment and spilled wine echoed like a silent scream in the enclosed space, their breathing quickly replacing words as the dominant sound.

Mel didn’t resist. Instead, Darius turned her, placing her hands against the table. She arched her back, feeling her own body bend to his grasp—but not in surrender. She knew exactly what this was. She knew what he wanted to prove. But she was ready to change the rules.

Darius’s strength was tangible, his hand sliding down her thighs with the confidence of a man used to taking what he wanted. His touch was hard, unforgiving. Mel didn’t recoil. She pressed her legs tighter, resisting—not to stop him, but to remind him that even in this, she held control.

The heat rose in the room, not from the flames, but from the charge between their bodies. Darius leaned in, breath ragged, and Mel could sense every change in him, every heavy exhale cutting through the air like a warning bell. He didn’t lower her undergarments. He tore them in one brutal motion, asserting his dominance with raw instinct. His cock, hard like war-forged steel, pressed against her wet entrance, and in one punishing thrust, he was inside her.

A low, guttural moan escaped her lips—not ladylike, not demure. A growl of elegance. Of assertion.

Darius began to move with the force of siege engines. His hands gripped her hips with such intensity it was as if he meant to leave a mark beneath the skin. Each thrust was harsh, deliberate, rocking her against the table with a rhythm that cared nothing for delicacy. It was violence dressed as lust. Untamed. Demanding.

Mel clenched her jaw.

Pain flared through her spine, hot and cutting. Her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t pleasure—not the kind that softened a woman. But she didn’t pull away. Wouldn’t. There were things more important than comfort. Than relief.

She clung to the table like a strategist clutching her final piece on the board. Her back arched. Head bowed. Every motion perfectly calculated.

Darius groaned behind her, his restraint unraveling. He thought he was breaking her. Taking her. Conquering.

But Mel knew the truth. Real power wasn’t in brute force. It was in how much one could endure.

"That’s it?" she hissed through clenched teeth. Her voice trembled—not from pleasure, but from the strain.

He growled and drove into her harder, deeper.

She shut her eyes.

This wasn’t submission.

It was a transaction.

The pleasure would come later. The power would remain forever.

She turned slowly, her gaze fixed on him, eyes ablaze with the certainty of a woman who not only understood the game—she owned it. The silence surrounding their bodies was louder than any moan, more intense than any cry. Darius, the beast, had drawn closer than he had intended. But she didn’t back away.

Mel moved like a queen through smoke, every step an assertion, every breath a weapon. Even in pain, she was poised, calculating. She bent again against the table as he resumed the rhythm, brutal and relentless, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing like war drums in the chamber.

The sting returned—sharp, deep, persistent. Not what her body craved, but what her ambition demanded. Every thrust was a strike against hesitation. A claim. A cost.

Darius’s grip was fierce, his fingers digging into her hips with primal need. He thought he was leading, dominating. But Mel knew better. She guided the rhythm, subtly shifting her hips, tightening around him just enough to drive him wilder, to convince him of his own control.

She arched her back deliberately, not in surrender, but in choreography. In manipulation. Her body played the part—but her mind dictated the scene.

And then, with sudden force, she pushed him back.

He stumbled into the high command chair behind him, surprised by the reversal. Still breathless, he didn’t resist as she straddled him, lifting her dress just enough. She slid down onto him again—slow, deliberate, sovereign.

Her knees pinned him, her spine straight, her eyes locked to his.

"Look at me," she ordered, voice rough, nearly feral. No plea. A command.

Darius obeyed.

She began to ride him with ruthless precision, each downward motion a sentence, each grind an edict. She didn’t chase pleasure. She chased ownership. Of his focus, his breath, his limits.

Her nails sank into his shoulders like claws, her body tightening with control. He held her, yes—but not to guide her. Just to hold on.

His stare changed. No longer defiance. Not lust. Something deeper. A dawning realization: she wasn’t just a partner in this act. She was the architect.

When the climax hit her, it wasn’t release—it was coronation. Her whole frame trembled, a queen enthroned by flame. Her lip between her teeth, her breath shattered into pieces.

And Darius couldn’t hold back.

With a grunt low and guttural, he gripped her tight and spilled into her with raw, unstoppable force. He came deep and hard, flooding her as if to carve his name inside her body.

It spilled between them, leaking from her as she remained seated on his lap, unbothered. Her spine still tall, her chin slightly raised. A living monument to victory.

She didn’t clean herself. Didn’t flinch.

She stood slowly, letting it trail down her legs, letting it mark the ground between them like a fallen banner.

Not an accident.

A declaration.

Darius didn’t speak. He watched her in silence—as one might watch a queen depart a battlefield she’d claimed. His chest rose and fell with the weight of what had just transpired, sweat glistening on his bare torso, muscles still tense, but unmoving.

Mel walked across the chamber, adjusting her dress with unhurried grace. Her breathing was still heavy, but her eyes were clear. Focused. The rhythm of her footsteps echoed the certainty of her triumph. Not one earned by affection or softness, but by design.

She approached the table, now stained with wine and creased maps. Her fingers moved through the mess with purpose, finding the sealed scroll bearing her crest. She spread it flat upon the cold stone, smoothing its corners with the care of a ritual.

"This," she said softly, taking up a quill and placing the document before him, "is the plan by which you will conquer not only territory... but legacy."

Darius raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t moved from the chair.

"Controlled expansion through the eastern Demacian border," she continued, pointing to the inked lines that crisscrossed the parchment. "Forward outposts in the Kindelspire hills. Supply routes guarded by rotating patrols. I’ll secure temporary treaties with the minor houses. They’ll believe Noxus is not their enemy... until it’s too late."

She paused. Studied his expression.

"With this, you move forward unchallenged. Without drawing attention. Every victory clean. Every step assured. And best of all—no glory to share with Swain or LeBlanc."

That last sentence was intentional. Darius didn’t hunger for politics—he craved autonomy. Glory unchained.

Mel rolled the scroll and offered it to him directly. He didn’t take it.

"Well, general?" she asked with a slight smile. "Shall we sign the future together?"

He looked up, eyes locked on hers. Said nothing.

She read his silence as agreement. That was enough.

Stepping closer, she leaned down beside him, lips near his ear.

"I don’t need your obedience, Darius. Only your direction," she whispered. And he, wordless still, understood exactly what she had won—not just power, but a pact forged in the most intimate war they could wage.

He watched her from the side of his eye. Neither thankful nor broken. Just... considering.

Mel gave him no chance to speak. She stepped back with the same elegance with which she had arrived, lifted her glass of wine toward him like a silent coronation.

"To our campaign," she declared. "May it bring glory to Noxus."

Darius nodded, took the same glass she had given him hours earlier—and drank without hesitation.

Mel allowed herself a small, reserved smile. She placed the sealed scroll into a wooden box marked with her house’s insignia and turned toward the exit. She didn’t glance back.

She didn’t need to.

Darius was already hers. Not out of loyalty. But because she’d designed it that way.

As she walked through the dimly lit halls, a weight settled in her chest—not of regret, but of echo. Victory tasted of iron, of wine, and of silence.

She had done what she set out to do. Bent Darius to her will through flesh, through ambition, through veiled promises. But in the quiet corridors of her mind, Jayce’s face still flickered like a memory too stubborn to die. His warmth. His naivety. The way he believed in her without asking for anything in return.

It belonged to another life. One she had buried beneath layers of strategy.

Darius, the colossus, had surrendered. To her body. Her plan. Her terms.

She stepped into her chambers with the calm of an empress returning from war. The room was cloaked in shadows, lit only by the soft glint of a crystal candelabra. One by one, she removed her clothes, every fabric falling like the peeling of armor.

In front of the mirror, she paused.

The woman staring back was not the one who arrived in Noxus. Not the one who once loved with hope. Her hair was tousled. Her skin bore marks—a bruise on her hip, redness at her collarbone—testimonies of a raw, unpolished night. But more than that, it was her face that had changed.

A subtle smile played on her lips—sharp, unreadable. Cold. Satisfied. But buried beneath it, something quieter lingered. A shadow of someone who once longed to be loved, not used. Desired, not obeyed.

She stared longer.

"I bent him without a word. Led him without chains."

The phrase echoed in her head like a justification dressed as victory.

She poured another glass of wine, raised it toward her reflection, and toasted herself.

"Steel bleeds too," she whispered. "You just have to know where to cut."

The future loomed over her shoulders like a cloak of thorns. She had Darius. She had planted her hooks in the muscle of the empire. But how long could she hold him? How long before the beast decided to turn?

Noxian history was filled with generals who served—until they became too powerful to contain.

Control demanded sacrifice.

Was she willing to lose everything to keep what she had gained?

"When was the last time I felt wanted... not used? Loved... not obeyed?"

The thought struck like a blow.

No answer came.

Only the weight of the wine in her hand—and the hollow in her chest that victory could never fill.

She drank deeply, not to silence a doubt, but to drown the last piece of herself that still remembered softness.

Jayce was gone. And tenderness had no place in war.

She pulled a dark robe around her like a second skin. Blew out the lamp with a slow breath.

And as she walked to the bed, setting the empty glass on the mantle, she closed her eyes—

And let the silence give her the only thing that still felt real:

The illusion of control.

Elsewhere in the fortress, Darius sat alone in his chamber.

Sweat still glistened on his skin, warm against the tension in his muscles. The wine glass lay empty on the desk, tipped over like a discarded relic of something wordless and wild. Before him, the map Mel had unfolded remained open, the parchment creased and marked with decisive black lines.

His eyes lingered on the route she had drawn.

He didn’t question it.

He memorized it.

With a firm gesture, he folded the map, pressing it down as though sealing a private conviction. Then he set it beside his sword, aligning them both with care—as if strategy and steel were one and the same.

He sat still. The silence around him felt thick, not idle but heavy with unspoken weight.

Then, minutes later, he nodded once.

It wasn’t obedience.

It wasn’t surrender.

It was a choice.

Because even beasts—when they recognize another predator—must decide when to bare their teeth…

And when not to.

Chapter Text

The flickering lights of Zaun cast dancing shadows on the damp cobblestone streets. The air was thick with a mix of industrial smoke and the unmistakable metallic scent that characterized the underground city. Ekko walked with determined steps, dodging puddles and avoiding debris, heading toward the Firelights' hideout. The bandages covering his head wounds were silent witnesses of recent clashes, but he had no time to stop and heal; a life was hanging by a thread, and every second counted.

Turning a corner, he encountered a group of children playing with an old can, kicking it back and forth on an improvised field outlined with worn chalk. Their laughter echoed, defying Zaun's grim atmosphere. One of the kids, noticing Ekko, stopped abruptly and pointed in awe.

"Look, it's Ekko!" exclaimed the boy, his eyes shining with admiration.

The others turned, and a girl with tangled hair ran up.

"Ekko, is it true you can control time?" she asked innocently.

Ekko gave a tired smile, crouching to her level.

"Something like that, little one. But now I need all of you to stay safe and out of trouble, alright?"

The kids nodded vigorously, and Ekko ruffled the girl's hair before continuing on his way. These brief encounters reminded him why he fought: for a future where those children could play without fear.

At the hidden entrance of the Firelights' hideout, he knocked a specific rhythm on the metal door—a coded pattern confirming his identity. The door creaked open, revealing Tesha, a sharp-eyed young sentry always on alert.

"Ekko, you look awful. What happened?" Tesha asked, frowning at the sight of his bandages.

"Long story. Where's Scar? I need to talk to him immediately."

"He's inside, but you should let someone check those wounds."

"Later. There's something more urgent now."

Tesha sighed but stepped aside to let him in. Ekko walked down the narrow corridor lit by dim lights, nodding at several members working on equipment repairs and patrol route planning. The constant activity in the hideout was a testament to the group's unbreakable resistance.

In the main room, he found Scar, his second-in-command, leaning over a map spread across an improvised table. Scar's face lit up upon seeing Ekko, but joy was quickly replaced by concern at his condition.

"Ekko, what the hell happened to you?" Scar asked, dropping a tool he was holding.

"We were ambushed, but there's no time for details. How's everything? Any incidents while I was gone?"

Scar exchanged a glance with Lina, a strategist standing beside him.

"We've noticed some movement," Scar began. "The enforcers found a ship at the dock with dangerous Noxian cargo. We don't know how it got past unnoticed."

Ekko slammed his fist on the table, frustrated.

"We need to reinforce patrols. We should've known about this earlier. No more surprises."

"Agreed," Lina chimed in. "We've already reorganized the routes, but we need more personnel."

"Do whatever it takes. We can't afford more mistakes."

Scar hesitated before speaking again.

"Also, Sevika's been looking for you. Seems urgent."

Ekko frowned, processing the information.

"Sevika? That's odd. I actually need to talk to her. Did she say what it's about?"

"No, but she looked serious. She's waiting at what used to be 'The Last Drop.'"

Ekko nodded, sensing the gravity of the situation.

"Alright. Keep things under control here. I'm going to see what she wants."

Scar placed a hand on Ekko's shoulder, stopping him for a moment.

"Take care, friend. We don't need more losses."

Ekko gave a crooked smile.

"I'll do my best."

With that, he adjusted his bandages and left the hideout, mentally preparing for the encounter ahead. The walk to "The Last Drop" would be short, but the conversation with Sevika promised to be anything but easy.

The district where the once-famous bar stood had changed, and not for the better. Flickering lights dangled from exposed wires, casting sickly flashes that bathed the streets in hues of purple and green. Some buildings still bore the scars of the chaos left by Silco’s fall, but among the ruins, others had found opportunity. One of them was that bar, now Sevika’s stronghold.

Ekko stepped off his hoverboard in front of the building. Even from the outside, the place radiated hostility. The neon sign that once proudly displayed the bar’s name was now shattered, barely lit by a flickering spark. The metal door bore marks of recent impacts. The interior murmur was low, but heavy with intent.

Upon entering, the thick, dark air engulfed him immediately. The smell of cheap tobacco, rancid oil, and hot metal filled the space. Shadows dominated, and among them moved figures. Some faces were vaguely familiar from the past; others, completely new. Most didn’t greet him. Some didn’t even recognize him, but others eyed him with suspicion.

One thug was cleaning a shotgun at the bar. Another, a thin man with visible jaw implants, flashed a crooked smile from a dark corner. A tall, robust woman with a scar across her neck simply spat on the floor as he passed. Ekko ignored them. He was no longer the impulsive boy racing across Zaun’s rooftops, but he wasn’t here to make friends either.

"What’s the leader of the Firelighters doing here?" someone murmured behind him.

Ekko didn’t turn.

He climbed the metal stairs to the second floor, his boots echoing with each step. The rusty structure groaned as if protesting his presence. At the landing, a steel door marked by an engraved symbol—a claw entwined with a gear—signaled Sevika’s domain.

He pushed the door open without knocking.

The office reeked of strong liquor and machine grease. It was lit only by a hanging lamp whose frayed cables occasionally sparked. The walls were covered with schematics, sector maps of Zaun, weapon blueprints, and photographs marked in red ink. On a metal table lay weapon parts in various assembly stages. Behind it, adjusting her mechanical arm with a wrench, stood Sevika.

She didn’t even look up.

"You took your time," she growled.

Ekko shut the door behind him. He took a few steps, stopping at the edge of the desk.

"Your people aren’t exactly welcoming."

"And you’re not exactly wanted. You look like shit."

Then, without warning, Sevika lunged forward and grabbed him by the neck with one hand. Her mechanical arm hissed as it powered up, lifting Ekko a few inches off the ground. Her furious eyes bore into his.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she spat. "Bringing the commander of those damned Piltovians into enemy territory? Into this chaos? Are you trying to start a fucking war, kid?"

"We didn’t know it was an ambush. She’s dying," Ekko managed to say through clenched teeth. "And I’m trying to save her."

Sevika held him in the air a second longer, breathing through her nose as if restraining a wild impulse, then dropped him. Ekko landed on his feet, coughing. Sevika turned, grabbed a bottle from the desk, took a swig straight from it, wiped her mouth with her forearm, and spoke again without looking at him.

"What do you want?"

"Shimmer. If anyone knows about Shimmer reserves, it’s you. You know the tunnels, the routes."

Sevika laughed bitterly.

"Shimmer? Do you even know what you’re asking for? Everything was destroyed after Silco died. The reserves were burned. The mines were blown up, sealed with dynamite by our own. We buried it all."

Ekko lowered his head, swallowing hard. For a moment, silence took over the room. The hum of a light tube buzzed between them.

"All of it...?" he asked, a spark of hope in his voice.

Sevika hesitated. Her brow furrowed as she slowly turned to him.

"There’s one entrance. Old, on the side. We didn’t seal it... not completely. It’s dangerous, unstable. We left it because no one else could process the crystals to make Shimmer. Without fucking Singed, it was all useless."

"Then take me there."

Sevika let out an incredulous laugh.

"You’re joking, right? There’s nothing there. Just rocks, gas, and death."

"Maybe. But if there’s a chance to save her... I have to try. If there’s even one crystal, one drop, I might be able to make Shimmer."

She stared at him for a long time, evaluating. Her hardened expression showed rare inner conflict. Finally, she clicked her tongue and grabbed a jacket from the coat rack.

"If you die in that tunnel, I’m leaving your body to rot there. I’m not carrying you back."

"Deal."

They left without another word, descending the stairs under the curious stares of the thugs. No one spoke. No one dared.

Zaun swallowed the words as if it knew what was coming wasn’t for the weak.

The tunnel entrance was hidden behind the remains of an old metal structure corroded by years of humidity and neglect. Sevika kicked aside a loose sheet covering the passage’s mouth, revealing the dark interior that extended like a throat into Zaun’s depths. The escaping air was thick, hot, and reeked of stagnant earth.

"Hope you don’t get sentimental in there," Sevika grunted as she lit the lantern hanging from her belt. "This place doesn’t have time for feelings."

"Relax," Ekko replied, pulling his hood over his head. "I didn’t come here to shed tears. I came to save Caitlyn."

The tunnel descended in a slow, claustrophobic spiral. The walls were lined with cracked minerals, remnants of the Shimmer that once flowed in abundance. Ekko ran his fingers along the wall as he walked, noting how the texture had changed since the last time he saw an active mine. Now only dull residue remained, as if the earth itself had forgotten how to shine.

Sevika walked ahead, silent. Occasionally, she paused to examine a new crack in the wall, a fallen stone, a faint creak echoing from the depths. Though she tried to appear unaffected, Ekko recognized the kind of alertness she carried. It was the same he had when darting across Zaun’s rooftops with a half-formed plan. Distrust. Caution.

"Didn’t think we’d ever walk through something like this together," he said after a while, his voice muffled by the echo.

"Don’t confuse me with Vi," Sevika shot back without turning. "I didn’t come here to make peace. I came because if that Piltovian dies, every step toward peace between Zaun and Piltover goes to hell."

"I know," Ekko murmured. "Still, I appreciate it."

Sevika didn’t reply.

They continued for what felt like miles. As they delved deeper, the air grew denser and the darkness thicker. Sevika’s lantern barely cut through it, casting beams that faded before touching the tunnel floor.

Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed behind them.

"Did you hear that?" Ekko asked, jaw tightening.

Sevika spun quickly, the lantern shaking in her hand. Another crack, deeper this time, rumbled above. The tunnel ceiling began to vibrate violently.

"Run!" Sevika shouted.

But it was too late. A rain of stones fell just behind them. The ground trembled, and a block the size of a door crashed down inches from Ekko, knocking him off balance. Dust rose in a thick cloud, blinding him completely.

Ekko coughed, shielding his face, trying to get up. A smaller rock struck his leg, pinning him. He tried to move it, but it was too heavy for him alone.

Then, a sharp growl echoed in the gloom. Sevika emerged from the dust cloud, teeth clenched, her metal arm glowing from friction.

"You’re so damn slow! Don’t die on me now, bastard!" she snarled, yanking the rock away with her reinforced arm, freeing Ekko with a strained grunt.

"Thanks..." he murmured, still breathless.

"Don’t get mushy," Sevika huffed, offering a hand to help him up. "I just don’t want to explain to Vi that I left your ass buried in this dump."

Ekko let out a small laugh between coughs, then nodded seriously.

Once back on their feet, they quickly checked for more collapses and continued. The passage opened into a wider chamber with low ceilings, where once the veins glowed like lit arteries. Now, only smooth, colorless walls remained—empty.

Ekko walked to the chamber’s center. He stepped carefully, kneeling to inspect the floor. There were no visible traces of Shimmer. Not a spark, not a vein, not a shard. He stood and turned to Sevika, who was scanning the walls as if she couldn’t believe what she saw.

"There were still crystals here," she murmured to herself. "There were tanks, living crystals, light... Someone must’ve extracted them... How... how could it disappear without me noticing?"

Ekko stepped closer. He’d seen that look before: it wasn’t anger. It was shame.

"It’s not your fault," he said. "You can’t keep track of everything. Zaun changes every day. And all the entrances were supposed to be closed."

Sevika didn’t answer. But her jaw tightened.

Ekko stepped back a few paces, scanning the stripped walls. Something felt off. Very off.

"Something here is strange," he finally said, thinking aloud. "There aren’t even residues. No broken crystals, no dust. Nothing."

"So what? Maybe the collapse buried them deeper," Sevika suggested, though her voice lacked conviction.

"I don’t think so," Ekko said, crouching near the floor and running his fingers over a rusty grate. "This was looted... systematically. Like someone knew exactly what to look for and made sure not to leave a single crystal."

"Tsk..." Sevika scoffed, crossing her arms. "Probably some idiot from Zaun. Always snooping where they shouldn’t."

Ekko shook his head.

"No. This is too clean, too precise. We don’t even have tools to do this without leaving a trace."

Sevika looked at him sharply.

"So what are you thinking?"

Ekko was silent for a few seconds, as if the words were hard to form.

"If it was someone from Zaun... I wouldn’t worry so much. No one knows how to make Shimmer anymore. Not since Singed died. But this... this looks like the work of someone else. From outside. People from another part of Runeterra."

Sevika frowned, her expression hardening even more. Her voice came out as a growl.

"I really don’t like that."

They both fell silent.

Dust still floated in the air, and the echo of their conversation slowly faded between the chamber’s mute walls. Ekko frowned. Something didn’t add up. He took a few steps, turning in place, inspecting every corner with the trembling lantern in hand.

That’s when he felt it. He didn’t see or hear it. He felt it. A barely perceptible draft, a cold brush on his neck, like a whisper just out of reach. He stopped.

"Wait..." he murmured.

Sevika looked at him but said nothing.

Ekko slowly approached one of the side walls. He crouched, stood again, ran his hand over cracked rock, then over the edge of a collapsed structure. Nothing. He stepped back, raised the lantern, and moved it in slow circles. Then he saw it: a slight swirl in the dust, a draft that shouldn’t have been there. He crouched again, more attentively this time, and pushed aside a piece of rusted pipe. The metal creaked, revealing a dark hollow behind a fallen sheet.

"Shit..." he whispered, cautiously sticking his head through and raising the lantern.

On the other side, a passage stretched like a well-hidden scar. At first glance, there were no signs of recent digging, but Ekko noticed something in the way the stones had been replaced—almost meticulously. The walls looked smoothed over or coated with some kind of plaster, as if someone wanted to erase all traces of the labor it took to open that tunnel.

He crouched and ran his hand along the base of the wall. By touch, he detected what the eye barely caught: smoothed edges, tiny metal splinters embedded between stones, and friction marks on the rock.

"This was excavated. But camouflaged carefully. Deliberately," he said, pointing to the barely visible entrance. "This wasn’t here before, right?"

Sevika approached cautiously and knelt beside him. For the first time in a long while, her expression lost its firmness.

"No. I never saw this. Not when Silco was in control, not after. That entrance didn’t exist."

Ekko narrowed his eyes and slipped into the threshold. He lit the inside with the lantern and inspected it carefully. The tunnel walls were drier, slightly lighter... but the most telling sign was on the ground. Across the fine layer of dust, tracks crossed that didn’t belong to miners. Deep boot prints, some smaller ones, all heading in the same direction. And beside them, two parallel lines, faintly marked, as if something on wheels had been dragged with great care.

"They moved something here," he murmured. "Heavy, and they didn’t want it to be noticed."

His gaze followed the soft downward slope of the passage, veering away from the main gallery.

"This leads to..." He paused, frowning. "The outskirts of Piltover?"

Sevika slowly stood, crossed her arms, and spat on the ground with restrained rage.

"Great. Like we didn’t have enough problems with what’s already in Zaun."

Ekko didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the ground marks, his brow furrowed tighter.

"What if it was them?" Ekko said quietly. "The Noxians... The enforcers found a ship with Noxian cargo. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re conducting operations elsewhere too."

Sevika stayed silent for a moment. Then she muttered, almost to herself:

"Damn whoever it was!" she shouted. "You’ll have to find another way to help Caitlyn. There’s nothing left."

Ekko walked into the tunnel with slow steps, brushing the walls with one hand while holding the lantern with the other. The passage’s slope wasn’t steep, but enough to make the air feel heavier, more charged with each descending meter.

"You’re wasting your time," Sevika grumbled from behind. "If they took everything, they won’t leave even a damn crumb by accident."

"Then explain why they’d hide the tunnel so well," Ekko replied without turning. "Something doesn’t add up."

"The only thing that doesn’t add up is you playing detective instead of finding a way out before we get trapped."

But Ekko didn’t stop. With each step, his senses sharpened. He passed a fork partially blocked by rubble, then under an arch of eroded stone. He looked up at ceiling cracks, seeking any clue, a residual vein, a spark... but there was nothing.

Frustrated, he came to a sudden stop.

"Shit..." he whispered, turning on his heels.

"Convinced now?" Sevika huffed, arms crossed. "The only thing you’ll find here is dust and disappointment."

Ekko ignored her for a moment, taking a deep breath. Something in his memory stirred. An image, a blurry recollection from when the mines were still alive. A game he played with the other kids... something that worked even when everything seemed dark.

"Turn off your lantern," he said suddenly.

Sevika raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Trust me. If there’s even a spark of Shimmer left, we’ll see it better in the dark. They glow... even for a second. If there’s anything here, it’ll show itself."

Sevika looked at him like he was crazy, but finally sighed with resignation. She closed the lantern’s valve, and the fuel’s hum died with a click. Silence thickened. Only distant dripping and their held breaths broke the complete darkness.

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

And then, just as Ekko began to doubt his idea, it happened.

A single point. Tiny. Pink. Flickering. Floating just above the ground like a timid firefly in the void. No others. No trail, no vein. Just that minuscule fragment, suspended in the air as if the whole tunnel breathed through it.

Ekko carefully leaned in, not blinking, avoiding sudden moves. He reached out and caught it between his fingers like someone collecting the last trace of a memory. The spark shimmered a moment longer in his skin, then faded, swallowed by the darkness.

He held it between his fingers for a few seconds, barely breathing, as if fearing the slightest movement might disintegrate it.

"There you are..." he whispered, heart pounding in his throat. "Do you see it?"

Sevika knelt beside him, narrowing her eyes toward the spot where the spark had vanished seconds earlier.

"Damn..." she murmured, her voice rougher than usual. "It’s barely anything, but..."

"It’s hope," Ekko said, still staring at the dim crystal fragment in his hands.

Back on the upper level, the last rays of sunlight bathed the ruins of Zaun in a golden hue, as if for once, the city were breathing light. The sunset greeted them in silence, and they emerged covered in dust, sweat, and silences heavier than the fallen rocks. Sevika and Ekko emerged from the tunnel cloaked in dust, sweat, and unspoken words that said more than anything they could have voiced. The walk back to the Firelights’ refuge was long and quiet. Both were lost in thought, with the echo of that new tunnel still ringing in their minds. Something was happening beneath their feet—something involving Shimmer... and probably Piltover.

"I’ll figure out where that tunnel leads," Sevika said suddenly, breaking the silence. "If it goes toward Piltover’s outskirts, I’ll find the exit. Someone crossed that border, and I swear I’ll make them talk."

Ekko simply nodded. He was exhausted, but the pressure gave him no rest. His mind was already on the next step: how to extract those tiny drops of Shimmer and turn them into something useful. Something that could save Caitlyn.

When they entered the Firelights’ refuge, the contrast was brutal. The space opened into a vast underground cavern where a gigantic tree stood at the center, its branches stretching like protective arms. Despite Zaun’s toxic environment, the tree had managed to grow, becoming a symbol of hope. Small houses and makeshift structures clung to its roots and branches, lit by warm lights that hung like fireflies. The air, though full of activity, felt vibrant. Some children played among spare parts and gears, while adults repaired devices or updated maps on recycled screens. It was an oasis of hope in the middle of ruin.

Sevika frowned at the burst of energy.

"I don’t know how you live surrounded by so much brightness. All that vitality makes me nauseous."

Ekko let out a brief but sincere laugh.

"It’s that or live waiting for everything to explode. I prefer this."

They climbed a narrow ladder to Ekko’s workshop, hidden among the hollow branches of the great tree that served as the refuge’s backbone. It was a chaotic but alive room, where the walls were covered in wrinkled blueprints, ink-streaked notes, and formulas angrily crossed out or hopefully corrected. The tables were cluttered with broken components, recycled parts, unlabeled jars, and tools improvised from scraps of other tools.

A large semicircular window let in soft light from above, filtered by the tree’s leaves, casting dancing shadows on the metal floor. Ekko approached his workstation and, with reverent care, placed the tiny sample of Shimmer onto a magnetic holder. The capsule, barely the size of a fingernail, vibrated almost imperceptibly, as if it had a pulse.

"I’m going to need everything," he said softly, more to himself than to Sevika. His tone wasn’t rushed, but firm. With every word, he activated a different device, calibrated a sensor, adjusted a lens. "Precision tools, stabilizers, reagents... and more patience than I have left."

Sevika watched him with arms crossed, leaning on the doorframe. Her raised brow was a mix of skepticism and resignation.

"And you think I’m just going to stand here watching you play suburban alchemist?"

Ekko shot her a sidelong glance, a spark of humor flickering amid the pressure.

"No. You’re going to be my assistant."

"Excuse me?"

"I need hands. Mine are already full. Plus, I don’t have time to run up and down stairs every time I need tweezers or a condenser. It’s not glamorous, but it’s urgent."

"Tsk..." Sevika rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the wall. "I knew there was a catch."

Despite her complaints, she got to work. First with heavy steps and muttered protests, but without stopping. Every time Ekko called for a component, Sevika rummaged through rickety shelves, dusty metal trunks, or boxes marked with almost illegible symbols. She brought glass jars, rusty conductors, an old microcentrifuge that still hummed like new, thermal filters, and even expired alchemical compounds no one else dared to touch.

"Are you sure this powder is stable?" she asked, holding a jar with a softly bubbling purple substance.

"I’m sure we don’t have another option," he replied without looking up.

The hours stretched as if time inside obeyed a different rhythm. When night fell over Zaun, the refuge’s bustle quieted. Children’s voices faded, generators shut down one by one, and the great tree was wrapped in warm silence. Only the workshop still hummed with sparks, buzzing, and the constant murmur of ideas passing between tools.

At one point, Sevika stood still. She watched Ekko from a corner, without interrupting. She saw him handle impossible pieces with hands marked by fatigue, but eyes full of resolve. He was sweating, but he didn’t stop. His back hunched over the table as if the weight of the world rested right there, between formulas and gears. And though she would never admit it, that stubbornness... she found it admirable.

"What if it doesn’t work?" she asked, her voice softer than usual, almost human.

Ekko took a while to answer. He didn’t look away from the vial.

"Then she’ll die," he said, without drama. Just truth.

The words lingered between them, floating in the workshop’s thick air. No need for more.

When night gave way to dawn, Ekko still hadn’t stopped. Dark circles ringed his eyes, but his hands didn’t tremble. Outside, the refuge slowly stirred awake, and inside the workshop, pressure was an invisible monster pushing him forward. The drops were almost ready. So close. So very close.

Finally, under the warm midday light, Ekko lifted a small vial. Inside floated vibrant, pulsating pink drops. There weren’t many. Maybe not even enough. But they were real.

"You did it," Sevika murmured, almost as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear it.

"No. We did it," he corrected, his voice low, his eyes never leaving the glowing liquid.

He turned to Sevika, and for a moment, the silence between them was more powerful than any words. Neither needed to explain what was at stake. Neither pretended not to care.

Sevika looked at him with her usual firmness, but her eyes were no longer blades. There was a pause in her breathing. A restraint.

"Just remember something, genius," she said, her tone more grave than sarcastic. "If the commander dies... neither Piltover nor Zaun will find peace. Everything will go to hell. And no Shimmer or miracle will save us."

Ekko nodded solemnly. He knew it. He had known it since they stepped into the mine.

"I’m taking this to Caitlyn. It may not be much, but... it’s something. It’s the best we have."

Sevika stepped toward the workshop door, stopping before crossing it. She rested a hand on the corroded metal frame.

"I’ll go check out that new tunnel later. I want to know who the hell dared to dig into our ground and why. If I find anything, I’ll let you know."

Ekko gave her a brief but sincere look of gratitude.

"Do it. And tell me if you see anything strange. Anything. Even the slightest clue."

"Sure. But if I get in trouble, you owe me one."

"I’m already down three," Ekko replied with a tired smile.

Sevika let out a grunt, barely disguised as a laugh. Without looking back, she disappeared down the ladder into the refuge’s sleeping silence.

Ekko remained a moment longer in the workshop, alone, with the vial between his fingers like something fragile and precious. The pink glow still pulsed inside, weak but constant, like the heartbeat of something that refused to die.

There was no time to waste.

With meticulous movements, he secured the vial in a padded case and stored it in one of his belt capsules. Then he approached his hoverboard, strapped the harness to his chest, checked the pressure on the thrusters, and placed his feet on the grips with the familiarity of someone who had jumped a thousand times... but never with so much at stake.

Before launching, he gave one last look to the empty workshop. There were no words or promises left. Only action.

Then, without hesitation, he leapt off the platform and vanished into the air.

The afternoon sun was beginning to descend when Ekko dove into the void from the platform. A bluish trail followed him through the tall shadows of Zaun, cutting through the city with urgency, heading for the hospital. At his back, hope beat. Small, radiant, contained in drops that could change everything.

Chapter Text

The air was thick, almost heavy. The scent of incense floated in the room, but something denser, more visceral, lingered too: the palpable tension, as if every word spoken might become a sentence. The members of the Black Rose remained in the shadows, their eyes dimly glowing in the candlelight. The floor echoed with every step, and each whisper seemed amplified, as if secrets were seeping through the cracks of the hall.

LeBlanc sat in the center of a hidden chamber, its walls covered in ancient tapestries, arcane symbols, and chandeliers burning with reddish flames. The air carried a faint scent of incense and metal. Around her, select members of the Black Rose took their places in the shadows, their faces hidden, their gazes sharp. Among them, one stood out not by size... but by presence.

Vladimir. Dressed in his usual crimson cloak, his skin pale as wax, his deep red eyes gleamed with restrained disdain. He played with a golden goblet, turning it between his fingers as if part of a delicate ritual.

LeBlanc let the silence stretch a moment before speaking. Her gaze swept over the council members as if she were reading each of their thoughts. Vladimir, ever so confident in his power, allowed himself a smile, but LeBlanc knew his desire to control everything always left traces. That smile was nothing but a mask of arrogance. As for the others... some feared decisions, others longed for chaos. But she was the one who decided what would happen next.

"Ambessa has fallen," LeBlanc announced calmly, her voice floating over the thick air of the chamber. "And though her daughter, Mel, has taken formal control of Noxus's diplomatic affairs, her compassionate vision is an obstacle. A threat to our true interests."

There were murmurs. Some nodded mildly. Others, less patient, already frowned.

One of the hooded figures spoke.

"Are we to fear a Medarda without an army?"

Vladimir answered before LeBlanc. His tone was silky, almost melodic.

"Compassion is more dangerous than the sword. Steel you see coming. Ideas... they seep through the cracks." He smiled without joy. "And that girl has seen too much of Piltover."

LeBlanc eyed him with a slightly raised brow.

"Mel is not her mother, that much is clear. She has principles, and that makes her more unpredictable." She paused, her fingers tapping the armrest of her chair. "We can manipulate her, yes. Push her, divert her will. But if she becomes an obstacle, we will take other measures."

"Measures...?" Vladimir asked with a flash of interest. "Like the one you took with the letter?"

LeBlanc smiled.

"There’s no need to rush. For now, Mel is being watched. Her messenger bird no longer belongs to her. We intercepted her third attempt to contact Piltover."

"And the response?" someone else asked.

"She has received none," LeBlanc replied dryly. "The letter was replaced. Now Caitlyn believes everything in Noxus is stable. That Mel trusts the high command. And, of course, that Hextech technology is not at risk."

Vladimir let the goblet slide to rest on the table’s edge. He looked at it as if he could read traces of nonexistent blood in the bottom.

"So... the commander is still alive," he murmured. "Interesting."

"For now," said LeBlanc. "But she’s too valuable a piece on this board. We’ve already decided what to do with her."

Vladimir looked up. A gleam lit his expression. Not euphoria. Something worse. Anticipation.

"Then let the game continue. But remember, LeBlanc..." he lowered his voice. "If your plans fail, it won’t be your magic that keeps them alive. It will be my thirst. And I, my dear, have quite a lot of it."

LeBlanc held his gaze for a second. Then nodded slightly without losing her smile.

"I will not fail."

And in the center of the chamber, the fire flickered, casting shadows that danced on the walls like omens. The game had just begun, and in Noxus, as always, blood would be the currency with which every move was paid.

The grand council hall was cold and solemn. The tall columns cast angular shadows over the dark marble, and the imperial banners hung like silent witnesses to every word spoken within.

Mel felt like a porcelain piece in the middle of a chess game made of steel.

In front of her stood Swain, with his hands clasped behind his back, and a man she had not seen before. He introduced himself as Grimp, head of technological innovation in Noxus. His face was sharp, consumed by sleepless nights. His long, nervous fingers moved constantly, as if tracing invisible diagrams in the air.

"Miss Medarda, I’ve heard wonders about Hextech technology," said Grimp with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "According to my reports, Piltover has achieved impressive feats."

Mel observed him closely. Every gesture. Every word. He wasn’t like Jayce. He didn’t have his passion or overflowing genius. Grimp was something else: more pragmatic, darker. He seemed obsessed, and that unsettled her.

"Indeed," she replied firmly. "But its use should not be limited to the military. Hextech can change lives, not just win wars."

Swain intervened with his grave, measured tone.

"Ambessa never understood that," he said. "She was blinded by immediate victory. You, on the other hand, Mel, have the capacity to see beyond the battlefield."

Mel didn’t respond immediately. She studied him carefully, searching for the hidden double edge in his words. With Swain, there always was one.

Grimp, for his part, didn’t stop moving, as if every word that left his mouth was a spark igniting a new fire in his mind. His gaze lit up when speaking of Hextech technology, but something in his tone showed he didn’t understand why Mel didn’t share his enthusiasm for using it militarily.

"What Piltover has accomplished... is only the beginning. Hextech is the future, Mel. The future! And you..." A thin smile crossed his face. "You can’t hide that deep down, you see it like I do."

"Vision without integrity is just ambition in disguise," she finally said. "And I will not turn Noxus into a twisted reflection of what Piltover fought to protect."

Grimp tilted his head, intrigued.

"A noble stance. But Demacia doesn’t share your philosophy. And Noxus cannot afford to lose."

"War won’t stop just because we wish it," he continued. "The only way out is a victory that ensures lasting peace. And you could help us achieve it."

Mel looked at him sternly. Her fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the table. She clenched her jaw, feeling the weight of the decisions she had to make. The idea of handing over Hextech technology for war turned her stomach. She had seen the consequences in Piltover. Technology wasn’t just a tool; it was a weapon, a risk that could change the course of history. But she couldn’t show doubt in front of Grimp or Swain. Not without knowing if the next step would be the last.

"I will never surrender Hextech technology as a tool of destruction," she declared. "And in any case, there’s little left to surrender. After Jayce’s death and Viktor’s disappearance, that technology has nearly vanished. Only one artifact remains in active use."

Grimp frowned slightly.

"Which one?"

"A rifle," she answered. "In the hands of Commander Caitlyn Kiramman. And I trust it will remain so."

Silence took over the room for a moment. Grimp crossed his arms, frustrated. Swain, on the other hand, nodded slightly, as if he had just gotten exactly what he wanted.

"A pity," the scientist said in a low voice. "The possibilities were endless."

Then, recovering his diplomatic tone:

"Still, you might be interested in learning about our own research. There might be something useful to you... from a strategic perspective, of course."

Mel nodded without smiling.

"I’m here to understand the entire board. Only then can I decide how to play this game."

The meeting ended shortly after, but as Mel left the room, her heart was racing beneath her dress. She knew something wasn’t right. Swain’s words were too calculated. The way Grimp looked at her... as if he was already dismantling her piece by piece.

And worst of all, her intuition never failed.

Once Mel left the room, Swain slowly turned toward the scientist with a calm expression that concealed a veiled threat. Grimp felt a chill run down his spine as silence took hold of the space.

"Grimp," Swain pronounced slowly, "there’s something else I want you to develop for me."

The scientist nodded, nervous but intrigued by what the leader might request. Swain approached steadily, his footsteps echoing through the chamber.

"I need a special chamber. One capable of draining arcane energy from an individual and transferring it to another. Imagine it: channeling that energy, controlling it, and granting it to whomever we choose."

Grimp froze for a moment. As a scientist, the idea fascinated him deeply, but ethically he knew it crossed dangerous boundaries.

"It’s... an intriguing proposal, General Swain," he replied cautiously. "But also extremely dangerous. Directly manipulating arcane energy in living beings can have unpredictable consequences."

Swain stared at him, his cold gaze piercing the scientist’s uncertainty.

"Danger is relative, Grimp. And the rewards, infinite. This is not a request, but a strategic necessity. I trust you have the capacity to make it happen."

Swain’s tone left no room for refusal. Swallowing hard, Grimp decided to yield under the pressure, knowing he had no choice.

"Very well, General. I possess the materials and technical knowledge necessary to begin immediately. However, there is a significant issue," Grimp explained, his eyes now glowing with true scientific curiosity. "To channel and drain arcane energy from a living individual, I need a stable arcane source to deeply study its behavior. Only something like a Hextech gem could give me the precision I require to develop the device."

Swain drew a cold, confident smile.

"You’ll have that Hextech gem, Grimp. Begin your preparations. I’ll personally make sure you get what you need. Just don’t fail me."

Grimp nodded slowly, fully aware he had just sealed his fate. Swain left the chamber with firm, decisive steps, leaving the scientist alone with his thoughts and rising unease.

The night in Noxus was dense, almost suffocating. Through the window of Mel’s room, the city stretched out like an ocean of shadows and fire, distant and cruel. The wind barely stirred, and the palace’s silence was unsettling. Mel felt trapped in a prison of marble and gold, surrounded by luxuries that neither belonged to her nor comforted her.

Sitting at her desk, lit by the trembling light of an oil lamp, she held the pen with trembling fingers. The paper before her was smooth, white, intimidating. She had started this letter three times, and three times she had torn it up.

This time, she had to finish it.

She took a breath, closed her eyes, and let the weight of distance and uncertainty pour out through the ink.

"Dear Caitlyn,

I’ve started this letter more times than I dare to admit. Maybe because I fear what I have to say... or maybe because I’m terrified you won’t read it.

Since arriving in Noxus, I’ve tried to keep my head high, uphold what I learned in Piltover, and protect what I still believe in. But something... rotten lies here. Something moves in the shadows, even among those who sit at my table.

I’ve sent three letters before this one, and the silence that followed is consuming me. Are you alright? Are you alive, Caitlyn? I’ve read every report, every news piece with trembling hands. And still, I know nothing. Not knowing about you is a weight that breaks me inside.

You must be careful. Noxus has set its eyes on Hextech technology, and you are the last link. Your rifle is more than a weapon. It’s a key. A threat. An obsession for some of the most dangerous men I’ve ever known.

Don’t trust anyone. Not even those who pretend to share your ideals. War has many faces, Caitlyn... and some of them smile too much.

If you’re reading this, I want you to know I still think of you and everyone I met in Piltover. Every day. Every night. Sometimes I dream of the days when everything was simpler and Piltover was the peak of peace and progress, with our only concern being how to keep making the best decisions for our people. If I could choose where to be now... I would definitely be by your side, helping you as you walk that fine line between life and death.

With sincere affection,
Mel Medarda"

Mel read the letter in silence, without correcting a single word. Her vision blurred for a moment, and she had to blink several times before sealing it with the Medarda family crest. The red wax hardened on the paper like a vow.

She stood slowly and crossed the room to the balcony. There, in a small silver cage, one of her messenger birds slept with its plumage tucked in.

She picked it up gently.

"Fly safe and swift," she whispered in a broken voice. "And may she... please, may she be alright. May we see each other again soon."

She tied the letter carefully to its leg, opened the cage, and watched it disappear into the night sky, like hope cast into the abyss.

Mel remained on the balcony for a long while, staring northward. Toward Piltover. As if she could break the distance with her eyes. As if, by wishing hard enough, she could be with everyone she once knew again.

And even in Noxus’s cold heights, with the whole empire at her feet, the only thing she longed for... was to go home.

In a deep chamber of the imperial bastion, far below the hallways known to the people, a perpetual flame burned in a black stone brazier. Around it, three powerful figures shared the silence with the weight of a judgment.

Swain stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, watching the fire as if he could see the future in its flames. Darius, to his left, remained motionless, arms crossed and eyes steely. LeBlanc, as always, elegant and enigmatic, was barely visible beneath the hood that covered part of her face.

Swain was the first to speak.

"Do we have anything on Mel?"

LeBlanc stepped forward. Her tone was soft, almost melodic.

"It’s hard to spy on someone with the arcane bond she possesses, but not impossible. I managed to intercept her latest letter." She raised a hand. A small black raven emerged from the shadows and perched on her arm. It carried a letter sealed with red wax.

"What did it say?" Darius asked.

"Another warning," she replied. "Addressed to Commander Caitlyn Kiramman. Mel suspects we’re interested in Hextech technology and fears someone might try to take the rifle."

"So the information won’t reach the commander," Swain noted.

LeBlanc barely smiled.

"No." She opened her hand, and the raven vanished in a faint pulse of violet light. "I replaced it with a more... reassuring message. All Caitlyn knows is that Noxus is calm. Nothing to fear."

"Perfect," Swain said, stepping toward the center of the room. "Then it’s time to act."

Darius frowned.

"Are you sure we’re ready?"

"Grimp is developing what we need. We’re only missing the final piece." Swain looked up. "And that piece... is in Piltover."

