Chapter Text
Luxanna’s heart had never sounded so loud.
Heat washed over her. She heard the roar of flames, the snap of cables, the cracking of superheated masonry.
Yet all, in its own way, was deathly still, and lost in blinding Darkness.
She held her staff, her sword, not daring a glimmer of Light that would clue the horror in the skies to her precise location…but knowing in the prickle of her spine and crawl of her gut that she stood exposed.
Naked, beneath a hostile sky. Nowhere to hide…
And no way to reach Jinx.
In her mind’s eye, black hair, black eyes, a stranger’s familiar face, a fanatic’s smile.
It had to be.
‘Kestrel’.
Lux’s breath came in short, gasping rasps, her eyes flicking and darting – broken cobbles – the glowering faces carved into the pylons – bits of burning debris, raining down – the slumped, mangled body of the dead Mageseeker…
And a gangling, familiar silhouette, twin braids snaking in the gray.
Relief, wonderment, flooded her chest.
“Jinx…!” Lux gasped, “Jinx!”
She darted forward – the shadow of Jinx’s head turned –
In place of Shimmer pink, white pinpoints glinted.
Lux skidded, sucking in her breath, bringing her sword up in desperate defense; something snaked out of the darkness, darkness itself – shadowy, thorny chains clinking as they lashed toward her, wrapping around her weapon –
Sylas?!
His silhouette loomed, shoulders shaking with laughter, pulling her off his feet, into his embrace –
…ḽ̺͈̦̼͎i͕ț̺̗ͅtl̬e̜̱̫ͅ ̬̰̟͉͍l̠̞͕ ̻͎͕̻͖i̹̟̥ ͇̹̬̲̖̲g h͍͕͍ t̞͙͙̞…̳̘̬
…he stank of death and mud and iron and the burning flesh of men and women, cut apart in an execution square…
Lux writhed and kicked in his arms; Light pulsed on instinct, searing away the shadows, searing him.
She fell back, the chains, his body, everything that was Sylas dissolving into ephemeral tendrils, blacker than the smoke – but the white pinpoint eyes lingered, then split, multiplied – a pack of snarling, snapping Murkwolves, rolling and crashing over and into each other’s bodies, gnashing jagged teeth, all of them black as ink.
Lux pushed herself up and scrabbled backward, fast as she could, reaching for her fallen sword. Hands oozed up from beneath her, grabbing her ankles and wrists, yanking at her hair, pawing at her body.
Her eyes blew wide, terrified, remembering the Mageseeker pulled into his own shadow.
Lux shrieked through the wet black fingers trying to force their way into her mouth, and her rolling eyes burned from blue to gold to white.
Light, spears, blades of light, shore through the rotting, inky arms groping her, through the charging wolves, hissing and whispering and laughing as they died, flailing, severed, dissolving away to nothing –
But as she rolled, panting, and shoved herself to her feet, her eyes widened as she heard the shrill and rush of great metal wings.
She’d given her position away.
A vast silhouette sliced the darkness behind her. Lux turned too late.
White eyes blazed in black; black holes cut in white – talons.
They hit her.
Her sword sparked against them; she was lifted from her feet, air rushing from her lungs as she flew back and hit the cobbles, her sword clattering away – her staff still gripped in one vice-like hand…
It screeched over her, circled, and the wings tucked as it descended again, a bird – not a bird! – with steel razor wings, the body of a human being, and hooked talons upon its angled feet –
And the shadow of its wings, crawling on the Bridge in the light of Jinx’s flames, writhed with shapes of imaginary monsters.
Shadow Magic.
Her Light, keening inside her, roared defiance.
Lux sprang to her feet, twisting her body in a desperate dance, flinging light-blast after light-blast into the oncoming fiend. Its arms flicked up – it had a shield – the Light flashed only briefly ere it soaked into the ugly Chemtech metal and dull marble – petricite.
One blast clipped a wing, and it – they – wobbled, angled their trajectory…
The assassin hit the ground running, the wings suddenly slackening into a trailing cloak in a hum of crimson Chemtech, the hooked raptor claws retracting into the steel-shod boots.