He turned to the shadows at the back of the room.

"You may enter."

From the threshold emerged a tall, slender figure, moving so softly that his steps barely made a sound on the marble. He wore black and white, with a long cloak brushing the ground, and a porcelain mask that revealed only gleaming eyes—full of something unsettling: delight, madness, inspiration.

Jhin entered with smooth, almost feline steps, like a predator stalking its prey. His eyes, hidden behind the porcelain mask, gleamed with dangerous light, as if analyzing every corner of the room. He didn’t speak quickly or urgently. Each word seemed deliberate, as though savoring the art of conversation, playing with them as much as with death itself.

"A stage worthy of a tragedy," he said in a low, musical voice. "Black stone, eternal fire, masks... I like it."

Swain didn’t blink.

"Do you understand what’s expected of you?"

"Of course," Jhin nodded, walking in circles like an artist before a canvas. "A death that not only breaks the body but also the soul of the city. A masterpiece. The final act of a heroine."

"Not just that," Swain corrected. "I want the Hextech gem. Whole. Intact. That is your primary objective."

"And the second—a masterpiece... with a name," Jhin murmured, spinning a bullet between his fingers. "Commander Caitlyn Kiramman."

Darius watched him coldly.

"Don’t you think you’re exaggerating? Just steal the gem. That’s all we need."

"Death is not merely an act," Jhin replied with a mocking bow. "It is art. And like all art, it must be... unforgettable."

Swain turned to Darius.

"Is everything ready in Piltover?"

"Our men are already infiltrating through the port," he confirmed. "We hired a pirate to transport them in waves, disguised as cargo. No one will suspect Noxus. Not even Zaun’s inspectors are aware."

"And the ship?" LeBlanc asked.

"An old hull that once belonged to a Noxian pirate. We sold it to a Zaunite smuggler to cover our tracks. He’s likely dead by now—no loose ends."

Swain nodded, pleased. Then turned back to Jhin.

"Are you ready to depart?"

Jhin spun on his heel as if greeting an invisible audience. Then bowed his head.

"Every movement... every explosion... every note... is already written. All that’s left is to raise the curtain."

Swain stepped forward.

"Once in Piltover, report to General Slinker. He’ll brief you on everything. You may need to infiltrate a criminal gang in Zaun to remain unnoticed." His eyes burned with intensity. "Do it clean. Do it perfect. But above all... make sure no one understands what happened until it’s too late."

Jhin smiled under his mask.

"Beauty lies in the disarray. When everything falls apart... only then do they hear the music."

Swain extended a hand.

"Then let the show begin."

The door closed behind Jhin, and silence stretched across the room, heavy and ominous. Swain, ever calculating, seemed one step from issuing his next command. But Mel, on the other side of the palace, was already making her own decision. She knew the threads of her future were tied to every word spoken, and her mind could no longer rest. The letter sent, the weight of uncertainty hanging over Caitlyn... it was all a chess game, and Mel was ready to make her next move.

The curtain had not fallen. It was only rising.

Chapter Text

The light had no direction.
The sound was nothing more than a melody suspended in eternity.

Jayce floated in a formless, timeless, fleshless plane. He was enveloped by an impossible calm, pure, as if the entire universe cradled him in invisible hands. He didn’t feel his body, but he felt his consciousness. And what surprised him the most... was the peace.

There was no pain.
There was no guilt.
Only silence... and something more.

A different vibration approached, faint at first, like the brush of a lost memory. Then, like a pulse. A warm energy he would have recognized in a thousand lifetimes.

"Jayce..." whispered that voice in the eternity. "Can you feel it?"

Jayce’s awareness trembled—not with fear, but with recognition. He didn’t need to see. He knew.

"Viktor..." he answered, and the weight of all the years lived between them condensed into a single word.

"You’ve crossed the threshold," Viktor said. "You’re between what you were... and what you can still become."

Jayce turned slowly, as if his thoughts sought to merge with those of his old friend.

"Is this death?" he asked softly. "Because if it is... it’s more beautiful than I imagined."

"Not entirely," Viktor said. "This plane is an intersection. Here, souls meet before deciding whether to go on... or return. It’s the arcane plane."

"But I don’t feel afraid," Jayce confessed. "I feel that, for the first time, everything makes sense. That my soul... isn’t broken."

"Because here you don’t have to carry your mistakes," Viktor explained. "Here you are only what you truly were. What you can still be."

Jayce remained silent. Viktor’s energy danced around him. He couldn’t see him, but he felt him. Warm. Real. Honest. And for the first time in a long while, there was no hatred between them. No blame. Only presence.

"I never thought I’d have you close again," Jayce murmured. "And yet, I’m not surprised. This... feels like the right place."

"We were always part of the same beginning," Viktor said. "Two ideas born from the same desire: to change the world. We just took different paths... and forgot to look back."

Jayce felt a knot that wasn’t physical, but very real.

"I’m sorry, Viktor," he said with a broken voice. "For how I treated you. For what we stopped being."

"And I’m sorry for not stopping sooner," Viktor replied. "For not listening when you needed it most. For thinking I could carry everything... without you."

A reverent silence enveloped them. And in that eternal plane, emotions became light. Guilt, love, sorrow, respect—all floated between them like golden threads of energy, crossing from one to the other, intertwining them.

"And now, what must happen?" Jayce asked, fearing the answer.

"Now you decide," Viktor said gently. "But I’ll tell you something... it’s not your time. Not yet."

Jayce felt a pang of anguish.

"What do you mean?"

"You haven’t finished down there," Viktor said. "The darkness that’s coming... is unlike anything you’ve faced. Piltover needs a voice. And you... you’re still that spark that can ignite hope."

Jayce stirred, as if the thought made him uneasy.

"I don’t know if I can," he confessed. "I’ve lost everyone. I lost control. I lost faith in myself."

"And that’s precisely why you’re the one," Viktor replied. "Because you know pain. Because you’ve lived failure... and you can still choose to rise. That’s what makes you human, Jayce."

Jayce lowered his gaze—or at least he thought he did. In this plane, there were no physical gestures, but there was intention. He felt everything. Viktor’s warmth. His acceptance. His forgiveness. His love.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked in a thread of a voice.

"I always did," Viktor said. "I knew it even when you walked away. You were always part of my drive. Of my vision. But beyond that... you were always my friend."

Jayce felt his soul contract. Something inside him, an old wound, began to close slowly.

"I don’t want to lose you again," he murmured. "You’re everything to me."

"You won’t," Viktor assured him. "I’ll be in your memory. In every spark you ignite. In every noble decision you make. There I’ll be... watching you."

Jayce trembled.

"Then I must go back?"

"Yes," Viktor said. "But carry this with you: your compassion is more powerful than your hammer. Your faith in others... is your true strength."

"Viktor..." Jayce whispered. "Thank you. For not giving up on me. For waiting... even here."

"And you..." Viktor said sweetly. "Thank you for reminding me that, even among machines, the soul matters."

Jayce began to fade. He felt his consciousness being pulled back into form, into the body. An intense light enveloped him. The plane was beginning to close.

"I’ll return," Jayce said firmly. "And I’ll do what I must. I promise."

"Then go," Viktor responded. "And when your time comes... I’ll be here. As always. Waiting."

The last image was a flash of light. And Viktor’s voice, etched in his soul:

"We will meet again, Jayce. I know it."

And Jayce fell.

But not into the abyss...
... into the world.

Pain came first. Like a lance of fire through his back, a sharp blow to the chest, like the soul being torn out and slammed back into the body.

Jayce opened his eyes amid a blinding light, and instantly the real world swallowed him whole.

The cold struck like a living wall, tearing his breath away and paralyzing his muscles. The air was thick and frozen; every gasp burned like breathing glass shards. Snow lashed his face with fury, sticking to his bare skin and burning with its white touch.

His body trembled uncontrollably. He was completely naked, save for a metal band fitted tightly around his right wrist: a kind of runic bracelet, glowing with a faint arcane light, very similar to the one he had before the events in Piltover. The rune now was part of his flesh, embedded like a living tattoo. The veins near the mark glowed beneath his skin with a pale blue hue, as if energy flowed through them like an underground river.

His back bore thin scars that looked fresh, as if the act of returning had left its mark. Though firm, his muscles were tense from involuntary contraction due to the cold. His breath came in ragged gasps, chest rising and falling with painful heaves, and his lips were chapped with dried blood, the result of the brutal reentry.

Jayce dropped to his knees, numb fingers clutching at the frost. He was human again. Vulnerable. But also... different.

"Aah..." he gasped, collapsing to his knees, his trembling hands sinking into the frost.

His entire body screamed. Pain. Torment. Confusion. He no longer floated in the warm embrace of the arcane plane. Now he was surrounded by the crackling of ice, the cutting wind, the savage howl of a storm that showed no mercy.

His chest spasmed. His skin, bruised by the cold, seemed on the verge of breaking. Blood began to seep from tiny cracks in his lips and knuckles. Every second was a battle. The soul urging him on... the body giving in.

"Where... am I?" he whispered, jaw clenched.

He looked at his wrist. The rune was still there, engraved into his skin as if the arcane energy refused to leave him entirely. It pulsed. A dim glow, almost imperceptible—but constant.

"Viktor..." he murmured. "Are you... with me?"

The rune responded with a stronger glow, like a single heartbeat. A silent message. A persistent link. A reminder: he wasn’t alone.

But that wasn’t enough. Not in this place. Not with the storm roaring like a living beast around him.

He tried to move. One step. Another. His legs were pillars of lead. The ground shook beneath his feet. The freezing air cut him from within. He didn’t know where he was going—only that he couldn’t stay there. Dying would be a betrayal to Viktor. It would be meaningless.

"Agh...!" he collapsed, the snow receiving him like an open grave.

The sky spun above his head. White, gray, furious.

He wanted to give up.
He wanted to close his eyes.
He wanted to go back to the place where Viktor held him with words and calm—not this senseless white hell.

"Was this part of the plan, Viktor?" Jayce whispered to the wind, caught between rage and despair. "Was your farewell... a punishment?"

But then...
A voice.

"Hello?!" someone shouted, barely audible through the blizzard. "Is anyone there?!"

Jayce barely managed to lift his head. He saw a figure approaching through the snowy haze: small, cloaked, carrying a lantern flickering like a weak star.

She stopped in front of him. The young woman’s face was reddened from the cold, but her blue eyes shone with intensity. A soft light amidst the chaos.

"By the heavens..." she murmured, kneeling beside him. "Are you alive?"

Jayce tried to speak, but only coughed. She didn’t hesitate. She dropped her backpack, pulled out a thick blanket, and wrapped it around him quickly.

"Come on, you need to move," she said, sliding her arm beneath his. "You can’t stay here. The storm’s getting worse."

"Who...?" he managed to murmur, his throat dry. "Who are you?"

"Luxanna," she replied without looking at him, focused on keeping him upright. "But call me Lux. Don’t talk too much. Save your strength."

Jayce could barely remain standing. He leaned more on her than on his own feet, and still, he felt as if he would collapse at any moment. Lux held him firmly, guiding him toward a rock crevice that opened like a narrow gap between two frozen formations.

"There," she pointed. "It’s small, but it’ll do."

The shelter was little more than a hollow in the mountain, barely enough to shield them from the wind, but it was warm compared to the howling blizzard outside. Lux helped Jayce sit against the most protected wall, covered him with the blanket, and gave him a worried look before stepping back into the cold.

"Don’t move. I’ll be right back."

For a few minutes, which felt eternal to Jayce, he heard Lux’s footsteps fade, muffled by the snow. He closed his eyes, trembling, but holding on. Soon after, he heard her again, panting, carrying a bundle of branches and frost-covered logs.

Lux knelt in front of him, blew on her fingers to regain some warmth, and quickly rubbed two runestones together. A spark of golden light burst in her hands, setting the wood alight with a soft flare.

The fire crackled timidly, slowly growing until it lit the small shelter with a warm glow. Jayce stared at it as if it were a miracle.

"Well done," he whispered, barely audible.

Lux smiled faintly as she sat across from him, removing her damp cloak.

"Nothing like a good fire... and a second chance."

She straightened for a moment, opened her backpack, and rummaged through its compartments. She pulled out a change of clothes wrapped in thick fabric: wool trousers, a coarse-knit shirt, and a short jacket of tanned leather.

"Here," she said, offering them gently. "They’re not your size, but at least they’ll keep you warm."

Jayce looked at her, still trembling. He took the clothes with difficulty, his fingers clutching the fabric like an anchor.

"Thank you..." he said, barely audible.

"It’s nothing," she replied, turning her gaze away to give him some privacy. "Take your time getting dressed. I found you just in time..." she whispered, almost to herself. "The voice wasn’t wrong."

Jayce blinked, his breath hanging in the air like thick smoke.

"What voice?"

Lux hesitated a few seconds before answering.

"An entity... appeared in my dreams a few nights ago," she finally said. "It had no name, no face. But its presence was... ancient. As if it didn’t speak with words, but with intention. It told me I had to go north, to the Rift of Winds. That someone bearing a dormant light would return. And that this light... would change what’s to come."

Jayce felt a tremble in his stomach.

"You didn’t know who it was?"

"No. Just that I had to find you. That you’d need help. That Runeterra still needed you."

"And why you?" he asked at last, a mix of curiosity and reverence in his voice.

Lux lowered her gaze to the fire. A spark of light formed in her palm without her noticing, an unconscious reflex.

"I don’t know. I’ve always felt the arcane speaks to me differently. As if... I’m some sort of conduit. Since I was a child, I’ve heard whispers when I’m alone. And when I touch the light, I feel it’s not just magic. It’s memory. It’s purpose."

Jayce studied her closely, understanding why Viktor had trusted her.

"Maybe you didn’t just come to find me. Maybe you came to remind me who I am."

The wind blew harder. The storm worsened. Snowflakes battered violently, and visibility plummeted.

"Thank you," Jayce whispered, his voice broken. "I don’t know how... but I knew someone would come. He wouldn’t have left me alone."

Lux looked at him, confused.

"He?"

Jayce lowered his gaze to the rune glowing softly on his wrist.

"A friend," he murmured. "The best I had."

The flame crackled between them.

And outside, the storm continued its wild dance, unaware that here, in a forgotten corner of the world, something important had just begun.

The fire crackled softly, casting dancing shadows on the rock walls. The storm outside still raged like a wounded beast, but within the crevice, all was calm. An intimate silence, warm, almost comforting.

Jayce was wrapped in the cloak Lux had given him. His body still trembled, though less. The rune on his wrist glowed steadily, as if that small arcane fragment pulsed in sync with his heart.

Lux had settled a few steps from him, legs crossed before the fire. She watched the flames intently, though her gaze traveled far beyond the present—beyond the shelter. As if she, too, were lost in an invisible storm.

Jayce broke the silence with a low voice.

"Your magic... I see it’s not like the kind I knew in Piltover," he remarked. "There’s no harshness in it. It’s not aggressive. It’s... luminous."

Lux smiled softly.

"The light is part of me," she said. "And I’ve learned to let it flow without fear... even if it cost me more than I ever imagined."

Jayce looked at her with interest, tilting his head slightly.

"Where are you from?"

Lux turned her gaze to the fire, thoughtful for a second.

"Demacia," she answered at last.

Jayce raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Demacia? A mage? That’s not common. Not even safe."

"No," she confirmed, bitterness in her voice. "I was born in a place that sees magic as a disease. Something to suppress... or eliminate. But I couldn’t ignore it. The light was in me. Always. Like a voice asking to be born. I learned to hide it. Then to use it in secret. And finally... I had to run."

Jayce nodded slowly.

"That must’ve been hard."

"It was," she admitted. "But over time, I found paths. People. And a purpose. Now... I live in a cabin nearby. Isolated, yes. But free."

"Alone?" he asked with a hint of curiosity.

Lux hesitated a moment.

"Not entirely," she replied. "I live with someone... from Piltover."

Jayce tilted his head, intrigued.

"Piltover...?" he echoed. But he didn’t press. He noticed Lux lowered her gaze, as if hiding more than she said. He let it go. Not out of lack of interest, but respect.

They both remained in silence for a moment, listening to the distant roar of the blizzard. The fire crackled steadily, as if weaving an invisible thread between them.

Jayce looked at the rune on his wrist, still pulsing with tranquil strength.

"My name is Jayce," he finally said. "Jayce Talis."

Lux looked up, surprise flashing in her eyes.

"Jayce...?" she repeated reverently. "I’ve heard of you. Hextech. Piltover. You’re a legend... though many said you had died."

"I did," he replied, without drama. "Or something like it."

Then he began to tell his story. Not grandly, but with a coarse, sincere voice.

He spoke of his youth as a scientist, his alliance with Viktor, the dreams they shared, the creation of Hextech technology. How politics, war, ambition, and pain had destroyed it all. His final fall, the explosion, and the strange place where he found himself floating beside Viktor... between eternity and dissolution.

"I was ready to stay there," he confessed. "But Viktor wouldn’t let me. He said there were still things to do. That I had to come back."

Lux listened without interrupting, as if each word were a piece of a great puzzle. Her gaze was not that of someone judging, but of someone who understood.

"The arcane energy..." she said softly. "It embraced you, didn’t it?"

Jayce nodded.

"Yes. But it was more than energy. It was... awareness. Memory. Emotion. It was Viktor."

The rune glowed on his wrist, as if responding.

Lux observed him closely, fascinated.

"That rune... I’ve never seen anything like it."

"It’s what remains of him," Jayce explained. "A fragment of his soul... or his magic. I don’t know. But it guides me. It holds me."

For a few seconds, Lux said nothing, then slowly extended her hand, not touching him.

"May I...?"

Jayce hesitated, then turned his wrist toward her. The rune’s light intensified at her approach.

When Lux’s fingers hovered near, without even touching, a spark of energy ignited between them. It wasn’t aggressive, but warm. Serene. As if their essences recognized one another.

They both felt the same thing.
A connection.

"Your light..." Jayce whispered. "It doesn’t feel different from his. Not in form, but in intent. It’s as if... they speak the same language."

Lux smiled softly, her eyes glowing.

"Maybe it’s because we weren’t born to destroy... but to sustain."

The words floated in the air, as gentle as the fire’s glow.

Fatigue began to settle over them like a blanket. Jayce leaned back against the rock, closing his eyes for a moment. Lux covered the fire with a few stones, keeping it alive but dimmed.

"Rest," she said softly. "The worst is over."

Jayce didn’t respond. He was already breathing slower. Deeper.

Lux also settled in, wrapped in her cloak, a few steps from him.

Outside, the storm began to relent.

And inside, two different lights—one of science, the other of magic—had begun to find their common ground.

The night wrapped them without words. Because in silence... the connection was already made.

The dawn didn’t show behind the clouds, but the wind had changed. It no longer howled like a furious beast. Now it was just a cold whisper, the final sigh of a storm defeated.

Jayce and Lux walked along a white path, their cloaks fluttering with each step. Snow crunched beneath their boots, and the coniferous forest rose around them—silent, majestic, draped in a snowy veil.

The trail was narrow, but their hearts, for the first time in a long while, felt a bit lighter.

"I still can’t believe it," Jayce murmured, watching the footprints they left behind. "I’m walking. Again. In this world. With cold air in my lungs and snow on my feet. It’s real."

Lux glanced at him, smiling.

"Don’t you think it’s a bit unfair that life greets you with a death storm?"

"I deserve it," he joked, but his voice turned more melancholic. "There are so many things I left undone... unsaid."

They walked a few more steps in silence. Jayce lowered his gaze, his tone becoming introspective.

"I want to return to Piltover," he confessed, as if thinking it aloud for the first time. "See my mother. Sit in the workshop we built together. Breathe that golden air. Eat that awful seeded bread she always offers... and that I never refuse."

Lux laughed softly.

"Sounds like a real home."

"It is," he nodded. "And there’s someone else... my best friend, Caitlyn. She was always my moral compass, even when she wanted to strangle me. If she’s still there... I need to see her. Know how she is. I’ve been gone so long, disconnected from the world, and now that I’m back... I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I just know... I don’t want to waste it."

Lux listened silently. Her steps were firm, but her gaze softened with tenderness.

"Sometimes... coming back is also starting over."

Jayce stopped for a moment, looking up at the opaque sky.

"And you?" he asked. "What did you leave behind?"

Lux lowered her gaze, thoughtful, as the wind played with golden strands escaping her cloak.

"My family," she answered softly. "My mother, my father... and my brother."

"You have a brother?"

"Yes. His name is Garen," she said with a mix of pride and nostalgia. "A warrior. Loyal to the core. He believes in duty, in honor, in rules being the only thing that protects us from chaos."

"Does he know about your magic?"

Lux slowly shook her head.

"No," she whispered. "And that’s what hurts the most. Sometimes I dream of telling him... of him looking at me without fear. Without disappointment. But I’m not ready to see that judgment in his eyes. Not yet."

Jayce remained silent. There were no words for that kind of fear.

"Your brother... must feel your absence," he said sincerely. "Just as you feel his."

"I know," Lux murmured, hugging herself briefly. "Sometimes I wish he could see me like you do. Not for what I am, but for what I’m trying to do."

Jayce smiled warmly at her.

"I see a light in you, Lux. One that doesn’t try to burn... just to guide."

She looked at him, surprised, and for a moment, their eyes met in a calm the wind couldn’t touch.

They walked in silence until the forest began to open. Among the trees, a small wooden structure appeared, surrounded by snow, with a soft yellow light seeping through the window. A thin stream of smoke rose from the chimney. It looked like a scene drawn from a memory.

"This is it," Lux said with relief. "My home."

Jayce looked at it with curiosity. Part of him wanted to ask who lived with her, but something in Lux’s tone made him hold back. He knew it wasn’t the moment. Or maybe... he wasn’t ready for the answer.

Lux climbed the wooden steps and gently pushed the door open.

"Come in," she said, turning with a kind smile. "It’s warm. And I promise—no more storms inside."

Jayce climbed carefully, heart pounding. He didn’t understand why, but something in him sensed this step was more important than it seemed.

The cabin smelled of hot tea, firewood, and home. There were blankets folded on the couch, scattered books, and a kettle softly whistling over the stove.

"Hello, pretty boy," said a female voice from the darkest corner of the room.

Jayce froze in the doorway, eyes wide, the color draining from his face.

He recognized that figure. He turned slowly—and there she was, lounging in a chair with one leg over the armrest and a crooked smile that hadn’t changed one bit.

Messy hair. A wild, unpredictable gaze.

"You...?" Jayce whispered, unable to believe what he was seeing.

And in that moment, the cold of the world vanished outside.

Chapter Text

Zaun spewed steam from the cracks in its metallic skin while the rust-colored sky dissolved into green mist. Flickering lights from broken signs blinked over oily puddles, and among them, a slim shadow glided silently as if floating between the rubble. Riona.

The girl stopped in front of a rusted door marked with a hand-painted symbol: a dark circle with a shimmering edge. She knocked twice, then once harder. The signal. A buzz sounded, and the door opened with a groaning creak.

Inside, the darkness reeked of old oil, dry sweat, and trap. Dead monitors hung from loose wires, and at the center, sitting cross-legged on a torn sofa, a man in dark glasses and a Piltovian coat waited. He smiled like someone convinced he was the smartest person in the room. Riona already hated him.

"You’re late," the man said, stroking the rim of an empty glass.

"Sorry... the watch I stole this week must be running slow," she joked, walking in with the careless stride of someone used to pretending they weren’t afraid.

The man didn’t laugh, but his smile thinned.

"I’ve got a job for you, Riona. One well paid."

"A 'scrap-collecting' job or a 'tooth-kicking' one? Because I’m good to go for the second without breakfast."

He slid a small pouch of coins across the table. The metallic jingle was enough to make her stomach growl.

"All you have to do is watch. Infiltrate someone’s lair. Learn how they move, how many protect them. And if the opportunity arises... do what needs to be done."

Riona frowned, her moss-green eyes trying to read between the lines. The guy’s vibe was as greasy as the floor.

"And who is this 'someone'?"

The man turned over a photo with two fingers. Sevika. Seated on an improvised throne, cup in hand, gaze sharp enough to bend steel. Riona recognized her. Everyone in Zaun did. A name that inspired respect, fear—or both.

"Are you crazy? You want me to infiltrate her place? Kill her?"

"If you can. If not... just watch her. Take notes. Come back. I’ll give you double what’s in there if you return alive with useful info."

Riona swallowed. Her first instinct was to say no. The second, to eye the coin pouch. The third... to feel the weight of her mother’s coin in her back pocket. Her blood ran cold.

"...Alright," she said more seriously. "But if I come back with half a leg and one arm, I’ll crawl back here just to spit in your face."

"Charming," the man laughed. "That’s why I like you. You’ve got guts."

"No. I’ve got hunger and a will to live."

And without another word, she turned and left through the same door that had swallowed her. In her head, the job was already spinning like a loose bolt. And in her stomach... a stab of fear dressed as adrenaline.

She didn’t want to kill anyone.
But Zaun wasn’t kind to good girls.

The dense air of Zaun felt heavier that night. Riona moved silently along a broken catwalk, her worn boots striking the rusted metal with the stealthy rhythm of someone used to dodging unwanted eyes. Her old jacket, patched in various colors, flapped like a multicolored shadow amid the oppressive gray.

She had followed the mental map she’d built through days of observation and street gossip. The job wasn’t just risky—it was nearly suicidal. But in Zaun’s deepest alleys, where promises sold for three coins and a hunk of stale bread, she wasn’t the only one willing to risk her neck for a chance.

She reached the area where The Last Drop used to stand.

Or what was left of it.

The building bore deep scars. The walls were still blackened by the fire Jinx had once unleashed, the half-collapsed ceiling patched with crudely welded metal plates, and a broken sign that had once been a beacon of gathering. The old tavern was dead. In its place now pulsed something far more raw.

Sevika’s lair.

Riona slipped through an open vent on the building’s side, sliding down a slick pipe into a narrow corridor. The place reeked of rust, grease, sweat, and smoke. Everything you’d expect from something rebuilt in ruins by someone who never asked permission.

She heard heavy footsteps, rough laughter, the echo of a shattered bottle. The lair felt like a mix between a machine shop and a training camp. Weapons hung from hooks, tables were piled with parts, and people fought bare-knuckled under dim lights.

Riona moved above, crawling along an old beam that still clung to the original structure. She crept across a cracked panel and reached a catwalk overlooking the central hall. From there, she had a perfect view of the lair’s heart.

The front door swung open with a dull thud, and Sevika entered.

She walked with steady steps, her coat dusted from tunnel debris, and her face... more tired than usual. She muttered under her breath, dragging her mechanical arm like it still carried the weight of the last fight.

"Stubborn kid... lucky if he doesn’t die trying," she grumbled as she crossed the room.

She headed straight to her makeshift throne—scrap metal and welded plates. She dropped into it with a hoarse sigh, threw her legs onto the table, and drank straight from an unlabeled bottle handed to her by someone too scared to meet her eyes. Her metal arm rested on the back of the chair like a sleeping beast. Around her, a handful of rough enforcers who dared not interrupt.

Riona observed, crouched and still. Her heart pounded, but her body was trained for this. She studied Sevika. Not like a target, but like one would study an animal that’s ruled its territory for years. There was power, yes... but also wear. She wasn’t a queen with a crown. She was a survivor who ruled because no one else bore the same weight.

She could strike. From up there, with the handmade taser, then drop with her blades. If she missed, she’d die. If she hit... who knows. But something inside her stopped. A crack. A doubt. The sense that maybe the job was rotten from the start.

The beam beneath her creaked.

"What was that?" someone growled below.

"Up there! On the catwalk!"

"Shit," Riona whispered.

She jumped just as a makeshift flashlight caught her face. She rolled on landing, scraping an arm, and bolted through a side hallway. She knew the paths—or at least she thought she did.

But one of the thugs blocked her way, tackling her with a shoulder that knocked the wind out of her. Another grabbed her by the collar and slammed her against the wall.

"Let go, let go! I was just looking!" Riona shouted, thrashing wildly.

"Shut it," one spat.

They dragged her through the main corridor, past a curtain made of rusted chains, into a broader, quieter room.

The lair’s heart.

And there, now standing, was Sevika.

Her metal arm reattached to her shoulder, glowing faintly from recent use. The bottle hung from her real hand. Her brow furrowed.

"And who the hell are you?" she asked, without raising her voice. She didn’t need to.

Riona swallowed hard. She could lie. Say she was lost. Looking for her brother. Running from a dealer. Just hungry.

But she said nothing.

She only gripped the coin in her pocket and looked Sevika straight in the eye.

Sevika didn’t move a muscle while studying Riona. Her gaze was dense, heavy—like she wasn’t looking at the girl but dismantling her piece by piece, searching for loose screws.

Riona, still held between the two thugs, kept her chin up. Her face was smeared with soot, dried blood on one eyebrow, but her eyes didn’t flinch.

"Are you going to tell me who sent you, or should I hang you from a beam until you sing?" Sevika finally asked.

"You wouldn’t hang me..." Riona replied, her voice higher than she wanted. "Too much work, right?"

One of the men holding her gave her a light knee to the leg. Just to remind her jokes had a price.

"I’m not famous for patience, girl," Sevika continued. "So talk. Who sent you?"

Riona took a deep breath. She could lie. Make something up. Blame someone else. But something in that room, something in Sevika’s eyes, told her it wouldn’t work. That woman had smelled lies for years. She’d smell hers too.

"A guy... tall, very white teeth, well dressed. No name. Offered me coins to spy on you and, if possible..." She swallowed. "...make you disappear."

Sevika raised an eyebrow, not surprised—just annoyed at how predictable it was.

"And you thought you could kill me? Alone?"

"No, but it was spy on you or starve."

The silence that followed was thick. Riona expected a blow, a cruel laugh, something. But Sevika just clicked her tongue and turned to the men.

"Let her go."

"What?"

"Now. Out."

They exchanged glances, confused, but released Riona and left. The door shut with a dry screech.

Now they were alone.

Riona rubbed her arm where they had gripped her. Her body was tense, but her voice came out clearer.

"You’re not going to kill me?"

"Do you want me to kill you?"

"No, but... I thought you would."

"If I killed every lost girl who walked in here trying to act tough, I’d have no place left to sit."

Sevika leaned against a nearby table. She poured a bit of liquor into a metal cup, drank it, then poured another and offered it to Riona. The girl eyed it suspiciously.

"It’s not poisoned."

"How do I know you’re not trying to get me drunk to throw me out a hatch?"

"If I wanted to toss you, I’d do it sober."

Riona took the cup, drank, coughed, and teared up.

"Gods! Is that fuel?"

"Close enough."

They sat in silence for a moment. Laughter and metal clanging echoed faintly in the lair, but inside that room, everything was contained.

Sevika spoke without looking at her, lighting a cigarette with deliberate slowness.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen... I think." Riona shrugged. "I lost count when food became more important than birthdays."

"And how long you been doing this kind of shit?"

"Since my mom died," she answered without flinching. "And that was longer ago than I care to remember."

"Your dad?"

"Never existed. Or if he did... he didn’t stick around."

Sevika nodded slightly, as if confirming what she’d already suspected. She took a long drag and exhaled through her nose.

"Why didn’t you run away?"

"Run where? To a darker hole? To another place where I’d beg for scraps?" Riona crossed her arms. "This is what there is."

"You could’ve tried to fight."

"Against you?" she laughed bitterly. "I’m not stupid. You’d have knocked my teeth out before I hit the floor."

It was the first time Riona smiled, though her gaze stayed serious. Sevika didn’t smile back.

"And yet you walked in here."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because if I left empty-handed, I wouldn’t eat for a week," she answered, then lowered her tone. "And because... even if I didn’t admit it, part of me wanted to see if I could still look someone like you in the eye without trembling."

Sevika stared at her in silence for a few seconds. Her eyes didn’t seek explanations, only resolve. Then she picked up the bottle, took a long drink, and muttered:

"Alright."

"Alright what?"

Sevika set the bottle on the table with a loud thunk.

"I know what to do with you."

Riona didn’t answer. Not out of fear, but because she didn’t know if that was a threat, a sentence... or worse: an opportunity.

"What was the guy’s name?" Sevika asked, slicing the tension like a blade.

"He didn’t say. Just smiled like that was enough."

"Where?"

"Warehouse near Crossing Twenty-Three... the one with the red bird mural. You know it?"

"Yeah. Rat zone. They think words don’t cost a thing."

Sevika turned, walked over to a makeshift coat rack, and pulled on her leather jacket. Her metal arm snapped into place on the reinforced shoulder with a dry click, like a silent promise of violence. Then she grabbed an old briefcase hanging from a beam and tossed it to Riona.

"Open it."

Riona fumbled it open. Inside: bandages, a lighter, three throwing knives wrapped in cloth, and a short pistol with a half-filled magazine.

"What is this?"

"Your cut."

"What cut?"

Sevika was already heading to the door. She didn’t turn.

"We’re going to find the idiot who thought he could use you as bait and keep breathing. You guide. I break."

Riona took half a second to react. She nodded, suppressing the urge to grin. She tucked the blades into her belt, closed the briefcase, and followed with steady steps.

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel alone.

Zaun’s streets at that hour were full of steam and silence. They walked through a passage flooded with dying lights and piled trash, hands close to weapons, eyes on every shadow.

"Why are you helping me?" Riona asked, breaking the silence as they descended a service staircase that creaked with each step.

"I’m not helping you," Sevika replied without turning. "I’m doing myself a favor killing the asshole who thought using starving kids to dirty my name was smart."

"Still... thanks. Even if it’s by accident."

"Don’t thank me yet. We still don’t know if you’ll make it out alive."

Riona snorted, half amused.

"You know this isn’t the first time someone’s dragged me into this kind of mess? Once, when I was like... eleven? I snuck into a warehouse looking for food. Thought it was abandoned. Spoiler: it wasn’t. Wanna guess what was inside? Two guys torturing rats with spark rods. Almost became their next toy, but I set their table on fire with a lighter and escaped through a hatch I didn’t even know existed. Since then, I don’t trust doors... or guys with hats."

Sevika didn’t answer. She lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke like someone trying not to laugh.

"Then there was the gang that offered food in exchange for 'services.' Not cleaning, if you get me. That’s when I learned a well-sharpened spoon can be deadlier than a dull dagger." Riona tilted her head with a grin. "Don’t ask."

"Wasn’t going to."

"Once I ate cardboard for three days because I swore it was stale bread with a peculiar texture." She shrugged. "But hey, you survive. And if you know how to tell a good story, sometimes they let you stay on the corner without kicking you out. Not always, though."

Sevika glanced at her for the first time with a look that wasn’t mockery or judgment. Just... recognition.

"You’ve got too many stories for someone who’s sixteen."

"Yeah, well... I’ve got more scars than baby teeth. Life in Zaun speeds up childhood. There’s no adolescence here, y’know? Just survive—or don’t."

Sevika nodded slightly, like it was a truth she’d always known but never heard out loud.

"And yet you still walked into the fire. With a homemade taser."

"Yeah. Isn’t that what we do here? Walk straight toward what scares us most and see if luck’s still on our side?"

They said nothing else.

But the silence wasn’t so heavy anymore.

When they reached the warehouse, it was just as Riona remembered: big, empty, with hanging tarps, cracked beams, and a gas lamp dangling from the center like a dying eye. Inside, the same smug man with polished boots smoked a cigarette, talking to two guys clearly hired for dirty work.

"That’s him," Riona murmured, nodding toward the guy. "The smug one who looks like he swallowed his own ego."

Sevika didn’t wait for confirmation. She stepped inside without warning, her silhouette backlit by the doorway like a sentence.

"Evening, pricks," she said calmly, like ordering coffee.

The man saw her. And turned pale.

"Shit..."

One of his goons drew a knife. The other raised a metal pipe with murderous intent. But they didn’t get far.

Sevika crossed the space like a storm without warning. The first man’s jaw shattered from an upward punch that sent him flying into a pillar. The second tried to backpedal, but didn’t make it—a precise kick to the knee bent his leg back with a dull crunch. He dropped, screaming.

The third, the youngest, turned to run. But Riona was already moving.

No shout. No warning. Just a flash.

In a blink, the girl slipped around the flank, low and fast, flinging a blade that not only grazed the man’s neck but sliced the skin with surgical precision. He staggered, stunned and burning, just as Riona stepped in front of him.

"Where you going, champ?" she said, driving another blade straight into his thigh with a clean strike that dropped him without killing.

Sevika, meters away, had seen it all. For a moment, her brow lifted. Not a smile, not an obvious reaction—just the briefest flicker of silent approval.

Riona retrieved her blade, wiped it on her jacket, and let the man crawl to a corner, whimpering.

Meanwhile, Sevika dragged the ringleader by the collar, her metal arm gleaming like a living weapon.

"Thought it was a good idea to use a girl as bait? Think no one would come knocking?"

She dropped the corpse without hurry and turned to Riona, who was wiping her fingers with a dirty rag while spinning a knife like a toy.

"For a loudmouth brat... you’ve got a good hand with steel."

Riona glanced sideways with a half-smile.

"Was that a disguised compliment? ‘Cause if it was, I might need to sit down. I’m dizzy."

Sevika snorted—not laughing, but not denying the truth either.

"Just an observation. I didn’t expect you to be such a pain... for them."

"Well, I like to be unpredictable. Also, I’ve got experience with jerks who think they’re clever."

"And your hand didn’t shake. That’s rare."

Riona shrugged.

"When you’ve lived dodging knives and digging through trash for scraps, throwing a blade sharp enough isn’t that hard."

Sevika watched her a few seconds more. Then turned toward the exit.

"Let’s go. Before I start thinking you’re worth something."

"Hey!" Riona called after her. "Was that a threat, a warning, or... the start of a stormy friendship?"

"It’s Zaun, kid. There are only traps... and people who survive them."

Riona smiled quietly, like someone already used to walking tightropes. She followed without another word.

They returned to the hideout in silence. Riona didn’t ask questions. Didn’t complain. She just walked behind Sevika with straighter shoulders and focus pulsing at her nape.

Once inside, Sevika climbed to the second floor without looking back. Riona followed, unsure why. Only knowing that stopping wasn’t an option.

The room was more organized than the rest, but not because it was tidy—everything had its place because everything in there could kill.

Sevika opened a reinforced drawer and pulled out a dark leather case. Not the dusty kind she’d tossed before. This one was sealed with metal straps. Used—but cared for.

She set it on the table without ceremony.

"This isn’t a reward," she said, lighting a cigarette. "You didn’t earn it. But I want to see what you do with it."

Riona raised an eyebrow and opened it.

Inside were two short blades—finer, more stylized. The steel wasn’t ordinary. It had a dull tone with dark veins, like the weapons themselves carried hidden scars. The edge gleamed with a subtle glow. No heavier—but heavier in feeling.

"These aren’t like the others," Riona murmured.

"Reinforced steel," Sevika replied, arms crossed. "Used in war. Cuts light armor, bone... and bullshit."

Riona held them carefully. Not out of fear—but respect.

"So why give them to me?"

"‘Cause I want to know if you’re just a street rat with fast reflexes... or something more." She exhaled smoke through her nose. "And I don’t give those to just anyone."

Riona didn’t answer immediately. She strapped the sheaths to her forearms and adjusted her gloves.

"Now what?"

Sevika grabbed a flashlight from the wall and tossed it to her.

"Put it on. And change that jacket before it fuses to your back in the tunnel’s humidity."

"We’re going into the tunnels?" Riona asked, raising an eyebrow. "The old Shimmer tunnels?"

"Yeah," Sevika said dryly. "This time, you’re going to see what’s down there. And if you survive... we’ll see."

Riona swallowed but didn’t step back. The flashlight hung from her chest, and the blades rested on cross-drawn thigh holsters—ready to draw at a moment’s notice.

She wasn’t just a lucky thief anymore.

And in Zaun terms... that was the start of something much more dangerous.

Minutes later, Riona was descending behind Sevika through a corroded old staircase hidden behind a false wall barely held together by rusty rivets. Darkness was total, save for the flashlight hanging from Riona’s chest and the one Sevika held aloft.

"Is this one of those tunnels everyone says is sealed?" Riona asked cautiously.

"They are," Sevika replied. "All except this one. I left it open."

"Why?"

"Instinct," she grunted without turning. "And because yesterday I came with Ekko to search for Shimmer remnants. We thought there might still be something useful down here."

Riona widened her eyes slightly. She hadn’t expected that name.

"Ekko? From the Firelights?"

"You know another kid who looks like trouble’s his middle name?"

The dry joke rang with truth. Riona said nothing else.

At the bottom, the air thickened. The tunnel spiraled downward, surrounded by walls with dim veins. Riona noticed spots where the stone looked scraped, peeled to the bone.

"There was Shimmer here?"

"Yeah. But when we got here, someone had beaten us to it," Sevika said, illuminating a clean crack that looked polished by care. "They stripped it all—didn’t even leave dust."

"This happened before you and Ekko came?"

"Exactly, and that’s what we’re here to investigate now."

Riona nodded, swallowing hard. Her hands tightened on her thigh-strapped blades.

They moved through the passage for several minutes in silence until they reached the fork where, the day before, Ekko had detected an anomalous draft. The metal sheet covering it had been removed. Beyond it, the tunnel continued—still dark, still unknown.

"This is new?" Riona asked.

"Yeah. Wasn’t here when we sealed the mines after Silco’s death. Someone dug it from the outside and camouflaged it."

"Who would do that?"

"We’re about to find out."

They kept moving. The incline sloped upward. The air changed, becoming drier. Colder. The rock walls began to widen, and little by little, darkness gave way to a faint, natural glow.

A few meters ahead, the tunnel ended abruptly in a small exit camouflaged with roots and brush. Sevika gently pulled aside a panel covered in branches, and the two peered out.

They were outside.

A dense forest stretched before them. The ground was covered in wet leaves and thick roots. The sky, hidden behind dense canopies, barely let through the light of dusk. The air smelled of sap, damp earth... and something else. Something too orderly to be natural.

"Is this... Piltover?" Riona whispered.

"No. This is the border. The outskirts. Too far for Piltover patrols. Just right for someone else to watch."

Sevika signaled her to crouch. About fifty meters away, between the trees, was a small outpost camouflaged with green tarps and nets. Three men in dark uniforms guarded the perimeter. One had a rifle slung across his chest. Another spoke into a radio.

They crawled silently through roots and underbrush until they reached a spot where they could listen.

"Sector clear," said the radio guard, with a distinct accent. "I checked the entire tunnel. No trace of more Shimmer."

A bit of static, then a deeper voice responded:

"Copy. Stay in position. Keep a low profile. That access will be used when the day comes."

Silence.

Riona glanced at Sevika, frowning.

"What day?"

"Don’t know," she answered quietly. "But I don’t like the sound of it."

They observed in silence as the guards moved with discipline. These weren’t just thieves or smugglers. They behaved like soldiers. The area had been organized. One of them lit a portable lamp while the other scanned the perimeter with binoculars.

"Do we kill them?" Riona whispered, slowly drawing a blade.

Sevika shook her head.

"No. Even if I’d like to. If they’re waiting for this ‘day,’ the last thing we want is to tip them off before we know what’s coming. We watch. Then we vanish."

Riona nodded, though she sheathed her blade reluctantly. Her eyes stayed on the soldiers, scanning for weak points.

They waited a few minutes longer—just long enough to memorize faces, the outpost’s location, and the tunnel’s direction relative to the forest.

Then they retreated cautiously, ducking between trees and underbrush until they reached the crack they’d exited through. Sevika covered it again with branches, and they descended into the tunnel without switching on their lights.

The way back was silent. Only their footsteps sounded against dry earth, and the faint echo of the dying forest behind them.

Back at the fork, Sevika stopped.

"Now we know it’s not just about Shimmer," she said gravely. "They’re waiting for something. And that tunnel... is part of something bigger."

"What do we do?"

"For now, we watch. If they rush, they’ll make mistakes. That’s when we’ll strike."

Riona nodded, more serious than ever.

The return was quiet. Only their steps echoed through the increasingly damp, familiar corridors. When they emerged into the lair, night had already fallen over Zaun.

The lair’s heavy air greeted them like a wall. Some of Sevika’s men looked up as they crossed the hall. Sevika said nothing. Just gave a brief nod to one of her own—a broad-shouldered, tattoo-faced guy who looked like he lived between smoke and steel.

The man nodded.

"What’s going on?" Riona asked as the man approached.

Before she could react, he stripped the blades from her thighs with precise movements.

"Hey! What the hell, you jerk?!" Riona shouted, backing up with fists raised. "You going to disarm me and kill me? Is this how it ends, Sevika?!"

"Relax, girl," Sevika grunted, barely turning to her. "Put your arms down before someone bites them off."

Riona blinked, confused, as the man walked off with the blades. He took them to an improvised workbench in the back, lit a small lamp, and began working the metal with meticulous care.

Sevika lit a cigarette, leaning against a beam.

"Since you love showing them off so much..." she said between drags, "might as well let people know who they belong to."

A few minutes later, the man returned with the blades. He handed them to Riona without a word.

She took them carefully.

Engraved on each blade, with polished, firm strokes, a single word gleamed with quiet strength:

Riona.

She held them like a treasure. And for a moment, her face froze. Then, with a clumsy burst of emotion she couldn’t stop, she launched herself at Sevika and hugged her.

"You’re a giant, dangerous beast... but damn it, I adore you!" she exclaimed, clinging to her.

Sevika stood stiff as a statue.

"Let go before I break something," she grunted, still smoking. "And if anyone sees you doing that, I’ll take those blades and shove them somewhere dark."

Riona stepped back, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, yeah... whatever you say, boss."

Sevika scowled at her.

"You’d better learn fast... or I’ll regret making you my damn apprentice."

Riona nodded, this time without joking.

"You won’t regret it."

And though Sevika snorted, arms crossed in annoyance, she said nothing more.

But inside... something in her smiled.

Chapter Text

The wood creaked under Jayce’s boots as he crossed the threshold. The cabin was small but warm. The scent of burning wood, fresh tea, and something deeply homely wrapped around him instantly. It was almost absurd to find such a cozy refuge in the middle of that white hell.

The heat hit his face and his back, still trembling from the cold. The walls were lined with blankets, books, and scattered objects that spoke of a lived-in space. And yet... something felt off. There was an energy in the air, a subtle pulse that raised goosebumps on his skin. As if a presence hidden in the shadows was silently watching him.

"Hello, pretty boy," said a female voice from the darkest corner of the room.

Jayce froze. That voice. Impossible.

He slowly turned toward the corner where the firelight didn’t quite reach. And then, emerging from the gloom like a poorly buried memory, she appeared.

Sky-blue hair, though shorter. A lively, spark-filled gaze. A crooked smile, like the whole world was an inside joke only she understood. She sat on a chair with one leg dangling over the backrest and a knife lazily spinning between her fingers.

"You...?" Jayce murmured, voice caught between disbelief and dread.

"How touching, the family’s growing," Jinx said dryly, raising an eyebrow. "The golden boy back from the dead. Does that mean you’re one of us now?"

Jayce didn’t respond. Couldn’t. His brain was still processing the impossible: Jinx, here, in a cabin, with Lux.

"What kind of twisted joke is this?" he growled under his breath. "What the hell is she doing here?"

Lux, who had entered behind him, softly closed the door and approached with calm steps.

"Jayce, please, just listen before—"

"No!" he snapped, eyes still locked on Jinx. "She’s a criminal. A terrorist! Did you even think about what she’s done? About the bodies she left behind?"

"Jayce," Lux said more firmly than usual. "You trusted Viktor—even when he changed completely. Now trust me. Jinx isn’t who she used to be. And neither are you."

Jinx let out a high-pitched giggle as she stopped spinning the knife.

"Oh, come on," she said, stretching like a lazy cat. "Don’t tell me you’re still sore about the little exploding tower incident. Chaotic times, right?"

"It’s not funny!" Jayce roared, stepping forward. "You tried to destroy everything!"

Lux moved between them, raising a hand with authority.

"Enough," she said calmly, but firmly. "Jayce, it’s not that simple. You don’t know what’s happened. You don’t know what she did afterward."

"Afterward?" he repeated, staring at her like she’d lost her mind. "What could she possibly do that would erase everything before?"

Jinx stood up with an exaggerated sigh, tossing the knife onto the table with a metallic clink.

"Ugh, same old tune," Jinx muttered, rolling her eyes. "‘Criminal. Psychopath. Monster.’ Don’t they teach any new songs up in Piltover? You’re gonna wear those words out."

Jayce clenched his fists.

"And what did you expect? A fireworks welcome?"

"Oh, please," she shrugged. "Been there, done that. Remember? Except instead of applause, there were screams—and six fewer enforcers."

Tension rose until Lux spoke again, voice soft but steady.

"Jinx... that’s enough."

Jinx clicked her tongue and turned to the fire.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, princess," she said with a smirk, voice quivering just slightly. "Cue the melodrama, huh? Someone pass tissues before I get mushy."

She stepped toward the fireplace, knelt down slowly, and when she spoke again, her voice had no edge—only ashes.

"Yes, Jayce. I’m that Jinx. The chaos, the bombs, the laughter echoing in ruins. But I was also the one there when the city bled. The one who saved Vi when no one else could. The one who chose to disappear, so I wouldn’t be the shadow dragging my sister back into the abyss."

Jayce frowned, confused.

"What are you saying?"

Jinx didn’t turn. Her eyes stayed on the flames, as if she spoke to a version of herself still burning there.

"I’m saying... when everything went to shit, I was the one who rallied what was left of Zaun. I charged the Noxian lines while they had Caitlyn on her knees, a rifle aimed at her head. I made noise. I drew fire. I distracted them long enough so they could live."

A short, final pause.

"And when it was over... when the dust settled, I realized I couldn’t come back. Not after everything. Not with all I’d broken. So I left. Because sometimes, Jayce... love means leaving."

She turned to him. Her smile was still crooked... but something behind it had changed. It wasn’t mockery. It was ancient exhaustion. Contained pain. Truth.

"Why didn’t you come back?" Jayce asked, softer now, as if fearing the answer.

Jinx didn’t look away, but her voice dropped to a rough whisper.

"Because if I came back... the cycle would come with me." Her throat tightened. "Another forced redemption arc. Everyone pretending not to wait for the next explosion. I didn’t want that. Not for them. Not for me. So I left. Crossed half of Runeterra... and then I met her."

Her eyes found Lux. She didn’t name her. She didn’t have to.

Lux, in silence, lowered her gaze slightly. Not out of shame, but out of respect for everything that pause had meant.

Jayce turned to Lux, disbelief in his eyes.

"You...? How are you even... with her?"

Lux held his gaze. She didn’t flinch or step back.

"I tried to arrest her when she was stealing from the castle," Lux explained. "We fought, argued, tore each other apart... and then we talked. I stayed because I couldn’t let her fall apart again—not after what I saw."

"And you chose to trust her? After everything?" Jayce’s voice cracked. "After what she did? To Vi. To Caitlyn. To me!"

"Yes," Lux answered without blinking. "Because I saw someone who had been alone so long, she didn’t know how not to break things. And when you stop listening, you become a judge. I didn’t want to be her executioner."

Jinx averted her eyes, murmuring barely audibly.

"Didn’t want to be a walking bomb anymore..."

Jayce ran a hand down his face, sighing long and deep.

"So what now? You expect me to treat her like nothing happened? To erase every scar just because she’s... quieter?"

Lux stepped forward. Her voice was softer, but firm.

"No one’s asking you to hug her, Jayce. Just to really look at her—not as a scientist, or a councilman—but as someone who also failed and came back. Like you."

Jayce lowered his gaze. The fire crackled, marking an invisible line between who they had been and who they might become.

"This... is going to take time," he finally murmured.

"Take all the time you need, pretty boy," Jinx chimed in, her teasing tone returning as she flopped into an armchair. "I’ve got hot chocolate, limited patience, and zero intent to convince anyone."

Jayce looked at her. She was still laughing, but it didn’t sound mocking anymore.

And for the first time... she didn’t seem dangerous. Just broken.

And he understood that doesn’t heal through judgment. Only through time.

Silence settled in the cabin once more. Only the crackle of the fire filled the air, as if it too were paying attention. Jayce dropped into a chair facing the flames, his eyes lost in the wavering heat. As if he might find some meaning in the chaos inside him.

"I don’t know if I can explain it properly..." he finally murmured, gaze fixed on the fire. "What I experienced... doesn’t belong to this world."

Jinx, sprawled on the couch, let out a lazy snort.

"Is this going to be a spiritual vision or your sad autobiography? Because if it’s the latter, I’m gonna need more hot chocolate."

Jayce didn’t react. He just pressed his lips together and took a deep breath.

"Viktor and I crossed something... a threshold. We ceased to be physical. We were consciousness, floating in the arcane stream. There was no time, no shape. Only... truth."

Jinx’s mockery faded. Her fingers stopped playing with the spoon. Her body tensed slightly and, for once, she didn’t seem ready to laugh at anything.

"I don’t know how long I was there," Jayce continued, voice lowering. "But I felt everything. Who I was, what I’d lost. And Viktor... he was there. He brought me back. He said I had to return. That there was still something left to do. That Piltover... needed us."

Jinx slowly sat up. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes fixed on him.

"Viktor? The half-robot guy with the encyclopedia voice? He brought you back?"

Jayce nodded. And as he did, the rune on his wrist glowed with a deep, pulsing blue.

Then it happened.

When Jinx took a step toward him, the rune pulsed harder. A subtle hum vibrated in the air. Light washed over her face for a second... before fading out.

"What was that? Does it always do that?"

Jayce looked down at his wrist, frowning.

"No. It only reacts to magic... or to something deeper. Sometimes to threats. Sometimes... truth. I don’t fully understand it yet."

Jinx folded her arms, tilting her head.

"So are you saying I’m dangerous or that I’m full of inconvenient truths?"

Jayce studied her seriously. Not as a councilor. Not as a scientist. As a man who had just returned from the edge of oblivion.

"Maybe both," Jayce said, calmly. "But I think it reacts to what we hide. And you... you have more truth than you let on."

The air grew denser. Jinx lowered her gaze. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

"I’ve died many times..." she said softly. "But you all only buried me once."

Jayce didn’t respond. There were no words big enough. He just looked at her.

And Jinx, as if needing to flee her own thoughts, stood and walked to the window.

The snow was still falling—slow, persistent. As if the world refused to move on.

"When everything went to shit, you and Viktor were gone," she said quietly, not turning around. "Vi was broken. Cait bled on the inside, even if she pretended not to. Noxus surrounded us like silent poison... And me..." She paused, swallowing hard. "I did the only thing I knew how to do: blow things up. Scream louder than the void, because if I stopped making noise... it would swallow me."

"But you won," Jayce said, more like a question.

Jinx laughed—a hollow sound, like a mirror cracking.

"Win?" she echoed bitterly. "There are no winners in wars like that. Just people still breathing. And sometimes, not even that. You survive, glue your pieces together however you can, walk with guilt in your pockets, and hope no one notices."

From the table, Lux sat up slightly, her voice soft but clear.

"Jinx fought with Vi in a battle against Vander—their adoptive father turned monster. She sacrificed herself to save her sister."

Jayce looked at her. His expression softened. A hint of understanding surfaced, pushing his anger down.

"And now?" he asked. "What’s happened since I... disappeared?"

Jinx turned slowly, leaning back against the window, arms crossed. Her silhouette outlined by the dim light looked more fragile than she’d ever admit.

"Piltover isn’t the city you remember," she murmured. "Caitlyn’s still there, clinging to her role like it’s the last rope. She was in a coma for a long time... and when she came back, everything was worse. The city’s in pieces. And Vi..." Her voice cracked. "Vi lost her memory. She wandered Runeterra without direction, without memories, without me. And I... I couldn’t go back. Because if I did, I’d just break her all over again."

Silence fell like a weight. Even the fire seemed to hold its breath.

"I thought about finding her," she added, voice lower. "But then I heard she was... moving on. That she had a life, even if she didn’t know I existed. Going back would’ve shattered that."

Jayce felt the weight of his absence become even more real. He had left behind a ruined city... and people who kept breathing without him.

"And Caitlyn?"

"Still standing," Jinx said with a touch of respect. "And if there’s one thing I’ve learned facing her, it’s that no matter how many times she’s knocked down... she gets up. Falls with style and comes back with better aim."

Jayce ran a hand over his face, sighing. Then stared into nothing for a moment.

"Viktor was right..." he finally murmured. "There’s something I still have to do. Something that isn’t over."

Jinx raised an eyebrow at him, the tone just barely sarcastic.

"Gonna swing your hammer again and give hope speeches?"

For the first time, Jayce smiled—small, but real.

"Maybe," he replied. "But not like before."

Jinx held his gaze a moment. She said nothing, but in that silence, there was more than an answer. There was presence. And persistence.

Jayce understood: she wasn’t seeking forgiveness. She was deciding whether it was worth moving forward.

The night had grown thick, as if time itself moved slower within the cabin walls. The fire in the hearth barely breathed, casting soft shadows that crept along the wood. Jayce lay sleeping on the couch, wrapped in heavy blankets, his breathing steady like a river finally finding peace.

In the next room, the air was warmer, more intimate. An oil lamp projected golden light that caressed the edges of the furniture, accompanied by the gentle creak of the floor in the silence. Lux sat at the edge of the bed, in her nightgown, slowly undoing the braid she’d worn since morning. Her fingers moved slowly, as if releasing each strand was part of a ritual.

Jinx lay on her back, sky-blue hair fanned out like a rebellious brushstroke on the pillow. Her eyes remained open, fixed on an invisible point on the ceiling. There was tension in the way she breathed—something she didn’t want to break, but that trembled inside her chest.

"You’re not sleeping?" Lux asked, turning toward her, voice soft, nearly sleepy.

Jinx didn’t answer right away. Her gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling.

"My head is..." She paused, searching for a word that wasn’t "screwed," then sighed. "Didn’t think seeing Jayce would shake me like that."

Lux slid under the covers until her skin brushed against Jinx’s beneath the thin fabric. She didn’t speak yet—just let the touch speak first.

"It’s normal," she murmured at last. "You’re not made of stone, no matter how much you pretend to be."

Jinx let out a dry laugh, barely a breath through her lips.

"I’m not stone. I’m dynamite. And the past... the past always finds the spark."

Lux reached out slowly and rested her hand on Jinx’s belly, feeling the tense rhythm of her breathing. That gesture, wordless, was an anchor.

"Vi... Caitlyn... Ekko..." Jinx whispered. "They all thought I was dead—and maybe they were right. But sometimes I think the worst part wasn’t dying for them... it was staying alive for me. Alone again. Powder again. But with no one left to call me that."

Lux turned to her. She touched Jinx’s arm with her fingertips, as if trying to say with skin what couldn’t be spoken.

"You’re not alone, Jinx."

She shut her eyes tightly, as if those words hurt more than any insult. Her jaw trembled just slightly, and for a moment, she looked like she was holding back a whole sea behind her eyelids.

"I’m not easy, Lux," she murmured. "I’m broken. And when I love... I’m always late. I do it wrong. Like I always show up when there’s nothing left to save."

Lux sat up a little, traced her fingers along Jinx’s jawline, and tucked away a messy strand of hair. Her gaze didn’t ask permission—but neither did it command. It simply... was. And held.

"So you’re broken? I am too. But that doesn’t make us any less," Lux said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "I don’t want you to love me flawlessly, Jinx. I want you to love me with the mess and everything."

Jinx opened her eyes, and for a second, she looked like a child. A child still unsure if she was allowed to believe.

"I always think you’re going to leave. That one day... you’ll get tired."

"And I always think you’re going to push me away," Lux whispered, resting her forehead against Jinx’s. "But... I’m still here."

The distance between them now was minimal. Their breaths touched each other’s skin—warm, vulnerable. The room was dim, and the only light was the golden flicker of the oil lamp, casting ghostly shadows across the walls.

Lux leaned in slowly, as if not wanting to shatter the moment. She brushed Jinx’s lips with hers—just a breath of a kiss, loaded with silence. A kiss soft, unhurried. More than desire, it was an anchor. A wordless pact between two bodies that recognized each other through pain.

When they parted, Jinx looked at her intently. Her voice came out ragged, but full of truth.

"I swear I’m trying to be better," she whispered. "For you. Because when you look at me... I’m not Powder. Or Jinx. I just... am. And that terrifies me."

Lux caressed her cheek with her knuckles, disarming her with tenderness.

"I don’t want you perfect," she said softly. "I just want you to be you. Here and now. With me."

Jinx swallowed hard. Then she lunged forward, as if her body could no longer bear the weight of her feelings, and nestled into Lux’s neck. She hugged her tightly, urgently, with the intensity of someone who fears the world might vanish if she lets go.

Lux didn’t move away. She wrapped her arms around her, one hand gliding along Jinx’s back, the other tangled in her hair. They didn’t speak for a long while. They just breathed, intertwined, wrapped in the warm bed and the faint scent of smoke, skin, and dried tears.

Jinx’s breathing grew slower. More steady. As if her body finally remembered what rest felt like.

Lux pulled the blanket up to cover them completely and, before closing her eyes, kissed Jinx’s forehead gently, like touching a scar.

"I’m not going anywhere," she whispered—more to herself than to Jinx.

The lamp flickered out completely. The room was swallowed by shadows, but within those shadows, two broken souls held each other, breathing in sync.

And outside, the world slept.

For now, that was enough.

The sun barely filtered through the thick curtains, casting pale beams onto the wooden floor. The storm outside had ceased completely, and the snow lay quietly, so serene it seemed unreal. But inside the cabin, the air remained heavy—as if the calm was just a truce, not true peace.

Jayce slowly sat up from the couch, his body stiff from the awkward sleeping position. The creak of the wood beneath his feet broke the soft murmur of the morning, and the faint scent of burnt wood and fresh tea filled his senses.

Lux had woken up earlier. Not out of habit, but because she feared closing her eyes for too long and losing the strength she’d found during the night. Standing by the window, she watched the snow begin to melt. She wasn’t thinking about returning to Demacia. She was thinking about moving forward—and this time, not alone.

In the kitchen, her hands moved with the same care she used to hold her world together. She poured hot water into two mugs, unhurried. When she saw Jayce rise, she offered a small smile.

"Good morning," she said with a calm tone. "You slept more peacefully than the other night."

"Seems like it," Jayce replied, though his voice carried a shadow. "But I get the feeling the calm won’t last long."

Lux handed him a warm mug.

"It rarely does," she said without drama. "And out there, the world keeps turning... even if it feels frozen in here."

Jayce held the cup for a moment, watching the steam rise. Then he looked up at her.

"We have to go back. To Piltover."

The clink of a spoon against porcelain stopped.

"So soon?" Lux asked, but her voice didn’t sound surprised. As if she’d known before he even said it.

Jayce nodded faintly but didn’t speak further. The bedroom door creaked open slowly.

Jinx emerged, wrapped in a blanket, her sky-blue hair tousled, bare feet stepping onto the cold floor without flinching. The soft light outlined the sleep still lingering in her eyes—but something was different in her expression: less chaos. More presence.

"What’s going on?" she rasped, walking toward the table. "Why do you both look like someone died?"

Jayce met her gaze directly.

"We’re going back to Piltover," he said bluntly.

Jinx froze. She blinked. As if the words had struck her square in the chest.

"We have to return," Jayce repeated, his tone softer. "Not for pride. Not out of duty. It’s something else... There’s something in the air. Like a storm we haven’t seen yet—and if we’re not ready..."

Silence stretched like a long blink. Everything hung in the air.

Lux looked at him. She understood. Not with words, but something deeper—a kind of instinctive faith.

But Jinx…

Jinx took a step back. Her voice cracked, barely a whisper.

"No."

"Jinx..." Lux began gently, moving toward her.

"No!" Jinx snapped louder, sharper. "I’m not going back there! Not again!"

The change was instant. Jinx tensed like a wire about to snap. Her breathing turned erratic. Pupils dilated. The slight tremor in her fingers grew into visible shaking. She stepped back. Then again. As if the very idea of Piltover pushed her to the brink of an abyss she wasn’t sure she could avoid.

"I can’t see her..." she murmured. Her voice wasn’t just broken—it was a plea. "Don’t you get it? I can’t see Vi if she doesn’t remember me! I can’t bear that empty stare, that silence where my world used to be!"

Lux approached slowly, palms open as if trying to soothe a wounded animal.

"You’re with us, Jinx. Here. You’re safe."

"Safe?!" Jinx clutched her head. Her nails dug into her scalp with near-dangerous force. "You don’t understand! You’re not listening! In Piltover, I don’t exist! There’s just a shadow with my name, a monster everyone wants to forget!"

She stepped back, tripped on the rug, and nearly collapsed, trembling. Her gaze drifted into an empty corner of the cabin. Then her voice dropped, chilling the room.

"Not again... no... shut up... shut up..."

Jayce furrowed his brow. His chest rose and fell slowly, restraining his reaction.

"What’s happening to her?" he asked quietly, confused.

"She’s hearing voices," Lux replied, not taking her eyes off Jinx. Her tone was gentle but firm, as if she’d been here many times. "The noise comes back... when fear breaks her."

Jinx now mumbled incoherently, piecing together phrases like scraps of broken memory:

"Vi forgot me... Cait hates me... Ekko left me... only you talk... you again... you’re not real..."

Her body convulsed in a spasm. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn’t sob. She cried like someone who didn’t remember how else to do it. Lux knelt in front of her with precise movements and wrapped her in a fierce embrace, holding her close as if her warmth could close invisible cracks.

"Jinx... look at me. Breathe... you’re here. With me. With us. You’re not alone."

Her hands gently moved through Jinx’s tangled hair, as if touch was the only way to anchor her to the present. As if physical contact alone could hush the voices screaming inside.

"I’m sorry..." Jinx whispered, voice in ruins. "It’s just... I’m so scared, I can’t hold it inside. Sometimes it feels like it’s going to break me apart."

Lux pressed her forehead to hers, her warm breath brushing the space between them.

"I know," she said softly, stroking Jinx’s cheek with the back of her hand. "But this time you won’t fall alone. This time... I’m going with you."

Jayce, silent, watched—and for the first time, he understood. He understood that the chaotic creature he’d feared wasn’t a threat. She was a broken girl who was never allowed to grow. A child trapped in a woman’s body, carrying scars no one wanted to see... until now.

He stepped closer, respectfully. He knelt beside them. His voice, now, was not that of a leader or scientist. It was the voice of someone who had crossed death—and returned with new eyes.

"We’re not asking you to forget, Jinx," he said calmly. "Just to face it. Maybe Vi doesn’t remember you. Maybe she does. But if you don’t go, if you don’t try... you’ll never know."

Jinx still didn’t look at him. She clung to Lux, panting like she’d just escaped a nightmare.

"And if I can’t?" she whispered. "What if I fall apart again?"

Jayce reached out and gently rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Then we’ll hold you up, the two of us," he said. "Until you remember how to stand on your own."

The room fell into silence. Not an empty one, but the kind shared by those standing at the edge of a new decision. Jinx raised her face. Her eyes still trembled, red and puffy... but alive. She nodded once. Not a firm “yes.” But enough.

And among the creaking wood of the cabin, the scent of tea, ashes, and trembling skin... something was restored. Not a promise. Not a certainty.

Just the will to take one more step.

Chapter Text

"The hospital room was wrapped in a thick silence, broken only by the slow beeping of the monitors. Outside, the sun peeked timidly through the clouds, tinting the windows a pale gold. But inside, time seemed to stand still. As if the world was holding its breath.

Vi hadn’t moved from the chair beside the bed. She hadn’t slept. Hadn’t even closed her eyes. She was just there, holding Caitlyn’s hand as if it could anchor her to the world. Her thumb brushed softly over Caitlyn’s cold knuckles, searching for a response that never came.

“Good morning, Cait..." she murmured, her voice hoarse from hours of silence. "Tobias says talking helps. So... here I am. I'm not going anywhere."

The door creaked open. Tobias entered without greeting, wearing the stern expression of someone who’d spent too many hours in surgery. A tablet in one hand, deep shadows under his eyes, he approached the bed in silence, checked the monitors with clinical precision, and typed something in.

Vi said nothing. She knew him well enough not to interrupt when he was focused.

Finally, Tobias spoke, still facing the monitors.

"She’s stable," he said at last. "Delicate, but stable. Pulse is steady. No new episodes."

Vi nodded faintly, swallowing the knot in her throat.

"Ekko said he’d be here this morning, but he hasn’t shown."

Tobias turned toward her, crossing his arms.

"You said he was coming from Zaun, right?" His tone wasn’t cold, just practical. He glanced at the wall clock. "Shimmer doesn’t move like it used to... If he’s trying to track what’s left of it, he probably won’t arrive before afternoon."

Vi didn’t respond. She looked back at Caitlyn, as if time itself depended on her heartbeat.

Tobias lingered a moment longer, as if wanting to say more, but didn’t. He left with a brief nod, the door left slightly ajar.

Silence returned. Not as emptiness, but as a presence. Vi leaned toward Caitlyn, resting her forehead against her fingers, breathing deeply, holding back the tremble.

The door opened again, gently. Vi didn’t look up right away. She recognized the steps. Light, deliberate, but unusually cautious.

Sarah.

She entered without a sound, jacket damp from the morning mist, eyes more tired than usual. She stopped at the edge of the room, hesitant to step further.

"I came yesterday," Sarah said, her voice restrained. "But with all the chaos... I figured I’d stay out of the way. Didn’t want to add more weight."

Vi turned her head slightly. No reproach in her expression. Only exhaustion.

"It’s fine," she replied simply.

Sarah took a step, then another. She approached the bed but didn’t touch Caitlyn until Vi gave a slight nod. Then she gently took Caitlyn’s hand. Her thumb traced a small circle on her skin.

"Hey, Commander," she murmured. It was the first time she used that title without sarcasm. Only affection.

Vi glanced at her. No tension in her shoulders. Only something deeper. More human.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was like an old friend sitting between them, sharing the same grief.

"How is she?" Sarah asked, eyes still on Cait.

"Fighting," Vi shrugged. "Like always."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was shared. Familiar. As if both knew there was no need to fill it with words.

Until Vi spoke, not looking at her.

"What happened with the Red Anchor?"

Sarah inhaled deeply. Looked down, then up again with a resolve she rarely showed.

She spoke then of everything that had happened. Jasper Ruin, the failed investigation, the captain she killed, the Noxian weapons. Vi listened closely, though her eyes never left Caitlyn. The tension between them slowly dissolved, giving way to something calmer. More human.

"I'm sorry, Vi. If I’d told you earlier, maybe..." She didn’t finish.

Vi shook her head. Her voice came out low, rough.

"It’s not your fault. No one knew what was coming. Not you, not me, not her."

Sarah squinted slightly, like she wanted to believe her... and at the same time couldn’t.

Vi leaned closer to Caitlyn.

"What matters is she’s still fighting. And I won’t leave her alone."

Sarah nodded slowly.

"Neither will I."

Vi looked at her then, with a faint, sad smile.

"I’m sorry for what happened between us. For what I made you believe. But now that I remember everything... I know where I belong."

Sarah didn’t flinch. Her gaze didn’t waver.

"Vi... I’m not here to collect debts. Love doesn’t vanish just because you say so. But I won’t demand anything from you. I just want to be here. In my own way."

Vi felt a weight in her chest, but it wasn’t guilt. It was something more complex.

"Thank you," she said plainly.

Sarah looked away for a moment, as if something else troubled her.

"Vi... there’s something else. Something I don’t know how to explain. When I was leaving the port, a ghost ship appeared."

Vi looked at her silently, intrigued by the pirate’s words.

"A ghost ship?"

Sarah sighed, eyes dropping to the floor before she continued.

"Yeah... I waited, watched it from the dock for a while. It wasn’t normal, so I approached. I boarded it, tried talking to the people aboard — three hooded figures who seemed to be expecting me. We spoke briefly, and one of them gave me this."

Vi frowned. Sarah rummaged in her coat. Her fingers lingered longer than necessary. When she finally pulled it out, she held it in her open palm as if it weighed more than its metal could.

It was a little tin monkey, rusted at the edges, one leg broken, and a painted face nearly worn away.

Vi recognized it before it even reached the table. Her eyes widened as though the air had turned unbreathable.

"Where... where did you get that?"

Sarah swallowed hard, her lips moved before sound followed.

"One of the hooded ones on the ship... gave it to me. Said to give it to Violet, the commander’s best friend." She looked Vi straight in the eyes, though her voice was no longer firm. It was almost a whisper. "Vi... I suspected. But now, seeing you like this..."

Vi stood up abruptly. The monkey trembled in her hand as if coming to life.

"No... it can’t be."

Her fingers clenched it, the touch confirming what her mind couldn’t yet accept. Her jaw trembled. Her eyes filled with tears.

"This is Jinx’s," she said at last, her voice broken. "It was Powder’s... before. She carried it everywhere as a kid. Used it as bombs."

Sarah stepped back. Not in fear, but in respect.

"Vi... is it possible?"

Vi could barely nod. A brutal mix of hope and panic surged through her voice, her body, her bones.

"She’s alive," she murmured. "She’s alive..."

Her gaze bounced between the monkey, Sarah, and Caitlyn’s unmoving face. Everything in her fractured and healed at once.

"I have to see her," Vi said, and this time it wasn’t a wish. It was a command to the universe. "Sarah... can you take me?"

"Yes," Sarah nodded without hesitation. "If you believe it’s her, I’ll take you right now."

Vi turned back to Caitlyn, and for a moment, the world stopped.

She stepped closer to the bed, slowly. Each step a promise hard to keep. She leaned over her. Brushed her cheek tenderly, her fingers trembling against Caitlyn’s cool skin.

"Cait... I know you’re fighting," she whispered against her ear. "And I know you don’t want me to go. But I need to do this. For me. For us."

Tears filled her eyes, but didn’t fall yet.

"Finding her is the only way I come back whole. I need you alive when I return. Hear me?" She pressed her forehead to Caitlyn’s, closing her eyes. "Because I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever."

Caitlyn’s silence hurt like a bullet, but it didn’t weaken her. She held on tighter, kissed her temple gently, as if leaving part of her soul behind.

"Hold on, Cait. Hold on for me."

She straightened up, grabbed her cane firmly, and looked once more at the woman she loved.

"I love you. Stay."

The monkey chirped faintly as her hand closed around it. And then she turned to Sarah, fire in her eyes.

"Let’s go."

The roar of the engine merged with the wind as the motorcycle sped through the still-damp streets of Piltover. Sarah rode with the confidence of someone who knew every corner of the city, and Vi, seated behind her, remained silent. Not out of discomfort. But because her mind was a whirlwind of images: the rusty monkey, Sarah's words, the painful and radiant possibility that her sister was still alive.

The harbor rose before them like a drowsy silhouette. At that hour, the zone seemed to hold its breath. The previous day's frantic activity had given way to a heavy, almost unnatural calm. The scent of salt, metal, and oil hung thick in the air. Fog drifted like a ghost between cranes and barges, wrapping the docks in a shroud of anticipation.

Sarah stopped the bike near the edge of the pier, where the Red Anchor remained under strict surveillance. Beside it, like a vision from another time, the ghost ship rocked in silence. Vi observed it with a furrowed brow. It was larger than she had imagined. Dark, its edges worn by the sea salt, but with a presence that demanded respect.

A figure emerged from the mist. Lynn, in her Enforcer uniform, approached with firm steps. Her batons crossed on her back, her eyes always alert. But when she saw Sarah, her expression softened—barely noticeable—as if something unspoken slipped into her face.

Sarah got off the bike and removed her helmet calmly. She walked toward Lynn without hurry, with the tempered confidence of someone who no longer needed to justify her presence. She extended her hand and dropped a small keychain into Lynn's palm.

"Thanks for the loan," she said simply.

Lynn caught the keys midair without looking away. Her fingers closed over them as if they held more than just a vehicle.

"I knew you'd bring it back in one piece," she replied, her tone dry but her gaze betraying a certain... pride.

Sarah held her gaze a second longer than necessary, as if trying to read between the lines.

"Didn’t know you were the trusting type," she said, crossing her arms, the helmet hanging from one hand.

Lynn tilted her head slightly, that half-smile not quite reaching her lips.

"I'm not. But you don’t strike me as the running kind."

A brief, comfortable silence followed. As if the conversation floated on more than just words. Sarah looked down slightly and ran a hand along her neck, almost embarrassed by how natural it felt to be close to her.

"You'll have to decide if that's good or bad," she murmured.

"I haven't decided yet," Lynn replied, her tone not sharp. Honest. Almost gentle.

Vi, who hadn’t missed a detail of the scene, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, well..." she interjected with a crooked grin. "And here I thought I was coming to see a ghost ship, not a dockside soap opera."

Sarah rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile.

"Don’t start, Vi."

"Relax," Vi said, pointing her cane at Lynn. "The Enforcer looks perfectly capable of keeping you entertained while I go do the hard part."

Lynn barely frowned, though there was a glint of amusement in her gaze.

"And what exactly am I supposed to do? Keep her entertained with jokes?"

"Just don’t let her get into trouble," Vi joked, giving Sarah a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'm going to find my sister. You... well, you stay in good hands."

Sarah scoffed, shaking her head but not replying. She didn’t need to.

Vi gave them one last look, filled with depth, as if acknowledging that, for the first time in a long time, Sarah wasn’t alone.

And then, without another word, she turned and walked toward the ship.

The mist wrapped the pier like a heavy blanket, muffling every sound, every thought. The creak of the wood beneath her boots was the only thing anchoring Vi to the present. Each step echoed like a hollow drumbeat, but the silence wasn’t the heaviest thing—it was the certainty of being watched. A subtle pressure on her chest, as if someone had been waiting for her forever.

The "ghost ship" loomed out of the fog like a sleeping monster. Dark, nameless, flagless. It floated with an unnatural stillness, as though it belonged neither to the sea nor to the world of the living. Vi stopped and stared. It wasn’t fear she felt. It was something worse. Expectation.

There were no lights, no voices, no movement. But in her stomach stirred something fierce—something she'd known since childhood: the sense that a familiar madness waited just beyond the next step.

A gust of wind pushed the mist just enough to reveal a shadow moving on deck. Fleeting, like an illusion. But it wasn’t. Vi knew it.

She advanced.

One step, then another, each more tense than the last. Her cane tapping on the wood felt too loud, like she was trespassing on a forgotten sanctuary.

She didn’t call her name, didn’t dare to, because if there was no response... what would be left?

She stopped beside a crate covered with a tarp, her heart pounding wildly. Her breathing turned erratic. Her throat burned. In her mind, she saw her: Powder laughing with oil-smeared cheeks. Jinx dancing over corpses. The bombs, the laughter, the explosion, the void.

"Jinx...?" Her voice came out as a plea, barely a wisp of air, carrying more fear than hope.

The ship groaned slowly. A rope creaked like a warning.

Vi closed her eyes. Swallowed hard. Tried to convince herself it was just her mind playing tricks, that the tin monkey had been a cruel trick of fate. That everything had ended at the Hexgate.

She stepped back. Just once. And in that instant, reality shifted.

A creak behind her.

Vi froze.

And then, like a knife gliding across her soul:

"Told you, sister... I’m always with you... even when we’re worlds apart."

The voice wasn’t ghostly. It was alive, warm, aching, familiar. Laden with years, wounds, and memories that refused to die.

Vi turned slowly, every muscle tense, as if afraid the magic would dissolve if she looked.

There she was.

Standing in the fog, a shadow refusing to fade. Thinner, more... human. No longer the child from her memories, nor the nightmare armed to the teeth. Just her.

Jinx.

No weapons. No paint. No unhinged madness. But the eyes... those eyes were still a battlefield: pink, bright, filled with all they'd lost and everything still left to break.

Vi took a step. She didn’t speak, couldn’t. Tears fell without permission. Her body trembled, but not from the cold. It was deeper. A fracture that had never healed and was now bleeding with every heartbeat.

Jinx didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t speak again.

She just looked at her.

And in those seconds, the world seemed to hold its breath.

The morning mist hugged the docks of Piltover like a broken promise. From the ship's railing, Jinx watched in silence, hood up, as her city awakened beneath a dense fog. Piltover was still there, as proud as ever, but something about it felt different. More distant. More hostile.

Her fingers clenched the edge of her hood, as if that were enough to contain the chaos trembling under her skin. But this time, it wasn’t euphoria coursing through her. It was fear. Fear of seeing her. Fear of not seeing her. Fear that it was too late.

Jayce stood to her left, tense as an overstretched wire. Lux, on her right, tried to maintain calm, but Jinx noticed the furtive glances, the restrained gestures. No one breathed fully.

"Are you ready?" Lux asked gently, almost afraid of the answer.

Jinx didn’t look at her.

"I never was."

Lux didn’t press. She simply placed a hand briefly on Jinx’s shoulder before exchanging a look with Jayce. He nodded, and together they began walking down the gangplank.

Jinx remained on deck, unmoving. Every fiber of her body begged to run, to hide again. But something, an unspoken promise, rooted her to the spot.

Then, another figure emerged from the mist.

Red jacket. Confident stride. Hand on her pistol, though not in threat.

Sarah Fortune.

Jayce halted at the sight of her. So did Lux. Jinx tensed but didn’t lift her gaze.

Sarah approached with a steady pace, her red coat fluttering with the wind that whipped across the dock. Her face was hardened by suspicion and recent frustration at the Red Anchor. She was not in the mood for unregistered visitors, especially ones cloaked and flagless.

"Not every day this port gets a ship without a registry," she said bluntly, hand resting on the grip of her weapon. "Where are you from?"

Jayce stepped forward, his face in shadow beneath the hood.

"Just passing through," he replied with a neutral, firm tone. "We’re not looking for trouble."

Sarah eyed them closely. Three figures. Two tall, one shorter and thinner. The third kept their head bowed, fists clenched. Didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stood there, restrained. The kind of energy she recognized by instinct—the kind that explodes if you stare too long.

"Interesting. No flag. No name. No crew," she added with irony. "And today, of all days, with the port under surveillance. Bad day to play ghost."

Lux exchanged a quick glance with Jayce, silently urging caution. Jinx still didn’t look up. But Sarah felt the tension spike. That presence… that barely perceptible vibration under the skin...

Lux took a small step forward.

"We’re not smugglers, if that’s what you think."

Sarah looked at her closely but didn’t respond right away. She had no proof. Just a gut feeling gnawing at her chest.

Then Jayce broke the moment:

"The commander of Piltover… do you know if she’s alright?"

Sarah held his gaze in silence for a beat. She didn’t answer right away. That question… wasn’t normal. And he hadn’t asked for a name. Just the title. That raised even more alarm.

"Why do you ask?" she said firmly. She still didn’t know whose side they were on. Or what they wanted.

Jayce returned her gaze.

"I just heard rumors of unrest in the city. I’m… concerned about her. She’s important."

Sarah didn’t lower her guard.

"The commander is alive," she replied at last, her voice dry. "That’s all you need to know."

Nothing more.

Lux gave a small nod, as if that answer sufficed. Jayce did the same, offering a grateful look. But Jinx tensed. Just slightly, a barely perceptible tremor. As if the word alive had pierced her chest.

The silence between the four figures thickened. Jinx stepped forward, slowly, like it cost her everything. Her hood still covered her face, but her voice, when it finally emerged, was a whisper cracked by the weight of time.

"Do you know the commander personally?" she asked without lifting her eyes, gaze fixed on the ground.

Sarah didn’t answer right away. The question, so simple, triggered every alarm in her mind. Because of how it was asked—and what wasn’t said.

"Yes," she replied cautiously at last. "I know her."

Jinx lowered her head even more. She fumbled inside her coat with trembling hands. A small, rusted metallic object emerged, worn by time. She walked to Sarah and, without looking, dropped it into her open palm.

"It’s not for her exactly..." she murmured. "It’s for someone who’s with her. Someone who... will understand what it means."

Sarah looked down at the object in her hand. A tin monkey, crude, rusting at the edges. She didn’t know what it was or why her fingers trembled holding it, but she knew it meant something. Something important to the one who gave it.

She looked up just in time to see the hooded figure take a step back, like she’d just handed over something too personal, too fragile. This wasn’t a casual offering.

"Give it to Violet. A friend... close to the Commander," said Jinx, her voice tight. "She’ll know."

Sarah slowly closed her hand around the monkey, eyes still on her.

"And if she doesn’t want it?"

The question was soft. But heavy. Like a rope pulling at an abyss.

Jinx clenched her jaw. Her entire body seemed to tighten.

"Then..." she whispered through gritted teeth, "I’ll know there’s nothing left to do."

She didn’t say it with anger. Not even with sadness. She said it with resignation. Like someone who had already lost, and just needed one final sign to let go.

Sarah didn’t say anything else. She tucked the monkey into the inner pocket of her coat with care. As if she instinctively knew she held more than a piece of rusted metal.

Jayce and Lux exchanged a look. Worried. Silent. The kind that needed no words. Something had just happened there neither of them fully understood, but they both knew it was important. Personal.

Sarah only nodded, turned on her heel. She didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t ask anything more. She walked away with a steady pace, but the weight of what she had received clung to her coat like a sentence. Like a story not yet begun, already demanding an end.

The day dragged on with cruel slowness. Jinx remained on the ship with Jayce and Lux, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. She paced the deck from bow to stern like a caged beast, hood up, steps erratic. Her eyes never left the dock, scanning for a silhouette, a color, a movement that never came.

"You should rest a little, Jinx," Lux suggested gently. "You're exhausted. You can’t keep going like this all day."

"I can’t sleep," Jinx murmured, not stopping, arms crossed tight. "What if she comes while I’m out and thinks I left? What if she thinks I’m avoiding her?"

Jayce sighed, leaning against the railing. He looked at Jinx not like a threat, but like someone he didn’t know how to protect.

"Vi will come," he said firmly, though without the confidence of someone who knew. More like someone trying to calm a storm with words. "Just... try to breathe."

But the hours passed. And Vi didn’t appear.

By dusk, Jinx finally sat on the deck, knees drawn to her chest. Her body trembled without cold. The bags under her eyes looked like old wounds never allowed to heal. The sun sank lower, the city remained silent. So did she.

"Maybe we should leave early tomorrow," Jayce whispered to Lux as they watched her from a distance. "There might be something at the lab that can help us figure out what’s next. We can’t stay here forever."

Lux didn’t answer right away. She just looked at him. Then looked back at Jinx, lips tight, sadness brimming in her eyes.

The breeze carried a whistle through the loose sails, like a whisper no one wanted to hear. Jayce straightened, crossed his arms, and stayed a while longer, silent, as if waiting for something.

But nothing happened.

The sky turned grayer, the mist thicker. Jinx remained curled up.

That night, no one truly slept. Inside or out.

Dawn barely brushed the horizon when Jayce, moving quietly, stepped onto the deck. Lux followed a few paces behind. Both wore thicker coats than the night before, not for warmth, but for the weight of the decision they were about to make.

Jinx was still there. Sitting at the edge of the boat, face turned toward the thick mist cloaking the port. She hadn’t slept. It didn’t need to be said—it showed in the deep shadows under her eyes, in the tension of her shoulders, in the way she turned a tiny gear between her fingers, over and over, mechanically, obsessively.

"We’re heading to the lab," Jayce said finally, voice soft but firm. "We won’t be long. You could come with us, Jinx. There are things you could see... things that might help."

Lux stepped forward without hesitation and knelt beside her, ignoring the cold seeping into the deck. Carefully, like touching something fragile, she placed both hands on Jinx’s arms and gently coaxed her to look up.

"Jinx..." she whispered. "She’s going to come. I know it. And you’ll be here. Not because you’re stuck, but because you chose to wait. Because you still believe in her."

Jinx’s eyes trembled, as if those words sliced open one last untouched part of her. Lux leaned her forehead closer, almost touching hers.

"You’re not giving up. You’re fighting your way. And that’s bravery too."

A deep silence settled between them. Jinx didn’t reply, but her shoulders stopped shaking, just for a moment. Lux gently stroked her arm, anchoring her without forcing her, holding her without pressure.

"We’ll be back soon, I promise. And when I return... I want to find you both."

Jinx nodded slowly, lips sealed. Her eyes were glassy, dim, locked on the horizon. Jayce and Lux exchanged one last look before descending the gangplank, their figures disappearing into the morning vapor.

She was alone.

The ship became a floating prison, every creak a suppressed scream. She wandered the deck like a ghost, trying to bury her anxiety in motion. But it didn’t work. Each step grew heavier. The gear in her fingers stopped turning. It no longer soothed her. It no longer helped.

"Do you think she’ll come?" a voice whispered inside.

"She has to..." Jinx whispered, but it no longer sounded like certainty. It was a prayer.

She remembered the tin monkey. How she found it among the wreckage of her old hideout in Zaun. That little rusted toy, a creation of Powder when the world hadn’t broken her yet. She had carried it all this time without knowing why, until now. It was her final spark. Her way of saying without saying. Of speaking without words. Like when she was a child and thought she could fix the world with wires and homemade explosives.

"Vi..." she murmured, clutching her head.

"Vi's better off without you."

"She always was."

"She always will be."

"Shut up!" she yelled into the void, squeezing her eyes until they hurt. She covered her ears with both hands, trying to silence the echoes that came from inside, not out.

She slumped down again, elbows on knees, body curled as if the weight of her past had finally caught up. Her breathing was ragged. She wanted to cry, but no tears came. Just that sharp, pulsing void that follows after.

The port didn’t move forward. The day wouldn’t wake up. The voices kept whispering.

"What if she doesn’t care anymore?"

"What if she looks at you like a stranger?"

"What if you were never more than a bomb in her life?"

Jinx didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She just stayed there, hugging herself, repeating inwardly that she wouldn’t move. That she would wait. Even if it broke her.

The wind battered the ship’s slumbering sails. The harbor lingered in its stupor, oblivious to the storm roaring beneath her skin.

Finally, she stood. Not with strength, but with resignation. Her legs trembled, but she dragged herself to the cabin Jayce had given her. She shut the door with a faint creak and leaned on it, as if to hold back more than her body.

The room was dark. Narrow. It smelled of salt, damp wood, and old dust. In there, the world was smaller. And that offered a false sense of control. She walked to the desk, elbowing aside a few rusted tools. The monkey was gone; she had handed it over. All that remained was the void it left.

She collapsed onto the cot without removing her clothes. Closed her eyes. For a second, she wished the void would swallow her whole.

But then, a sound. Soft. Slow, heavy footsteps. Real.

She sat up abruptly and turned to the small rectangular window. The glass, fogged by the mist, only showed blurred shapes. But she’d know that form among a thousand. The weight. The rhythm. The way the silence shifted when her sister was near. She knew even before hearing her voice.

Broad-shouldered frame. A limp in her walk. The cane.

Vi.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling the gasp rising from her gut. The fear returned, but not the kind that paralyzes. The kind that makes every cell vibrate. She stood there, frozen, staring at the window, watching that familiar shape move, step by step, toward the deck.

"No..." she whispered hoarsely, not knowing if it was a plea or disbelief. Her heart pounded against her ribs, ready to burst.

Outside, the figure stopped.

"Jinx...?" Vi's voice from the deck, rough, barely sustained. Like just saying the name hurt more than any wound.

Jinx pressed closer to the window, tears blurring her vision. She couldn’t move. Not yet.

Vi took a few more steps, limping. Her silhouette vanished briefly into the thick fog. Then she stopped. Looked around, desperate, as if fearing it had all been a hallucination from exhaustion.

And then, as if something inside her finally shattered, Vi dropped her gaze and began to slowly turn away. She was ready to surrender to the silence. To leave the ship behind. To lose her again.

That was the moment Jinx opened the cabin door.

Quietly. Barefoot.

Soft steps on the wood barely audible between the creaking hull and the whisper of the wind.

Vi had her back to her.

Jinx took three steps. Then stopped.

Her hands trembled as she raised the hood. Slid it back slowly. Her messy blue hair fell over her shoulders like a thread of life returning to the stage.

Then she spoke.

"Told you, sis," Jinx whispered, her voice slicing through the fog like a wound that never healed. "I'm always with you... even when we're worlds apart."

Vi froze.

Jinx held her breath.

The silence was so thick she could hear her own heartbeat, pounding like a hammer inside her chest.

Vi turned. Slowly. As if time itself hesitated. As if looking would break the spell.

And then she saw her.

Jinx met her gaze. She wanted to run, to laugh, to flee, but she did nothing. Just stood there, shoulders tight, eyes wide like open doors. No makeup, no weapons, no broken smile from the past. Just her. Maskless. Exposed like a wound still bleeding.

Vi took a step. Then another.

Her sister’s face crumbled with each movement. Tears fell. Unbidden. Unstoppable.

"You're not a vision..." Vi whispered, her voice raw, like she was finally saying what she had always feared.

Jinx's knees buckled, but she didn’t move.

Vi approached. The cane struck the deck with each step, a rhythm of war and hope. Jinx felt like a child again. Like she was running through dark hallways, looking for a familiar shadow, a voice to tell her everything would be alright.

She swallowed hard. The words came out, soft but certain.
"It's me... It was always me."