They sprinted straight at her with terrifying speed, boots screeching on the tiles, a rushing white-grey-mask beneath a cowl – a stylized Demacian kestrel’s face, black ‘tears’ beneath black hole eyes –
The petricite shield held forth, and in the other hand, a sword.
Lux brought her staff up, hurled Light Binding –
They flowed sideways and let it pass, a graceful bob of movement, as if they’d known exactly what she was going to do the moment she wove the spell…
…as if they’d studied her.
Legs wheeled as the assassin leapt over Lucent Singularity – Chemtech pumped, the wings stiffening and flapping, pushing them higher over its swelling bubble – diving past the two Light-beams she sliced in its wake, soaking another with their shield –
Lux gasped and ran backwards, ducking away from three hurled silver daggers flecking the street like deadly feathers – she hurled her staff, praying for Prismatic Barrier – Light! Protect me!
The sword slashed, splitting into segments. A cruel, jagged whip.
It snaked around the staff, and the Light went out of it as the hand jerked, the whip flicked, and her staff was flung away. Lux dove for her sword, hand snapping around the hilt, came to her feet, and they were on her.
Sparks flew from the whip – now sword once more – crashing down again and again on her blade; Lux backpedaled, her arm jarred with the force of each strike – her attacker wasn’t any bigger or heavier than her, but the sheer ferocity of their assault stunned her – they wrenched her blade aside – Lux ducked as they spun a roundhouse kick – her cheek stung with the slash of iron claws –
Blonde glittered and drifted in her wake, the clattering edges of the wing-cloak shearing through her trailing hair.
Lux couldn’t breathe – they were on her – relentless – the whipsword slashed her arm, puncturing the mail – blood flecked her tunic but worse was the numbing gnawing ache of petricite sapping at her Light –
Hands made of shadow burst out of her own to claw at her ankle.
Lux kicked them away in a flash of Light, and Kestrel lunged and smashed their shield into her face, mashing her lips, jarring her cheek. Stunned, Lux stumbled, tripped.
The whipsword lashed, wrapped around her Demacian blade.
Lux screamed her fear and rage, yanked against the whip and thrust the sword for their face. She pushed all she could of her Light through it, petricite be damned –
She felt it flooding out of her, her strength bleeding into the stone, but she pushed – feeling the petricite swell like an overfilled cup of water – cracking, beams of light splintering one of the segments.
Kestrel flinched, gave a shrill snarl and twisted away, shadows oozing in their wake.
The whipsword slithered away – Lux gasped and brought her sword up, letting her Light blaze through the hilt, the quillons, the blade, a cruder, more desperate conduit than the staff.
The petricite shield whirled out of the darkness, cracking her in the ribcage, hurling Lux back into one of the bridge pylons. Kestrel’s shadow rose in the gloom, the whipsword coiling in one hand – and a second one, in the other, igniting in eerie Chemtech red.
Twin lashes flailed and snapped, terrifying serpents weaving in the haze. Lux parried one aside. The other ripped her upper arm, just under her shoulder – a hot bite of pain she didn’t have time to feel…
Lux clenched her teeth, gathered her Light. When the Chemtech whip slashed again – not petricite! – she caught it on her sword and pulsed light through every segment – and out –
The Chemtech whip burst apart in their enemy’s hands, and they discarded it with a hiss.
The counter-lash from its partner caught her ankle, throwing her off balance, tearing her boot open. Her enemy swooped through the haze, leg coming down, gleaming raptor-claws on ingenious Zaunite hinges snapping about her uplifted sword.
Squealing into the steel, snapping her family blade in two, they tore the broken hilt from her grip, leaving her defenseless.
Lux gave a ragged gasp. A kick struck her sternum; claws slipped around her breastplate and tore the straps, scratched her flanks. Claws slashed her leg. It buckled under her.
The head twisted, the blank, pitiless face staring into hers.
The claws speared into her shoulders. The wings surged and flapped. And, in a rush of air, stomach lurching, eye to eye with her assassin, she was flying, far, far, into the cold air above Piltover.