And then, Vi broke.
All the doubts, the distance, the silence—they shattered, and she pulled her into a hug.

The world unraveled in that contact. It wasn’t a gentle hug, nor timid. It was violent in its tenderness. Urgent. Like someone who’d been falling for years and suddenly hit solid ground.

Vi wrapped around her as if holding her could fix everything. She buried her face in her neck, her hair, her skin. She cried. Jinx felt it, every sob striking like a blow to her own guilt.

She stayed stiff at first. Instinct screamed: what if this was a dream? What if she let go... and everything vanished again?

But then, her arms moved. They wrapped tight. Not like a fugitive, not like Jinx. She hugged like Powder. Like the sister who cried each night staring at her little tin monkey, praying her sister would come back.

She clung to Vi with her nails, shaking, letting the tears fall at last—hot, clean, whole.

"I thought... you hated me," she whispered, broken.

Vi answered with her chest, her entire body.
"Never. I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d never find you again."

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut.
"I tried," she confessed. "I tried not to come back. I tried to leave you in peace. But I couldn’t, Vi. I couldn’t."

Vi laughed through tears.
"Shit!... I’m glad you didn’t."

Jinx exhaled. One she'd been holding in for far too long.

They stayed like that. Melded. Pressed into each other like the entire universe had collapsed into that precise point on the deck. No war. No Noxus. No Zaun. Just them. Who they had always been.

Vi stroked her head, with the kind of care one uses to pick up something broken and precious.
"I’ve got you, Jinx. I’ve got you now."

And for the first time since she was Powder... Jinx believed her.

Because in Vi's arms, for once, the chaos stopped hurting.

Chapter Text

The embrace between the sisters lasted beyond time. Vi didn’t want to let go. Neither did Jinx. It was as if that touch could somehow mend the broken years, the unspoken words, the sleepless nights. But eventually, Vi pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes.

"After the explosion..." Jinx murmured, her voice trembling. "I thought I was going to die right there."

Vi didn’t look away. She’d thought the same thing.

"I saw you fall with Vander," she whispered. "I never heard from you again. I thought..."

She couldn’t finish the sentence.

Jinx looked down, her blue hair falling over part of her face.

"I thought the same..." she murmured. "Everything was fire. Noise. The ground disappeared beneath my feet. I don’t remember if I screamed. I just remember falling."

Vi pressed her lips together, holding back the emotion rising in her throat. She wanted to ask everything but didn’t interrupt.

"I fell far, I don’t know how far," Jinx continued. "I hit my head. There was debris, twisted metal... I was bleeding. But I didn’t die. I don’t know why."

Vi held her hand tighter.

"Maybe because you knew someone was still looking for you."

Jinx smiled, but it was a sad, crooked smile.

"I survived because the body refuses to give up even when the soul already has. I crawled through the Hexgate vents and hid in the Zaun tunnels for a few days. I ate what I could find, slept whenever the pain let me."

Vi closed her eyes for a moment. She imagined the scene, and each image was worse than the last.

"Then I found the airship," Jinx added. "It was old, nearly wrecked, but the engines worked. I fixed it with scrap, explosives... whatever I had on hand. I didn’t care where I was going. I just needed to leave."

"Where did it take you?" Vi asked, not letting go of her hand.

Jinx took a moment to respond. Her eyes drifted toward the mist beyond the harbor, as if she could still see the path she flew.

"Demacia," she finally said, with a sigh that tore from her chest. "I landed in the middle of nowhere. Thought I wouldn’t make it."

Vi looked at her, incredulous.

"Demacia? How the hell did you survive there?"

Jinx shrugged, a tired half-smile on her lips.

"Same as always... a little madness, lots of improvisation. I hid, disguised myself, spoke little and watched a lot."

Vi narrowed her eyes, almost smiling too. That was her. The Jinx who found impossible paths in the middle of chaos.

"And then?"

Jinx lowered her gaze, and for the first time, she seemed uncertain.

"It’s a long story..." she murmured. There was no avoidance in her tone, but something more intimate, more fragile. "And I don’t know if I can tell it well... at least not like you would."

Vi ran her thumbs over Jinx’s knuckles, giving her all the time she needed.

"I don’t want you to tell it like I would," she said gently. "I want you to tell it like you. In your own way. At your pace."

Jinx thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright... but don’t laugh if it sounds too much like me."

"No promises," Vi smiled, and they stayed there, warm silence between them, waiting for a story that, finally, after everything, had someone to be told to.

Jinx took a deep breath, lifted her gaze and, for the first time in a long while, allowed herself to remember... from the beginning.

The airship took me far, so far it no longer smelled like Shimmer, or grime, or Hextech, just clean wind. Until the engine died, like everything I touch, and I fell from the sky... straight into a world that looked like it came out of the stories Vander hated: Demacia.

Yeah. Demacia. That place that seemed to hate everything I am.

Clean streets. Guards on every corner. Pretty families with ironed clothes and faces that never knew hunger. It was... disgustingly perfect. And me, a nameless bomb, falling into that armored paradise.

The first days were hell. I stole bread, fruit, anything. I moved among people like a ghost. I learned their rhythms, their habits. I became invisible. Until I wasn’t.

Until one morning, when I tried to steal an apple—yes, a damn apple—a hand caught my wrist.

"Stop right there!" shouted a guard, shiny as a new coin.

I thought: "Not again." I turned without thinking, broke his grip with a yank, and bolted through the market stalls. Fruit flying, kids screaming, old ladies cursing. The usual.

"Stop her!" they yelled behind me, like I was a national threat and not a thief of apples.

I ran down a narrow alley, turned left, then again... and then: wall. A damn dead end. Perfect, I thought. But I wasn’t going to stand there waiting to be cuffed.

I climbed some crates, scrambled onto a rooftop, and started running across the tiles like in the old days. I felt the wind slicing my face, adrenaline pounding like music in my veins. But it wasn’t excitement. It was necessity. Survival... again.

That routine became my day-to-day. Steal, escape, hide, repeat. Sometimes I slept under bridges. Sometimes not even that. The nights were cold, and the days even colder. Not because of the weather. Because of the feeling that the world wanted me gone.

But monotony caught up to me. Stealing food wasn’t enough anymore; I needed more. The thrill of risk called me, and I decided to aim higher: Demacian nobility.

One night, tired of crumbs and chases, I went big. Real big. A mansion you could see from anywhere in the city, surrounded by perfect gardens and windows that never knew dirt. The kind of house where the floor shines more than your memories, and every stone reminds you that you don’t belong.

I slipped in through a skylight on the roof. One of those circular ones with carved glass, like a gem embedded in marble. I had to improvise a lockpick with a piece of clip and some rusty wire from my boot. Took less than a minute. Just enough time for my heart to go into war mode.

Inside... it was another world.

Thick carpets that swallowed the sound of my steps, tapestries as big as the nightmares that haunt me, crystal chandeliers hanging like trapped stars. Everything smelled of fine wood, old wine, power. The kind of power that doesn’t need to shout because silence does the job.

The walls were decorated with portraits. Solemn, perfect faces, painted to last centuries. Their eyes seemed to follow me as I slid through the hallways. The chandeliers cast long shadows, and each room seemed bigger than the last.

There were display cases full of relics: silver swords, jeweled trinkets, ivory figurines. Things I didn’t even understand, but they reeked of wealth. Of privilege. Of everything that had been denied to me since the day I opened my eyes in Zaun.

I stuffed my pockets with what I could. A golden spoon. A hawk-shaped brooch. A chain with links so fine it looked like threads of light.

I didn’t do it out of greed.

I did it out of hunger. Out of rage. Out of that little voice that says if you don’t take something, the world will keep taking from you.

And just when I was about to get out, the foundation of my luck cracked.

"Stop right there!"

The light hit me straight in the eyes. It was like a miniature sun had chosen me for its nightly show. I blinked, not to see better, but so fear wouldn’t show too much.

Two guards. Shiny armor, martial stance, and that look of "we’re paid to make sure you know you can’t escape." Cute.

"Thief in the east wing," one growled, like he had a script.

"Original," I thought. But not out loud. You have to pick your battles.

I turned on my heel. Corridor to the right. Carpet muffled their steps, but mine too. Perfect.

I ran.

Knocked over a vase that probably cost more than everything I’d stolen that week. The crash echoed like a scream. Good distraction. Bad for the noble’s artistic pride.

Their footsteps followed. Metallic hammers shaking the chandeliers.

I turned down a narrow hallway. Climbed a spiral staircase. Ended up in a hall with ceilings so high even the echo got lost trying to escape. Embroidered rugs, statues with eternally bored expressions. And at the far end... salvation.

A half-open window. High up. But nothing a few chairs and a table couldn’t fix.

I stacked the furniture with expert-chaos precision. Climbed up, pushed the window... and just as I was about to slip through...

A hand grabbed my ankle.

"Not so fast," the guard said, like he’d just caught a stray cat with an eagle complex.

I pulled a smoke bomb from my belt and dropped it without ceremony. Poof! Instant fog, coughing, shouting, confusion.

My specialty.

I slipped out the window, landed in the garden like a sack of bones, and took off running. The rose bushes didn’t like my exit. The thorns took their toll. But nothing I couldn’t ignore.

I ran to the wall. Jumped. Pushed off with a grunt that would make any street acrobat proud. On the other side, an alley. Dark. Familiar. Almost homey.

I vanished into the shadows like they were my surname.

The shouts faded. The lights too. All that remained was the drum in my chest... and a soft, irreverent laugh. "You did it again, Powder," I thought.

But of course... life always has one more twist.

And then there she was. Standing in front of me, blocking the path like the universe had decided I couldn’t get five minutes of peace.

A girl.

Blonde, young, relaxed stance, but with that energy of someone who hides lightning in their pocket. She looked at me like she knew me. Like she knew something I didn’t.

And then she spoke.

"You’re hard to catch."

Oh, perfect. Another heroine with a savior complex.

"And who are you?" I asked, not hiding my annoyance.

"Luxanna Crownguard. But you can call me Lux."

"Another guard?"

"Not exactly."

And there she was. Looking at me like she could read between the lines of my chaos. Like she understood it. Or worse... like she wasn’t afraid.

And me, well... I was just thinking about which pocket had another bomb.

"Oh yeah?" I smirked, one of those sideways smiles I used to hide the tremble. "Look, princess, I don't have time for midnight sermons or redemption speeches."

I threw the smoke bomb to the ground without hesitation. Old trick. Blue cloud. Guaranteed chaos. I darted into the forest, my boots biting into the damp undergrowth. Darkness was my ally, and the branches cracked beneath my feet like they were announcing me. Didn’t matter, I wasn’t stopping.

But then, I heard her again. That damned voice.

"You're fast... but not fast enough."

I stopped dead. Turned.

There she was. Staff in hand. Unfazed. Eyes bright and determined, like she was the protagonist of some stupid fable about justice.

"I don't know who the hell you are, but I'm not letting myself get caught," I spat, pulling out my pocket toys. Not the big ones, just the ones that bite.

"I don’t want to hurt you," she replied, calm, as if that made her any less dangerous. "But I can’t let you keep doing this."

"'This'?" I tilted my head. "Surviving?"

And I charged.

Like a spark to powder. I fired a burst of makeshift projectiles, nothing lethal, just enough to sting and run, but she dodged with a grace that didn’t match her noble-girl face. Every shot, every rebound bomb, every pocket trap was met with a damned calm that pissed me off.

The little bitch didn’t just dodge. She read me. Like she knew where I’d jump before I did. A pirouette left, half a backflip, I slid a fragmentation mine under her feet—nothing serious, just noise over damage—but she jumped just before it went off.

"Are you seriously trying not to kill me?" I huffed while rolling across the ground, dodging a counter I hadn’t seen coming.

"I don’t want to hurt you," she said again with that calm voice that made my murderous impulses want to stuff dynamite in her mouth.

I went at her again, this time with more rage. Close quarters, little distance, no mercy. But every punch, every jab, every small blade I tried to sneak in... met her staff. And how she used it! Like she’d been born with it fused to her bones.

I went for her flank. Twisted. Faked an overhead strike but aimed low. Classic Jinx! Nothing.

"Shit, they train you well in this damn kingdom!" I groaned, panting.

She didn’t answer. Just moved, precise and focused. Like her knees didn’t shake. Like she didn’t have to fight herself with every step like I did.

She paused for a second, looked around. Made sure there were no witnesses, that we were alone.

A light began to shine from her staff. First faint, then blinding. Like the sun decided to rise right there, among the trees. I felt the hum in my teeth before the beam hit me. No time to scream.

It launched me backwards, straight into a tree trunk. Everything turned into buzzing and dancing lights behind my eyes.

"That's not fair!" I shouted, spitting leaves and a bit of pride. "Using magic is cheating!"

She let out a soft laugh. Not mocking, not smug, just... soft. Like she didn’t care that I’d just tried to smash her face two minutes ago.

"Sometimes you have to use all the tools you have," she said, approaching like someone trying to catch a butterfly without breaking its wings.

I stayed on the ground. Breathing like my lungs had been flattened by a mallet. Didn’t move, just calculated distances, options, how many bombs I had left, how many bones hurt. Spoiler: more than I should.

"Why are you here?" she asked then, lowering her voice. It didn’t sound like bright light or divine judgment anymore. It sounded... human.

I looked at her warily. Of course. Always a trap. Always. But her eyes didn’t seem to hide hooks.

"I got nowhere to go," I admitted, spitting it more than saying it. But then, jinx-style reflex: I wrapped it in sarcasm. "Well, unless you count jail or the bottom of a ravine, but let’s say neither option thrills me."

She raised an eyebrow and smiled again. What was it with that damned smile?

"I've seen how you manage to survive," she said. "It’s not easy living in Demacia being... different."

"Different?" I scoffed. "What a diplomatic way of saying 'potentially unstable, armed to the teeth, and with a history of pyrotechnics.'"

"That’s not what I meant."

"Of course not. You're one of those who sees the glass half full... right before it explodes into a thousand pieces."

She laughed, for real, like it genuinely amused her. Like I wasn’t a walking bomb with a name.

"Normally, I’d have to take you to the castle," she continued, more serious now. "For your actions."

"'Actions'?" I repeated with exaggerated theatrics. "Oh yeah. Stealing, running, causing a few small structural fires... and making a guard cry. Harmless mischief."

"But there’s something about you," she said, like I hadn’t interrupted. "Something that tells me you’re not what you seem."

"An adorable misunderstood artist?" I winked, still on the ground. "You knew it, huh?"

She took a deep breath. Like she was torn between laughing and screaming. (I get it, blondie.)

"I can offer you shelter," she finally said. "Nothing fancy, but you’ll have food and a roof. No one will look for you there."

"Oh, how touching," I crossed my arms. Well, more like hugged myself because it still hurt to breathe. "And then what? You give me a blanket, warm bread, and in the morning I wake up tied up with a torch in my face?"

"I don’t want anything from you," she replied firmly. Firmly for real. "I just think you deserve better."

I stayed silent. That. Silence. Weird for me, I know. But... it didn’t feel like a trap.

"Damn..." I muttered. "Do you always talk like that? Or is this your technique to disarm unstable thieves with trauma and explosive sarcasm?"

"Only with you," she replied without hesitation.

"Oh, great. I feel special. Gonna make me a nameplate?"

She smiled again. I swear it was contagious. It had been a long time since I didn’t feel like stabbing someone for smiling.

"Alright," I said, getting up with shredded pride. "But if you’re lying, I swear I’ll poison your tea with concentrated explosive and escape through the window."

"Deal."

And just like that, with a half-broken rib, pride completely shattered, and not knowing why, I found myself walking behind a rich Demacian girl with sun powers... who, for some reason, didn’t want to turn me in.

What the hell. It was that or go back to the ravine.

Part of me thought I was making the dumbest mistake of my life.

The other... the other just sighed and said "what the hell."

The cabin wasn’t what I expected. I thought it’d be a prison disguised as a countryside cottage, but no. It was warm. Not because of the fireplace (though yes, the fire helped), or the thick wood that smelled like damp forest. It was warm in a weird way. Like the walls weren’t judging me. It smelled of wood, old books, and herbal tea with unresolved trauma. To me, that already felt cozy.

I flopped down by the fire, stretching my hands toward the flames. Lux was preparing something in a rusty kettle, like this was just an ordinary afternoon and not the beginning of a dumb decision. We didn’t talk much. Tense silence. The kind that begs for a bomb or a joke.

"So you live here?" I asked, glancing at the perfectly alive plants and the shelves full of books. Who has so many plants that don’t die? Witchcraft.

"Not exactly," she replied without turning around. "I live at the castle with my family. This is... something else."

"A kind of mystical retreat for repressed mages?" I scoffed. "Or a post-royal-drama hideout with tea included?"

She placed the kettle on the fire. Didn’t laugh. Just said:

"A place where I can disappear."

That word lingered in the air. I looked at her, tilting my head.

"Disappear from what? Too many silver spoons?"

"From everything," she answered quietly. And something in her posture changed. She shrank, not physically, but... in spirit, I guess. Like "everything" hurt more than she wanted to show.

I watched her for a while. I didn’t like how that sounded. It reminded me of myself.

"And still, you brought me here. A criminal, a walking bomb with a firework history. Pretty risky, little light."

"You don’t seem like a criminal to me," she said, finally turning around. Her voice didn’t tremble. "You seem like someone who’s gone too long without a place of their own."

I laughed almost out of reflex. Because if I didn’t laugh, maybe I’d believe her.

"You have a really weird way of inviting someone to stay."

"It wasn’t an invitation," she shot back. "It was a decision. I already made it."

I stared at her.

"And your servants? The Crownguard crows? Won’t they notice you’re hiding Piltover’s most wanted thief in your zen cabin?"

"No one comes here," she said, with a calm that ticked me off. "And if they do... I’ll handle it."

"With your magic light stick and your fairy godmother voice, huh?"

"More useful than you think."

"I’m starting to notice," I muttered.

"And you," she added, not losing composure. "You’re more vulnerable than you pretend to be."

That one hurt.

"You’ll have your space here," she said. "I won’t demand anything from you, I don’t want you to do anything or prove anything."

"Not even clean?" I raised an eyebrow, pointing with my boot at the dry leaves I’d brought in from the forest like some kind of decor.

She laughed, that laugh again.

"Well, you could at least sweep your chaos."

"Tch. Demanding."

She didn’t insist. Just sat in front of the fire, legs crossed, and nodded her head at me. No words. Just a gesture.

And without knowing why... I obeyed her.

There were no explosions. No threats. No yelling. No one ran. No one fled.

Just the crackling of the fire. Just her and me.

The silence didn’t feel like blades. It felt like... a pause. Like the world stopped pushing me, just for a while.

And there, sitting in that cabin that smelled of firewood and bad decisions, I understood something.

This wasn’t her hiding place.

It was her truth. And maybe... maybe it could be mine too.

The days started to pass. Slowly. Like time in that cabin played by different rules. No clocks. No alarms. No explosions.

Weird.

At first, I woke up with my heart racing, expecting a siren's wail, a bomb's roar, someone screaming they'd found me. But no. Just birds... singing like they owned the forest. Arrogant bastards. And that delicious smell of toasted bread that made me think maybe I was dreaming.

Lux always woke up before me. She said it was habit. I said she was just nuts.

"What kind of person wakes up happy at dawn? Do you recharge with sunlight or just want to see me suffer?" I grumbled one day, face buried in the pillow.

"Good morning to you too," she answered with that bright tone that made me want to throw the kettle at her. She stood at the door, a sunbeam behind her. Angelic. Dangerously angelic. "Come on. Firewood before our brains freeze."

"I don’t have a brain. That’s your problem," I muttered. But I went anyway.

At first, I walked behind her, with the wariness of someone who knows the world always has a hidden plan. I watched how she used her magic to move branches or heat up stones with that elegant princess style. I just made sure the logs didn’t have spiders... and, well, didn’t explode.

As days went by, we did more things. We fixed an old fence (I said someone was spying on us, probably an ethically conflicted raccoon). I set homemade traps "just in case," and Lux didn’t say a word. One morning I saw she’d added a sign: "Peace zone. No exploding allowed."

I laughed. More than I should've.

We talked, cooked, cleaned. She mocked me for naming my bombs like pets. I made fun of her for sorting books by "emotional state."

"This bomb is called Pepe?" she asked, lifting a canister with painted eyes.

"Yeah. It only explodes if you insult it."

"What if I say pink doesn’t suit him?"

"SACRILEGE!"

And so on.

Little by little, I started to let my guard down.

Without realizing it, I started to relax. To sleep without weapons under my pillow. To eat without watching the window. To stay quiet without plotting something.

And sometimes, at night, while the fire murmured and she read softly, I caught myself watching her.

How she wrinkled her nose when something outraged her. How she pursed her lips when she was deep in thought. How she always left the last piece of bread for me without making a fuss.

One afternoon, one of those where the sky looked too good to be true, we came back from foraging mushrooms. I was covered in mud and frustrated because mushrooms don’t come labeled ("edible" / "lethal hallucination"), and she, as always, looked radiant even with moss in her hair.

We sat on the porch. There was silence. But one of those silences that doesn’t scare you.

And then she said it.

"I’m not going back to the castle."

I turned so fast I almost fell off the step.

"What?"

"I don’t want to go back. I can’t keep hiding. Pretending. Every day there is a mask... and here, with you, it’s the first time I feel like I can breathe."

I stared at her like I was trying to find the trap.

"Right... and I’m the perfect emotional lighthouse, huh? Jinx, chaos therapist?"

She smiled. Said nothing. Didn’t laugh at me.

"No. But you're the only one who doesn’t ask me to hide. And that’s worth more than anything I ever had there."

And there... something cracked inside me. Nothing big. Just... a crack, like when a bomb doesn’t go off but you know it’s alive.

She approached slowly. No sound, like she didn’t want to scare me. Like I was a wounded creature and she... I don’t know. A kind witch. A miracle.

"Can I...?"

She didn’t ask what. She didn’t have to.

I nodded. Like someone pressing a detonator with a smile.

And when she kissed me, the world didn’t break.

There was no fire. No screaming. Just... warmth. The kind of warmth that doesn’t burn. That wraps around you.

My heart leapt so hard I swore it exploded. But it didn’t hurt. It didn’t sting. It just... beat.

And when I hugged her, I knew I finally understood what it meant to let my guard down... and not be afraid to die for it.

That night, when we went up to the loft and closed the door, I didn’t leave my scars behind.

I just let them be seen.

And she didn’t run.

She looked at me. Touched me. Held me.

I felt... alive. Not because of chaos, but because of her.

...

"UGH, ENOUGH!" she blurted out loud, shaking her head like that would clear away all the sappiness. "What the hell is wrong with me? I need a bomb, not a poem."

She curled up on herself, crossing her arms tightly as if trying to shield herself from her own vulnerability. She glanced sideways at Vi, frowning in discomfort.

"Don’t repeat any of that. Ever. If anyone finds out I got emotional... I’ll throw myself into the sea with a rock around my neck and forget you’re my sister."

Vi smiled faintly, saying nothing. She didn’t need to. She just watched her.

Jinx cleared her throat, trying to play it off. Her tone shifted, firmer, drier.

"The point is, Lux started going out from time to time. Magical excursions, mysterious blonde sorceress business. And on one of those trips, she came back with someone else." Pause. Her voice dropped. "Jayce."

Vi raised her eyebrows, surprised.

"Yeah," Jinx continued, not letting her speak, "Jayce Talis, in the flesh, bones and dark circles. Half frozen, with the face of someone who fell into a storm of bad decisions... but alive. Lux brought him to the cabin one afternoon like it was totally normal, like 'Look who I found in the magical bushes.'"

She shrugged, as if she still didn’t know what to make of it.

"At first it was weird. Three people under the same roof: a solar mage, a mentally-fried inventor, and me... well, me. But nothing exploded. No one cried. We even had dinner. They talked about fixing the world, about bright things with strange names. And I don’t know how, Vi... but for a moment, for one night, everything worked."

Jinx fell silent after telling her story, like the words had drained something from her. The harbor mist still hovered around the ship, dense, humid, covering everything like an old gray blanket. But there, on the deck, the two sisters remained motionless. Facing each other. No masks.

Vi didn’t say anything. She just looked at her.

And for the first time in a long while, Jinx didn’t feel the need to fill the air with more noise. It had all been said. Everything that mattered, at least.

Vi had listened to every word with a knot in her throat. There was tenderness in her eyes. And also awe. And that silent pain that can’t be described.

They were sitting close, knees nearly touching. The silence surrounding them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was solemn. Heavy with years.

Jinx spun a rusty screw between her fingers, absent, like turning it might keep the world from falling apart again.

"What about you?" Jinx murmured, glancing at her from the corner of her eye. "You look like you fought a train... and lost. What the hell happened to you?"

Vi looked away toward the water. The trembling reflection of the lights on the sea offered no answers, but she stayed there, as if searching for one among the waves.

"It was Jhin, a killer," she finally said, her voice rough like burnt paper. "We were ambushed."

"Jhin...?" she repeated with a frown, digging through her memory. "Doesn’t ring a bell. Another thug with a weird name and a god complex?"

Vi didn’t smile. Not even a twitch. Her gaze lowered, and something in her expression changed. It was like her colors dimmed.

"He’s not a thug," she said in a low voice, like declaring a sentence. "He’s a monster. And this time... he was waiting for us."

There was a short silence. The kind that comes before storms.

"It was a recon mission," Vi went on, not looking away from the water. "Ekko, Cait, and I... we went to investigate a supposed Noxian camp. We thought we had the upper hand. That everything was more or less under control. But it was all a trap. And he was there."

Her jaw clenched. Her knuckles stood out as she gripped the edge of the ship harder than necessary.

"He appeared on the hill, like he’d been waiting for us. He didn’t bring his long-range rifle this time. Just a mid-range weapon... but it wasn’t any less deadly. He moved like every one of our steps had already been written."

Vi inhaled, slowly, like each word cost her.

"We tried to surround him. Ekko flanked him, Caitlyn shot first... and I charged straight in. I thought we could trap him. That we had a real chance."

Jinx tilted her head, her expression tightening.

"And?"

"It was a choreography," Vi growled, gritting her teeth. "But not ours. His. Every step, every shot... he already had them planned. He took down Ekko first. Then me."

She stopped there. Not from forgetfulness, but from the pain that came with what followed.

"And Caitlyn?" Jinx asked, quieter this time. The question escaped before she could stop it.

Vi looked up. Her eyes, which had held the story with strength until then, broke.

"He shot her in the chest. Right in the heart."

Jinx swallowed.

"Did she die?"

"No." The word came out rough, almost broken. "The vest saved her. At least... enough for her to keep breathing. But the bullet went through. And watching her fall was like the world splitting in two."

Jinx didn’t say anything. She looked down.

Vi clenched her fists, her voice trembling for the first time.

"I wanted to reach her. But Jhin blocked me. He threw me to the ground... and stayed there, watching me. Like he was enjoying every second."

She brought a hand to her neck unconsciously, reliving the moment.

Silence fell between them again, thick as the mist around the port.

"When I woke up... Caitlyn was hooked up to machines. Barely alive." Vi clenched her jaw. "And her rifle... the Hextech one she carried... was missing its gem. The last one. They stole it."

Jinx blinked slowly, as if the words were taking time to settle.

"The rifle gem...?" she murmured, and her voice sounded more confused than surprised. "I thought... she still had it."

Vi shook her head, the motion slow, heavy with helplessness.

"No. They took it. And with that gem, Jhin or whoever is behind this can build whatever they want. Anything. And no one could stop them."

Jinx looked away, pressing her lips. The cold air seemed to cut her breath short.

"Great... just what we need. A lunatic on the loose with a fancy glowing bomb."

Vi looked away. The pain on her face shifted. Became something else. Older. Deeper.

"Cait... had already lost an eye in the war." She paused, touching her left eye socket with her fingers. "Ambessa. In the last fight against Noxus. A dagger. There was no saving it."

Jinx lifted her head sharply. Her expression changed. It wasn’t just anger or shock anymore. It was disbelief.

"And she still went with you? That broken?"

"That strong." Vi nodded, with a knot in her throat that barely let her speak. "Leading the charge, like always. Like she didn’t know how to give up."

Jinx lowered her gaze. Her fingers fumbled over the screw again, clumsily, almost absent. A slight tremor ran through her hands, but she said nothing.

Silence fell again, thick as the fog surrounding them. Vi closed her eyes for a second. The whistle of the wind carried too many voices. Some familiar. Others that never had time to scream.

"I still have her, Jinx. But she’s hanging by a thread. Fighting for every breath." Her voice dropped to a cracked whisper. "And I... I can’t lose anyone else."

Jinx nodded without looking up. She bit her lip hard. Her throat burned.

"You won’t lose her," she said at last, in a low voice, firm but fragile. "I swear."

Vi didn’t respond. She just looked at her. As if the words were finally starting to echo.

Jinx stopped fiddling with the screw. She closed her hand around it and slipped it into the inside pocket of her jacket, carefully.

"I didn’t know it was that bad," she admitted, almost in a whisper. "I thought you’d just... gotten lost in the storm. That things had settled."

Vi shook her head, still gazing at the horizon.

"They didn’t settle. They just got quieter. Like when you’re in the middle of a hurricane... and think it’s over. But it’s just the eye."

Vi exhaled slowly, leaning her weight on the ship’s railing. Her knuckles were red, bandaged, like her leg. But her eyes didn’t show pain. They showed urgency.

"I asked Ekko to look for Shimmer," she said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Whatever’s left. If there’s anything."

Jinx tilted her head slightly, in silence.

"I don’t like it. I don’t want to use it. But Caitlyn is..." Vi cut herself off, lowering her gaze. "She’s too fragile. If Shimmer can give her even a small boost... just one... I’ll try it."

Jinx didn’t reply. She just watched her more closely.

"I have to go back to the hospital," Vi added, straightening with a muted groan. "I don’t want her to wake up and not see me there. Not after all this."

Jinx closed her hand over the screw, slipped it back into her jacket slowly, and looked up. Her expression had hardened, but her eyes said something else.

"I’m going to find Jayce and Lux," she said suddenly, her voice steadier than she expected.

Vi frowned, confused.

"Why?"

"Jayce cares about Cait," Jinx replied without looking at her. "He needs to know what happened. He deserves to."

She didn’t say more. She didn’t mention the thought that had rooted itself in her chest like a spark: that maybe, just maybe, if anyone could try to save her... it was him. But she kept that part to herself.

Vi nodded slowly. She looked exhausted, but also lighter, like finally, someone was sharing the weight.

"Alright," she said in a low voice. "See you at the hospital."

"Give it time," Jinx added, pulling up her hood. "Don’t say anything yet. If she wakes up... I want her to hear it from me."

Vi smiled, barely, with tenderness.

"Always the dramatic one."

"Don’t make me look bad," Jinx shot back with a sincere smirk. Then, she stepped off the ship without looking back.

Vi watched her disappear into the mist.

And so, while one returned to the hospital to hold the impossible together, the other headed into the heart of Piltover, where maybe, in the echo of metal and memory, one last chance still remained.

A hope. A promise.

Because even if they walked different paths, at last, they were heading in the same direction.

Chapter Text

The bustle of the market contrasted with the silence in which Jayce found himself trapped. From the shadows between two buildings, he watched his mother walk through the plaza, gray hair tied in a tight bun and a handwoven coat crafted by hands that no longer waited for him. She carried a bag of fruit. Heavy. As if life still insisted she work a little longer.

"Is that her?" Lux whispered beside him.

Jayce nodded without a word. "My mother."

The tone was barely a sigh, but within it raged a storm. Lux, respectful, didn’t interrupt.

"She thinks I died in the war. That Piltover fell with me." He paused, eyes fixed on that woman who still defied the passage of time. "And in part… it’s true."

"Why don’t you go to her now?" Lux asked gently. "You could explain that you survived… that you’re here."

Jayce watched in silence, his back leaning against the coarse wall, as if needing to hold onto something that wouldn’t collapse along with him. His mother crossed the plaza with slow steps, her handmade coat barely shielding her from the wind. That gesture, that simple detail… was a dagger in his chest.

"And for what? To tell her I fused with the Arcane? That I followed Viktor until I vanished? That I abandoned everything I was for a cause that... in the end... devoured me completely? She always warned me to leave magic behind... When I created Hextech, I thought I was building the future, that brilliant promise we dreamed of. But everything twisted. And when I tried to fix it... it was already too late."

He swallowed hard. His voice trembled, barely a thread.

"How do you look someone in the eyes when you know you came back too late?"

Lux didn’t respond. She simply stayed by his side, honoring that sacred space between guilt and love.

"When I was a child, she used to knit those coats at night," Jayce continued, eyes fixed on the fabric brushing his mother’s ankles. "She stayed up until I got home, even when she didn’t know what time I’d return. She always waited. Always."

He closed his eyes. The images returned uninvited.

"I once promised her that no matter what happened, I would always come home."

The promise cracked in his throat like an old wound that never healed.

"I failed her."

He went silent, as if fearing that saying it out loud would make the abandonment more real.

"And now… all I can do is watch her from afar. Like a ghost. Because that’s what I am to her. Nothing more."

Lux glanced at him. The sunset light painted the outline of her face in gold. Her expression was calm, firm, yet full of empathy.

"You’re not a ghost, Jayce," she said softly. "You’re a man. One who carries his decisions. But you’re still here, trying to fix what broke… even if it’s not for yourself."

Jayce barely nodded, his eyes still fixed on the figure disappearing into the crowd, as if life itself owed nothing to anyone.

A memory hit him. An old one.

A stormy night. Jayce was eight. He had run away because he didn’t want to help with chores, shouting that he didn’t want to live there anymore. He ran for hours, aimlessly. Until the rain soaked him to the bone and fear overcame pride.

He returned home, defeated.

He knocked on the door with cold knuckles and shoes caked in mud. And there she was, waiting with hot soup, a knitted blanket… and a smile.

"See? You always come home," she said as she dried his hair.

He just cried and hugged her as if that were the only truth in the world.

Jayce returned to the present with his eyes closed. The memory burned, but it didn’t hurt.

"Maybe I can’t return to that house. Maybe I don’t deserve for her to open the door again. But if I can keep someone else from losing what I lost… then something of me will have been worth it..." he said at last, his voice firm but tired. "Let’s go. We didn’t come to relive what’s already gone."

Lux nodded. She said no more. Together, they turned down a side street, walking away from the market and the past.

And although Jayce couldn’t change what he had done, maybe he could still rebuild something. Not for himself, but for others.

With that thought guiding them, they continued their way toward Jayce’s laboratory, toward something he still didn’t dare name, but that might still be salvaged.

The Council and Academy building hadn’t lost an ounce of its grandeur after the war. Rebuilt, polished, reinforced—imposing as ever. A symbol of power that seemed determined to erase, with marble and new glass, the memory of having once stood at the brink of collapse.

Jayce and Lux watched from the side alley of one of the adjacent plazas, hidden behind a supply truck recently unloaded.

"Are you still sure this is a good idea in broad daylight?" Lux asked, lowering her hood.

"It’s now or never," Jayce replied, eyes locked on the structure. "At night it’s even more guarded. And if we reach the lab before the shift change, we can avoid the guards in the east corridor. We’ve got a five-minute window."

Lux sighed and nodded.

Jayce approached a service hatch embedded in the side of the building, barely visible among shadows and forgotten pipes. At first glance, it looked useless—edges corroded, coated with years of grime.

"We used to sneak in here when classes ran too long," he murmured.

He crouched down, examined the frame quickly, and searched the area. His eyes landed on a twisted piece of wire near some empty supply crates. He picked it up, straightened it with his fingers, and slid it carefully into a small slot hidden behind a loose panel.

"Are you sure about this?" Lux whispered, glancing up and down the alley.

Jayce didn’t answer. He worked with precision and confidence. After a few seconds, a soft click confirmed the internal lock had yielded.

"They reinforced the surface… but didn’t change the core system," he said.

He opened the hatch just enough for them to slip inside.

The service corridor smelled of cleaning products, fresh paint, and secrets long buried. They moved quickly, slipping past a preservation room where several students reviewed documents. Silently, they climbed an emergency stairwell only the building’s veterans would remember.

"How do you know this place so well?" Lux whispered as they ascended with caution.

Jayce brushed his fingers against the stair’s rusted railing.

"I spent more years here than in my own home," he whispered back. "Viktor and I used to sneak through every corner when no one was looking. I even found this stairwell when not even the councilors knew it was still connected."

Lux nodded with a small smile. "Of course... only you two would explore a building like it was an arcane labyrinth."

"That, or study mechanical history for the fourth time," Jayce muttered with a bittersweet grin.

They reached the fourth floor. Below, a door slammed open. Fast, firm footsteps echoed.

Jayce and Lux froze, holding their breath. The echo climbed the stairs… but then veered off, fading in another direction.

Only then did they dare move again—silent, crouched, every step calculated.

Turning the next corridor, they spotted two enforcers patrolling the main gallery, their silhouettes outlined by artificial light.

"Wait thirty seconds… then left," Jayce whispered, eyes fixed ahead, struggling to steady his breathing.

When the moment came, they slipped like shadows between columns. They turned down a narrow corridor and reached a door with a biometric lock.

Jayce placed his palm. Nothing. Red light.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Lux muttered.

"I haven’t used this in years," Jayce said, opening a hidden panel beside the door. He reached in and, after a few moments of searching, activated a manual mechanism that released the lock with a metallic click.

The door slid open slowly, creaking faintly.

They entered. Jayce closed it behind them.

The lab welcomed them with a blend of dust and silence. So long unused, it was shrouded in a melancholic film. Dormant machines, rusted tools, crumpled schematics hanging from the wall like abandoned relics.

Lux took a deep breath. "Is this where...?"

"Yes. This is where Viktor and I made history… or maybe ruined it..." Jayce murmured with a trace of nostalgia.

He moved slowly toward the central panel’s manual light switch—but before he could reach it...

"You two gonna stand there all day or actually do something useful?" said a voice from above.

They turned.

Jinx sat atop a steel beam in the ceiling, legs swinging as if she’d been there for hours. Her hood shadowed part of her face, but the mocking smile was unmistakable. In one hand, a screwdriver; in the other, her eternal irreverence.

"How did you get in?" Jayce blurted.

"South wing. Badly secured window," she replied with disdain, like she was talking about tying her shoelaces. "With how slow the enforcers are, sneaking in here’s easier than stealing candy from a sleeping corpse."

Lux and Jayce exchanged glances—half resigned, half unsurprised. Of course Jinx was already inside. And of course, her way.

"How long have you been up there?" Lux asked.

"Long enough to get bored. Come on, turtles, we’ve got work to do."

Jayce frowned as she strolled through the lab like it was her backyard.

"I thought you’d be with Vi. What are you doing here?"

Jinx leapt from the beam with feline grace, spun on her heels, and flashed a crooked smile.

"Oh, I was. She showed up, hugged me, cried without crying, we had our little unspoken sister therapy moment... you know, traumatized sibling stuff. Very emotional. Oscar-worthy." She shrugged with exaggerated disdain. "Then she went to the hospital to see Cat, and I came here because… Surprise! Cait’s screwed."

Both Lux and Jayce tensed.

"What happened to her?" Jayce asked, concern already creeping into his voice.

Jinx looked down for a second, weighing her words.

"She got shot," she said bluntly. "An assassin. Vi didn’t give me many details—just that it was a recon mission and they were ambushed. Cait got hit. So did Ekko and Vi..."

Jayce paled and interrupted. "Is she alive?"

"Yeah." Jinx’s mocking tone persisted, though the lump in her throat scratched at the words. "Cait’s got more lives than a cat on a renewal contract. Got shot in the chest. The vest did its job... barely. Now she’s in the hospital, plugged into more wires than a bomb with no manual."

Lux lowered her gaze, solemn. Jayce ran a hand over his face, trying to process.

"And the doctors?"

"Juggling miracles. But Vi..." Jinx made a face. "Vi’s at the edge. She asked Ekko to find Shimmer."

"What?" Jayce raised his voice. "That could kill her!"

"Or keep her alive a few more days," Jinx countered, arms crossed. "We don’t know. Vi’s willing to try. She’s desperate. And we both know what that can mean."

Jayce stepped to one of the tables, tapped his knuckles on it, and lowered his head. The gesture was tight, tense, as if trying to knock order back into his thoughts.

"We can’t let that happen," he murmured.

"That’s why I’m here, genius," Jinx said, resting a foot on a swivel chair and spinning it lazily. "I’m not here for sightseeing or to steal one of your crazy dead-scientist toys. Cait needs something real, and you’re the only one who knows how to play with sparks without blowing everything up... well, almost."

Jayce looked up, locking eyes with her. There was no reproach—just raw intensity, restrained anger, guilt, and something more… resolve.

"Then let’s get to work. Now."

Jinx winked, catching a wrench from the table and spinning it like a knife.

"Now you’re talking, hammer boy. Action before Vi decides to play mad doctor with glowing potions. And trust me… you don’t want to see that episode."

Jayce stood beside a dust-covered table. He closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath.

"Maybe…" he said cautiously. "Maybe we can still do something for Caitlyn."

Lux looked at him, not fully understanding.

"How?"

"I don’t want Vi to use Shimmer," Jayce said, eyes gleaming. "Not if there’s a real alternative. The Hextech… if we adapt it, tailor it to the human body… maybe we could stabilize her. Even... restore her."

Lux parted her lips, surprised. "Are you talking about an implant?"

Jayce nodded firmly.

"I won’t carry another death on my conscience just because I didn’t try everything."

Jinx, who had been toying with a spring between her fingers, raised an eyebrow.

"And you had an ‘everything’ just lying around or are you just improv-ing really well?"

Jayce didn’t answer immediately. He turned to a rusted metal shelf on the lab’s side wall that looked more like forgotten decor than anything useful.

"After someone," he glanced at Jinx, "stole my Hextech gem during Progress Day, I decided to hide the essentials. What I couldn’t risk... I stashed here."

"Oh, how dramatic, hammer boy. I feel flattered and accused," Jinx said, placing a foot on a fallen chair. "So what now? Applause, or do you need a secret key and a ritual dance?"

"There was a lever," Jayce sighed. "A hidden mechanism, but with all the dust and structural damage… I don’t even know where it is anymore."

Jinx rolled her eyes, dropped the wrench, and already had a small explosive in her hand before anyone could stop her.

"Pathetic," she muttered. "You two keep philosophizing—I’ll handle it."

"Jinx, no..." Lux began.

"Relax, blondie. I’m just going to speak the wall’s language."

With surgical precision, she stuck the charge on a weak intersection of the wall, stepped back, and smiled like a child with a match.

"Bye-bye, secrets."

The explosion was sharp, precise, and needlessly dramatic. The plaster crumbled like chalk defeated by reality, revealing a metal compartment behind it—tilted, singed… but miraculously intact.

"Couldn’t you do it with a bit more finesse?" Lux coughed, waving the dust away.

"And miss the best part?" Jinx replied, picking up her spring with a satisfied whistle. "Small boom, big ego—it’s my brand."

Jayce frowned at the burned edges of the structure.

"That door took me weeks to design. It had a hidden triple-locking system..."

"And now it’s history," Jinx cut in, flashing a smile that asked no forgiveness. "You’re welcome, budget architect."

Jayce approached with a grumble, carefully pushed aside the broken frame remains, and opened the compartment. Inside was a black case with the Talis house crest.

His hands trembled slightly as he took it.

Jayce slowly turned the metal latches.

He opened it.

A deep blue glow illuminated the box’s interior, reflecting on their faces. Six Hextech gems, perfectly aligned on a cushioned base, pulsed with a life-like rhythm.

The lab’s air seemed to hold its breath. No words. No gestures. Just the faint hum of the gems, as if Piltover’s very heart breathed inside that box.

Jayce felt a faint tingling in his fingers, not from the energy, but from memory. From what those gems meant—and the price paid for their existence.

Beside him, Lux covered her mouth with one hand. She had never seen even one up close, and now there were six. Her heart pounded in her throat.

Jinx narrowed her eyes. "Wait, wait..." She leaned toward the box. "Six gems? The one in Cait’s rifle was supposed to be the last. That’s what Vi told me."

Jayce let silence speak for a few seconds. Then he looked up, solemn.

"That’s what I wanted everyone to believe," he said. He carefully closed the lid again. "But you should never place all your hopes on a single source of power. Not if you know what comes after a war."

Jinx crossed her arms, still staring at the box as if it held high-grade dynamite.

"You’re a damn liar with foresight. I like that."

Lux exhaled, caught between awe and relief. "Jayce... with this..." she whispered. "We could save her."

Jayce nodded, fingers resting on the metallic surface of the case.

"And we don’t have time to waste. We need a place to work. Now."

Jinx turned to them with a crooked grin. "Then it’s time to visit my sweet, rusty den. But this time, no entrance fee. Just chocolate... and respect."

Just as Jayce was about to reply, a sharp, rhythmic sound echoed from afar. Fast, coordinated footsteps climbing the stairs.

Lux’s head snapped up. "Did you hear that?"

Jinx tensed like a spring, tilting her head. "Boots. Several. The kind that crush your dignity."

Jayce cursed under his breath. "Enforcers. The explosion..."

"What a shocker," Jinx muttered. "Who would've guessed blowing up a wall in broad daylight inside the Council building would make noise?"

"They’re coming up!" Lux warned, peering through a gap in the wall. "At least five—no, seven. And fully armed."

Jayce slammed the gem case shut. His hands were trembling, pulse racing.

"We can’t fight here. If we lose this..." he looked at the box like it was a beating heart, "it’s over."

"Not just that," Lux added, turning suddenly. "Your plans? The implant prototypes?"

Jayce swore again, running to a dusty shelf in the corner. He began stuffing scrolls of schematics, diagrams, and a small metal case of calibrated tools into a satchel.

"This is everything I had on paper. The rest… is in my head."

"Then don’t let them blow your head off—we’re gonna need it," Jinx growled, scanning the ceiling. "Ready to vanish?"

Lux nodded, jaw tight. "Got a plan?"

"Of course. It’s dumb, dangerous, and reeks. Just how I like it," Jinx said, climbing a shelf and shifting some metal plates to reveal a narrow vent. "Maintenance duct. Leads to the north side. Direct drop. Zero elegance, one hundred percent escape."

"And what’s below?" Lux asked as Jayce handed her the rolled-up plans.

"Boiler room, cat-sized rats, and a broken ladder," Jinx replied without missing a beat. "Better than waiting for the law to fill us with lead."

The footsteps were now just meters away. Boots pounded on stone like a drumbeat of warning.

Jayce tucked the blueprints under one arm, clutched the gem box to his chest, and nodded.