The black sky surrounded them. The city burned beneath them.
The stars glinted, far away; all else was Darkness.
“…wh…what are you?!” Lux choked out.
“What does the Light create, Luxanna?” whispered Kestrel, and dropped her.
Garen clenched his teeth, pain shooting through him, and shoved himself up onto one knee, spitting glowing poison from his teeth.
The monstrosity, leaking trails of the stuff from every gash and stab in its swollen hide, shrieked as it flailed around, Katarina dangling from its back from her embedded daggers like a bizarre ornament.
Garen fumbled on the stones, found the hilt of his sword. He drew it up as the mutated Cerana twisted its torso, screaming in a mix of bear, vulture, owl and human voices –
It swung its giant arm, smacking the glowing sword from his grip, and crashed it down upon him.
Roaring like a beast himself, Garen gripped its deformed talons in both of his mailed hands, shoved down to one knee, the monster’s weight crushing down on him.
His vision started to blur, his hands and arms beginning to buckle.
Another scream came from the haze; Katarina leapt with her whole body, Garen’s sword two-handed behind her, sweeping in a shining, radiant arc.
It clove straight through the monster’s neck, shearing its grotesque head from its shoulders in a welter of blackish-green blood. Its cries stilled instantly; it toppled on its stomach, arms slackening, narrowly avoiding crushing Garen, its hideous life sapping away.
The earth shook beneath them; the tremors faded.
Panting, he locked eyes with Katarina; she was gasping, shoulders heaving, the blade of Demacia dangling from her grip.
“…and you swing this damn thing around…” she rasped, “…all the time?”
Garen grunted and pushed himself to his feet, stretching his hand to her.
Her fingers brushed his as the hilt passed into them; he slipped his other hand around hers and pulled her to his feet.
She kept coming, folding into his armored chest, tucking her face there.
“Kat…”
“Let’s go get your sister,” she said, pushing away from him, green eyes flashing in that fiery look he – no – no time to think of it now, she was right.
Garen set his jaw and nodded; he took a step, and stumbled, coughing more of the green vapors, the monster’s toxic breath.
It was fading, its glow flickering away; Magic, a cursed, arcane poison that would not linger long once its creator’s will had died.
But it was still in him, slowing him down. Slowing them both down…
Kat slung her arm around him.
“We’ll be too late…” he whispered, bitterly, lifting his head to her distant light, “If this was all we could do…”
“She wouldn’t give up on you,” Kat grunted, hoisting his bulk on her shoulder, pulling him with all her strength to walk with her, “She’s strong, that girl. Trust in her, Garen.”
“I do,” he murmured, pushing his iron will to keep one foot after another – eyes fixed upon her Light, and the shadow of some other monstrosity bearing down on her – “I have to.”
One step. Another.
His eyes widened as he saw her Light, rising, rising into the heavens –
Falling.
Again, falling.
Where he couldn’t reach her.
“Lux!”
Caitlyn’s eyes blurred, in and out of vision. She’d shut them just in time; with the flashbang so close, the thin veneer of her eyelids and the turn of her head had been meagre protection.
And there’d been nothing she could do to protect her ears. Her skull, a keening void of sound, gave her nothing.
But she wasn’t dead.
Swimming eyes saw, through dancing spots of light, Camille’s silhouette staggering away from her, a sparking hole right above where her heart should be, spitting arcs of Hextech blue, right through to the air behind her.
The Ferros Equalizer slipped from Caitlyn’s hand, but she couldn’t help but feel a cruel thrill. Fine field test for your weapon, Intelligencer…
Camille jerked her head up, spasming with little tremulous jolts. She was staring past Caitlyn, at something she couldn’t see; then twisted back in the direction of the Bridges.
She swiveled to glare at Caitlyn, face a gnashing rictus, blue eyes blazing. She mouthed something akin to ‘too late’ and tottered two steps back, face sinking back into cold calm.
Cables shot from Camille’s wobbling hips, and pulled her into the sky, out of Caitlyn’s field of vision, gone…
Caitlyn breathed but couldn’t hear her breath. She let her head turn, following Camille’s first eyeline.