"Let’s go. Now."

"After you, turtles," said Jinx, tossing a smoke grenade into the center of the lab.

Lux and Jayce crawled into the duct as smoke began to fill the room.

Jinx lingered a second longer, a crooked smile on her lips and a spark of defiance in her eyes.

"Bye, idiots," she whispered, then slipped in after them.

The lab door burst open just as the sharp hiss of the ink bomb signaled its blast. A thick, chaotic pink cloud engulfed the space, painting the air in shadows and confusion.

By the time the enforcers stormed in, it was too late. The lab was empty. Only scattered papers, soot trails on the floor... and the uncomfortable certainty that someone had beaten them to it.

The path to Zaun was damp, dark, and narrow, cloaked in the constant hiss of ancient pipes still venting steam with rusty groans. Jinx led the way, twirling a rusty flashlight between her fingers, moving with agile, determined steps.

"Love this tunnel," she murmured with a crooked grin. "Smells like rust, despair... and imminent explosion. Feels like home."

Jayce followed in silence, hugging the gem case as if it were the last valuable thing left in his world. Lux brought up the rear, alert, eyes scanning every shadow like a spark could turn into a threat.

"How far to the workshop?" Jayce asked quietly.

"One more bend, a trapdoor, and a nearly fatal drop," Jinx replied without turning. "Don’t worry, only one in three visitors ends up with a broken leg. You guys are lucky—you’ve got a guide."

They reached an iron hatch half-hidden behind a curtain of steam. Jinx kicked a loose tile, revealing a corroded panel. She keyed in a sequence with grease-stained fingers, and the lock opened with a screech that seemed to shout, "I haven’t been oiled since the war."

"Welcome to the last functional nook Silco left behind," she announced with an exaggerated bow. "Please, don’t touch anything shiny. It’ll probably explode—or worse, start talking."

Inside, the workshop was organized chaos. Precision tools beside toy parts, half-assembled bombs next to dust-covered gadgets. But there was energy, life—a kind of order within madness.

Jayce placed the gem case on one of the clearest tables. He opened it carefully, and the bluish glow of the six gems lit up as if the room itself were holding its breath.

"With this, we could make almost anything... if we know exactly what she needs," he murmured. "If her respiratory system’s compromised, maybe an external cardio-pulmonary support..."

Lux frowned. "And how do you plan to power that? With a portable energy cell? An unregulated gem pulse could fry her nervous system."

"Then we channel the energy through a secondary path, something that distributes the load without hitting vital zones..." Jayce replied, flipping another schematic with almost obsessive precision.

"And how are we supposed to install that without opening her chest again?" Lux asked bluntly. "Jayce, she doesn’t have time."

Jayce shook his head, opening another schematic and mentally mapping an energy route.

"No… listen," he said, more serious. "If we use a prosthetic with an arcane channeler, we could redirect some of the energy into her nervous system. Not just to stabilize her... but to help her rebuild. Cell regeneration, internal support... at least in theory."

Lux stared at him, impressed. "You think that’ll work?"

Jayce looked up. "I don’t know. But it’s better than relying on Shimmer."

"Okay, brainiacs..." Jinx interrupted, flopping onto the table with a groan. "Don’t you think it’s kinda relevant to know Caitlyn already has a nice hole where her eye should be?"

Silence fell. Jayce’s head snapped up so fast he nearly hit the overhead lamp.

"What did you say?" he asked, voice tense, eyes wide.

Jinx raised an eyebrow like she was stating the obvious.

"She’s missing her left eye. Ambessa ripped it out during the war. Y’know, minor details. So yeah—good news: no need to remove anything."

Jayce said nothing. His shoulders dropped slightly, like something invisible had sucked the air out of him. His jaw clenched, gaze falling to the floor. He closed his eyes for just a second. But in that second, everything crumbled.

"Her eye…" he whispered to himself. "Caitlyn..."

He braced himself on the edge of the table. The metal creaked faintly under his weight.

Lux watched in silence, saying nothing. She knew this wasn’t just a medical fact for him. It was another crack. Another guilt he hadn’t asked for… but carried anyway.

Then Jayce clenched the fist still at his side.

"And you just now thought to mention that?" he asked, not in anger, but with a mix of helplessness and disbelief. His voice was lower, more broken. He stepped forward, eyes sharp, body tense. For a moment, Lux thought he might snap. But he didn’t. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, like someone swallowing a fight that leads nowhere.

Jinx looked down, uncomfortable for the first time.

"Didn’t seem important... until you said ‘if we know what she needs.’" She shrugged awkwardly. Then she lifted her right hand, showing her middle finger—the one that was stiff and shimmered with a faint metallic sheen.

"Besides... it’s not like losing a body part is the end of the world. Cait blew this one off," she said, lifting the mechanical finger with flair. "My favorite, by the way. I used it for almost everything."

She paused.

"And look at me now. Still blowing stuff up with the same grace. Sometimes more."

The ex-councilor watched her in silence, unsure whether to laugh or sigh. Lux just shook her head gently but said nothing. The moment, absurd yet profound, was as Jinxian as any way of saying 'I care.'

Jayce didn’t reply right away. He turned to the end of the table where he’d left his schematics upon arrival. With steady hands, he unrolled the tube, revealing several old designs that had never seen the light of day.

"Before everything went to hell, I was working on this. Hextech prosthetics: arms, legs, joints—even optical sensors. The Council shelved them for ‘unquantified risks,’ but if she’s already missing an eye..."

Jayce scanned the plans quickly. The drawings were aged, some faded, others hastily annotated. One design stood out: a sphere with sync rings, titanium ribs, and a glowing core at its center.

"The Hextech Eye," he murmured. "This design... we could adapt it. But it won’t be quick."

"How long?" Lux asked.

"A day if everything goes well. Maybe two. We need to build it from scratch, stabilize the gem’s energy, calibrate the nervous connection..." He sighed. "But I can do it."

"And if it fails?" Lux whispered.

Jayce lowered his gaze to the blueprints. He touched the drawing with his fingertip, as if feeling the weight of the decisions trapped in the paper.

"If the sync isn’t perfect, the eye won’t respond," he said, voice tight, clinical. "And if the arcane energy enters her system without regulation..."

He stopped.

"What?" Lux pressed.

"It could burn the optic nerve, cause hallucinations, or trigger a neurological short that shuts down vital functions," Jayce said, lips tight. "This isn’t just a prosthetic. It’s a fusion of flesh and power. And if we screw it up..."

Jayce lowered his gaze.

"Then there’s nothing we can do. If she’s as critical as Vi said, Caitlyn won’t last much longer."

He paused.

"Shimmer could stabilize her… sure. But it could also kill her. Her body might reject it in minutes—it’s Russian roulette."

He raised the plans, grip firm despite the tremor in his voice.

"This..." he said, pointing to the eye design, "is experimental, but far more stable. Made to integrate, not invade. If we’ve got a real chance... it’s here."

A brief silence followed.

Jinx climbed down from the bench without a sound. Her usual smile was gone. She adjusted her hood with a slowness uncharacteristic of her.

"Then you know what to do," she said, no jokes, no flair—just fatigue and resolve. "I’ve got to handle the other part of the plan."

Jayce looked up, confused. "Where are you going?"

"To stop Vi from injecting Shimmer," she said firmly, no irony this time. "She’s desperate. Thinks there’s no other option. If I don’t get there in time..." she winced, "everything we’re doing might be for nothing."

Lux stepped forward and touched her arm.

"Be careful."

Jinx tilted her head, barely smiling. Her eyes held something new: less chaos, more purpose.

"I’ll be back," she said. "Just gotta stop Vi from doing something stupid... and then I’ll be back here, hands covered in grease and in a foul mood."

Jayce looked surprised. "You’re coming back?"

"And let you two build an eye with zero style?" she scoffed. "No way. If I’m putting my signature on this, it better work... and not explode."

Lux let out a short, relieved laugh.

"We’ll wait for you."

"Don’t. Keep going," Jinx said as she walked toward the exit. "I’ll catch up."

Jayce stopped her with his voice. "Jinx."

She turned slightly.

"Thanks for trusting this."

Jinx blinked, then raised an eyebrow.

"Don’t get sappy, pretty boy. I can still throw it out the window."

But her smile said otherwise.

And without another word, she disappeared into the tunnels, the echo of her steps bouncing like a ticking clock.

Jayce stared at the entrance she had vanished through. The echo faded, but the weight of what they’d just discussed still hung in the air. He breathed deeply, as if emerging from a storm that didn’t show on the skin but drenched the soul.

Lux, still by the table, unfolded the plans carefully. She said nothing at first. She was watching Jayce—not the inventor, but the man who had just made an impossible promise with open eyes.

"You okay?" she finally asked, her voice gentle, offering space, not judgment.

Jayce rubbed his face with both hands and shook his head.

"I don’t know. I haven’t been for a long time. But this..." he looked at the plans, then at the gem case, "this is the closest I’ve come to doing something right."

Lux smiled softly. "Then let’s do it right."

Jayce nodded. He stepped closer, and together they began to review the prototype’s schematics. Every line, every detail, was a piece of a puzzle that had to fit not just Caitlyn’s anatomy, but the hope everyone was clinging to.

"Do you think Cait will accept this?" Lux asked quietly, eyes still on the blueprint.

Jayce hesitated.

"I don’t know. But it’s not just about saving her. It’s about giving her a choice—and reminding her there’s still a way forward."

Lux nodded. Then looked at him from the corner of her eye, with a faint smile.

"And you? Have you chosen yours?"

Jayce didn’t answer. He simply grabbed one of the tools, slid the glasses over his nose bridge, and leaned over the paper.

"Let’s get to work."

Chapter Text

The streets of Piltover rose silently, barely bathed by the orange light of dawn. Vi limped forward from the dock, leaving behind the ship where she had met Jinx. The bandage on her thigh already showed dark stains, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. Not when Caitlyn was still in danger.

She passed by the Red Anchor without turning her head. On the deck, Sarah was laughing quietly while Lynn adjusted something on her jacket. It was only a second, a fleeting glance... but it was enough. Sarah saw her. And everything changed.

"Vi," Sarah called out, raising her voice. The smile faded. "Vi, wait!"

Vi didn't stop.

"Not now, Sarah. I don’t have time."

"You’re going to kill yourself walking like that," the pirate said as she jumped down onto the dock and started following her. "And don't look at me like that. I'm not going to let you bleed out out of pride."

"It’s not pride," Vi gritted her teeth. Each step was like a fiery lance climbing her thigh. "It’s necessity."

Sarah caught up to her easily and observed her in silence for a few seconds. Vi's eyes were red, her hands trembling. She was drenched in anxiety and guilt, but kept moving, as if only sheer stubbornness kept her on her feet.

"You’re not going to make it like this, Vi," Sarah said softly, without mockery, without filter. "You’re bleeding too much."

Vi looked down at her thigh. The bandage was soaked, and a drop fell with each step.

"It doesn’t matter," she murmured. "I just need to get there."

"It does matter," Sarah held her gaze. "Caitlyn isn’t going to get better if you fall apart on the way."

Vi clenched her jaw. She didn’t argue. She just stopped for a second. Just one.

Sarah took advantage of that second to turn toward the Red Anchor.

"Lynn!" she shouted with a certainty that reverberated through the cobblestones of the port.

The executioner, who was still on deck, looked up.

"The motorbike!" Sarah ordered. "It’s urgent."

Lynn didn’t ask. She looked Sarah in the eyes, then at Vi, and nodded with an understanding smile before tossing her the keys and disappearing below deck.

Sarah returned to Vi and held her by the waist. This time, Vi didn’t resist. She leaned some of her weight on her, trembling.

"I told you once, didn’t I?" Sarah murmured, as they walked toward the place where Lynn had left the motorbike. "You’re not that good at running when you're hurt."

"And you don’t know when to stop following me," Vi grumbled, with no real strength behind her words.

"No. And I don’t want to." Sarah shot her a sidelong glance with a crooked smile. "Especially if the path takes me to save the woman who broke my heart and still makes me smile."

Vi chuckled softly, defeated by that mix of boldness and tenderness that only Sarah could offer.

"You’re impossible."

"And you’re beautiful when you bleed for love," Sarah said with feigned seriousness, as she mounted the motorbike and offered Vi the helmet. "Come on, before I fall in love again watching how noble you are."

Vi took the helmet, but before putting it on, she gave Sarah a look full of gratitude.

"Thank you, Sarah. Really."

"Don’t thank me yet," Sarah started the motorbike with a metallic roar. "Just don’t puke on my jacket."

"I’ll try." Vi settled behind her, gripping with one firm hand, the other protecting her injury.

And then they took off.

The engine roared like an injured beast, cutting through the streets of Piltover as the sun rose, indifferent to broken promises and wounds that still bled.

The motorbike stopped in front of the hospital. Vi dismounted with difficulty, her right leg trembling, the bandage soaked, her face marked by the wind and urgency.

Sarah turned off the engine and got off just behind her, casting a quick glance at the building.

"Can you walk?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"I can make it," Vi grunted, leaning against the wall as she moved forward.

As soon as they crossed the emergency doors, the air shifted. Everything was colder, slower, more tense. The lights were too bright. The smell of disinfectant scraped at their throats.

Ekko was waiting for them by a column. He didn’t look like he’d slept. His hood hung down around his neck, and he had a small metal box in his hand. Upon seeing them, he straightened up.

"Vi," his voice was heavy with concern.

"Do you have it?" she asked bluntly.

Ekko nodded, showing the box.

"I distilled it from a single shard of crystal. Had to improvise a catalyst. It’s unstable... but it might work."

"Where’s Tobias?"

"Inside. He’s with her."

Vi nodded, and without waiting any longer, she limped toward the main hall. Ekko and Sarah followed closely behind. When she peeked into the recovery room, she saw Tobias bent over a table with papers. Fatigue weighed heavily on him, like a lead cloak, but his gaze remained steady.

"Tobias," Vi called from the doorway.

Tobias looked up. Seeing her limping, her pale face, her hands clenched into fists, he understood everything immediately.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked upon seeing the box in Ekko’s hands.

Vi nodded.

"It’s Shimmer. They distilled it from a single fragment. There’s no more."

Tobias looked at the box, then at Vi, then finally at Ekko.

"Did you test it?"

Ekko shook his head slowly.

"We didn’t have time."

Silence.

Tobias closed his eyes for a moment. Then he moved closer.

"Bring it here," he ordered in a voice that was as tense as it was controlled. "We’ll stabilize her before it’s too late."

Vi walked in behind him.

The room was colder than the rest of the hospital. Caitlyn lay motionless, pale, surrounded by monitors and IV lines. The oxygen machine breathed for her, raising and lowering her chest. The patch covered her left eye, and beneath the bandage on her chest, a dark stain revealed that the internal bleeding had returned.

Vi stood still for a second, as if her steps might contaminate the space. Then she moved forward.

"Can she survive without this?" Vi asked without taking her eyes off Caitlyn.

Tobias took a second to answer. He looked down at the heart monitor, then at the printed charts at the side of the bed.

"Her vital signs are dropping quickly," he finally said, bluntly. "Her blood pressure is through the floor, and the oxygen level is barely holding. With luck… she’ll survive the night."

Vi clenched her teeth. Swallowed hard. She couldn’t afford to falter now.

"Then we have no choice."

Ekko opened the box with tense hands. The Shimmer liquid glowed with a restless shimmer, paler than usual, as if even the substance knew it had been forced to exist too quickly.

Tobias carefully prepared the syringe. Sarah stood silently at the back, watching but not intervening, her gaze fixed on the scene.

"We’ll apply a minimal dose," Tobias said as he inserted the needle into the vial. "If Caitlyn’s body accepts it, we’ll increase it gradually. If she rejects it…"

"We’ll know right away," Ekko completed, not hiding his tension.

Vi sat next to the bed. She took Caitlyn’s hand carefully, as if holding it could contain everything that was about to happen. She closed her eyes for a moment, resting her forehead against the back of Caitlyn’s bandaged hand.

"You have to hold on, Cait. Just a little longer."

Tobias exhaled and administered the injection into the IV line. The Shimmer entered slowly into her bloodstream.

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

Then, Caitlyn’s body suddenly arched.

The heart monitor emitted a sharp alarm.

"She’s rejecting it!" Tobias shouted.

Caitlyn convulsed briefly, her breathing became erratic. The vein under her neck bulged unnaturally, turning purple, as if something corrosive was traveling through her blood. A thin stream of blood trickled from her nose. Vi leaned over her, terror painted on every muscle of her face.

"Do something!" Vi exclaimed, desperate.

Tobias was already preparing a second syringe, this time with a stabilizer.

"Ekko, I need the neutralizing catalyst, now!"

Ekko scrambled desperately through his bag. His fingers shook as he grabbed the small tube of amber liquid. He handed it over without a word, his face as white as a sheet.

Ekko wiped his sweaty forehead and murmured more to himself than to anyone else.

"This can’t fail…"

He gripped the stabilizer tube so tightly his knuckles lost color. His gaze flicked back and forth between Vi and Caitlyn, filled with guilt, helplessness… and fear.

Tobias connected it to the IV line in less than five seconds.

Caitlyn’s body kept trembling. Her pulse, though present, spiked in erratic peaks. The monitor emitted a series of sharp beeps. The alarms triggered red lights in everyone’s hearts.

"Come on… come on!" Tobias muttered under his breath.

Then, slowly, the chaos began to slow down. The heartbeat decreased, still irregular, but not plummeting. The blood pressure stopped crashing. Caitlyn shuddered one last time… and then, her body returned to stillness.

It wasn’t peace. It was exhaustion.

"She’s… responding," Tobias said, a mixture of relief and tension in his voice. "The stabilizer managed to stop the collapse."

Vi barely managed to stay on her feet. She collapsed beside the bed, gripped Caitlyn’s hand tightly, and rested her forehead against her bandaged knuckles.

"Does that mean she’s better?" she asked, breathless.

Tobias slowly shook his head.

"No. The Shimmer has already done damage. Caitlyn’s metabolism rejected it more violently than we expected. Her blood pressure is still through the floor, and her neurological signs are dropping… but at least, for now, her heart is still beating."

Vi stayed silent. The relief wasn’t sweet. It was bitter. A thin edge between hope and guilt.

Ekko looked away. His hands were trembling.

Then, like an explosion contained within, the door to the room suddenly slammed open.

"I’m here!" Jinx announced, stepping in quickly, wearing a long, tattered hood that covered most of her face. She was breathing hard, her disheveled hair sticking out from the edges, and her eyes were tense, alert.

Tobias turned toward the door… and his expression immediately hardened. His features froze, as if time had suddenly gone backward. His pupils contracted at the sight of her. His jaw clenched so tightly it seemed like he couldn’t speak.

It was her.

The shadow of his wife, painted in the blood of the destroyed council hall. Chaos incarnate. The girl with the bombs.

The air seemed to thicken. Tobias didn’t just look at her: he pierced her with his eyes. A muscle twitched in his cheek, barely perceptible. But enough to say it all.

Vi barely turned, noticing the tension.

"Calm down. She’s here to help," she said in a dry voice. She didn’t need to say more. Tobias stayed in place, as if every muscle in his body was held together by a thin thread about to snap.

Tobias looked away with disdain and left the room.

Jinx stood still for a second, as if she had felt the blow without anyone having to deliver it.

In front of her, Vi was standing by Caitlyn’s bed, one hand on hers. The bandage on her thigh was still stained red, but she didn’t seem to feel it anymore. She only had eyes for Caitlyn… and now for Jinx.

The silence between the two grew dense, charged. Jinx remained a few steps from the entrance, her hood still up, as if the entire world had stopped for her to see their faces. Fallen gazes. The tension in the air. Vi by the bed. Ekko… not even daring to look at her. Sarah in a chair far from the scene.

"What happened?" Jinx finally asked, her voice lower than usual. Her tone was distrustful, but also uneasy. "You look like you’re at a funeral… more than usual."

Vi lifted her head, her eyes red.

"They injected her with Shimmer," she said, almost breathless. "And she’s worse than before."

Jinx took a while to process it. Her body stiffened. Only her breath trembled for a second before she let out the inevitable.

"I’m too late…" she murmured. The weight of the words weighed down her shoulders.

Vi clenched her lips tightly, frustration and guilt vibrating in her throat.

For a few seconds, there was nothing else. Only the constant beep of the monitor, and the echo of a fate that seemed to close all the doors.

Then Jinx spoke again, more firmly this time, though not louder.

"I didn’t want to give you hope too soon." She pulled back her hood, revealing the sweat and dust from her run. Her gaze went directly to Vi’s. "Jayce has a plan."

Vi straightened up a little, her body reacting before her mind.

"That’s not possible…" she murmured. "Jhin stole the last gem. There’s no Hextech left."

Jinx shook her head, a lopsided smile, more bitter than mocking.

"That’s what everyone thought. Jayce had a backup. Hidden. Just in case things went wrong… and boy, did they go wrong."

Vi opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say.

Jinx stepped forward:

"We’ve already started building it in my workshop. Jayce, Lux… and me. But we need time. One or two days, at most."

Vi shook her head, frustrated.

"There’s no one or two days…" she murmured, looking back at Caitlyn, lying still under the white sheet. "With luck… with a lot of luck… she’ll survive tonight."

Jinx stayed silent for a moment. She didn’t look at Ekko. She didn’t even allow herself to notice him. All her attention was on Vi. On her sister. On that broken expression she had seen in her own reflection more times than she could count.

"Listen to me." She finally spoke, her tone firm, without drama. "Tell Tobias to keep her alive until tomorrow. Just until noon. No more."

Vi frowned.

"And what do you think Tobias can do with that?"

"Enough." Jinx replied decisively. "Just ask him. Do it for her. Do it for you. We…" She glanced briefly at the hallway, as if already seeing the workshop in her mind. "We’re going to build that damn eye. Jayce has the hands. I have the ideas. And Lux..." she sighed. "Lux believes all of this is still worth it. That faith is more useful than it seems."

Vi lowered her gaze to Caitlyn. Her fingers trembled as she held her hand.

"Don’t promise me the impossible." she said softly.

"I wouldn’t." Jinx replied with an unusually serious tone. "If I say we’ll have it, it’s because we will. I swear, Vi… we’re going to give her another chance. But we need her to hang on. Just until tomorrow. Can you do that for me?"

Vi looked up. For the first time in years, she saw something in Jinx that she couldn’t name. Determination, love, guilt, and a strange clarity.

She nodded.

"I’ll do what I can."

Jinx took a step back.

"Do more than that. Make it happen."

And without saying another word, she turned.

Ekko was left standing by the door, watching the empty space where she had disappeared. He didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t. Some wounds knew how to stay open.

Jinx didn’t stop. She didn’t look back. She knew that if she did, something inside her might break.

On her part, Vi watched her sister leave, turned toward Caitlyn, caressed her left hand, and whispered:

"Hold on, cupcake… Everyone is working to bring you back to me. And me... I won’t let you go."

The workshop simmered with the tension of the impossible.

The air was thick, saturated with heat, metal, and contained magic. Tools were scattered everywhere, blueprints covered half the table, and the glow of the Hextech gems pulsed on a secured stand, like blue hearts on the verge of collapse.

The side door creaked open, and Jinx stepped in suddenly. Her hood was still up, though now pushed back. Her steps were quick, precise. Jayce and Lux looked up as she appeared.

"I didn’t make it in time," she said before anyone could speak. She yanked off her jacket and tossed it onto a table. "They injected her with Shimmer. She reacted badly. She’s stable, but barely. Jayce thought we’d have a day, maybe two." Jinx pulled off her gloves with sharp motions. "But there’s no day left. We have until noon. At most."

Jayce furrowed his brow and straightened from the bench where he had been reviewing the calibration ring blueprints. His gaze slid to the box with the gems.

"And you want us to build a functional neurosensitive implant… in twelve hours?"

"I don’t want to. We need to." Jinx was already firing up the welder with an electric click. "So get to work. Because the difference between a broken promise and a new chance… is twelve damn hours."

"I’ll handle the frame fabrication," Jayce said, already on his feet, taking the precision calipers. "I need fifty microns tolerance on the anchors. Not a micrometer more."

"And I’ll handle the connections," Jinx interrupted with her usual sideways grin, though the shadow in her eyes said otherwise. "I’m not letting some genius in a lab coat mess with her head."

Jayce raised an eyebrow, caught between doubt and alarm.

"Do you have experience with nerve connections?"

Jinx snorted, amused.

"Do you have experience resurrecting a lunatic who lost half his face and thought he was a jukebox?" she replied without breaking her rhythm. She pulled out a handful of microcables coated in silver and conductive copper from a compartment, like they were candy. "Because I do. I’ve got surgeon’s hands… and way more practice than you’d like to know about."

For the next few minutes, the workshop filled with an electric silence. Jinx soldered with surgical precision the filaments that would serve as myoelectric sensors. They were so thin they barely held together without snapping. Each connection had to replicate the sensitivity of a full ocular network.

Meanwhile, Jayce milled the cavity that would house the gem’s core. The blades hummed against the titanium as though they were carving the inside of a clock. He adjusted each curve by hand, inspecting with light, scanning, and triple measurements.

Lux watched in silence, her eyes fixed on the gem Jayce had chosen for the device. The energy inside the crystal pulsed like a trapped heartbeat. It wasn’t magic. Not like the kind she knew. But it vibrated in a spectrum her body could feel. A subtle pressure in her chest, a static charge at the back of her neck. Alive.

"What do you need from me?" she asked finally, breaking the metallic hum of the workshop.

Jayce stopped, set the tool on the table, and turned toward her. There was no impatience in his voice, but there was urgency.

"I have the design. And I can build the implant. But stabilizing the energy of the gem… that’s another thing. If you don’t contain it, it’ll burn out every channel in the eye. Literally."

Lux furrowed her brow.

"I’ve never worked with this. I don’t know how to stabilize a Hextech gem."

"You don’t need to know," Jinx interrupted from the back, soldering a conduction plate with surgical precision. "Just feel it."

Lux looked at her, confused.

"Feel it?"

"You channel energy with wands and pretty circles. This is the same, but without the rules. Hextech gems aren’t pure power. They’re flow, pulse, vibration. If you can feel how it breathes… you can help it not drown."

Jayce nodded, continuing the explanation with an almost teaching clarity.

"The core generates irregular peaks when it links to an organic system. I need you to channel that flow through the secondary conduits. Like a kind of... living containment ring."

Lux took a deep breath. She placed both hands just a few centimeters from the gem. The heat didn’t burn, but it pressed, as though she were touching the center of a storm.

"It’s not like magic," she murmured.

"No. But it’s close," Jinx soldered without looking at her. "Except here, you can’t lie to it. If you hesitate, it destabilizes."

Lux closed her eyes. She concentrated on the rhythm of the light. She didn’t think about spells or formulas. Just the pulse, how it throbbed, how it danced between her fingers like an ancient, capricious fire. Her hands began to tremble, not from fear, but from effort. She was channeling without a channel.

Jayce monitored the voltage. A sharp hum began to rise in the workshop. The readings fluctuated, but didn’t explode. The core was stabilizing.

"You’re doing it," Jayce murmured, surprised.

"Don’t talk to me," Lux hissed, sweating.

Meanwhile, Jinx, with precision gloves and silver microhooks, prepared the neurosensitive connection net. Fine threads braided with liquid gold and hexactive fibers that mimicked the signals of a real optic nerve.

"When this is installed," she explained without lifting her gaze, "the body will recognize it as foreign, so we have to trick it. We need a progressive calibration with electrical pulses, first reflexes, then real signals. If we rush it… the brain will reject it."

Jayce stopped for a second to look at the general plan. Then, he looked at Jinx.

"Can you do that?"

"Trick brains?" She smiled with a crooked grin. "Yeah. I’ve been doing that since I was born."

Lux let out a brief laugh. She couldn’t help it. In the midst of the tension, Jinx still kept her edge.

Jayce didn’t reply. He was already submerged in the 3D model again, adjusting the outer casing of the implant while the gem’s core pulsed under the containment Lux was still holding.

Hours passed. Slowly. Intensely. Interrupted only by short exchanges of tools, precise instructions, and the constant hum of energy contained to its limit.

Lux no longer felt her fingers. Her nails ached from the constant pressure, but she never released the flow from the gem. She had stabilized it without channelers or glyphs. Only with intuition and endurance. Her body begged for rest, but she knew if she stopped, the structure would collapse. In the corner of the workshop, a spent candle flickered with dying breaths. The night hadn’t just passed: it had consumed her.

Jayce worked with surgical precision, assembling each component with his own hands. He aligned the titanium casing, placed the synchronization rings, and protected the core with a double lens that simulated the iris. It wasn’t beautiful. But it was alive.

Jinx, from the other side of the table, connected the nervous harness. Small filaments braided with liquid gold and hexactive fibers that mimicked the signals of a real optic nerve. She tested the electrical pulse on a simulated interface. The response was minimal, but clear.

"Did it just light up?" Lux asked, half incredulous and half exhausted.

"Responding to light," Jinx smiled, or something close to it. "That’s good."

Jayce sealed the compartment with a final cover and locked it with a micro-discharge.

A long silence settled in. The three of them looked at the eye on the table, held by a floating base. A flicker of light crossed its blue core.

It wasn’t perfect. It didn’t have to be. It just had to return the gaze to the world… and the strength to face it.

"Well?" Jinx asked with a hoarse voice.

Jayce nodded, not taking his eyes off the implant.

"It’s ready."

"Ha! And we didn’t blow our brains out in the process..." Jinx murmured with a twisted grin, sweat sticking to her forehead. She looked at the clock. "Still a few hours until noon. Who would’ve thought? We’re punctual… and lethally sexy."

Lux blinked, stunned.

"We did it…?"

"Of course we did, solar cupcake," Jinx replied, looking at the implant as if it were an explosive toy. "Against time. Against logic. Against sanity. And yet, here we are."

Jayce didn’t say anything. He just held the briefcase as if carrying something sacred.

Lux let out a breath that seemed to come from deep within her soul.

"We need to take it to the hospital. Now."

No one responded with words. They just moved. Gathered tools, wrapped the implant in a refrigerated capsule, and secured each emergency connector.

The dawn filtered through the rusted cracks in the workshop. Pale blue. Silent. Promising.

Without wasting more time, they headed toward the last surgery… and the last chance.

The night was a minefield.

Caitlyn suffered two critical episodes. One around midnight, another just a few hours before dawn. Her breathing became erratic, her blood pressure plummeted, and the heart monitor emitted alarms that took years off Vi's life in seconds. Tobias appeared each time like a seasoned soldier, his hands steady, but his gaze growing more distant.

Vi didn’t sleep. Not because she couldn’t, but because she didn’t allow herself the luxury. She stayed by Caitlyn’s bedside, sitting, standing, sometimes kneeling. The wound on her thigh throbbed with a rhythm that felt foreign, annoying, but secondary. Nothing mattered more than that mechanical breathing, that constant beep marking each second as though it were a borrowed heartbeat.

Sarah left without a word around three in the morning. She gave Vi a long look and a brief hand on the shoulder before disappearing. Vi didn’t stop her. She couldn’t. She shouldn’t.

Ekko, however, stayed.

He didn’t say much. He simply dragged a chair to the corner of the room, sat, and crossed his arms. When the second attack passed and Tobias left again with heavy footsteps, Ekko lowered his head and fell asleep unknowingly, as if his body gave in to exhaustion and resignation.

The dawn filtered through the window in pale light. A bluish-gray, colder than serene. Vi, with swollen eyes and a stiff back, was still holding Caitlyn’s hand when Ekko stirred in his chair.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice groggy.

"Almost seven," Vi replied, without letting go of Caitlyn’s hand.

Ekko stretched his neck, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. He leaned forward and glanced at Caitlyn. The monitor remained stable. It wasn’t a victory, but it wasn’t a defeat either.

"How was the night?"

Vi shook her head.

"Tense. I don’t know how she held on."

Ekko remained silent for a few seconds. Then, still looking at Caitlyn, he murmured:

"Jinx… she didn’t even look at me."

Vi didn’t respond at first. She looked down at Caitlyn’s eye patch, her pale face, the slight movement of her chest as she breathed.

"And were you expecting her to?" Vi asked quietly.

Ekko shrugged.

"I don’t know. Part of me wanted to think she would. That after everything we were… she’d at least say something."

Vi finally looked at him. Her voice was low, without judgment, without comfort.

"Jinx doesn’t look back, Ekko. Because if she does… she’ll break."

Ekko smiled, but without joy.

"How ironic," he said. "She broke me straight on."

Vi lowered her gaze, unsure how to respond. She just squeezed Caitlyn’s hand a little harder, as if holding it could anchor her to the world.

Then, without warning, the heart monitor emitted a sharp beep. Another. Then a series of piercing alarms began to sound. The screen showed a sudden drop in the heart rate. The oxygen level collapsed. Caitlyn shuddered with an involuntary spasm, her body arching beneath the sheets.

"No, no, no!" Vi shouted, leaping to her feet. "Caitlyn!"

Ekko was already running down the hall. He slammed the door open.

"Tobias!! Tobias, hurry!!"

The doctor appeared seconds later, as if he were already on the brink. He entered the room almost without touching the floor, checking the monitor with the eyes of a surgeon and fists clenched in frustration.

"She’s going into shock!" he spat. "Her pressure is gone. Her heart can’t take it. We’re losing her!"

He approached the bed, ripped off the sheet, and checked her neck, chest, and abdomen. Her breathing was that of someone on the edge of collapse, but trained not to show it.

"I need help!" he roared into the hallway. "Get Doctors Lamis and Rendar! NOW!"

Vi stepped back a step, pale, as if everything she had been holding back suddenly poured out all at once.

"No…" she whispered. "It can’t be."

Tobias turned to her for a second. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw clenched.

"Vi… I’m sorry. She can’t hold on much longer. If we don’t intervene now, she won’t make it another hour."

"Intervene how?"

"Chest surgery. Control the bleeding. Stabilize the heart by any means necessary." Tobias turned toward the nurses who were already rushing in. "Prepare OR 3! Full monitor, anesthesia on-line, and direct blood access, type A!"

Vi was frozen. Ekko took her by the arm, not to stop her, but to steady her.

"Is she going to survive?" Ekko asked, his voice broken.

"I don’t know." Tobias replied, not looking at her. He was already preparing the exit with the medical team. "But if we don’t operate, there’s no chance."

Everything moved quickly. Caitlyn was hooked up to a mobile stretcher, oxygen boosted, and monitors disconnected one by one amidst deafening alarms. A nurse shouted down a hallway, another opened doors, another ran with a sterile tray.

Vi stood still as they took Caitlyn away. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

She only managed to whisper, like a prayer:

"Please… just a little longer."

Then, Caitlyn disappeared through the double doors of the operating room, pushed by a team betting everything against time. The last chance. The final attempt.

And the countdown… had already begun.

About half an hour later.

The main hallway of the hospital shook with the hurried sounds of boots and footsteps. Jinx was the first to cross the threshold, the sealed capsule with the implant in her gloved hands. Jayce followed closely, his face tense, carrying the customized surgical toolkit. Lux, sweaty with her hair hastily tied, was barely standing after channeling energy all night, but she walked firm. No one spoke. It wasn’t necessary.

Vi saw them coming from the other end of the hall. She was standing, leaning against the wall as though her body were an ill-anchored beam. Her eyes were swollen, the bandages on her thigh now reinforced with fresh gauze that couldn’t contain the blood. She saw them coming. And didn’t wait for questions.

"She’s in surgery," Vi said, raising her voice, barely holding it above the tremor. "Half an hour ago, she went into shock. Tobias said that… if they didn’t intervene, she wouldn’t make it to the next."

Jinx froze in place. Jayce stuck close behind her.

"How bad is it?" Lux asked, bluntly.

Vi looked at them one by one. Her gaze broke for a second when she saw Jinx… but she didn’t have time for emotions.

"She’s dying," Vi whispered. "If they didn’t get here now… there wouldn’t be anyone left to implant anything."

Jinx nodded, pressed her lips together, and held the container even tighter. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might burst out of her throat, but she didn’t let it escape.

"Where’s the OR?" Jayce asked, already opening the case with the instruments, ready to go in.

"This way," Vi said. "Follow me."

The four of them crossed the hall like an improvised unit: a strange archetype of chaos, logic, faith… and love. The dawn barely filtered through a ray in the hospital windows, but everything inside seemed to live under artificial, unrelenting light.

They arrived at the operating room antechamber: the washroom. Everything was steel, high-pressure water, and surgical silence. A mechanical hum floated in the air, barely audible above the ventilation system.

From the other side of the door, Tobias’s voice rang out, firm, between sounds of instruments and hurried movement.

"What are you doing here?" he asked without coming out, but clearly hearing the thundering footsteps. His tone was sharp. Then, with a pause filled with resentment. "What is she doing here?"

Jinx yanked off her jacket without even looking at the door. She walked to the sink and turned on the faucet with her elbow.

"Oh, you know… came to save your daughter’s skin." She said as if talking about the weather. She scrubbed her arms with surgical soap, scrubbing hard.

Jayce placed the implant case on a sterile tray and began washing his hands with almost mechanical precision. Lux rolled up her sleeves silently, her eyes fixed on the foam that formed under her hands. Vi was the last to approach the sink. Her movements were slower but just as determined.

"Tobias…" she said in a softer tone. "Jayce made a Hextech implant. A full eye. A functional replacement. It’s not cosmetic. It’s... the only thing that could give her a chance."

From the other side, Tobias didn’t respond immediately. Only the metallic clattering of tools could be heard, a sign to another doctor. Then his voice came back, more firmly.

"The last time you said something was her only hope, we injected her with Shimmer. It almost killed her."

Vi lowered her head for a second. She pressed her lips together. The water kept running down her forearms, carrying away the old blood and the new fear.

"I know," she murmured. "I was wrong. But now… it’s not just us. There’s Jayce, there’s Lux, and Jinx..." She glanced sideways at her sister. "Jinx helped create this, for Caitlyn, because she wants to save her too."

The door didn’t open. But there was a pause. A shift in the air’s tension. As if Tobias was deciding between resentment and life.

"This has to work," he finally said, quieter, more human. "Because she doesn’t have much time left."

"Then let us in," Jayce responded, with the capsule ready in his clean hands.

There was a second of silence. On the other side of the door, only the beeping of machines could be heard, a medical voice giving quick instructions, and the faint murmur of gloves sliding over sterile instruments.

Then Tobias’s voice rose again. More gravely. More firmly.

"Nurse!" he called. "Open the door. Let them through."

The click of a switch preceded the automatic opening of the gate. A beam of white light sliced through the washroom like a sentence. A pale-faced nurse with gloved hands gestured curtly.

"Hurry. There’s no time."

Jinx was the first to cross the threshold, carrying her toolkit and microconnectors as if they were sacred scalpels. Jayce followed closely, holding the sealed implant case like he was carrying a bomb that needed to be defused. Lux entered behind them, her eyes fixed on Caitlyn, as if she could hold her from afar.

Vi gritted her teeth and took a step forward with the others. She didn’t hesitate. She couldn’t. As she crossed the threshold, her eyes locked onto Caitlyn’s inert body, wrapped in white sheets, surrounded by tubes, cables, and doctors moving with desperate precision.

The operating room lights bounced off the steel walls. Everything smelled of antiseptic, metal, and urgency.

Vi swallowed hard. Her voice was barely a whisper, just for her… and for Caitlyn.

"I’m here," she whispered. "You’re not alone, do you hear me? You’re not."

Inside the operating room, a surgical silence enveloped everything, interrupted only by the hum of machines. The sterile lights bathed the room in a harsh, almost cruel whiteness. The temperature was low, meant to preserve the body’s stability. Caitlyn’s heart beat weakly but steadily, supported by tubes and the will of others.

Vi positioned herself on Caitlyn’s left side, right by her arm. She held Caitlyn’s hand with hers, still stained with dried blood from earlier. She leaned in, pressing her forehead to Caitlyn’s bandaged knuckles.

"I’m here," she whispered, her voice low and tender. "You’re not alone. Can you hear me? You’re not alone."

Beside her, Tobias took note of the vital signs and gave quick instructions to his nurse. He was a man on the edge, but in the operating room, personal pain was transformed into professional precision.

"Oxygen saturation at 82. Irregular pulse, pressure dropping again. Keep the IV regulated. Prepare the norepinephrine in case she goes into shock," Tobias ordered, his voice steady, authoritative.

The other doctors exchanged tense glances, but Tobias held up a hand to stop them.

"Thank you. I’ll handle it from here."

They nodded and left the room.

Jayce, meanwhile, was already wearing his gloves and had the implant exposed on a sterile tray. He carefully opened the protective capsule that kept the Hextech eye in suspension.

"We’re doing this. Incision first," he said.

"Gently, hammer," Jinx chimed in from the other side of the table, already positioning the microfilaments for the connection. "We don’t want the commander seeing through her skull, right?"

Jayce didn’t even bother to respond. His focus was absolute. He cleaned the area around Caitlyn’s eye with precise, firm movements. Caitlyn’s left eye was little more than a sealed socket with malformed scar tissue. With extreme delicacy, he began removing the remnants of the useless eyeball.

"Orbicularis muscle disconnected. Vessels cauterized. Preparing the cavity for the implant," Jayce murmured.

Tobias watched from the monitor. Meanwhile, Lux positioned herself behind Jayce, focused on the exposed gem of the new eye. Her breathing was slow, measured. Her hands hovered close to the core, channeling her energy with care. Any imbalance would make the eye react dangerously.

"The energy is fluctuating in short pulses," Lux reported. "If I don’t redirect it, it could cause a surge in the optic nerve."

"Then don’t screw up, blonde." Jinx smirked with her usual crooked grin. "I don’t want Cait’s hair catching fire from an overload. You’d have to explain that one yourself."

Lux didn’t respond. She just intensified her channeling. A faint blue glow emerged between her fingers, containing the internal vibration of the gem.

Jayce, without looking away, aligned the implant.

"Implant is ready. Inserting now."

The eye clicked into place, fitting snugly, like a jewel locking into its setting. The metal adjusted to the orbital bone, and the anchors expanded with a soft hum.

Jinx took over.

"Okay, time for some black magic." She pulled out a micro-connection tool that looked more like a watchmaker's clamp than a scalpel. "Let’s start with the main nerves."

She leaned over Caitlyn, so close her breath fogged the equipment. Her face shifted. No longer was there sarcasm, only absolute focus.

"Optical flexor, connection one… two..." she whispered as she aligned the Hextech filaments with Caitlyn’s natural nerves. "You’re okay, cupcake. Don’t move too much... well, don’t move at all, actually. You’re not a cyborg yet, but I promise you’ll look great."

Vi shot her a look, half nervous, half grateful.

"Can you not call her 'cupcake'? Just… do it right."

"Oh, relax, I’m not competing." Jinx kept her eyes on the implant. "Unless this blows up. Then, yeah, it’ll be a screaming contest."

Vi turned back to Caitlyn, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Hang in there, love. You’re getting a second chance."

The heart monitor suddenly began to beep erratically. First a jump, then another. And then, a drop.

"Pressure dropped!" the nurse yelled.

"She’s going into instability!" Tobias warned as he adjusted the oxygen levels and called for a shot of adrenaline.

Caitlyn’s face paled even more, and a red line on the monitor began to zigzag violently.

"No!" Vi leaned over her, gripping her hand with all her strength. "Don’t do this, Cait! Come on, hold on!"

She turned to Jinx, beside herself.

"Do something! You’re losing her!"

Jinx didn’t look up from the microfilaments she was manipulating with surgical precision. Her brow was still furrowed, her pulse steady, her tongue barely peeking out between her lips in concentration.

"Vi, screaming at me isn’t going to reconnect her optic nerves with magic," she said with a dry tone. "This is like building a bomb. If you rush it, it explodes. If you’re too slow, it explodes. So… do you want it to explode?"

Vi gritted her teeth, her chest heaving in desperation. Caitlyn’s hand was still warm, but trembling beneath her fingers.

"Then tell me we’re not going to lose her!" Vi demanded.

Jinx let out a small sigh, like she was calculating an exact time.

"I’m reaching the nerve core," she murmured, finally. "Just a little more… and we’ll see if she wants to see us again."

It was then that the heart monitor let out a constant beep.

A sharp silence filled the room.

The line on the screen flattened.

"No..." Tobias stepped forward. "Cardiac arrest!"

The nurse already had the defibrillator pads ready.

"Charging!" she shouted.

Vi stood frozen, staring at the monitor as if her own soul had stopped as well.

"No... it can’t be..." she whispered, her voice breaking. "Cait, no!"

Lux gasped, her hands still on the stabilizing gem. Her focus wavered for a second.

Jayce stood motionless, the screwdriver still in his hand, jaw clenched.

But Jinx... didn’t stop.

She didn’t even look at the monitor.

"Don’t you dare," Jinx said, her voice cold as steel.

The nurse paused, confused.

"But her heart…!"

"She’s not dead," Jinx adjusted a copper connector with millimeter precision. "Not yet."

She shot a quick glance over her shoulder.

"If you interrupt me now, she will die. So save your little sparks for later."

The nurse hesitated, then stepped back. Tobias, though tense, didn’t intervene.

"Trust me," Jinx added, lowering her gaze to the exposed nerves. "Or at least pretend you do for the next ten seconds."

Her tone wasn’t mocking. It was surgical. Lethally focused.

Vi looked at her like she was insane.

"The heart stopped! She’s…!"

"Yeah, yeah, very tragic," Jinx interrupted her with almost casual indifference, though her hand didn’t tremble even a millimeter. "But when I connect this circuit... there could be an involuntary response. So if she wakes up… she’s going to do it with force."

She barely turned toward Vi, raising an eyebrow.

"What kind of response?"

"Like, 'wakes up screaming with lightning in her retina'?" Jinx suggested with her usual acidic humor. "Yeah. That kind."

Vi nodded, though her heart pounded in her chest. She leaned down to Caitlyn, right next to her face.

"I’m ready," she said, without hesitation.

"Okay." Jinx murmured. Her face was covered in sweat. Her eyes red from exhaustion. But her hand remained steady. "Let’s hook this thing up."

The final filament descended with a metallic whisper. Jinx positioned it right over the nerve core, took a deep breath... and locked it into place.

Silence.

The monitor didn’t beep. Caitlyn didn’t move. Lux held her breath.

Jayce stopped mid-motion, the screwdriver still in the air, frozen.

Vi didn’t even blink.

Tobias bit his lips, while the nurse scanned for the defibrillator.

Nothing.

Jinx swallowed hard. Her voice was barely a whisper, almost as if she were speaking to the implant… or to death itself.

"Come on, cupcake... Don’t leave me looking like an idiot in front of everyone." She paused, not taking her fingers off the connector. "If you don’t come back, Vi’s going to jam a wrench into my forehead. And trust me… it hurts more than it sounds."

Nothing.

"Come on, come on... you can do this." She whispered, this time without irony, without a smile. Just her. Tired, broken, and holding on.

A beep.

Faint, almost imperceptible. Then another. The heart monitor flickered. A trembling line began to appear.

"We have a pulse!" Tobias shouted, a mix of disbelief and restrained anger.

Then… a spasm.

Caitlyn arched suddenly on the stretcher, pulling on the cables and tubes. Her body tried to scream, but the only sound that came out was a strangled, brutal cry, crashing against the respirator tube.

The monitor screeched. Her eyes opened wide, overflowing with panic, and tears started to stream down her face.

"She’s awake! She’s trying to scream!" the nurse yelled, rushing to the head.

"Take the tube out, now!" Tobias ordered, taking control of the procedure.

Once the tube was removed from her throat, the real scream exploded in the room:

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

It wasn’t a moan. It wasn’t a sigh. It was a visceral, primal roar. Caitlyn screamed as though fire were devouring her soul from the inside.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHH! AHHHHHHHHH!" She screamed again, without stopping, as if the electricity in her new eye had ignited every nerve at once.

The Hextech eye burned like a mad sun. Blue, incandescent. It wasn’t looking: it was burning.

"Caitlyn!" Vi screamed, but her voice was lost in the terrifying shriek that shook the room.

Caitlyn writhed, convulsing between sobs and groans:

"AAAAAAAHHH! NO! IT BURNS! NOOO! AAAGHHH!"

But she couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. She could only feel pure, chemical pain, as though the eye had melted into her brain. Like a thousand burning needles trying to open her head from the inside, and all her nerves connecting and igniting at once. She twisted, shaking the stretcher, gasping between broken breaths, making sounds that weren’t words, but strangled daggers in her throat.

"Hold her!" Tobias shouted, but Vi was already on top of her.

She mounted the stretcher, pressing a knee against Caitlyn’s hip to stabilize her, and with both hands, held her face.

"Cait! It’s me! I’m here! Listen to me!"

Caitlyn kept screaming. Unwilling tears ran down her temples. Her new eye burned like it was overloaded, pulsing with each irregular beat of her heart. Lux barely kept the stabilization channel intact. Jayce held the instruments as if he still had to do something more.

Caitlyn just screamed:

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Then they saw it.

The area on her chest, where there had once been an open, bleeding wound, began to close.

Not naturally, but guided by the Hextech technology: purple fragments and blue filaments wove a new surface, solid and flexible, like skin that had never truly been human. Her heart, bathed in a dim glow, settled within that living structure.

As though the implant itself refused to let her die.

Jayce parted his lips, unable to look away.

"It can’t be…" he murmured. "She’s… regenerating tissue."

He shook his head, unable to fully comprehend.

"This was never part of the design," he murmured, as if talking to himself, unable to tear his eyes from the miracle unfolding before him.

But science had done its part. Now, everything depended on Vi.

Tobias leaned in quickly beside her, his face sweaty but firm.

"Vi," he said in a low but cutting voice. "If you don’t calm her down now, her body will go into shock again."

Vi looked at him with bloodshot eyes, her throat tight.

"And how… how am I supposed to calm her if she’s barely coming back?"

"Do what only you can do," Tobias replied, stepping back immediately to let her act.

"Look at me!" Vi cried out desperately. "Caitlyn, look at me!"

Her hands, stained with dried blood and effort, gripped Caitlyn’s face. She brought it to hers, until their foreheads touched, until there was nothing left but their uneven breaths.

"You’re here... with me," she whispered, not letting go. "Don’t go."

Caitlyn’s body convulsed one last time… and then stopped. The scream faded. Her breathing became labored, still trembling and irregular. But it was no longer pure pain, it was resistance.

The Hextech eye blinked, not with a lid, but with a contraction of energy, as though adjusting its focus. And then, like a wave slowly retreating from the shore, Caitlyn lowered her arms. Her face was still disfigured, drenched in tears, sweat, and pain… but her eyes locked onto Vi’s.

And in that moment, that was all that existed: two gazes reunited.

Vi let out a broken laugh, on the verge of tears.

"That’s…," she whispered. "You’re here. You’re with me."

She hugged her tightly and urgently. Not like someone offering comfort, but like someone clinging to life with both arms.

And Caitlyn… returned the hug.

Slowly, weakly, but for real. A single gesture that meant everything.

Behind them, Jinx collapsed onto a surgical chair, her hands covered in sweat, grease, and remnants of microfibers.

"Look at that…" she murmured, her voice hoarse, still watching the embrace. "I brought her back from the dead… How much am I getting paid?"

But her hands, which had done so much, wouldn’t stop shaking. She clenched her fists, trying to hide it. She appeared confident, like chaos was her element… but deep down, the fear was still there, lurking between her bones. And this time, she didn’t have a bomb to hide it.

From the other side of the room, Tobias watched in silence. He didn’t say a word. He just took a step forward, barely one, as if the scene before him had disarmed him from within. His eyes, so accustomed to restraint, softened for a moment as he watched his daughter breathe. And then, unable to contain it anymore, he brought a hand to his face. The tremor in his fingers gave him away before the tears did.

He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t ask for comfort. He just leaned slightly forward, broken in silence, like a man who had held the world too long… and finally allowed himself to let it go.

Jayce wiped his face with a sterile sleeve. Lux exhaled, as if the weight of the whole night had finally been released.

And in the middle of the brightly lit operating room, where everything could’ve gone wrong… Caitlyn Kiramman was coming back to life.

Chapter Text

The scent of incense mixed with the sweat that still clung to the sheets. In the dim light of her chambers, Mel lay naked on the rumpled silk, one arm stretched out across the empty pillow. The lingering warmth of Darius’s body still pulsed in the space he had occupied minutes ago. Or perhaps seconds. She had lost track of time.

It wasn’t the first time. Nor the second.

On those nights, he arrived without warning. He would strip with the same determination with which he removed his armor. He took her as if the war had never ended. And then, without a word, he would disappear into the shadows before dawn.

The first time had been an unspoken pact: sex for silence, flesh for power.
The second time, a habit.
The third, a strategy.
The fourth... Mel was no longer sure.

But that night was different.
Darius didn’t get up. He didn’t dress. He didn’t disappear with his usual economy of gestures.
He stayed.

Lying beside her, one arm behind his head, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, he breathed slowly and deeply, as if measuring the weight of something he hadn’t quite accepted.

Mel turned her face toward him, studying the rough profile of his jaw, the scar crossing his chest, the way his body—so brutal, carved by combat—relaxed, only seemingly.

“You surprise me…” she said in a neutral tone, not looking at him directly. “I thought you weren’t the type to stay.”

Darius didn’t answer.

Silence was their language, one Mel had learned to decipher carefully. But this time, it wasn’t about defiance or arrogance. It was something else. Something denser, colder.

“Is something bothering you, or are you just enjoying my bed like a conquered field?”

A soft exhale. No smile, no denial. Just air escaping through his nose.

Mel sat up a little, wrapping herself in a sheet as she watched him with renewed interest.

The rigidity of his body wasn’t sexual tension. It was another kind of stiffness. The kind someone carries when processing information. When making decisions.

Finally, Darius broke the silence with a voice deeper than usual, as if struggling to translate his thoughts into words.

“Swain is speeding things up. And LeBlanc... she moves in the shadows as always... I don’t like it.”

Mel narrowed her eyes. He hadn’t said much, but it was enough to open the crack.

She lay back down, this time closer to him, not touching him yet. Like a panther sensing that the prey has stopped. Not to flee... but to speak.

“And you, Darius?” she whispered. “Do you move... or are you being dragged?”

He turned his face slightly. Finally, he looked at her, and immediately, Mel knew that tonight would not be like the others.

Darius remained silent for a few more seconds. Then he sat up slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his back hunched as if carrying the weight of an invisible shield.

“We meet this week,” he murmured. “Swain, LeBlanc... and I.”

Mel didn’t respond. She just turned her face toward him, her lips barely parted, paying attention.

“It was in the lower chambers. Where the walls have no ears... or so we think.”

He said the last part with an ironic note, but without laughing. His eyes didn’t reflect humor.

“And the reason?” Mel asked, her voice soft yet calculated.

“Your name,” he replied without hesitation.

She didn’t feign surprise. She had expected it. What she didn’t expect was how he’d say it. Without judgment, without anger. Just as someone handing over a chess piece.

“They intercepted a letter from you,” he continued. “The one you sent to the commander.”

Mel narrowed her eyes slowly.

“LeBlanc intercepted it,” he clarified. “Now everyone knows about your constant contact with Piltover, indicating what’s happening in Noxus.”

Mel was deep in thought.

“And you knew about it a week ago?”

Darius nodded once.

“And you said nothing?”

He shrugged, no guilt in his movement.

“It wasn’t my war.”

That answer irritated her more than she’d like to admit. But she hid it behind a calm exhalation. The game wasn’t about debating morality, but understanding the moves.

“What else did they say?”

Darius picked up the forgotten wine glass from the table and drank directly from it. The red liquid slid down his throat like water. He then set it down again without looking.

“Swain wants to act. He thinks Piltover is too calm. That something is hidden behind its peace.”

“And LeBlanc?”

“She doesn’t need reasons. Just opportunities.”

Mel frowned.

“What kind of action does Swain want to take?”

Darius didn’t answer immediately. His gaze hardened. Then, without looking at her, he spoke.

“They’ve hired someone. A specialist.”

“A killer?” Mel was shocked by the confession.

“They didn’t call him that. But... he is.” He turned to her. “He talks like an artist, walks like an actor, but he’s a butcher.”

Mel straightened up slowly as she searched her memory.

“Jhin?”

Darius didn’t respond.

The silence was confirmation enough.

Mel got up from the bed and walked to the shelf, picking up her robe. She wrapped herself slowly, calculating.

“And you allowed this?” Mel’s attitude shifted, becoming harder and more hurt.

Darius snorted.

“I don’t have to allow anything. Swain moves pieces. LeBlanc poisons them. I... watch over them.”

Mel turned around, beginning to think of her friends, companions, almost family she had left behind in Piltover. She looked at him with a mix of disappointment and calculation.

“I’ve sent soldiers to Piltover. They’re hiding, watching the killer’s movements.” Her voice was dry. “Swain wanted men there for an invasion, but it’s not worth wasting them in a war that doesn’t make sense. My objective is only Demacia.”

“And if Jhin attacks?”

Darius stood up, walked toward her, and stopped just a few steps away.

“Then my soldiers will attack him, and they’ll notify me.”

Mel held his gaze. For a moment, she felt that the conversation had a different weight, beyond strategies and names.

It was a warning, or a confession, or maybe both.

“Swain and LeBlanc think they control Noxus,” said Darius. “But empires aren’t sustained by ghosts, or speeches, and certainly not by senseless wars.”

Mel nodded slowly.

“Then... are you ready for what’s coming?”

Darius narrowed his eyes.

“I’m ready to choose when to stop obeying.”

The silence that followed was different. Denser. Not for what was hidden, but for what was beginning to define itself.

Mel leaned against the shelf, still wrapped in her robe, as she watched him walk.

Under the bed, Darius’s sword lay half-hidden, the hilt still stained with dry blood. Silk and steel shared the dimness, as if rest and violence never ceased to coexist. In his world, love and war were indistinguishable.

Darius was a powerful presence, even at rest. He moved as if expecting a blow at any moment. Yet, tonight, he seemed less armored. More... tactical.

“Swain and LeBlanc are playing with fire,” said Mel, crossing her arms. “One wants chaos as a smokescreen. The other... absolute control from the shadows.”

Darius didn’t interrupt. He walked over to the brazier in the corner and stirred the embers with the blade of a ceremonial knife hanging on the wall. The fire revived, casting dancing shadows on the ceiling.

“Both think the other serves them,” he added. “But in reality, they use each other... while preparing to betray one another.”

Mel walked toward him with steady steps, unafraid, as if the heat of the fire didn’t touch her.

“If we want to survive what’s coming,” she said. “We must anticipate both.”

Darius raised his gaze. For the first time that night, his expression changed. It wasn’t distrust... it was analysis.

“Us?”

Mel didn’t look away.

“I’m not naive. I don’t believe in eternal loyalties, but you want the same thing I do: a Noxus that doesn’t break from the inside, and if I must ally with the fist... so be it.”

Darius placed the knife on his belt. Not as a threat. As a symbol. Then, he moved closer.

“What do you propose?”

“Subtle moves,” replied Mel. “Plant doubts among the council members who aren’t fully on Swain or LeBlanc’s side. Use my influence between the houses. Neutralize the opportunists before they recruit them.”

“And I...” Darius said, crossing his arms. “I make sure the military doesn’t swallow Swain’s lies.”

Mel nodded.

“But it must be done carefully. We can’t draw attention.”

Darius leaned toward her. His voice dropped an octave.

“LeBlanc listens in the walls. And when she acts... she leaves no trace. If you move pieces without telling me, I won’t be able to protect you.”

Mel felt a chill, not from the warning, but from the fact that it didn’t sound like a threat, but something resembling concern. In Noxus, loyalty is a coin that changes hands faster than any army. But she didn’t play to lose. Not when she could control the pieces on the board.

“Then we’ll do it together.”

Darius held her gaze for a long moment.

“Together.”

And for the first time since they began this game, the word didn’t sound hollow.

The silence that followed the pact was thick, full of unspoken meaning. Mel still felt the echo of Darius’s words lingering in the room.

She stared at him intently, her heart racing, not from fear, but from the clarity of the moment. They were truly aligned, not as temporary adversaries, not as bodies seeking each other in the dark, but as minds understanding the risk... and deciding to share it.

Darius didn’t speak another word, just held her gaze a few seconds longer, then turned his eyes toward the brazier, where the fire crackled without urgency. The heat illuminated his face from soft angles, revealing a different expression, less hardened, tired, perhaps. Human.

Mel took one more step toward him.

“How curious,” she murmured. “In all these encounters, you’ve never looked at me like this.”

“Like how?”

“Like... you trust me.”

Darius turned his face slightly, neither denying nor confirming. He wasn’t a man of words. He was a man of actions.

Mel moved closer. Not with her usual provocation, nor with the intent to dominate. This time, she simply placed her hand on his bare chest and felt the firm rhythm of his heart.

“Will you stay?”

He nodded, without grand gestures. And then, she kissed him.

It wasn’t an order, nor a calculated seduction. It was slow, deep. A strange gesture between two beings used to pretending toughness.

And he didn’t resist, nor take control. He simply reciprocated.

The kiss turned into a subtle current that pulled them toward the bed, without haste. They didn’t tear off their clothes because it was no longer necessary. There was no urgency, only understanding.

This time, they weren’t using each other. They were choosing each other.

Mel received him between the sheets with a barely audible sigh. When Darius entered her, she felt full, deep, more than any other time. This time, it wasn’t fury driving them. It was contained desire, slow friction, skin against skin without haste.

The moans became more present. Mel wrapped her legs around him, guiding the rhythm, marking every thrust with the cadence of a queen who doesn’t let herself be taken, but chooses to be adored. Her nipples, hard and sensitive, brushed against Darius’s chest every time he leaned to kiss her neck or bite her clavicle.

Sweat began to bead on both of their foreheads, mixing with the scent of incense still floating in the air. Mel’s fingers dug into the firm flesh of Darius’s back as she felt pleasure growing in waves from her center.

“Like this...” she whispered with a hoarse voice, squeezing him with her legs. “Right there…”

And he obeyed, with controlled strength that left her on the edge of the abyss with every thrust.

They moved together, in sync. Darius’s body flexed over hers with control, each thrust a contained strike, a wordless dance. Their breaths intertwined. The intensity grew without violence, only with presence. With intention.

Mel gasped, but this time not as a weapon. But as a woman. She felt him closer than ever, not just in the flesh, but in the decision to stay, to not escape after the climax.

The orgasm hit them like a violent jolt, simultaneously. Darius let out a muffled grunt, sinking all the way in, while Mel’s inner walls clenched around him with wet, frantic spasms. Her body begged to surrender, and he obeyed. He ejaculated inside her with force, in hot, thick waves that spilled uncontrollably, filling her completely. Each contraction of his member was met by her body, milking him relentlessly, as if she didn’t want to let him go. As if she could empty him entirely.

She arched with a torn moan, her back curved, her legs trapping him with fierce need. The warmth of his semen surged up like a wave, soaking her from the inside, filling every corner with a wet, dense sensation that made her shudder down to her fingers. She gasped, her neck tense and eyes closed, as her abdomen contracted again, catching every drop.

For a moment, nothing else existed. Only the trembling between their still connected bodies, the sweat dripping down their skins, their shared gasps, and the viscous mixture that kept them together, still beating in the deepest flesh. A heartbeat that didn’t belong to either of them, but to both.

Darius pulled her into his strong arms, but without squeezing, as if not wanting to disturb the silence that enveloped them. His hand descended slowly along the curve of her waist, tracing her silhouette with the tips of his fingers, as if trying to etch it into his skin’s memory. He moved down to her hip, to her still trembling thigh, caressing her with a clumsy, almost reverent tenderness.

Mel placed her open palm on his abdomen, feeling it rise with each deep breath, still out of sync. She let his touch stay there, without urgency, as if she didn’t want to let go of a charm.

“I didn’t think you could be so... delicate,” she murmured, her voice still hoarse, but soft.

And yet, here he was. Not as a conqueror. Not as a clenched fist. But as a weapon sheathed in his arms. Warm. Present.

“Neither did I,” Darius responded with a low grunt, no irony, as his knuckles continued to caress her. There was no lust now, only something deeper, rawer. Affection in its purest form, without adornments.

For the first time, Mel felt that the general had lowered all his defenses. Not with words, but with what he didn’t hide: the quickened pulse, the short breath, the way he still held her, as if letting go would mean losing something more than heat.

It hadn’t always been like this.
The first time, Darius had arrived cloaked in shadow and fury. There was no dialogue. Only flesh against flesh, as if sex were an extension of the battlefield. She thought she could contain it, handle it. But when he left without looking back, she understood that what they had wasn’t possession... it was distance.

And that’s why now, feeling him stay, noticing how his breath synchronized with hers, that contrast burned in her chest. It wasn’t just that Darius hadn’t left. It was that, for the first time, he seemed to have chosen to stay.

Morning arrived silently, as if it knew interrupting them would be a crime. A thin line of light slipped through the curtains, brushing the edges of the bed, a silent witness to something rarer than war: intimacy.

Mel opened her eyes slowly, still wrapped in Darius’s body, his deep breaths beside her. His arm was still over her, heavy, protective, warm.

For a moment, she lay still. She didn’t think of the Council, or LeBlanc, or Jhin.

She thought of that silence. Of that calm.

And of how improbable it was for a man like him to have stayed.

She smiled, not arrogantly, but with a small, intimate curve on her lips. A gesture that wasn’t for him or for the world. It was for her.

She had made it.

Darius opened his eyes shortly after. He didn’t say anything. He just sat up slowly, with heavy but calm movements. He sat on the edge of the bed and stretched his neck, his shoulders. His body creaked like a war machine waking up.

Mel watched him from the bed, still naked, wrapped in a sheet. She appreciated his broad back, marked by years of battle. But that morning, she didn’t see it as that of an enemy. It was that of an ally, a man who had accepted her cause, her bed, her strategy, and her company.

She wondered how much longer she could hold the balance without breaking. Swain didn’t forgive mistakes. LeBlanc didn’t allow weaknesses. And now, she had chosen a man as unpredictable as the edge of his axe to stand by her. But it wasn’t weakness that she felt.

It was power. A different one. More intimate. More dangerous.

Darius stood up, picked up his pants, and began to dress without hurry. There was no rush, no tension, only a strange routine that was starting to feel too familiar. As he dressed, Darius looked at Mel again, his eyes not as hard as usual, but still nothing soft. “There can be no space for doubt,” he thought. Yet, the weight of the conversation followed him in silence.

He fastened his belt with military precision. Adjusted his pauldron with a low grunt. He didn’t have the body of a noble, but of a weapon. Each part of his routine was armor, and yet that morning, he executed it more slowly. As if every buckle, every fold, weighed more than usual.

Before leaving, he stopped at the door and looked at her with a seriousness unlike before, more direct and close.

“Remember, if you make any move, tell me,” the general said with clear tension. “If this goes wrong... there will be no other game. Our heads will roll.”

For a moment, he thought of saying more. Admitting that staying had been a decision, not an omission. But he didn’t find the words. He had no training for that. Only for wars. And Mel... she was another kind of battle.

For a moment, he thought of saying more. Admitting that staying had been a decision, not an omission. But he didn’t find the words. He had no training for that. Only for wars. And Mel... she was another kind of battle.

Mel held his gaze. She didn’t lower her eyes, nodded firmly.

“It won’t be like that. We’ll do it right. You and I.”

Darius didn’t respond. He just looked at her one last time before opening the door and leaving for his daily tasks.

Mel stayed in bed, bathed in the morning light, her body warm and her heart at peace.

There were no more doubts. Darius was on her side.

She slowly got up, walked to the mirror, and when she looked at her reflection, she didn’t see a woman alone.

She saw scars that hadn’t been there the night before. Not on her skin, but in her eyes. She saw desire, yes, but also the weight of knowing that a conflict was coming that she couldn’t control alone.

She touched the edge of the mirror, as if trying to make sure her reflection wasn’t an illusion. Then she lowered her hand, with the determination of someone who had chosen a side. She saw a strategist with the most powerful weapon in Noxus under her command.

The ring on her finger, inherited from her mother, brushed her cheek as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She never took it off. It reminded her that power, when not questioned, becomes tyranny. And even in deception... there should be a trace of truth.

Then, she walked over to the desk, picking up a crumpled piece of paper with LeBlanc’s seal. It was a reminder of the web of betrayals she wove every day. Her goal wasn’t just survival, but to come out ahead without compromising her loyalty.

“If Swain wants war, LeBlanc the shadows... then I’ll be the one to keep the balance.”

What Mel didn’t know was that LeBlanc had already begun to move another piece. One that didn’t align with Swain or Darius.

One that only responded to the echo of its own reflection.

Deep in Noxus, beyond the corridors where even the Black Rose dares not whisper, a hidden chamber pulsed with arcane energy.

A black mirror, as tall as a door and held by columns of living obsidian, vibrated with distorted images. Before it, LeBlanc stood motionless, her cloak fluttering even though there was no wind.

Her face, covered by a thin crystal ceremonial mask, was reflected in the edges of the enchanted surface.

Before approaching the mirror, LeBlanc traced a small symbol on her wrist with her nail. A subtle and precise cut. The blood didn’t fall, it absorbed into the air.

“Every vision has a price,” she whispered.

The mirror responded with a faint pulse, like a heartbeat in the void. In it, she didn’t see her own face. She saw Piltover. And in the center of that fractured stage... the end of a play.

Vi, collapsed. Ekko, unconscious among the debris. Caitlyn... her chest torn open by a bullet, bleeding onto the earth.

LeBlanc narrowed her eyes with contained delight.

“This is where the first act ends,” she whispered, more to herself than to the mirror.

With a gesture of her fingers, the image contracted, revealing the figure of Jhin, walking away like an artist leaving his canvas after signing his work.

“The artist has done his part. With precision... with drama. But he still doesn’t understand that his stage doesn’t belong to him.”

The image faded for a moment, and finally, the reflection returned to Caitlyn. Her breathing, though weak, persisted.

LeBlanc raised an eyebrow.

“Interesting. The curtain hasn’t fallen yet.”

The mirror hummed with a slight buzz. A magical warning.

“Too many pieces moving off the script...” she murmured.

With another gesture of her hand, the image warped again.

This time it wasn’t Piltover. It was Mel.

Her naked silhouette, barely covered by the sheet, moved slowly in the reflection. Each of her gestures, her walk, her gaze at the mirror, her contained sigh, was watched from the other side with surgical attention.

LeBlanc stood before the glass, one hand resting on the ornate frame and her eyes narrowed. Her lips, deep crimson, curled into an imperceptible smile as Mel’s image slowly faded between arcane mist.

“A queen needs a mirror...” she whispered, tracing a spiral on the polished surface with her nail. “But mirrors can break too.”

And with a slight gesture, the reflection shattered into fragments of light that vanished into the air like enchanted ashes.

As it broke, each shard of the mirror revealed a different face: Swain, Jhin, Vi, Caitlyn, even Jinx... all frozen for an instant in the midst of their choices.

And in the last fragment, LeBlanc saw herself.

“Not even I am safe,” she said quietly before turning it all off.

Noxus was not a kingdom of iron. It was a labyrinth of mirrors. And in them, queens could either get lost... or broken.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn floated in an eternal fog, weightless and without memory. She had lost all sense of time, her body barely a distant and diffuse shadow. She only felt the sharp throb of her wound, pulsing like a dark drum in the nothingness. At times, she heard distant murmurs, broken words sinking like stones in deep water, echoes of something never spoken aloud.

The last thing Caitlyn had seen, just before everything faded away, was Vi.

Running toward her, her face twisted in horror, her hand outstretched as if she could reach her. As if that desperate love could stop the death already advancing like an unstoppable tide inside her chest.

Then, the world split in two.

Jhin appeared.

A dry, metallic snap cut the silence like a whip. From the shadows, he emerged walking with the macabre elegance of an actor stepping onto stage. His figure, outlined against the flickering light, seemed less like a man and more like a nightmare carved into living flesh.
The cracked mask glimmered in fragments, and beneath it, a single eye, alive, human, terribly lucid, shone with an unnatural calm.

With deliberate slowness, almost reverently, Jhin raised his right hand and placed his index finger on Caitlyn's left eye, pressing. Not with brutality, but with the patient precision of an artist wanting to capture every nuance of pain.
His face, his entire life, became his canvas.

"Shhh..." Jhin whispered.

His voice didn’t resonate in her ears, but deep inside her mind, planting itself like poison in her skull.

"Don’t rush the curtain, dear..." he added, sliding each word with monstrous tenderness. "The final act has barely begun."

Caitlyn tried to pull away, but she was trapped.

Jhin’s left hand pressed against her throat, holding her with cruel firmness, denying her even the instinct to flee.

The burn in her eye was unbearable, as if Jhin were scraping fire directly into her retina with the tip of an incandescent knife.

Her entire body felt like an open battlefield, every nerve flayed and exposed to a fire that could not be contained.

Something burning, strange, foreign, slithered beneath her skin, trying to take control of her mind from the inside out.

She screamed.

She screamed until her throat tasted of blood.

She screamed as if she could tear the pain away with her voice, as if the fury of her own scream could extinguish the flames devouring her.

But Jhin did not loosen his grip.

And the pain didn’t either.

Only the void... and the fire that claimed her piece by piece.

When darkness threatened to swallow her completely, a voice pierced the shadow like an arrow of light.

"Cait! I’m here! Look at me!"

The figure of Jhin blurred, trembling at the edge of her broken vision. The heat of hands took her face, firm, desperate, as if they could return her soul just by touching her.

A broken voice, furious, repeating her name over and over.

It wasn’t an order. It was a cry for life.

A shot into the abyss.

A crack of light opening in the fire.

She couldn’t see. She only felt: the weight of a body on hers, the warmth of fingers that didn’t tremble from weakness, but from fear.

The pressure in her eye was unbearable, as if the entire world burned in her head.

She tried to scream again, but then, instead of shadows, she saw.

Not Jhin’s face.

Not the abyss.

She saw Vi.

First, it was a blurry shadow. Then, the violent red of her hair. After that, the eyes. Those eyes wide with terror, screaming without words.

"Look at me! Caitlyn, look at me!"

Vi pressed her face between her hands, her forehead pressed to hers, her trembling breath mixing in the hot air between them.

The pressure, the blood, the pain... Everything froze in that instant.

Caitlyn felt Vi’s tears mix with her own skin. The trembling in her fingers. The desperate strength of someone who doesn’t plan on ever letting go.

"I’m here. You’re with me. Don’t leave."

And that was the final spark.

The thin, desperate thread that held her when everything around her threatened to break.

Caitlyn inhaled with difficulty, like someone drinking air in broken sips. But it was real. A breath of hers. Present. Painful... but alive.

The pain was still there, fierce, vibrating like hot steel in her skull. Her left eye burned like a star trapped, pulsing with strange, almost foreign energy.
But through that fire, something filtered through.

An image.

Fuzzy. Fragmented. Like seeing the world through a frozen tear.

And amidst the distortion and chaos, Vi’s face emerged.

Not as a shadow or a mirage: as a center. An anchor. A return.

The chaos retreated. Slowly. Stubbornly. But it retreated.

Between gasps and tremors, with her body bathed in sweat and tears, Caitlyn raised her arms. Not as a reflex… but as a choice. As a silent cry of longing.

Vi let out a broken laugh, trembling, on the edge of tears.

"That’s it..." she whispered. "You’re here. You’re with me."

And she hugged her with everything she had, not like someone comforting a wounded person, but like someone holding onto a drowning person so they don’t drown too.

And Caitlyn... returned the hug. It wasn’t just touch. It was recognition. It was rebirth.

Vi hadn’t just called her. She had held her and saved her.

And Caitlyn knew it: she hadn’t come back alone.

Vi was her anchor, her home, her proof that even in the worst darkness, something or someone was waiting for her.

The hug lasted barely seconds, but it was enough. Enough for the chaos to give way and the storm to subside.

And then, like a candle that fulfills its purpose and no longer needs to resist, Caitlyn collapsed into her arms.

Not with violence, nor fear, but with a deep exhalation.

Defeated, but alive.

"It’s okay..." Vi murmured, gently stroking her hair. "Rest."

The internal war was over.

For now.

The operating room door closed with a hermetic snap, and the echo of the final beep faded between the steel walls.

Caitlyn was already in the recovery room. Stable. Asleep. Breathing regularly. Her body, although exhausted, was no longer fighting against the pain. She had surrendered to rest only after looking her in the eyes and after embracing her.

The Hextech eye remained active, even under the closed eyelid. Through the thin skin of her face, a faint bluish glow filtered through, pulsing, as if something inside still breathed on its own. A foreign heartbeat. Constant. As if the implant refused to turn off, even in sleep.

Vi hadn’t moved from her side.

She remained standing, with the surgical gown still over her shoulders, watching the slight rise and fall of Caitlyn’s chest under the sheets. That breath. Her breath. Her face, covered in sweat and traces of tears, seemed at peace for the first time in days.

No one spoke at first.

Ekko had left for the Firelighters' refuge after the four entered the operating room.

Jayce exhaled with tension, running a hand over his face as he walked around the room with brief, heavy steps. He had taken off his gloves a while ago, but his fingers still seemed to remember the pulse of the operation. His jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the floor, as if with each step he was looking for an explanation that didn’t come.

"It shouldn’t have activated so quickly," he murmured, more to himself than to the rest. "Not to respond with that level of synchronicity. Not at that level... not so soon."

"The calibration was perfect," said Jinx, swinging her feet like a restless child and spinning a screw between her fingers with the skill of a bomb about to explode. "Nothing burned, nothing exploded... yet. Technically, it was beautiful. So if something went wrong, it was emotional. Ugh! The worst kind of malfunction."

"Not magical either," added Lux, still with her hands marked by the flow she had channeled. "I kept the core stable, contained the peaks. The eye... responded on its own."

Tobias, standing against the wall, with the gown in his hand, watched them in silence. As if he was still processing what he had seen.

"We knew it was the only option," he finally said, in a grave voice. "But this... went beyond. The damage to her chest wasn’t just structural. She wouldn’t have survived much longer. The Hextech held her, yes... but then it did something else."

Jayce nodded without looking at anyone.

"The regeneration wasn’t part of the design. At least not at that level. What we saw... was artificial tissue forming over her organs. The heart... the lung... directly connected to the implant. It wasn’t healing. It was cellular reprogramming."

Vi turned to them.

"I saw it, I felt it. Her chest... it rebuilt itself. As if the eye had decided to save her on its own. As if it knew what it had to do."

Jinx stopped playing with the screw and held it in front of her eyes like it was an oracle.

"That wasn’t an implant. It was a blind wedding. The eye didn’t adapt to her... Caitlyn liked it, or worse, fell in love. And when that happens... well, strange things happen."

Lux lowered her gaze, as if the weight of those words had fallen on her.

Her voice came out trembling, barely a whisper that couldn’t disguise the anguish:

"Then... the commander will never be the same again."

"What if she keeps changing?" Vi asked.

Silence fell over them, thick as fog before a storm.

Tobias furrowed his brow, squinting gravely.

"We don’t know," he finally said. "Her mind is intact, her vital signs are stable... but her tissue is no longer entirely human. She is now in symbiosis with high-density Hextech."

He paused, heavy.

"What started as a prosthesis... may be evolving into something more."

Jayce ran a nervous hand through his hair, as if trying to calm uncomfortable thoughts. Then, with his arms crossed and a somber face, he added:

"Caitlyn Kiramman is the first documented case of spontaneous and autonomous Hextech integration." His words were harsh, almost incredulous. "Viktor adapted bodies to support technology, yes... but Caitlyn didn’t."

Jayce glanced at her sideways, as if he still couldn’t believe it.

"She wasn’t altered to receive Hextech. Hextech... chose her."

Jinx let out a long, sharp whistle, as if she had just seen fireworks explode in slow motion.

"Well..." she said, tilting her head with a crooked smile. "Sounds like the beginning of a spectacular tragedy... or one of those legends that end badly and no one wants to tell aloud."

Vi didn’t respond. She just looked at them all, her dark eyes under the shadow of pain, but unbroken.

"Is she still her?" she asked, in a thread of voice that seemed more like a prayer than a question.

Tobias didn’t hesitate.

"Yes," he affirmed gravely. "For now."

Vi took a step toward the gurney. With trembling tenderness, she brushed Caitlyn’s bandaged fingers, as if afraid she might disappear at the touch.

Her voice was barely a murmur, fragile and fierce at once:

"Then... we’ll be here. Whatever happens."

Jinx watched her in silence for a few seconds. Then smiled sideways, that smile of hers, broken and dangerous like an unarmed grenade.

"And if she breaks..." she murmured, swaying on her heels. "We’ll fix her with duct tape, rusted gears, and dysfunctional love. " She snapped her fingers as if already planning it.

"Piece by piece." She added, with a mischievous wink. "Wouldn’t be the first time we rebuild something the world threw away."

No one replied.

Vi stood there, watching her. Protecting her. Caitlyn slept, her chest rising and falling in a fragile rhythm, her left eye glowing in the dimness like a tiny lighthouse, like a promise that refused to fade.

And Vi, with her heart shattered and her hands steady, swore that... no matter who woke up tomorrow.

She would still be there.

Holding her. Fighting for her. Loving her, even if the world broke into a thousand pieces.

Caitlyn opened her eyes like someone breaking the surface after a shipwreck.

It was a dry, hesitant blink. The world hit her face again: the unbearable weight, the pain nested in every fiber.

Under the sheets, her body trembled, awkward, like a puppet whose strings were too fragile to hold her.

Her left eye, the Hextech, flickered erratically, releasing bluish flashes that vibrated like a wild heart. Every time she opened it with a blink, a sharp pain pierced her head, as if thousands of tiny threads were trying to reconnect with her flesh. A living, relentless sting, the constant price of carrying technology breathing inside her.

Vi immediately leaned in, her hands open, trembling, ready to hold her, ready for anything.

"Cait..." she whispered, her voice full of hope that seemed about to break into pieces.

But Caitlyn... didn’t look at Vi.

Her gaze, lost and trembling, slid beyond, stopping on the silhouette of a figure that seemed too comfortable amidst the chaos.

Jinx.

Sitting upside down on a chair, legs crossed over the backrest, spinning a screwdriver between her fingers like someone playing with a knife in a tavern about to burn.

She smiled. Not out of joy. Not out of relief.

She smiled like a child who knows exactly when the bomb she hid under the table will explode.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she hummed, swaying slightly forward. "How does it feel having a firefly lit in your skull?"

Caitlyn reacted as if her voice were a lash.

Her body arched in a brutal spasm, trying to sit up blindly, as if she could move away from a fire that was already consuming her.

The pain struck her immediately, a whip in her chest that threw her back onto the bed.

She screamed.

A raw, wild scream, without words, made of pure survival instinct.

"You...!" Caitlyn gasped, her throat broken, the air like shards in her lungs, unable to find better words than that accusation.

Jinx stopped spinning the screwdriver. She let it fall with a dry clink onto the stone floor.

She slid out of the chair like a mischievous shadow, approaching with light, dangerously carefree steps.

"Oh, no! Again with this," she exclaimed, feigning indignation as she clutched her chest. "Do we always have to start with screams and insults? I came here to welcome you to the wonderful club of those with weird gadgets in their bodies."

Jinx let out a brief, broken, mocking laugh. She raised her right hand and, with all the slowness in the world, showed the middle finger. Not a quick or vulgar gesture: a slow, theatrical one, like revealing a scar in broad daylight.

The finger, made of polished metal, gleamed with a cold flash under the dim light of the room.

"Do you remember this, commander?" she said, tilting her head with a venomous smile. "Courtesy of you... and your precious Hextech bullet."

She raised the metal finger a little higher, spinning it slowly as if it were a twisted jewel.

"Relax," she added in a conspiratorial whisper, lowering her hand. "Now we’re two broken pieces... patched up with shiny junk."

Caitlyn brought a trembling hand to her left eye, as if she could contain the furious fire burning beneath her skin. The blue glow intensified under her fingers, vibrating like a beast in a cage.

The pain doubled her over, tearing a ragged groan from her.

"It burns...!" she whispered, a broken plea that barely held in the air.

Lux rushed to her instinctively, but Jinx raised her hand, not taking her eyes off Caitlyn.

"Don’t bother, blondie," she said in a tone almost tender, but filled with a strange gravity. "It’s not magic... it’s trauma. Raw. High definition."

"No..." Caitlyn murmured, her voice broken, barely audible. "I don’t want to see her. I can’t. She’s... a killer."

Jinx clicked her tongue, tilting her head like a curious raven. Her smile was sharp, but her eyes, for a fleeting moment, seemed old and tired.

"Yeah, yeah, the killer..." she murmured, her voice full of bitter irony. "What a nice title. We should embroider it on a jacket. We’d be the envy of the parade."

Tobias, uncomfortable like few times before, tried to intervene with an urgent voice:

"Caitlyn, don’t strain yourself, your system is still..."

But Caitlyn barely heard him. Panic had already taken over her.

"Get out!" she screamed, her voice tearing in her throat. "Get out, everyone!"

Vi stepped forward, desperation showing in her eyes.

"Cait... it’s me..."

Caitlyn slowly turned her head. Her Hextech eye pulsed violently, a flickering light reflecting her confusion and pain.

"Vi..." she whispered. Barely an echo. Only her name... but in that whisper, there was a crack, a tiny fissure in the armor consuming her.

Before she could say anything else, Jinx, who had been silent, suddenly jumped up theatrically.

"You know what? Fine," she said, raising her arms as if surrendering to an invisible jury. "I’m not welcome. I got the hint."

She walked toward the door as if walking on a tightrope, exaggerating each step, her voice full of mocking drama.

"It’s not the first time they’ve tried to kick me out of a place..." she added, with a half-amused, bitter laugh. "Though normally, there’s more fire, explosions, and screaming."

She stopped in the doorway. Looked over her shoulder, her smile twisted, the wounded look in her deepest hidden depth.

"But this eye..." she pointed to her own metallic temple with a dry gesture. "The one burning you... I didn’t do it for you to love me. I did it for you to live."

And without waiting for a response, she pushed the door with her hip and disappeared, leaving them all in a silence that weighed like a slab.

Vi, caught between the urge to chase after Jinx or stay, took another step toward Caitlyn. Her hands barely raised, trembling, as if afraid to break something already shattered.

But the crack opened by the whisper... closed with a heartbeat.

Caitlyn shifted her gaze toward her, her eyes overflowing with fierce pain. The blue glow of the Hextech flickered, irregular, like a heart unsure whether to keep beating.

Vi took a step.

Barely a movement.

But Caitlyn felt it like a lash on her open skin.

Her heart shrank. Fear rushed in, brutal, irrational.

It wasn’t Vi who hurt her.

It was herself.

It was the broken reflection she feared showing her. The shame of no longer being the one Vi had trusted, the one she had loved without reservations.

"No..." Caitlyn whispered, her voice breaking like glass under pressure. "I don’t want you to see me like this."

Vi stopped, her lips parted, trapped between moving forward or disappearing.

"Cait..." she murmured, reaching out with contained desperation.

But Caitlyn shook her head, trembling.

"Please..." her voice was barely a thread, trembling, defeated. "Just... go."

Vi didn’t move.

The pain in Caitlyn turned to panic. She couldn’t bear feeling her so close. Not like this.

Then, fury erupted, like an impossible wave to contain.

"Get out!" she screamed, her voice shredded. "Get everyone out!"

The Hextech eye flickered erratically, each flash a brutal sting under her skin.

Caitlyn’s chest rose and fell in short, jagged gasps, as if every breath tore at her lungs.

"Get out..." she whispered again, her voice barely a frayed thread. "Please..."

The blue glow of the Hextech vibrated like a wounded beacon, each flicker throwing invisible sparks that burned the air. Each emotion ignited it further, making it more painful.

Tobias didn’t move.

He clenched his jaw, his figure firm as a protective shadow beside her.

But his eyes crossed with Lux and Jayce’s, silently conveying the order: leave now.

Lux was the first to step back, her mouth pressed into a trembling line.

Jayce followed, his heavy steps as if each one weighed a ton.

Vi was last. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t dare. She stayed still for one more second, trapped at the threshold of what was and what no longer could be.

She looked at her.

She looked at Caitlyn as if she wanted to memorize every broken feature, every tremor, every painful heartbeat. Then, she lowered her gaze, gritting her teeth until they hurt, and stepped back.

One step. Another.

Not out of fear.

Not out of resignation.

But because sometimes, loving means accepting that you can’t always heal what you love.

She walked away in silence, leaving behind the irregular hum of the Hextech... and the pain she could no longer touch.

Only Tobias stayed. Silent and firm.

The last guardian of a daughter who still didn’t know how to return to herself.

When the door closed behind them, the click resonated like a shot in the stillness.

Only the soft beep of the monitor remained... and the blue glow pulsing from Caitlyn’s left eye socket, flickering like a star trapped in the night.

The silence fell over the room like a heavy, suffocating blanket.

The monitor, tireless, was not marking the beats of life. It was marking the absences.

Caitlyn lay motionless under the sheets, her eyelids closed, her body still shaken by tremors that didn’t obey her will.

But she wasn’t asleep.

Inside her mind, the pain wasn’t the worst part.

It was the fear. The fear of opening her eyes and discovering she wasn’t entirely hers anymore. That something strange, burning, and foreign, was breathing under her skin.

She heard her father’s footsteps before he spoke a single word.

"Cait..." Tobias murmured, almost fearing to break her with just the sound.

"Do you have a mirror?" Caitlyn asked, without opening her eyes.

Tobias stopped, as if the entire room had held its breath.

For a second, he thought about lying. About protecting her with a white lie.

But no.

He knew her too well. Caitlyn Kiramman was not one to close her eyes in the face of horror. She was the one who opened them wider.

"Yes," he said, his voice deep, resigned.

He crossed the room slowly, his boots barely making a sound on the floor.

He took the small hand mirror from the medicine cabinet, that unnecessarily fragile object for what he was about to show her.

He held it for a moment. It weighed like a sentence.

"Are you sure?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Caitlyn nodded. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t turn her head. Just a gesture, dry and definitive.

Tobias approached, and with the same solemnity with which a verdict is delivered, he placed the mirror in her hands.

Then he stepped back. Not to give space. But because he understood that some battles are fought in solitude.

Caitlyn raised the mirror with almost reverent slowness, like someone holding a relic... or a sentence.

The weight didn’t come from the glass, but from what she was about to face.

She opened her eyes.

Both.

The left one barely managed to crack open. A slit of blue light exploded from her eyelid, piercing her skull like an electric needle. The pain was instant, wild, brutal.

A lash of liquid fire that made her grit her teeth until they almost shattered.

But she didn’t look away.

Just a second. Just enough.

And it was enough.

Under the trembling eyelid, the Hextech eye didn’t reflect light: it created it. A vibrant blue, thick as magma, pulsed at its center, alive and foreign. It wasn’t a lens. It wasn’t a prosthesis. It was something that beat, that thought, that looked at her from the inside.

Caitlyn lowered her gaze, the mirror still trembling in her hand.

Her white nightgown opened just above her sternum. With awkward, almost childish movements, she pushed the fabric aside. And then, she saw it.

Her chest was no longer just flesh. The wound, where the bullet had pierced her body, was now a crucible of skin and metal intertwined in an impossible fusion. Bluish, purplish tones ran like rivers beneath a smooth surface, firm as steel, alive like new flesh.

It didn’t look like a scar. It looked like a forced resurrection. A reconstruction she hadn’t asked for. A new version of herself… in which she hadn’t had a voice.

The mirror descended, almost slipping from her hand. The reflection blurred, displaced by the overwhelming weight of understanding.

She was still there, her body was still there, but it was no longer entirely hers.

It was something else.

Something made of fire, of pain, and of technology that doesn’t forgive. For the first time since she woke up, Caitlyn didn’t feel fear.

She felt grief. The silent, heartbreaking grief of the woman she had been.

"What… what is this?" she whispered, her voice so broken it barely sounded like hers.

It wasn’t a question for Tobias.

It was for herself.

For that impossible version of her staring back from the mirror.

Tobias inhaled deeply, as if he knew that, sometimes, even the bitterest truth must be said without adornments.

"It’s what saved you," he replied, with no promises, no sweet lies. "The eye. The Hextech. It didn’t just replace what you lost... it rebuilt what we couldn’t save."

Caitlyn didn’t take her eyes off the mirror. She didn’t even blink. As if looking at it was a way of forcing herself to accept that the nightmare wasn’t an illusion.

"So...?" Her voice trembled, barely a whisper. "What am I now?"

The silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was dense. Laden with the almost imperceptible hum that vibrated from her chest, like a new metallic soul breathing inside her.

Tobias didn’t answer immediately, not because he doubted, but because there were no human words to respond to that.

Caitlyn raised her gaze.

The blue glow of the Hextech pulsed fully in her left eye, beating like a foreign heart, impossible to hide. It was a brutal collision between the woman she remembered... and the reflection now returning the world: another, marked, unrecognizable.

"Tell me, Dad," she murmured, and in that raw plea, there was no anger. Just desolation. "What am I now?"

Tobias took a step forward. He took her hand, firmly, not like someone consoling, but like someone silently swearing not to let go.

He squeezed her against his trembling palm, and in that single gesture, he said everything his mouth couldn’t reach:

"You’re still you. Even if the world tries to convince you otherwise. Even if I’m still learning to look at you without breaking."

Without letting go of her hand, Tobias extended the other and offered her a small black cloth object.

The patch.

"You’ll have to wear it again," he said, serene but without hiding the edge of truth. "For now. The eye is still active, but it hasn’t finished adapting. There are circuits that are still reconfiguring... and until they stabilize, the pain won’t go away."

Caitlyn took it slowly. She didn’t respond.

She only held it between her fingers, feeling its light weight, yet overwhelming. She had worn a patch before all of this happened. She knew how it grazed the skin, how it hid the absence.

But now, it wasn’t going to cover a void.

It was going to hide something breathing under her flesh. Something she still couldn’t recognize as her own, and that difference made it more unbearable.

Tobias watched her in silence for a few seconds. Then, with a soft voice but carrying an unrelenting seriousness, he added:

"You’re going to need therapy. To adapt to all of this. To learn to live with it."

Caitlyn squeezed the patch between her fingers, as if it were a burning nail. She didn’t lift her gaze.

"Therapy with who?" she asked finally, and her voice came out firmer than she felt inside. Not less hurt… but determined not to break.

Tobias swallowed before answering, as if each word weighed more than the last.

"With me... and with Jayce."

He paused briefly, looking for his daughter’s eyes, but Caitlyn remained rigid, like a statue of ice.

"He understands better than anyone how Hextech works. And he understands... what you are now."

Caitlyn looked up, her pupils vibrating with a strange glow under the implant’s light.

"Jayce?"

Incredulity dripped from a single word.

"But… he died," she murmured, her voice barely an echo. "In the war."

Tobias slowly shook his head, a small, painful movement.

"We thought so."

The silence that stretched was dense, suffocating.

"I don’t know how he came back. Or what happened to him all this time. I just know he returned... in time for you."

And then, like a smoke bomb that couldn’t be dodged, Tobias finished:

"He... Lux... and Jinx."

The last name bounced in the room like a shot. There were no explanations. No nuances. Just a raw truth.

Caitlyn lowered her head, her fingers clenched around the patch. She didn’t cry. She didn’t curse.

She simply… fell into herself.

The images began to filter through. Voices she didn’t want to remember. Laughter she had learned to fear. Hands stained with gunpowder and memories.

Jayce.

Jinx.

Shadows that never quite disappeared.

She spun the patch between her fingers one last time, as if searching for some of her former strength inside that cloth. But there was no strength there. Just a battle freshly begun.

Without saying anything more, Caitlyn brought the patch to her left eye and tied it with trembling hands, closing the world, and herself, that new half she couldn’t deny. It felt like a lid. Like a desperate attempt to contain something that wouldn’t stop beating under her skin.

The relief was immediate. Not physical, not real… but necessary.

The pressure that had threatened to tear her skull apart dissipated, leaving behind a dense silence, barely supported by her labored breathing.

She didn’t feel better. Just... less exposed. At least for a moment, she could stop seeing.

"Dad..." she murmured, her hand still resting on the patch, as if afraid something could escape underneath.

Tobias raised his gaze, attentive, patient.

"I’m sorry," she said, her voice breaking in every syllable. "For yelling. For everything."

He gently shook his head, without judgment, without haste.

"You don’t have to apologize for suffering, daughter."

"It’s not just that," Caitlyn added, lowering her head, her words scraping her throat like stones. "It’s not that I don’t want to see them... It’s that I don’t want them to see me like this..."

She touched the patch, as if she could erase her own existence with that gesture.

"The pain was like... like being born again. But I’m not the same. I feel like something in me broke... or changed... or both."

Tobias didn’t speak immediately. He just watched her, holding her pain like someone holding a cracked glass: without forcing it, without letting go.

"Vi was here the whole time," he finally said, his voice a whisper that seemed to fear breaking her. "She didn’t leave for a second. Not when you screamed. Not when the eye glowed like a lighthouse. Not when we thought we had lost you."

Caitlyn closed her eyes. A different pain, sharper, crossed her chest. It didn’t come from the implant. It came from herself.

"I know," she whispered. "That’s why... I still can’t see her."

She swallowed, as if confessing a crime.

"Not because I don’t love her. But because if this is the first version of me she sees..." She brushed the patch with her fingertips, not as if hiding a wound, but an abyss. "I don’t know what I’ve become. And I don’t know if I could bear for Vi to see it... before I understand it myself."

Tobias leaned forward, took her fingers, and held them with the soft firmness he had always used to contain her, even when she was little.

"Then let it be in your time. When you’re ready. Not before."

Caitlyn didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. She just squeezed his hand, closing her eyes.

Her father was still there. His touch, warm and firm.

The bandage over her chest, the scar pulsing beneath.

And the patch... covering something that, still, she didn’t know how to name.

The hallway seemed endless.

The ceiling lights, white and cold, didn’t illuminate: they dissected. Every corner was suspended in a soulless gray, as if the hospital wasn’t a refuge, but a morgue where even hope had been anesthetized.

All that could be heard was the electric hum of the tubes, a distant beep… and the broken whisper of her own breath. The silence wasn’t absence: it was a crouched monster, waiting to bite as soon as someone dared to breathe too loudly.

The air smelled of the clinical void of hospitals: disinfectant, rusted metal, damp cloth. But beneath that, there was something else. Something only she seemed to perceive.

Fear. Defeat. An invisible edge of static electricity, as if everything were about to explode, but still fighting not to.

Vi still felt the weight of Caitlyn in her arms. The living memory of her body vibrating against hers, the heat escaping under the bandages, the broken, fragile breath hanging by an invisible thread, and that Hextech eye... burning like a wounded star, fixed in her face.

And her voice. Not calling her. Not whispering her name. Begging not to be seen.

That hurt more than any wound.

Vi closed her eyes, but the silence wasn’t rest. It was a rough weight, suspended in the air.

Every person in the hallway seemed to be holding their breath, as if any word could break the fragile balance that kept them standing.

Jayce was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his brow furrowed into a deep crease. He wasn’t looking at anyone. He wasn’t saying anything. As if he were looking for, in the floor patterns, a miscalculation he could correct in reality.

Jinx was sitting on the floor, her legs crossed and elbows resting on her knees. She wasn’t playing with tools, wasn’t humming, wasn’t exploding the silence with any of her theatrical outbursts.

She was just staring at the doorframe.

Still.

As if, by staying still long enough, time could show mercy and rewind.

Lux was the only one who dared to pierce the silence.

Her voice was barely a whisper, thrown into the void like someone casting a prayer that even she didn’t believe:

"She… will understand. She just needs time."

But she wasn’t looking at anyone, and her own voice trembled as if she wasn’t sure she had spoken the truth.

No one replied.

Vi was sitting at the center of the bench, her hands interlaced between her knees, her back hunched as if the world weighed on her neck. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes, wide and fixed on the floor, seemed empty of everything except pain.

"Never..." she whispered, barely audible. "She’s never yelled at me like that. Not even when she didn’t know who I was."

Jinx, sprawling against the wall with her legs spread, didn’t lift her gaze. Her fingers drummed on the floor, the rhythm erratic, nervous.

When she spoke, her voice came out like a poorly sharpened laugh:

"It wasn’t to you," she murmured, emotionless. "It was to me. To what reminds her that her mom isn’t here anymore. You just... were caught in the wrong moment."

And then, in her head, she heard it: Milo’s sharp laugh, bouncing against the walls of her mind.

"Of course, Jinx... it’s you again, huh? Always you, always breaking everything."

Jinx gritted her teeth. Her knuckles cracked, but her face remained expressionless. It wasn’t the time to shout. Not now. Not here.

"And to think..." she added, her voice now a raspy murmur. "That I gave her the best I had. It didn’t even explode in the end."

She laughed to herself, a broken laugh that died in her own throat.

"Did you really think you could fix anything?"

"No one fixes what was broken from the start."

She scratched her temple with a dirty nail, as if she could scrape those voices out of her skull.

"I guess..." she murmured, tilting her head with a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. "That not even all the Hextech in the world could fix what I broke before I knew what I was doing."

Lux, by her side, extended her hand slowly. Not to save her. Just to accompany her. She placed her open palm on her back, soft as an unspoken promise.

Jinx didn’t move. She didn’t look at her. But her breathing trembled slightly, enough to reveal the invisible crack.

"Every pulse, every connection..." murmured Jayce, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "Everything went perfectly. There are no errors in the implant, not in what we can measure."

He paused, his voice dragging with a tiredness that weighed more than the air.

"But I can’t explain why it hurts. Or why her body adapted so quickly... as if it had been waiting for it."

The silence thickened for a moment before Lux spoke, barely a whisper that slipped like a sad prayer:

"The body... can heal, Jayce." Her voice trembled, almost imperceptible. "But the soul... always takes longer to understand what it survived."

Vi, her gaze fixed on some invisible corner of the hallway, clenched her fists until her knuckles cracked like crystals.

"And if it doesn’t heal?" she murmured, with such raw pain it almost cut the air—"If every day pushes her further away from who she was... until there’s nothing left? What do we do then?"

From the floor, Jinx let out a broken laugh. Not happy. Not alive. A hollow sound, like a broken toy still trying to play.

"We put on a show, duh." She spun her finger in circles, as if drawing circus tents in the air. "Lights, music, puppets... and applause for the corpses!"

She made a grandiose gesture, mimicking an absurd bow. But when she stood up, her expression faltered. Something in her eyes danced between laughter and the abyss.

"Although..." she added, dragging her voice. "I think real people... real people don’t disappear. Not entirely. They come back..."

She snapped her fingers, as if catching a spark in the air.

"In rare pieces... More patched, more ugly, more explosive... but they come back. And sometimes..." she whispered, turning her head as if hearing someone who wasn’t there. "They’re even better than before."

She froze, blinking at nothing.

A muffled laugh, almost an echo of Milo or Claggor, one of those ghosts who always followed her, tinkled in her mind.

Jinx tilted her head, as if listening to them. She furrowed her brow, shook her head as if swatting an invisible fly, and then looked ahead again.

The silence that followed was an open wound.

And just then, the door opened.

Tobias walked out slowly, as if the air in the hallway were denser, heavier than the one in the operating room. His shoulders slumped, his face taut, as if he were dragging something that words wouldn’t carry. He closed the door with surgical care, as if even the final click could fracture something more than what was already in ruins.

They all stood up almost simultaneously, like springs that had been wound too tight.

Vi took a step forward, her hands half-raised, but said nothing.

She couldn’t.

Tobias scanned them with his eyes, one by one. No hurry, no rushed lies. Then he leaned his back against the frame, as if the simple act of standing now required more strength than he had.

"She... is calmer," he said at last, and his voice sounded less like a report and more like an exhausted act of faith. "She put on the patch. She talked to me. But she doesn’t want to see anyone. Not yet."

Jayce nodded, a brief, contained movement.

"Not even for calibration?"

Tobias slowly shook his head, as if each word weighed.

"Only you, Jayce. Under strict conditions in a couple of days." His tone was clear, almost surgical. "Nothing personal. Nothing emotional. Just technical corrections. Brief sessions. Plenty of space. Too much."

Lux furrowed her brow, uncomfortable, her voice barely a thread:

"And the pain?"

Tobias exhaled, as if the air itself also hurt.

"Persistent," he admitted. "Not as sharp, but constant. The eye is starting to stabilize its pulse, yes... but every time she opens it, her body reacts as if it’s still under attack."

He took a few seconds to catch his breath again and then spoke.

"The implant... doesn’t distinguish between threat and memory. Not yet."

Vi didn’t say anything, not because she didn’t want to, but because any word she uttered in that moment would shatter in her throat.

Tobias looked at her in the end.

With those eyes of his that didn’t judge... but still hurt just the same.

"He doesn’t hate you, Vi," he said, his voice sounding like it carried rubble. "But he can’t see you either. Not because of you. For her. Because now... she still doesn’t know who she is... when you look at her."

Jinx lowered her head, her fingers interlaced so tightly that her knuckles turned white, as if she were trying to twist herself into not screaming.

Lux hugged herself, crossing her arms over her chest as if trying to contain the anguish threatening to tear her apart from the inside.

Vi nodded once. Slowly. Firmly. Like someone accepting a sentence they don’t plan to escape from.

"Then I’ll wait," she said in a low voice, as if the promise were both an anchor and a sword at the same time. "Here. For as long as necessary."

Tobias didn’t respond with words, he only looked at her, with that kind of exhaustion that no longer lives in the body, but rots in the soul, and in that silent gaze, Vi found something that didn’t need translation:

"Thank you… for understanding that sometimes, loving means staying where it hurts the most. On the other side of the door."

Thus, in that white and timeless hallway, they remained. Jinx. Lux. Jayce. Vi. A broken team. An unfinished family. Not retreating. Not surrendering. Just... on pause. Waiting. Not for orders. Not for hope. But for love.

The kind of love that doesn’t demand to be seen, or reciprocated, just... awaited.

Until she was ready to return.

It had been two days since they moved her to the Kiramman mansion.

The east wing, normally reserved for high-ranking guests, had been converted into a silent sanctuary.

Heavy curtains muffled the light. Neutral-toned walls, soft furniture, steps that didn’t echo. Everything in that space was designed to silence the world.

And Caitlyn appreciated it. Not for comfort. Not for luxury. But because any noise, any flash of light, any sudden movement was a blade threatening to tear her open again.

The wound in her chest had closed, at least on the surface. The new skin, smooth, pulled like a badly stitched memory.

Tobias said the healing was excellent, "clinically speaking."

But inside her, every deep breath still felt like pushing a door that wasn’t fully closed: stiff, tense, on the verge of splintering at any moment.

And the eye...

The eye never rested, not even under the patch. It vibrated. It pulsed. It beat as if it had its own ideas about what it should feel, what it should see. Like an uncomfortable, restless guest inside her body.

Sometimes, even in the middle of the day, Caitlyn swore she could hear it buzzing softly, like a small animal dreaming under her skin.

At that moment, she was standing in the room, wrapped in a light blanket that wasn’t a coat, but armor.

The pale afternoon light entered through the closed window, washing the room in muted tones.

In front of her, hanging above the dresser, an old family portrait.

Her mother, tall and proud.

Her father, young and confident.

And her, barely a child, with the untouched smile of someone who still didn’t know the word "loss."

Caitlyn wasn’t looking at her own eyes in the picture. She wasn’t looking at the hands that intertwined in a protective gesture. She was looking at the invisible space between them. A void that she now felt growing every day, like a silent crack that neither time nor love could repair.

She heard the door open behind her.

She didn’t tense. She didn’t step forward.

It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t surprise.

It was resignation.

It was understanding that, even though her body was still standing, something inside her had stopped rising.

"You’re on time," she murmured, barely brushing the air, without taking her eyes off the portrait.

Jayce entered with steady steps, no rush, like someone crossing the threshold of a sanctuary they don’t dare to defile.

He wore his usual attire: a white jacket with precise lines, golden trim, a dark shirt, and fitted pants that emphasized his dual identity as both soldier and scientist. At his side, his metallic briefcase hung like an inevitable extension of his body. He wasn’t wearing a lab coat, he didn’t need it. His mere presence imposed the accuracy of someone who understood that every movement mattered... and that not all mistakes can be corrected.

"I wouldn’t risk you kicking me if I showed up late," he joked, his voice laden with the false lightness one uses when the air is already too dense.

Caitlyn gave a brief smile, devoid of humor. A mechanical gesture, like someone remembering how to do it, but no longer feeling the need.

Jayce approached an auxiliary table. He placed the briefcase with the reverence of a surgeon and opened it.

Inside, everything glowed under the white light: pulse calibrators, micro-connectors with golden filigree, Hextech readers the size of a compass, arranged with almost ritualistic order. They weren’t tools. They were extensions of his hope.

He activated the main panel with a light touch.

The low hum that emerged from the briefcase filled the room like a second breath, artificial, insistent.

"Today, we’ll work on the pupil response and the Hex pulse channel," he announced, his voice measured, clean. As if reciting the procedure could contain the unpredictable. "I need to see if the implant begins to synchronize with your brain activity... without collapsing the optic nerve."

Only then did he raise his gaze.

For a moment, he wasn’t an engineer, nor a therapist. He was Jayce. The man who had bet his science, his faith, his guilt, to save her.

"May I?" he asked. It wasn’t protocol. It was respect.

Caitlyn didn’t respond immediately. She lowered her gaze, took a deep breath, and finally nodded, just barely. With slow, almost ceremonial movements, she brought her hand to her face and removed the patch.

The air seemed to tense as the blue glow of the Hextech was exposed, vibrating like a small sun trapped under her skin.

Jayce barely shifted his gaze, not out of discomfort, but out of respect. He knew that what Caitlyn had just done wasn’t a technical act. It was pure vulnerability. It was exposing something she hadn’t yet fully accepted as her own.

The left eye, now free from the patch, emitted a deep, almost liquid light. It didn’t blink. It didn’t tremble.

But it felt... alive. As if it weren’t an implant, but something that saw even before Caitlyn wanted to look.

She gritted her teeth. She barely opened the eyelid a few millimeters and the pain hit like a silent stab, lodging right behind her brow, radiating toward her neck with an intensity that took her breath away.

Her breathing became short, jagged, as if the very act of existing was pulling strands of energy from her.

Jayce, attentive, raised a hand calmly.

"No more," he murmured softly, almost like calming a wounded animal. "Don’t open it all the way yet."

His voice was firm, but loaded with something else: a silent understanding of what hurt, of what it cost.

"I just need a superficial reading for now," he added, as he adjusted the calibrators without taking his eyes off her, like someone working in a minefield.

She nodded without speaking, keeping her eye barely open. Her breath was short, irregular, as if each breath fought not to turn into a groan.

Discipline still held her, but it was as thin as glass about to shatter.

Jayce approached with precise movements, no urgency. He held a small Hextech plate, polished like a surgical tool.

With utmost care, he placed it on her left temple, barely touching the skin, just above the implant.

Upon contact, a network of golden filaments spread out in a fan, attaching without touching, like a living spiderweb seeking the pulse of something newly born.

The floating panel emerged from the briefcase and came to life.

Undulating graphs, pulses of blue light, electrical patterns began to appear in the air, beating to the same erratic rhythm as her eye.

"It reacts well to passive stimuli," Jayce murmured, focused on the readings. "But... emotional overload triggers sensitivity in the left channel. Every strong emotion is interpreted as an attack."

He didn’t look at her. He didn’t need to see her to know that his words were a scalpel over an open wound.

"It’s not a failure, Caitlyn..." His voice dropped, becoming more intimate, more human. "It’s your brain. It still thinks the implant is a wound that’s still bleeding."

She closed her eye abruptly, a grimace of pain twisting her face. Just a second. But in that second, all the resentment she had accumulated found a crack to escape.

"Because it is," she spat, in a hoarse whisper, filled with rage and fear. As if admitting it was the only way not to break.

Jayce nodded without replying. He accepted her fury as one accepts an inevitable storm.

"And we’ll teach it," he said, with the calm of someone making a promise without oaths. "That it no longer needs to fight."

The floating panel vibrated more slowly now.

Caitlyn glanced at it sideways, still gasping, as if doubting everything, even her own reflection in those flickering lights.

Then she shifted her gaze to Jayce. Not as someone seeking answers. But as someone measuring the weight of a betrayal she still didn’t know if she could name.

"Where have you been all this time?" Caitlyn asked quietly, without looking at him directly. As if the question itself was a risk.

The pain kept beating, crouched beneath her skin, but the need to know, thin but insistent, began to pierce the void.

Jayce took a few seconds to respond. Not because he doubted, but because he still didn’t know if the words would be enough.

"The truth..." he murmured, sitting slowly on the edge of the chair, as if the air were heavier on this side of the room. "I don’t fully know it either."

He glanced at her sideways. Not as a man seeking understanding, but as a soldier handing over his sword knowing he might not get it back.

"After the battle with Viktor, all I remember..." He paused, brief but broken. "An implosion. A darkness that wasn’t night, and then, nothing."

Caitlyn raised her gaze. Her brow furrowed, her Hextech eye vibrating faintly beneath her eyelid. Her right eye searched for cracks. Something that said: you’re lying to me.

"Nothing?" she asked, and the edge of her voice was a whisper of steel.

Jayce slightly shook his head.

"I woke up in a place that... wasn’t this world. There was no ground. No sky. Just echoes. I thought I was dead, but it was the arcane plane." He shrugged slightly. "Then... cold. Blood frozen in my veins. And snow swallowing everything."

His mouth twisted in a grimace that wasn’t a smile. It was the way he avoided shouting.

"Lux found me," he continued. "She took me to her refuge in the mountains. She saved me. She held me..." He paused, as if each word weighed more than the last. "And after that... something else happened."

Caitlyn noticed the change in his voice. It wasn’t the volume. It was the silence that fell over the words he still hadn’t said.

Jayce lowered his gaze. When he spoke, his voice was barely a touch against the skin of the air:

"I met someone else." He raised his eyes to her, knowing the impact it would have. "Jinx."

The name exploded in the room like a shot poorly contained.

Caitlyn tensed. Not out of surprise. But out of instinct.

Her body stiffened under the blanket. The Hextech eye vibrated with a sharp pulse, as if even it recognized that shadow in her memory.

She didn’t speak. It wasn’t necessary.

Jayce raised his hands. Not to defend himself. Not to ask for forgiveness. Just to stop a judgment he knew was inevitable.

"I know she already told you," his voice was firm, but tired. "About the eye. What she did for you."

Caitlyn didn’t respond. She didn’t confirm. She didn’t deny. She simply let the silence speak for her, her lips pressed together and her gaze hardened, as if every word from Jayce were a shot she wasn’t going to dodge.

Jayce didn’t step back, nor did he press.

"I just want you to know how it was," he continued, his voice now more serene, almost harsh. "She didn’t do it for redemption. Not for glory. Not even for you… at first." He lowered his head slightly, as if weighing each memory. "She did it like someone trying... to fix a world they know they’ve already broken."

He paused for a moment. His eyes slid toward the floating panel, where the Hextech readings blinked in blue lines and lively patterns.

He looked at it with the concentration of someone seeing not just data… but scars they still didn’t know how to heal. Then he raised his gaze, finding hers. No evasions. No excuses.

"I’m not asking you to forgive her," he said, without dramatization, without pleading. "But look at her… for what she’s trying to be now. Not just for what she was."

Caitlyn fixed her gaze on a point on the wall, so far and yet so close at the same time.

The silence between them grew dense. Not an emptiness: a minefield of everything neither of them wanted to name.

Jayce took a deep breath. His voice lowered, more human. More broken.

"I hated her too," he admitted, and the confession was a clean edge, without embellishments. "For the council hall. For what she destroyed. For the bodies she left behind." He paused briefly, his eyes heavy with memories that neither time nor reason could bury. "But in that cabin... I saw something I didn’t expect. Not someone good. Someone... tired of destroying herself."

He ran a hand through his hair, as if the memory still weighed on his neck.

"She saved us," his eyes returned to hers. "Lux, me, and somehow, also you."

He wasn’t saying it to convince her. He was saying it because it was the truth. And because, sometimes, the truth doesn’t heal: it just falls on you like an inevitable hammer.

Jayce leaned back, giving space, giving time.

"I didn’t forgive her because she forgot everything," he added, in a low voice. "I forgave her because I understood."

He made a vague gesture with his hand, as if pointing to something that could no longer be changed.

"No one comes out unscathed from a life like hers, but she chose to help you, and that… matters."

Caitlyn closed her eyes for a second. Not to think. Not to judge. Just to endure the echo of everything that still hurt too much.

An invisible crack crossed her face. Small. Fragile. But a crack, at last.

Jayce didn’t rush her. He didn’t try to take advantage of the moment. He just let their slow breathing mark the rhythm. Finally, his voice broke the air:

"Besides..." he added, returning to a more technical tone, almost like an implicit truce. "I’m going to need her."

He gripped the briefcase with one hand. "Some therapies will require adjustments to the core. And Jinx..." He made a resigned grimace. "She’s the only one who truly understands how your body adapts to the implant."

Caitlyn opened her eyes, not asking any more questions, not debating. She knew what that meant. She knew that sometimes, the worst wounds aren’t the visible ones… but the ones you have to learn to carry in order to move forward.

"We’ll see," she murmured finally. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, and for now, it was all she could offer.

Jayce nodded. He didn’t insist. He didn’t explain more than necessary.

He had learned that sometimes, respecting the silence was the only language that worked.

"That’s enough for now," he said finally, his voice like a soft clasp in the middle of everything that wasn’t said.

A dense pause fell between them. Not uncomfortable, but charged. As if the words had decided to stay aside, leaving room only for breathing and the muted hums of the floating panel.

Jayce refocused on the instruments, adjusting the calibration of the Hextech eye with the precision of a surgeon in the middle of a minefield.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t make unnecessary noise. He just moved in sync with the fragile echo of the room: a hum, two breaths that, finally, didn’t seem to be running away from themselves.

Caitlyn suddenly broke the silence, her voice so low it seemed more like a thought than a question:

"Has Vi come?"

Jayce barely blinked before answering, carefully choosing each word, like someone who knows that any mistake could open another wound.

"Yes," he said, as he lowered the pulse intensity. "Yesterday and also the first day. She’s outside, right now. Under the cherry tree."

Caitlyn didn’t respond. She didn’t make any gestures. She just looked away, lost in a thought she didn’t share.

Jayce fine-tuned the secondary connection, as if calibrating the panel was easier than calibrating the pain.

When he spoke again, his voice was lower, more intimate:

"She hasn’t tried to come in. She sits there... without saying anything. As if she knew that any forced word would hurt more than the silence."

Caitlyn slowly closed her right eye. Like someone who needed to shut off the world for a second to hold herself together.

"And what do you think?" she whispered, without looking at him.

Jayce didn’t respond immediately. He adjusted the final parameter of the scanner, saw how the readings danced, more stable now, less agitated. Only then did he allow himself to answer:

"I think you’re more alive than you’re letting yourself feel," he said calmly. "And that hurts you. But it also means you can still choose when to look at her... and from whom you want to look at her."

Caitlyn opened her right eye. The left one, the Hextech, pulsed with a minimal pulse, almost like a metallic sigh.

On the panel, the curve trembled… and then, finally, it found stability, the first time since they had started.

Jayce smiled just a little, like someone seeing a flower sprout in a field of ruins.

"That’s it," he murmured. "The channel is starting to understand you. Not just read you."

"Then..." said Caitlyn, her voice barely a sigh, tinged with a dry humor that almost scraped the air. "I’m no longer an unstable bomb."

“No,” Jayce replied, turning off the scanner with deliberately slow movements, as if following the joke. “Now you’re a weapon... learning not to shoot yourself.”

Neither of them smiled.

But for a moment, the weight between them became a little less unbearable.

The irony, harsh and complicit, hung in the air like an old private joke that didn’t need laughter to be understood.

As Jayce carefully removed the sensors, she slowly turned her head toward the window.

And beyond the glass, between the still branches of the cherry tree, she knew, without needing to see it, that someone was still waiting for her.

Waiting for her... not to save her.

But to stay, even if it took a lifetime.

Caitlyn lowered her gaze, her heart still tangled in knots she didn’t know how to untie.

Outside, time continued moving without asking for permission, and so the days began to accumulate like dust on the windowsill.

For a month, her father and Jayce had pointed out her presence more times than Caitlyn could count.

“Vi is still there. She hasn’t missed a single day.” they repeated, almost with a mix of comfort and warning.

Caitlyn never responded.

Sometimes she nodded with a barely visible gesture. Sometimes, not even that, and Jayce didn’t insist. Neither did her father. They both understood that it wasn’t pride. Nor resentment. It was something else. A deeper wound. A crack that even Hextech couldn’t reach.

Because Caitlyn wasn’t incapable of seeing her. She simply... couldn’t yet.

Vi would have wanted to stay. To sleep beside her. To hold her when she trembled. To help her get up, walk, breathe if necessary.

But Caitlyn couldn’t bear it.

Not Vi’s presence. But what it brought with it: The memory of someone who had known her completely. Whole. Human. And now... she would have to see her like this: Broken. Mended. Different.

That was the only thing Caitlyn could still control:

Who looked at her, when. And, above all... What version of her would remain in their eyes.

So when she asked her father not to let her in, Tobias didn’t argue. And Vi, as if she understood the most painful form of love, didn’t insist either.

Throughout all this time, Caitlyn kept the room closed, no visits, no interruptions. Only her father and Jayce were allowed to enter... and even then, their steps were always brief, measured, like visitors in a wounded sanctuary.

The rest of the time, Caitlyn isolated herself in her small world of silent walls and closed curtains. Not because the pain was too much. But because she still didn’t know how to be someone else... and that hurt more than any wound.

However, every day, after the sessions and without anyone seeing her, she would walk with unsure steps to the empty room in front of hers. The only one where she could see the garden without being seen. She would hide behind the curtains, just a small open fold, just a shadow.

And there she was.

Vi.

Sitting under the cherry tree, her back hunched, elbows resting on her knees, as if waiting were a chain keeping her bound to the bench.

Caitlyn watched her for minutes that felt like hours. Sometimes she closed her eyes, trying to imagine that if she didn’t see, it wouldn’t hurt. But it still did.

Vi never looked toward that window. She never knew she was being watched. That there were eyes following her, yearning for her... and couldn’t reach her.

The entire mansion had learned to breathe in silence, like a hospital without patients, like a mausoleum without graves.

The silence was surgical. Precise. Aseptic.

And Caitlyn had clung to it not for peace... but for necessity.

It was easier to inhabit a world without noise, when you feared hearing the screams you carried inside.

The wound in her chest no longer bled, but it hurt. The muscle was still hardened, like a physical reminder of everything she couldn’t let go of.

Each deep breath felt like a rough tug, as if the stitches that held her together were about to give way.

And the eye...

The eye was still there. Vibrating under the patch. Shining like a dormant beast dreaming of something she couldn’t understand.

Until one day, without warning, she left her room alone. She said she wanted to walk. But in reality, she only wanted to flee: from the routine, from herself, from the reflection she couldn’t bear to see.

She crossed the carpeted halls in almost reverent silence, descending the stairs to the first floor like someone heading to their own judgment. The bandage could have been removed days ago, Tobias had told her more than once, but Caitlyn didn’t allow it. Not yet. As if the fabric were her last defense between her and what she didn’t want to see.

The patch stayed in place, not because the pain demanded it... but because the thought of removing it was worse. Because it didn’t cover a wound. It covered a truth she wasn’t ready to face.

She arrived at a room that time had left behind.

A forgotten place, where dusty mirrors and faded stained glass still held fragments of another life, like ghosts trapped in glass.

No one had stepped into this place since her mother’s funeral. No one dared. Maybe that’s why Caitlyn chose it. Because the old pain was like a badly healed scar: it burned less than fresh wounds.

She moved forward, the echo of her steps sliding across the worn carpet, until she stopped in front of the largest mirror. Her reflection, blurry between motes of dust and gray light, seemed less real... and for that reason, more bearable.

With hands that she couldn’t keep steady, she raised her fingers toward the patch. She hesitated for just a moment. And then, in a slow, almost ritual gesture, she removed it.

The cold air hit her bare face, and the mirror, implacable, returned the image she had been trying to avoid since the first scream of pain.

The left eye blinked.

A blue spark ignited like a living heartbeat, reflecting in the surface of the glass. It seemed identical to the other... but it wasn’t.

It had something different. An unnatural depth. A consciousness that shouldn’t have been there.

Then, the image changed.

The mirror stopped showing her.

Jhin, upright, motionless, elegant like a well-dressed corpse. Behind him, the executor’s barracks was collapsing in flames. Broken columns. Banners devoured by black smoke.

His coat floated with the exact theatricality of a scene rehearsed a thousand times. More shadow than body. More art than flesh.

He turned his face, just a little, enough to show the profile of his mask... And that human eye, so alive, so cold, so ruthlessly present.

He raised his ornate gun and fired.

The roar wasn’t sound. It was rupture. The reflection fragmented without shattering. The glass vibrated, as if reality itself swayed.

And Caitlyn gasped as she came back to her senses, her heart racing, cold sweat dripping down her back.

The Hextech eye pulsed beneath her eyelid, with fierce heat, as if the nightmare had left a real crack in her flesh.

Was it a memory?

A hallucination?

Or a warning?

She couldn’t tell, and that was what scared her the most.

The pain came like dry thunder. She fell to her knees with a sharp, brief groan, as if her body couldn’t bear the weight of the internal fire anymore. Her hands flew to her temples. Her skull throbbed, trapped between pulses of pressure.

The eye burned. Not like a wound… But like a star trapped in a space that couldn’t contain it. Light lines crossed her vision. Dull hums surrounded her ears. Everything seemed to dissolve, as if her body was an illusion about to break.

And then she felt it.

A tear that wasn’t a tear.

A red thread descended from her left tear duct. It didn’t drip. It slid with the calmness of the inevitable, marking a thin and deep line down her cheek.

Blood.

Not caused from the outside, but from the inside. A crack impossible to hide.

Tobias found her minutes later. Upon seeing her, the air caught in his throat.

“Caitlyn!” he exclaimed, quickening his pace, but with a tone mixing urgency with fear.

He knelt beside her in one swift motion, and for a second, didn’t know what to do. He simply stared at her, his face twisted when he saw the thin crimson line running down from her eye.

He took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently pressed it against her cheek, stopping the blood with firm, almost trembling hands.

“Blood...?” he murmured, more to himself than to her. As if saying it aloud would give it too much power.

Caitlyn didn’t look at him.

Her voice came out barely audible, almost like a thought that escaped without permission:

“I just wanted... to see myself.”

Tobias swallowed hard. He didn’t ask any more questions. He didn’t scold her. He didn’t try to explain anything. He just held her.

With the respect of a doctor, the tenderness of a father, and the silent desperation of a man who had just seen that his daughter was not only changing... She was hurting inside much more than any word could reach.

They walked together in silence, their steps muffled on the plush carpet. Tobias, beside her, kept the slow pace, respecting the tremor that still shook her breath.

The bandage on her chest was stained with red again, but Caitlyn didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t want to.

The first floor stretched out before them, wide, silent, almost reverent. The sunlight filtered through the large windows, igniting the dust motes in a slow, pale dance.

And just as they passed one of those windows... Caitlyn saw her.

Vi.

Not from the distant height of her room, nor as a distant echo.

Vi was there, tangible, alive, sitting on the bench beneath the cherry tree, in the same position as always, her head down, her gaze fixed on the ground. Motionless, as if her mere presence was enough. As if, by staying there, she were fulfilling a silent promise.

So close that, for a second, Caitlyn felt she could touch her if only she reached out her hand.

She stopped abruptly.

The air caught in her chest, and her breath became erratic, frantic, trembling.

The wind shook the branches, and some flowers fell onto Vi, resting in her hair like white wounds.

She saw her, and at the same time, couldn’t hold her own gaze. Her heart pounded as if it were trying to escape her throat. Her fingers trembled. Her eye vibrated, not like a device… but like a heart poorly sewn into her soul. The body, still, but at war.

She had seen her so many times at the edge of her bedroom window and she was still there.

She wanted to run to her. Hug her. Tell her she was sorry. Beg her not to leave. And at the same time, she wished to disappear. Hide from those eyes that awaited her without judgment. From that love that asked nothing of her... except to return to herself.

“Do you want me to tell her to leave?” Tobias asked, his voice low, without judgment.

Caitlyn slowly shook her head, not taking her eyes off the window.

“No.” she whispered. “Just... stay with me for a while longer.”

Tobias nodded. He didn’t say anything. He just walked by her side, slowly.

As if he understood that, sometimes, the greatest comfort is to accompany... without pushing.

But Caitlyn didn’t stop looking, not even for a second. Because out there, under the cherry tree, Vi was still waiting.

Not for answers, nor for forgiveness. Just for her.

Chapter Text

Night had fallen like a heavy sheet over the rooftops of Piltover, dragging with it the faint murmur of a sleeping city. Vi sat on a stone bench in the Kiramman mansion's backyard, elbows resting on her knees, eyes fixed on the damp earth stretching beneath her boots. The night breeze smelled of gardenias and freshly watered flowers, but to her, everything tasted like confinement.

Each day was the same—waiting and waiting for Caitlyn to let her back into her life. To let her through the door, to open her heart again. But Caitlyn didn’t respond. There was no letter, no call. Only silence.

The silence between them felt so dense that Vi carried it like a burden, crushing her with every breath. Every hour without a letter, a call, a single word, piled like weight on her shoulders and became a shadow darkening even the moonlight over the garden. And still, she waited.

"Not even a ‘go to hell’, huh?" she murmured with a bitter smile, letting the night’s emptiness echo her mockery.

Her knuckles rubbed together, anxious. Anger turned into rage, and rage into despair. She wasn’t staying at the Kiramman mansion. Her nights were spent in the Firelighters’ hideout with Ekko, but the feeling of being away from Caitlyn ran through her bones like an unshakable chill.

She stood up with a huff, spitting to the side.

"To hell with this."

Her steps echoed through the empty streets, marked by the rage that wouldn't let her breathe calmly. She wasn’t going back to the Firelighters’ den that night; she didn’t want to see more shadows of what she had lost. Instead, she let her feet guide her to the harbor, as if the sea could offer her a peace that neither her mind nor her body could find.

Piltover’s harbor at that hour wasn’t the same noisy hive it was during the day. It was wrapped in a thick, almost mystical fog that swirled like a ghost among the anchored ships. The smell of salt, old wood, and tar mixed with the muffled murmur of the sea crashing against the pillars. Vi took a deep breath. At least that air didn’t lie.

She saw her from afar.

Sarah stood there, motionless by the ship's railing, one leg crossed, hair falling loose over her red coat like extinguished flames. Her figure seemed to merge with the mist, almost ghostly, but it was her presence—that sense of something forbidden being close—that made her impossible to ignore. She was smoking, head slightly tilted toward the sea, as if telling it secrets no one else could hear.

Vi walked toward the ship with slow steps, like someone unsure whether they wanted to arrive or just be seen. The creaking of the wood under her boots was the only thing that announced her presence.

"I didn’t know the sea had such good ears," she said lightly, though her voice carried a heaviness that was hard to hide.

Sarah didn’t flinch. She exhaled a lazy cloud of smoke before turning her head slightly.

"Depends on the secret," she replied, her tone soft, as if she’d been waiting for her.

Vi leaned beside her in silence. The sea stretched before them like an endless mass of liquid darkness, speckled with the flickering light of the ship’s lamps. A rusted barge floated slowly in the distance, creaking like a dying animal.

"And you? What are you doing here without your entourage of idiots?" Sarah asked, handing her the cigarette with a slow gesture.

Vi took it. She inhaled deeply and coughed like a rookie.

"Waiting for someone to pull me out of my own head," she said, handing it back while spitting to the side. "And by the way, you smoke crap."

Sarah laughed. The sound was deep, vibrant. One of those laughs that doesn't let go easily.

"The good crap is the one that hurts," she replied, taking another drag.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was like an old acquaintance sitting between them with its feet dangling over the water.

Vi kept staring at the sea, but she wasn’t really seeing it. What she could see clearly were Sarah’s legs, crossed so naturally, the relaxed sway of her boot dangling over the ship’s edge, the slight sheen of her lips moistened by the salty breeze. Damn it. Her body remembered all of her.

How she moved. How she moaned. How she said her name in broken whispers when she was pinned beneath her. That memory hadn’t faded, no matter how hard Vi tried to bury it under tons of reason. It wasn’t the desire that hurt—it was the complicity. The fucking complicity.

Vi leaned in a little closer, knowing exactly what she was doing, letting the brush of their bodies be anything but accidental. Sarah’s warmth was an uncomfortable reminder of what she’d lost, and yet, she couldn’t help the temptation to move closer still. That familiar perfume lit up her senses. The temptation was there, palpable, dancing on the razor's edge between memory and need.

"Do you remember the time we made love in the ship’s kitchen?" Sarah asked suddenly, as if she had read her mind.

Vi didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The silence that followed was her answer.

"You left my back marked with your nails for three days," Sarah said with a faint smile. "And on the fourth, I asked you to leave more."

Vi clenched her jaw. She hopped up and sat beside Sarah. The tattoo on her arm tensed, like her body itself wanted to scream. Her voice came out low, raspier than usual.

"I was broken, Sarah. I didn’t remember anything. I didn’t know who I was."

"And yet you were real with me." Sarah turned her head, her green eyes glowing under the nearest lamp. "What we had, even if it was brief… it was real."

Vi nodded slowly. She wasn’t going to deny it.

"It was."

Sarah took it as a victory, but not one she would celebrate. What formed on her lips wasn’t a smile. It was something else. A bitter acceptance. Like someone who’s stopped fighting for something that no longer belongs to them.

"And now you’re with her." Sarah didn’t need to say the name. The tone was enough.

Vi didn’t say yes. She didn’t deny it either.

"I remember her now," she said simply, as if that was enough to explain everything. "I remember why I fell in love. I remember… how she made me feel."

Sarah looked away, letting her gaze fall toward the sea. Silence slipped between them again, but this time heavier, sharper.

"And me?" she asked in a low voice, barely a breath. "Did you ever love me?"

Vi took a while to answer. Her voice came out like a drawn bowstring.

"I think I did. In my own way… but it wasn’t fair. Not to you, not to me, and especially not to Cait."

Sarah nodded. This time she did smile, even if it hurt. Vi noticed. She noticed how that smile wasn’t for her, but to avoid looking more broken than she already was.

"I always knew you were like the sea, Vi. Beautiful, wild, unpredictable. But you could never stay anchored in one port."

"And you’re fire," Vi glanced sideways at her. "A flame that never goes out, even if the wind tries to snuff it out."

Sarah looked at her. For a second, desire shimmered in her eyes. The same shimmer lit up in Vi’s. But neither moved. Neither got closer.

The past burned them from the inside. The present kept them still.

"Do you want to stay the night here?" Sarah asked, in the softest voice she’d used the whole conversation. "Just sleep, nothing more."

Vi hesitated. Her gaze returned to the sea, then to the distant lights of the Kiramman mansion, and finally to Sarah.

"No," she said without resentment. "I can’t stay this time. I don’t want to confuse you… or confuse myself."

Vi looked away, focusing her eyes on the darkness of the sea in front of them. She could feel the wind's vibration on her skin, but there was something in that sentence, something in the way she’d said it, that kept her rooted in place. It was a lie—or at least not the full truth.

Sarah didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she stared at her, as if weighing every word, every gesture. Vi could feel her gaze, measuring every corner of her soul, as relentless as the sea stretching before them. It wasn’t easy for Sarah to stay silent when emotions were that raw, but she was doing it. And that only made things harder.

Vi remained still, knowing what was coming next, even if she didn’t want to face it. Sarah stepped closer, close enough for her warmth to seep into Vi’s personal space. Vi could’ve stepped back, but she didn’t. Desire was once again a shadow growing between them.

"Can’t, or won’t?" Sarah asked, her voice low and seductive—an invitation, a challenge, or maybe both.

Vi glanced at her from the corner of her eye, the tension between them like a wire about to snap. Her body screamed at her to close the gap, to give in, to stop being so damn stubborn. But the voice in her head whispered that it was time to walk away, not fall again into temptation.

"It’s not that simple." Vi inhaled deeply, looking for an explanation that didn’t sound so hollow, so broken. "It’s complicated, Sarah. You know that. I can’t keep doing this to us—neither to you, nor to her."

Sarah smiled, but it wasn’t a smile Vi could fully read. There was something bitter in it, as if she understood what Vi was trying to do, but wasn’t ready to let her go that easily.

"And yet, here you are," Sarah leaned in slightly, their distance nearly erased. "Playing with fire."

Vi felt Sarah’s nearness like a current of electricity. She wasn’t sure if she should pull away or let herself be swept by the tide. But the way Sarah looked at her… that calculating, defiant stare, laced with something deeper—it made her falter. And that was precisely why she couldn’t stay.

Sarah raised a hand, gently touching Vi’s cheek, bringing their faces closer.

Vi, on the other hand, felt like she wanted to stop everything in that exact moment. But doubt lingered, invisible and heavy. The touch of Sarah’s fingers felt like both a sentence and a balm. She knew that if she allowed more of this, there’d be no turning back. And she wasn’t ready for the consequences.

"Don’t," Vi’s voice came out softer than she expected, like a broken whisper. "You know I can’t stay. I can’t keep lying to ourselves."

Sarah didn’t move away. On the contrary, her body seemed to press in more, as if every word Vi uttered only reinforced her desire to prove otherwise. But something shifted in her expression—something Vi couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t anger or frustration, but a silent understanding, as if Sarah finally accepted what Vi was saying.

"Then why do you look at me like that?" Sarah asked, lowering her voice again, now with a gentler tone, as if searching for something deeper, something more intimate.

Vi didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She was trapped in Sarah’s gaze, as if time had frozen between them. She could feel the air thickening between them, heavy with everything left unsaid, everything they both knew but never dared to speak out loud.

Sarah pulled away slightly, finally breaking the spell that had kept them locked in place. Vi took a deep breath, feeling the pressure in her chest intensify. She wanted to stay, to drown in the temptation, to give in to what her body begged for. But something inside her said she couldn’t keep playing that game.

The captain watched her for a moment longer, with an intensity that almost hurt. And then, she simply nodded, as if she understood the war raging inside Vi.

"Alright," she finally said, with a soft smile, but lacking the spark it used to carry.

Vi let out a sigh but said nothing. Their eyes met once more, and in that moment, everything between them was laid bare. No words could change what they already knew. The desire, the complicity, the temptation—they were still there, untouched. But she couldn’t keep walking that line at the edge of the cliff.

"You’re a dangerous woman," Vi muttered with a crooked, faint smile—the kind she wore whenever she felt trapped in something she couldn’t quite escape.

Sarah chuckled, though not with the same fire as before. Something had shifted between them—a mutual understanding that couldn’t be undone.

The creak of wood under bare feet broke the moment. Vi raised an eyebrow at the figure emerging from inside the ship, stretching like a cat waking from a delicious nap.

Lynn.

She was wearing a white shirt far too big for her, clearly not her own, half-buttoned and loose at the top. Her hair was tousled, lips still damp, and a reddish mark on her collarbone said more than words ever could.

Lynn, amused by the scene, let out a soft huff.

Vi watched as Lynn wrapped her arms around Sarah from behind, the gesture casual yet intimate—something only shared by those who’ve seen each other at their most raw. Lynn wasn’t a stranger to Vi; in fact, she remembered their brief but tense encounter aboard the ship, back when Lynn had been more of a shadow in the background than a real presence. Now, though, something in her posture radiated familiarity. As if she’d always been part of that story—even if Vi wasn’t ready to understand how.

Vi let out a disbelieving laugh, crossing her arms with a half-smile.

"You were keeping this quiet, huh, captain?"

Sarah didn’t even flinch. She simply exhaled through her nose, with the confidence of someone who’s been caught and doesn’t feel the need to apologize.

"It’s not like I was hiding it," she said, turning to Lynn with feline ease. "You just showed up late to this chapter."

Vi looked at her, amused, shaking her head.

"Since when?"

Lynn, a bit confused at first by the exchange of looks, quickly caught on. She smiled at Vi and, with a gesture full of confidence and mischief, wrapped her arms even tighter around Sarah, leaning toward her ear in a nearly provocative way.

"Since the day of the Red Anchor mission," Sarah replied without blinking, leaning back into the embrace with effortless composure.

Vi clicked her tongue and raised her eyebrows.

"Well played. Not one to waste time, huh?"

"Have you ever seen me waste it?" Sarah shot back with a sideways wink.

Lynn chuckled softly, amused by the interaction between them.

"Wow, looks like you haven’t changed a bit," Lynn commented, throwing a quick glance up and down at Vi—a gesture more of recognition than surprise. "Sarah’s still just as stubborn, huh?"

Vi gave her a crooked grin, recognizing Lynn’s bold and familiar tone.

"She’s always been that way." Vi crossed her arms, enjoying the moment, though she knew Lynn’s presence only made the situation more complicated.

Lynn huffed, clearly entertained.

"I figured something like this was going on," she said bluntly, her tone relaxed and filled with the kind of confidence that only people who share something real can carry. "Honestly, this ship’s got its own kind of charm."

Vi watched them both, noting how easily they moved together, the unspoken connection they shared. Their familiarity was palpable, and it only made Vi feel a little more out of place—even if she didn’t show it.

"So now you’ve got a new way to… run the ship?" Vi asked, smiling faintly, though her eyes held a shadow of something deeper.

Sarah didn’t look away from Vi. She replied with a hint of amusement in her voice:

"I’ve always had ways," she said, keeping her tone teasing but defiant as she leaned back further into Lynn’s warmth.

Vi let out a small laugh, arms still crossed.

"Didn’t think I’d see the captain in chill mode," she joked, playing along, though the tension in the air was undeniable.

Lynn, with her usual boldness, smiled at Vi while holding Sarah close, her gaze steady and confident.

"Well, someone’s gotta keep her in check," Lynn said with a hint of humor, shifting even closer to Sarah, glancing sideways at Vi.

Vi couldn’t help but smile, enjoying Lynn’s irreverent tone. Still, the moment reminded her that she no longer had a place in that circle.

"So I see things have changed," Vi observed the scene with a hint of melancholy, though she didn’t fully show it. "Lovely couple."

Lynn chuckled quietly, enjoying the shared complicity.

Sarah jumped down from the railing. Then, with her back to Vi, she gave her a calm smile, making no attempt to hide anything.

"It’s an interesting story, isn’t it?" Sarah said, moving closer to Lynn and planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

Vi watched the gesture, part of her invaded by a memory she hadn’t expected. There was no jealousy, only a deep feeling that something had been left behind—something that no longer belonged to her.

"Well… I guess I interrupted a scene of ‘lights out and ship swaying.’ I’ll leave you to it," she said, jumping off the railing.

Sarah stepped away from Lynn just enough to glance at Vi with gentle eyes, full of silent understanding.

"Thanks for coming, Vi."

Vi turned and walked toward the dock without looking back. The breeze lifted her coat for a moment. She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to.

The creaking of the wood under her boots faded with each step, swallowed by the night until her figure disappeared into the darkness.

Inside the ship, silence grew heavier. Sarah and Lynn remained there, watching in silence until Vi was completely gone.

"Does it still hurt?" Lynn asked, her voice soft and stripped of judgment or jealousy. It disarmed everything. There was only that deep calm she knew how to wield—even against the captain.

"A little," Sarah admitted, slowly turning to face her. Her gaze was intense, piercing, as if every word from her mouth carried more than just pain. "But you… you help me forget a lot of things."

Lynn raised an eyebrow, stepping a little closer to her, a crooked smile playing on her lips, full of promises.

"Oh yeah?" Her voice slid out like a whisper, dripping with the kind of heat that had been simmering for a while. "Let’s see if I can make you forget everything this time."

Sarah watched her approach, slowly, deliberately, like a shadow stalking its prey. Every move Lynn made was a calculated act of seduction. Sarah didn’t flinch, didn’t resist. She waited. The space between them shrank with every step, every flick of Lynn’s eyes, every tremor of unspoken desire.

When Lynn reached her, there were no words. Just lips.

The kiss started slow, careful, like they were testing boundaries they’d already crossed but refused to take for granted. But it quickly grew into something more urgent, driven by that familiar need to get lost in each other. The taste of Sarah in her mouth consumed Lynn with a single movement—deep, like settling a long-overdue debt.

Lynn pressed her back with another kiss, deeper, hungrier. Then another. Each of Sarah’s steps toward the cabin was guided by Lynn’s insistent lips, by hands that didn’t ask permission—just claimed. The ship groaned beneath their feet, and the fog tangled around their legs like a curtain of privacy draped by the world itself, leaving them alone in their desire.

Inside the cabin, darkness welcomed them. They didn’t light a lamp. They didn’t need to.

The ship swayed gently, but it was their bodies that moved with more rhythm, more hunger. Lynn pushed Sarah against the closed door, lips never leaving her skin. The thud of wood echoed like a drumbeat to their urgency.

"You’re gonna make me trip," Sarah murmured between kisses, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips, though she made no move to stop her.

"Then you’ll fall with me," Lynn whispered back, her voice a sultry dare right beneath her ear. A soft bite followed the words, making Sarah arch her back as her breathing grew heavier.

The cabin wasn’t far. Lynn pressed her body gently against Sarah’s, guiding her backward without ever breaking the kiss. The sound of wood knocking lightly against the wall echoed, the rhythm of their rising passion marking each step.

"Open," Lynn commanded, her lips brushing down along Sarah’s jawline, trailing kisses that only stoked the heat between them.

Sarah, panting softly, turned the handle without breaking eye contact, as if opening that door meant giving herself over completely.

"You’re dangerous tonight," she whispered, pushing the door inward as their bodies collided with a heat that burned through fabric and restraint.

"I’m an enforcer, sweetheart. And sometimes, what I catch isn’t exactly a criminal." Lynn’s words were a challenge—and Sarah accepted it without hesitation, stepping further into the chaos that swirled between them.

They entered the cabin without turning on the lamp. The harbor’s light filtered in through the porthole just enough to outline their bodies in the dark. The door closed behind them with a soft thud, and the sound of the wind outside was replaced by the ragged cadence of their breathing.

Sarah let herself fall toward the bed amid breathless laughter and increasingly ravenous kisses. Lynn tugged at her shirt, stripping it off in impatient jerks, revealing skin still marked by her nails from the night before. She paused only a second to admire the red trails, tracing them slowly with her fingers.

"Look at that…" she murmured, dragging her touch along the marks, her voice thick with satisfaction. "Didn’t know the pirate queen was so good at following orders."

Sarah, grinning wickedly, lifted one leg and hooked it around Lynn’s hip without a shred of hesitation, fully embracing the game unfolding between them.

"Only when the one giving them knows exactly what she’s doing," Sarah replied, her voice a blend of arrogance and desire—knowing every word, every gesture, pulled them closer to complete surrender.

And then, they dove in.

Beneath rumpled sheets, breathless gasps, and bodies searching without shame, the night wrapped around them like a promise half-kept. The ship swayed beneath them, but it wasn’t the tide—it was the rhythm of their hips, the intimate choreography of two women who no longer pretended they weren’t burning for each other.

The world turned to flesh, heat, moans that tore the silence into shreds. Sarah’s red hair spilled across the sheets like molten flame, and every caress from Lynn was an offering, a delicate assault, a conquest mapped out with lips and fingers.

Lynn’s kisses traveled down her neck, along the hollow of her collarbone, the gentle swell of her breast—until she caught a nipple between her lips, sucking with a mix of tenderness and hunger. Sarah moaned through clenched teeth, arching her back, her hands burying in Lynn’s hair like she could melt into her.

"Look at me," she ordered, voice ragged and eyes ablaze.

And Lynn obeyed.

She held her gaze as her fingers moved down—confident, sure—gliding over her stomach, the curve of her pelvis, until she found her wet, open, trembling. Sarah didn’t tremble from shame. She trembled from everything left unsaid, from everything burning inside her. And Lynn, without needing to ask, understood.

She touched her with two fingers—firm, slow—tracing circles that spiraled into madness. Then she slid between her folds, sinking inside with expert smoothness, thrusting in rhythm with Sarah’s breath. Her thumb found her clit, pressing just right as her fingers filled her over and over.

Sarah moaned loud, clutching at her arm, her back, anything to ground her. Her hips lifted, seeking more, and the slick heat of her sex soaked Lynn’s fingers with every stroke. Lynn picked up the pace, fucking her harder, hungrier, more precise. Every thrust wrung out a new moan—raw, desperate.

"Don’t stop…" Sarah panted, eyes shining, her body teetering at the edge.

Lynn didn’t.

She added another finger. She pinched her clit between her thumb and forefinger. Her mouth descended to her breasts, then her stomach, marking her with wet kisses as Sarah shook from the center of her being. She screamed Lynn’s name—not whispered, not held back—she screamed like exorcising a demon or offering a prayer.

The orgasm hit her like a thunderclap. Her body seized up, muscles locking as if the world split beneath the bed. Her nails dug into Lynn’s shoulders, her lips parted in a silent cry. She shattered—and rebuilt—all at once.

And Lynn held her. Didn’t stop. Didn’t let go. Her hands stayed steady, her lips still moving, giving her the connection that in that moment, belonged to no one else.

When Sarah finally collapsed into the sheets, sweat beading on her skin, chest rising and falling like a war drum, Lynn rose slowly up her body—slow, reverent, like walking through a temple after a quake. She kissed her thighs still twitching, her belly still pulsing, her chest still heaving.

"Does it still hurt?" she whispered against her ear, voice rough—the kind of voice that Sarah no longer knew whether it destroyed her or saved her.

Sarah let out a breathless laugh, hair clinging to her forehead, skin slick and glowing.

"Only the kind I like."

The night passed in whispers and shadows. The ship rocked gently beneath them, almost like a lullaby. The echoes of what they’d done—the touches, the moans, the unsaid promises—still lingered in the air, even as the hours slipped by.

At dawn, the sun began to filter through the cabin’s porthole, drawing warm lines across Sarah’s bare skin. She lay on her stomach, red hair spilled over the pillow, the sheet tangled between her legs. The soft golden light created a tranquil, almost ethereal atmosphere as the ship rocked gently, marking the start of a new day.

Lynn, seated at the edge of the bed, was dressing slowly. Her movements were unhurried, but her eyes kept drifting back to Sarah, who still seemed to be asleep. Or so she thought, until Sarah’s husky voice, still heavy with sleep, surprised her.

“Leaving already, enforcer?” Sarah murmured without opening her eyes, her voice tinged with softness and a slight smile on her lips. “And here I was, planning to kidnap you for a couple more hours.”

Lynn smiled, lowering her gaze to her, savoring the moment of peace before the world pulled them back into its routine. She leaned slightly toward her, not looking away.

“If you keep waking me up like this, I’ll never get back to patrol duty.”

Sarah stretched lazily, her body elongating like a cat enjoying the last remnants of sleep. Her skin glowed softly under the golden light, and the sight of her, so calm and vulnerable, made Lynn pause to admire her for a moment.

“Today, I want something calm,” Sarah said, her voice still hoarse from the night, but carrying a softer energy. “A decent meal. No maps, no mercenaries. Just you, me… and maybe a little wine.”

Lynn raised an eyebrow as she leaned in again, enjoying the closeness. She kissed her forehead gently.

“Are you saying you want to go on a date?”

Sarah turned her head toward her with a playful smile, her eyes sparkling with a mix of exhaustion and mischief.

“I’m saying that if you don’t let me treat you to lunch, I might have to arrest you for resisting my charm.” She sat up slowly, the sheet sliding down her body as her gaze stayed confident and teasing. “What do you say?”

Lynn looked at her for a moment, as if weighing the words. Then she smiled sideways and, without losing her cool, said:

“I’d say… I have no idea what to wear.”

Sarah sat up more fully, letting the sheet fall from her body as she stretched slowly. Her smile remained, but it was calmer, warmer.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a velvet cloak and boots with buckles. No one’s going to be looking at your clothes.”

Lynn leaned in a little more, watching Sarah with a mischievous smile as she brought her lips close—just brushing them against the redhead’s in a teasing, seductive game.

“Then I’m going to need a good wine… and a good ‘meal’ to match the evening,” Lynn said, her tone thick with promises only they understood.

By noon, a soft warmth filled the harbor streets. The market bustle and the sounds of the crew faded as Sarah and Lynn slipped away toward a quieter corner. The sea breeze, heavy with the ocean’s salt, welcomed them as they approached a small restaurant tucked between warehouses and alleyways—an unassuming refuge away from the main crowd.

It was a modest restaurant, far from the port’s commotion. The aged wooden tables and white linen cloths gave it a simple, cozy charm. The open windows let in the sun’s soft light, which danced across the table’s surface. The air was thick with the scent of toasted bread, spiced wine, and smoked fish—a comforting blend in its simplicity.

A quiet murmur of conversation floated in the background. Despite the calm atmosphere, something lingered in the air—tension, like everyone subconsciously sensed that the peace could break at any moment.

Lynn entered behind Sarah, watching how a few patrons glanced briefly in their direction. It wasn’t a particularly busy place, but Sarah’s presence always drew attention, like she radiated a magnetism impossible to ignore. Even in a more relaxed setting, the authority she carried never dimmed. Some looks were fleeting, others lingered—like watching a distant storm from a safe place.

“This place is nicer than I expected,” Lynn said, running a hand along the edge of the rustic table where they sat, taking in the restaurant’s simple but welcoming decor.

“Nice, but with knives hidden in every corner. Like you.” Sarah winked and raised two fingers to order wine, her tone casual but laced with that familiar edge of challenge.

The conversation started light, as natural as the rhythm they shared. They talked about silly things—the clumsy new lookout on the ship, a drunk old man who swore he’d seen a mermaid in the canal, the latest scandals involving conned merchants. Harmless topics, enough to keep the talk flowing without diving too deep. But as the minutes passed and the wine slid softly between them, the walls began to fall.

“What do you like most about being here?” Lynn asked, twirling her glass between her fingers, sipping slowly as she watched Sarah with open curiosity.

Sarah looked at her for a moment, not rushing her answer. When she finally spoke, her expression softened, and a more honest, peaceful smile appeared.

“The feeling that I don’t have to pretend with anyone.”

Lynn nodded slowly, as if the words had struck a chord. She let them hang in the air. She knew exactly what Sarah meant, even if she didn’t spell it out. All those days spent hiding behind facades—captain, lover, warrior. Here, in this little corner of the world, she could just be herself.

“And the thing you like least?” Lynn asked, her voice low, carrying the quiet understanding between them.

Sarah let the question linger a moment, sipping her wine. Then her eyes drifted away, lost in a distant thought.

“Knowing that at any moment, it could all be taken away. The sea gives, but it also takes everything.” Sarah drank a little more, letting the words settle between them. “Even the people you think will always be around.”

She didn’t have to say names. Lynn understood completely, no jealousy, just shared experience—of loss, of life’s fragility.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere,” Lynn said, placing her hand over Sarah’s. A simple gesture, heavy with unspoken meaning.

Sarah looked at her, and for a second, something shifted. The hardness that so often defined her faded. In that moment, she wasn’t the captain or the pirate—just a woman with eyes full of quiet promises.

“I know,” she said, interlacing her fingers with Lynn’s, the connection between them feeling like a promise sealed without words.

The food had gone cold. The wine was still half-full. And the way they looked at each other carried a new kind of sweetness, almost fresh. But something in the air began to change—a subtle unease sliding between them without warning.

A soft murmur was abruptly cut short. The creak of footsteps on the restaurant floor didn’t belong to anyone local. Lynn was the first to tense. Her hand, unnoticed by Sarah, drifted subtly toward her belt where her batons rested. The peaceful air that had defined the meal now turned heavy, charged with a tension only the two of them could feel.

“You feel that?” Lynn asked in a low voice, her eyes scanning the room with suspicion.

Sarah didn’t respond with words, but her body reacted immediately. She tilted her head slightly, narrowing her eyes. That raptor-sharp gaze of hers said everything.

“Since we walked in,” Sarah murmured, her voice low but full of uneasy certainty.

Then, the silence broke.

A chair scraped violently, followed by the groan of strained wood. A man stood in the corner of the restaurant—broad, scarred, with eyes like storm clouds. He wasn’t alone. From the shadows, three more emerged, armed with daggers, a chain, and a metal pipe tucked under long coats. They looked like they had been waiting for just the right moment to strike.

The atmosphere shifted completely. Patrons still at their tables began rising in a panic, nervous glances and stiff bodies moving quickly. Some, scared out of their minds, rushed to flee the place, leaving behind messy tables and half-eaten plates. The casual chatter had vanished—only tension remained, thick and suffocating.

“Shit,” Lynn whispered under her breath, hand hovering near her weapon, ready for anything. “Friends of yours?”

Sarah, as calm as ever, pushed her chair back slowly, eyes locked on the intruders. The wine glass still in her hand, red liquid catching the light.

“Pirates. The kind who don’t understand what ‘don’t talk to me’ means,” she growled, not even moving from her spot.

The first man stepped forward with a grunt, a scar slicing across his forehead like a war banner. His voice was rough, cutting through the air.

“You and I have unfinished business, Fortune,” he said, glaring at Sarah with disdain. Then his eyes shifted to Lynn, filled with nothing but contempt. “And your little girlfriend doesn’t impress me.”

Sarah raised her glass toward him like a toast, took a sip, and said sharply:

“You’re right. You shouldn’t be impressed.” And without warning, she flung the rest of the wine straight into his face.

“Now!” Lynn shouted, her metal baton already in hand as she launched into action.

Everything happened in a flash.

Chaos erupted in an instant.

A table flew across the room as Sarah shoved it hard into one of the attackers, sending him crashing to the ground along with a cascade of shattering plates. The remaining patrons screamed and bolted for the exit, fear etched across their faces. Some ran toward the door, but the entrance was already blocked by the armed men.

Lynn, quick and agile as a shadow, darted between chairs, her baton sliding free with a clean snap. With precise, fluid movements, she blocked a swing from one of the thugs, then struck him hard in the knee—collapsing him in a single blow.

Meanwhile, Sarah fought with fierce intensity. She grabbed the chain from another assailant and lashed it across his face, then wrapped it around his neck in one swift move, slamming him down onto a wooden table that groaned under the force.

Lynn pivoted, ducking under a blade that whistled past her ribs. She didn’t hesitate—an upward strike crushed the attacker’s jaw, and a second blow to the solar plexus knocked him out cold.

The last thug tried to flee, but Sarah was faster. She caught him at the door, tripped him with a sweeping kick, and pinned him to the floor with a boot to the chest.

“Unfinished business, was it?” she spat, crouching beside the bloodied man. “The only business I’ve got with you is deciding how many teeth I’ll leave in your mouth… if you’ve got the decency to never show up again.”

The man groaned in surrender. Sarah shoved him away with a sharp kick, watching him crawl out like a soaked dog.

The restaurant was a mess. What had started as a verbal confrontation had turned into a full-blown battleground. The remaining guests stared in shock. Many had already escaped, their footsteps echoing in the hallway outside, while others remained frozen at a distance—spectators to a violent spectacle. A pair of old men in the corner still sipped their wine, laughing nervously as if the whole thing had been an unscheduled performance.

Sarah returned to the table with a calm stride, brushing dust from her coat and wiping blood from her eyebrow. Her expression was a mixture of irritation and amusement, like the fight had been nothing more than a bothersome delay.

“And here I was, hoping for a quiet lunch,” Sarah muttered, shaking her head as she looked around at the destruction.

Lynn ran a hand through her now-messy hair, droplets of blood flecking her face. Her grin was wicked, as if the adrenaline still coursing through her veins was something she reveled in. It was clear—she wasn’t disturbed by the chaos. On the contrary, something in it made her come alive.

“You know what?” Lynn said with a low chuckle, surveying the wreckage. “I think this might be the closest thing to a romantic date you and I are ever gonna get.”

Sarah looked at her, eyes shining with a mix of exhaustion and amusement. The tension between them still buzzed, but there was something else too: a bond forged through the afternoon—through the fight, the unspoken truths, the stolen glances.

Then, without warning, Sarah leaned in. Her face softened just before her lips met Lynn’s in a long, demanding kiss. It wasn’t born of heat or urgency, but something deeper—something neither of them could deny. There, amid the wreckage, overturned chairs, shattered plates, and the scent of wine and adrenaline, they melted into one another. A kind of intimacy that even chaos couldn’t touch.

As they pulled apart, Sarah smiled against her lips, her breathing still ragged.

“Then let’s do it again,” she whispered, her smirk curling with playful defiance. “Next time, though, you attract the trouble… I’ll be in charge of breaking the dishes.”

Lynn laughed, a low rumble in her throat, eyes fixed on Sarah with a blend of satisfaction and heat, as if accepting the challenge sealed something between them.

“Deal,” Lynn replied with a crooked smile, the tension still crackling in the air between them.

They didn’t know what the future held, but for now—between dust, adrenaline, and the warmth still lingering between their bodies—the rest of the world simply faded away.

The battle had ended, but something new had begun.

And whatever came next, it would be written in the space between challenge and surrender, danger and desire.

Chapter Text

The hideout smelled of hot metal, old sweat, and burnt cloth. It was the scent of blood yet to be spilled. The lights flickered, casting long shadows across the cracked floor, as if darkness itself were trying to cling to the walls.

Every breath Riona took was a reminder of what she still lacked: more skill, more confidence, more... significance. The sweat wasn’t just from the training, but from the pressure to prove she wasn’t just another “kid” to Sevika, or one more shadow drifting through Zaun.

Riona exhaled through her nose, the thick, tainted air of the hideout burning her lungs. She tightened the straps on her dagger holsters, feeling how the dampness of Zaun, like an invisible monster, soaked into her bones. “Is this what I am?” She couldn’t help but ask herself every time the sweat mixed with fear and fury.

In front of her, two of Sevika’s thugs circled her. They weren’t clumsy. They weren’t merciful. They were Zaun-bred soldiers, forged by beatings and bad decisions.

Sevika watched from the improvised stands, her metal arm resting on a rusty beam, a cigarette between her lips, and that eternal expression of homicidal boredom on her face.

Riona smiled. Not because she was brave, but because trembling never intimidated anyone.

The first thug attacked with a low sweep, fast and treacherous. Riona jumped back, dodging it by a hair, and unsheathed a dagger in a flash of metal that cut through the gloom. The movement came from instinct, like breathing or blinking, but something in her mind cracked for an instant. “Is this enough? Am I enough?” The doubt shook her grip for just a fraction of a second—long enough for the second thug to take advantage of the opening.

The blow came from the side like a hammer, knocking the air out of her. Riona spun on her axis, trying to cushion the impact, her patched-up jacket flaring like a torn flag. The force of the attack slammed her against the wall, drawing a harsh grunt from her as the cold stone bit into her back.

She clenched her teeth. Pain was good; pain made her react.

Her fingers found the hilt of her second dagger without thought. One step forward, two swift, precise cuts. Brutal, clean, with no flair. Just as Sevika had taught her—not to look good, but to make sure you walked away alive.

The first thug stumbled, cursing at the floor. The second backed off, wary of the wild glint burning in those moss-colored eyes.

Riona’s grin widened, now defiant. She had made them hesitate. And in a street fight, thinking was the first step to losing.

Sevika scoffed from the shadows, blowing out a cloud of smoke like she despised every wasted second.

“It’s not about impressing anyone, girl,” she said, her voice sharp as a whip. “It’s about surviving. Either you cut, or you get cut. Use your head less and your instinct more.”

Riona gave a small nod, absorbing the reprimand without taking her eyes off her opponents. She drew a deep breath and lunged forward.

A throwaway dagger flew from her belt, whistling like an angry wasp. It struck the first thug in the wrist, forcing him to drop his makeshift weapon. Not fatal—just painfully effective.

The second thug lunged, seething with rage. Riona was ready: she dropped into a quick roll across the floor like an urban beast. When she stood again behind him, she already had both main daggers crossed in front of her chest, breathing fast, her muscles tense and vibrating.

Silence fell over the hideout, heavy and suffocating.

Sevika flicked her cigarette to the ground and stomped it out slowly, the sound of the embers dying under her boot echoing like a sentence.

“Done,” she growled, ending the fight.

Riona lowered her weapons, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat plastered her green hair to her forehead. She was smiling like a young wolf that had just bitten—and didn’t want to let go.

The thugs walked away without a word, rubbing their minor wounds. There was no room for bruised pride here. Only for the living.

Sevika climbed down from the beam with heavy steps, her mechanical arm letting out a few clicks as it moved. She stopped in front of Riona and studied her with those hard, ancient eyes.

“You didn’t break,” she finally said, her sharp gaze measuring Riona like she was calculating something else. Like it didn’t matter how much it hurt—only that she didn’t fall.

Riona raised an eyebrow, half amused.
“Was that a compliment?”

Sevika grunted.
“It was an evaluation. Don’t get excited.”

She turned and walked toward an improvised table covered in old weapons and machine parts. Riona followed, wiping a small cut on her forearm with her dirty sleeve.

The metal, the smoke, the constant tension… it all burned under her skin like embers that never went out. Riona felt like she couldn’t take another second of being watched from the shadows, of battle simulations. Her patience was running out, but she also knew that every training session was a test—a chance to prove to Sevika that she deserved more. For now, she had endured, stayed on her feet, taken the hits, refused to fall.

But she couldn’t keep pretending to be calm.

The training was over, but the metallic taste still clung to her tongue, bitterly reminding her of everything she still wasn’t. Cold sweat ran down her spine, and the weight of the daggers on her thighs was a constant reminder of her place in that merciless hierarchy.

Sevika sat on her makeshift throne, lighting another cigarette with a rusty lighter. She didn’t say anything. No praise, no criticism. Just watched Riona with calculated disinterest, like someone waiting for a tired pup to stop gnawing the same leg over and over again.

Riona stood still for a moment, rocking on her heels while something inside her vibrated dangerously. The rage she’d tried to contain finally climbed into her throat and exploded in sharp-edged words.

“I’m sick of this,” she blurted out, taking three tense steps toward Sevika.

The woman didn’t react immediately. She slowly exhaled a puff of smoke, letting the silence stretch with dangerous calm before answering:
“Sick of what, exactly?” she asked at last, her gravelly voice laced with a trap.

“Of waiting,” Riona growled, fists clenched at her sides. “Of hiding in the Shimmer tunnels while others do the real work. Of watching from the shadows like a scared rat.”

Sevika tilted her head slightly, with that cruel patience she always used as a weapon.

“And what do you want, girl? For me to send you to the front like fresh meat for the wolves?”

“I want a real mission,” Riona shot back, stepping close enough that the acrid smoke from Sevika’s cigarette mixed with her ragged breath. “I’m ready. I’m not just another brat you can use and throw away. I’ve proven it.”

Sevika stared at her for a long second. Deep. Piercing. Heavy. As if she were testing the quality of freshly forged steel.

Finally, she stood up, dropping the cigarette butt to the ground and crushing it slowly.

“You want a real mission?” she repeated, savoring every word with almost unbearable weight. “Fine. You’ll have one.”

Riona narrowed her eyes, alert. Her pulse drummed like war drums anticipating combat.

“What kind of mission?”

A cold smile crept onto Sevika’s lips—the kind of smile that comes before disaster.

“You’ll go alone. Zone two-zero-five. There you’ll learn that it doesn’t matter how hard you fight or how much you bleed; Zaun never gives anything for free, girl. You’ll observe and bring me what you see. If there’s danger, you hide; if you’re discovered, improvise. And if you fail... it won’t be for lack of chances. I’ll teach you what it really means to survive.”

Riona held her breath for a moment, feeling those words settle in her chest like a sentence. But she didn’t back down. Because she knew it was exactly what she wanted to hear, even if it cost her blood and broken bones.

“When?”

“Tomorrow at dawn,” Sevika growled, her eyes narrowed like a wolf sizing up her most reckless cub. “Alone. No shortcuts, no backup.”

This is real, Riona thought, but she didn’t say it aloud. She nodded, her pulse racing like she was about to leap off a building without a rope. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t question. She didn’t doubt.

“I understand.”

Sevika stared at her for a few more seconds, like someone throwing a knife and wondering if the blade will come back intact. She turned, giving her back like it was already settled.

“Get ready. Don’t sleep too much. The rats rise early.”

Riona clenched her teeth, her knuckles white against her daggers. She was going to prove she wasn’t just good—she was necessary, even if she had to bleed through every alley in Zaun to prove it.

The rest of the night was a bottled-up storm. Sleep never came. The makeshift mattress in the hideout cracked her bones, but that wasn’t what kept her awake—it was the mission. The possibilities. The fear disguised as adrenaline. She spent hours sharpening her blades, running mental maps of escape routes, variable scenarios. All in silence, under the flickering light of a broken lamp.

When Zaun’s fog began to seep through the cracks in the ceiling, Riona was already ready.

Dawn fell like a sentence. The city woke in its most hostile form, swallowing alleyways with its stale, heavy breath. Every lamp flickered in solitude, casting cones of fractured light that barely tore through the darkness.

Riona tightened her boots, slid the daggers into her thigh sheaths with a crossed motion that was now pure reflex, and pulled the frayed hood of her jacket over her head. Beneath the fabric, her moss-green eyes gleamed with the same hunger as the wind.

She walked alone—but not unarmed. Each step echoed on the cracked streets, resonating through shadows that seemed to devour the concrete. The thick, tainted air clung to her skin, soaking her in the stench of the dead and the forgotten. Every shadow a warning. Every crack in the ground, a trap waiting to spring.

She moved like part of the city, another pulse in Zaun’s living, rotting network.

For the first time in a long while, there were no invisible nets, no familiar walls. Just the echo of her own steps and the raw sensation that if she fell, no one would be there to catch her.

The air felt heavier, like Zaun itself was testing her, weighing every heartbeat, every mistake.

And Riona… Riona accepted the challenge with the stubbornness of someone who never learned how to back down. She smiled faintly, knowing her test had already begun.

Zone two-zero-five wasn’t a neighborhood; it was a coordinated collapse. Former Shimmer factories fallen from grace, now turned into smuggling yards, illegal chop shops, and makeshift fight arenas. Every building seemed to breathe steam, stench, and danger.

Riona dropped down another level, sliding down a rusted service ladder. Her boots hit the ground with a faint screech. There was no turning back now.

“Well then, stubs, time to dance,” she whispered to herself, adjusting the small flashlight on her belt—but didn’t turn it on.

She moved fast, but not in a rush. She wasn’t a rat fleeing. She was a shadow hunting.

The first two hours slipped by between makeshift hiding spots and quick observations. A group of traffickers moved merchandise wrapped in greasy sacks. They exchanged short codes, barely visible gestures. Riona memorized them all without intervening.

Farther on, two lookouts watched over a junction. They wore fake insignias from Silco’s old Hounds—now just mercs with no leash. Riona took mental notes of their positions, how many steps they took in each patrol cycle.

The fog had thickened, and Zaun’s silence no longer felt like sleep—it was a coiled threat. That’s when Riona decided to move closer to the heart of the activity.

She crawled beneath a broken bridge, the metal tearing her jacket sleeve. She didn’t curse. She just clenched her jaw and kept moving, like a shard of living rust.

She stopped behind a pile of oxidized drums. Peeked just enough to see.

There it was—a reinforced convoy, new, with modifications that didn’t match any local workshop. Three large vehicles covered in tarp. Armed men standing guard.

This wasn’t just smuggling. It was something bigger.

“All right, what the hell are you hauling that needs this much muscle?” she muttered, more to keep herself sane than anything else.

She pulled a small notebook from her belt, scribbled quick notes, drew a rough sketch of the scene. Her memory was good, but she wasn’t about to trust it alone. Not this time.

She moved sideways, searching for a better angle.

The humidity gnawed into her bones, climbing her back like icy fingers—but she didn’t waver.

Every muscle in her body was tight, like Zaun itself was holding its breath, waiting for her to mess up.

There was no one to impress. No safety net. Just her, her steel, and the brutal honesty of the streets.

She climbed a collapsed rooftop, using her hands and feet like a spider. From above, the view was better: vehicles, personnel, escape routes. She mapped it all in her head like a war plan.

While scanning, something caught her eye. A different figure—not a soldier, not a street thug. Someone dressed too neatly, too deliberately, carrying a briefcase.

The figure entered one of the abandoned factories.

Riona narrowed her eyes.

“And what are you, pretty boy?” she murmured, licking her cracked lips against the cold.

For a second, the urge to follow was strong. Too strong. But she forced herself to remember the instructions.

Observe, don’t intervene.

She clenched her fists, dropped from the rooftop in a silent, agile landing. Started moving away through the half-lit streets of Zaun, her footsteps light but alert.

That’s when the air whistled. A knife flew past her head, grazing her ear with a sudden sting.

Riona spun instantly, heart pounding, and drew her daggers in a crossed motion—automatic, instinctive.

Three figures emerged from the filthy fog, armed and grinning like starving jackals. Grime dripped from their boots, and violence clung to their movements like a second skin.

“Well, look what we got here…” growled the first, licking his cracked teeth with a gesture that reeked of rot. “A little birdie out of the nest.”

“Lost, sweetheart?” sneered the second, spinning his knife with bony fingers. “Or maybe… you came out here to die alone?”

Riona didn’t flinch. She stood her ground like a nail hammered into concrete, daggers firm in her hands, pulsing with the pent-up rage of someone who’d bled to get this far.

“Come on,” she spat, her voice low, loaded with gunpowder. “But when you start dropping, don’t whine about underestimating me.”

The first lunged straight at her—reckless and brutal. His knife flashed under the flickering light, slicing down in a predictable arc. Riona moved with surgical precision, pivoting to the side and plunging her blade into his flank. He folded with a guttural scream. The blade came out red, gleaming, ready for more.

The second one took advantage of the chaos and charged in from the side—faster, more aware of the danger. His steps echoed on the damp ground. Riona stepped back just in time, letting out a gasp, and flung a throwaway dagger from her belt. It hissed through the air and sank deep into his thigh. He dropped to his knees with a howling cry, clutching the wound as blood spilled onto the concrete.

But the third man stayed still in the gloom, patiently waiting his turn. The leader. Bigger, faster, deadlier. He watched her with eerie calm, a twisted smile etched on his face like a death warrant. The sight chilled Riona’s blood.

This one wouldn’t go down easy.

He stepped forward slowly, each move calculated with a hunter’s precision. Riona swallowed, tightened her grip on her blades, feeling the adrenaline rocket through her veins. Then he charged—and the first clash hit like a lightning strike. Riona crossed her blades in defense, fending off a furious storm of blows that forced her back, step by step, barely breathing.

She countered with feints and quick strikes, relying on the agility that had saved her a thousand times in Zaun’s alleys. She managed to graze his arm with a precise twist, and he roared—not from pain, but rage—delivering a vicious kick that Riona barely dodged. She felt the cold air slice past her face—too close.

The fight was frantic, a ruthless exchange of strikes and parries with no room for mistakes. Her muscles burned with the effort, but she held the pace, pushing him to fight more aggressively. For a second, she thought she had the upper hand.

That’s when she screwed up.

One move too wide, a spin too quick but not precise enough—leaving a fatal opening. He didn’t waste it. With a triumphant growl, the man caught her arm mid-twist, wrenching it painfully until her grip gave out and the dagger clattered to the ground.

Before she could react, he drove his knee into her gut—brutal and final. The air fled her lungs in a single convulsion.

Riona slammed onto the concrete, dazed and gasping. The world spun, and the leader loomed above her, his unsheathed blade gleaming in a deadly arc as it descended toward her exposed chest.

She tried to move—roll away—anything. But it was too late.

Death fell in slow motion.

Then, like a blade of steel slicing through a nightmare, something—or someone—stepped between them.

Sevika.

Without a word, she blocked the sword with her mechanical arm—the clash ringing out in a harsh, metallic echo that tore through the night. Riona pushed herself up on her elbows, still gasping, unable to tear her eyes away from the lethal spectacle unfolding before her.

The leader stepped back, startled by the unexpected interruption. But Sevika was already on him, advancing with the terrifying calm of someone who knows exactly how much power she holds. Her own blade gleamed cruelly under Zaun’s dying streetlights.

This wasn’t a fight. It was an execution.

Riona swallowed hard, her hand tightening around the dagger she still held. Every nerve in her body ached, but it was the sting of humiliation—of being defeated—that burned the most. From the ground, she watched every move, every strike, painfully aware now of how far she still was from Sevika’s level.

The leader regained his footing just in time to raise his sword, spitting to the side in defiance. Sevika, unfazed, sneered before slamming her metal fist straight into his chest, sending him flying several meters. His body crashed into a stack of rusted barrels, which exploded in a screech of metal and rotted wood.

"That all you got, tough guy?" Sevika growled, taking slow, heavy steps forward. "You’re gonna have to do better than that if you wanna take my spot."

The man, far from giving up, staggered to his feet, blood spilling from his mouth. His eyes burned with something beyond rage: greed, desperation. He raised his sword with both hands, pointing it at Sevika in defiance.

"Your time’s up, Sevika!" he roared, his voice rough, barely holding. "Zaun needs new blood, and you’re just rusted-out trash!"

Sevika tilted her head slowly, her sneer sharpening into a deadly line.

"And you’re the solution?" she rasped, mocking. "Let’s see how many punches your revolution can take."

The leader charged at her, fast despite his injuries, throwing wild, wide strikes. Sevika didn’t retreat. She took the assault like a rock standing in a storm. The blade nicked her coat, tearing it at the shoulder—but before the man could react, Sevika grabbed the edge with her mechanical hand, metal fingers screeching against steel.

"Pathetic," Sevika whispered, nearly face to face with him. "This is the best your new Zaun has to offer?"

With a brutal, fluid motion, she yanked the sword down, breaking his balance, then drove her knee into his gut so hard it knocked the breath from his lungs.

He dropped his weapon with a desperate gasp but managed to throw a furious punch at Sevika’s jaw. She dodged it with ease and countered with a savage headbutt to his nose. A wet crunch echoed through the alley, followed by a strangled cry of pain.

From the ground, Riona held her breath, unable to look away. She’d always known Sevika was strong—but she had never witnessed such an absolute display of dominance. A chill ran down her spine. Was this the price of ruling Zaun’s streets?

"You think Zaun needs heroes?" Sevika said, voice cold and sharp like broken glass. She grabbed the man by the neck with one hand and lifted him off the ground with inhuman strength. "Zaun doesn’t need heroes. It needs survivors. People who keep the shit flowing. No good guys. No bad guys. Just the living and the dead."

The man kicked desperately, fighting for air. Sevika tossed him into a rusted post with effortless cruelty. His body hit with a sickening thud, bones cracking under the impact. He dropped to his knees, coughing blood through ragged breaths.

Sevika walked toward him, slow and deliberate—each step like the beat of an executioner’s drum.

"Talk, asshole. Who’s backing you?"

The leader lifted his head, bloodied face twisted in hate.

"Doesn’t matter… how many you crush tonight…" he wheezed, feverish eyes locked on hers. "Others will come… and your time… it’s already over…"

Riona shivered. The words hit deep, echoing her own desire to prove herself—prove she was enough, that she mattered. This wasn’t just a fight. It was a war for Zaun’s very soul.

Sevika smiled bitterly, crouching before him—so close she could almost whisper in his ear.

"You’re wrong," she said, her voice a dark verdict. "My time never started."

With one last devastating motion, Sevika brought her mechanical fist down like a hammer, smashing the leader into the ground. The impact echoed like a muffled thunderclap through the alley.

Silence fell, heavy and absolute. Sevika stood there for a moment, breathing steadily, then slowly straightened. She turned to look at Riona, who was still on the ground, clutching her dagger with a trembling hand, trying—failing—to stand.

"You saw what just happened, kid?" Sevika growled. "That’s what happens to people who hesitate."

Riona swallowed hard, forcing herself upright with painful effort—though it was her pride that hurt most.

"I get it…" she murmured, eyes locked on Sevika’s cold gaze. "I won’t hesitate again."

Sevika studied her in silence, a strange glint in her eye. Then she gave a slight nod.

"You better not. Now get up and move. Zaun waits for no one."

Riona gripped the dagger tighter, feeling her blood start to boil again. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. But one day, she would be. And when that day came, she’d remember every second of this fight.

Defeat wasn’t an abyss. It was a step.

"I won’t fail next time," she said, her voice rough but steady.

Sevika gave a small nod—approval, but not a gift. She stopped a couple of steps away, not looking at her.

"Well? And?" Sevika grunted, lighting another cigarette with a practiced flick. The flame briefly lit up her tired eyes.

Riona blinked, wiping the dried blood from her lip with the back of her hand as she adjusted her torn jacket.

"Armored convoy. Three units. Armed guards. Escape routes carefully mapped out. There’s a strange civilian—well-dressed, carrying a briefcase. I didn’t see what was inside. I didn’t interfere," she added, barely taking a breath. "I documented everything."

She held out her notebook.

Sevika took it without a word. She didn’t flip through it immediately. Just held it between her fingers—stained with powder and nicotine. Then she opened it slowly and read in silence. Her brow furrowed. The smoke from her cigarette hung between them like a warning.

"Despite the beating you took," she finally muttered, with a short, almost absent chuckle, "you’re not completely useless."

But her tone had shifted. Her face too.

It wasn’t mockery anymore—it was calculation.

Sevika stayed silent for a second longer, her eyes fixed on the irregular lines of Riona’s hand-drawn map, on the notes about the vehicles, the routes, the symbols painted on the doors. She knew exactly what she was seeing.

Armored units that didn’t belong to Zaun. Routes too clean to be improvised. A civilian with a briefcase who looked more like a diplomat than a street dealer. The pattern was familiar. She’d seen it before—while snooping near the improvised camp outside Piltover.

When the Noxians started moving, they always did it like this. No flags. But with structure.

"Shit…" Sevika muttered under her breath. Then exhaled sharply, like spitting out a bitter decision. "This reeks of Noxus."

Riona lifted her head. "Noxus?"

Sevika nodded, snapping the notebook shut with a dry clack.

"This isn’t gangs. This isn’t local smuggling. This... this is military. Organized. Clean. And if they’re this deep already, we’re not stopping them alone."

Riona, still unsteady but with eyes alight, took a step forward.

"What do we do now?"

Sevika looked at her again. No longer with disdain. With the kind of gaze reserved for those unlucky enough to witness what can’t be undone.

"Now we talk to Steb," she growled. "If those bastards are digging into Zaun again, we’re gonna need more than knives and rage to stop them."

She tucked Riona’s notebook into the inside pocket of her coat. The gesture was brief, definitive—like sealing a deal with the city itself.

She motioned with a jerk of her head.

"Move it, girl. The city’s not gonna save itself."

Riona rubbed her bruised rib, muttered a curse under her breath, and followed. This time not just out of pride. This time because something far bigger was shifting beneath her feet. And she was ready to chase it.

Zaun’s streets were a wounded maze at this hour: oil puddles glinting under the acid fog, fat rats fighting over scraps, and that sour smell of old metal clinging to the skin like a curse. Riona limped slightly, but said nothing. Every step kept her awake, alert. And the only thing worse than the pain was the thought of Sevika noticing it.

They crossed the low tunnels linking Zaun’s rot to Piltover’s arrogance. Each segment was an invisible border you could feel in your bones—the air turned drier, cleaner... but also more fake. Riona hated that polished stench of perfection. And Sevika didn’t even bother to hide her contempt. She snorted like every inch of marble was a personal insult.

When they emerged on the upper level, the gleaming city stared down at them with that polished condescension that cut deep. At that hour, Piltover was nearly asleep—but its silence was different. Not the tense, crouched silence of Zaun. This was the silence of a fat beast snoring peacefully, convinced nothing could touch it.

The Enforcer headquarters loomed like an old stone box pretending to be a fortress. It wasn’t made to impress—it was built to withstand. Thick walls. Narrow windows. A bunker disguised as an institution.

Inside, everything moved with precision. Uniformed officers reviewed reports, maps, communication lines. Some glanced up at the sight of Sevika. Others frowned when they saw Riona. None of them stopped working.

Steb was where he always was: hunched over a map of Zaun, brow furrowed, jaw tight from too much clenching. His turquoise skin looked washed out under the white lights of the HQ. He seemed like a veteran from another war... and probably was.

The door creaked shut behind them. Steb looked up.

When he saw Sevika, his frown came on instinct. When he saw the young green-haired girl behind her, the frown twisted into something harder to read.

"You again?" he muttered, voice low. "I thought we were done with tunnel tales and campfire stories."

Sevika didn’t waste a second. She marched straight to the table, dropped a dead cigarette into the ashtray, and planted her fists on the map’s edge.

"This isn’t a story, Steb. Armored convoy. Three large vehicles. High-level protection. And a civilian with a briefcase who doesn’t belong in this city... or any on this continent, if you ask me."

Steb narrowed his eyes.

"Where?"

"Zone two-zero-five." Sevika tapped the map with a thick finger. "These aren’t two-bit smugglers. This is structure. Logistics. This... smells like Noxus."

Riona couldn’t hold it in

"It's Noxus," she stated, her voice steady even though it still hurt to breathe. "I saw it. I took notes. Marked routes, movement codes, double surveillance. It’s all in the notebook."

Steb slowly turned his head toward her, evaluating her like someone staring at a freshly-armed bomb and deciding not to disarm it… yet.

"You went?"

"Alone. Just like she ordered," she said, nodding toward Sevika. "And yeah, I bled for the intel. But it was worth it."

Steb snorted, rubbing his jaw with a weary gesture.

"And now you're here so we fix it for you?"

"No." Sevika cut in like a blade. "I'm here to warn you before it blows up in your damn face. It’s the same pattern as the camp outside Piltover. Same movements. Same silence. This is Noxus, working from the inside."