Shadows, moving, cast by the dull light cutting around running figures. Familiar ones.
Kepple, Mir, Zevi, Zayne, Harknor…led by Sheila, in a field uniform, sans teapot and cat.
Caitlyn laughed, joyless and joyous at the same time, hearing nothing but a dull, gnawing cicada tone. They were beside her, all around her, checking her over, talking to her, pulling her up. Zayne was by Jayce’s side, tending his wound. Jayce’s face was pale, his eyes kept straying to her in anguish, but he was nodding, responsive.
She wondered if he was telling them about Amelia.
Caitlyn’s world lurched, silently, her dull gaze traveling over their worried faces, their moving lips. Vi… she whispered, licking dry lips, her own voice as silent as theirs, …have to get to Vi.
Sheila pointed. Caitlyn followed her arm; the same direction Camille had looked at the very last, beyond the Incognium, beyond the wreckage of the Ecliptic Vault, no longer blocking the view of the waterfront…
The riverfront was burning. The bridges were burning.
And the Old Pilt Bridge was gone.
Get me there, she shouted, struggling, get me to the bridge!
They let her go, and the fallen Equalizer slipped into her hand.
Vi…
She didn’t know if she’d thought it, whispered it, or screamed it as she ran.
Vi!
Darkness.
Cait…
Pain.
Powder…Jinx.
Her arms screamed at her, particularly the left.
Vi’s vision swam.
A cold breeze tickled her dangling legs. Below her, far below, the black tomb of the river Pilt awaited, calling to her with its silent voice. Beckoning.
She dangled, limp, one arm outstretched, still lodged in the depths of the Atlas gauntlet.
And the gauntlet, sparking and flickering, hooked on a twisted metal support rod jutting from the shattered masonry of the Bridge.
Gravel skittered past her. A few small rocks plopped in white splashes into the Pilt below.
Vi swallowed, stared down at it dully.
She was so tired. It wouldn’t be so bad. To let go. To sink. To sleep, and dream of smiles she wouldn’t see again…
Somewhere, across the water, Lux’s beautiful rainbow Light was flashing and flickering. Fighting her own desperate battle to survive.
And where she was, Jinx would be.
Pink-purple stung and coiled and snarled at her, inside, raging, gnashing its teeth at the thought that she would dare surrender, that she would dare be weak, that she would dare –
Vi sucked in air, clenched her teeth, and tensed her torn and aching muscles.
Shimmer in me – her blood – my sister’s blood – life, rage, fire, fuel – hers –
Purple shot through the veins of her arm, the lines at her temple swelling with its gruesome fury. Without it, she knew, she’d be dead already.
Vi swung her other hand, clamped the Atlas’ huge fingers with a crack into the crumbling cement, and pulled her battered body up, onto the ruined edge of the Bridge of Progress.
The corpse of an Enforcer lay beside her, his helmet rolled from his head, his stare marble blank.
She stared at him, mind roiling, trying to gather the strength to stand.
They shot me.
No warning, no preamble. They were shoot-to-kill, on sight, both of us.
Vi let her eyes focus on his face. Older, scarred lines on his cheeks, salt stubble on his chin. She knew that face. She’d seen cruelty in his now-empty eyes and felt the sting of his fists and crack of his boots.
It was familiar, but not from the Warden office. She knew this man in a different uniform.
She knew this man from Stillwater.
“…two hundred and twelve…” she croaked, rage shooting through her, until her fingers wobbled so much, the Atlas’ mighty weight couldn’t contain the tremors. It scraped against the ruined concrete.
Two hundred and twelve. The last of them, the ones who survived the Turmoils, who made it back from the killing fields of the newborn Zaun with hands drenched in Trencher blood…
The last of the original Enforcers.
She’d killed this man, and Jinx had killed more. She’d killed them, but she hadn’t killed them all.
They were still out there. Hunting her sister.
Who, how, why, didn’t matter anymore.
Vi roared, a jagged, broken cry, and pushed to her feet, the Atlas gauntlets glowing. She flicked her hazed eyes up to the other side of the broken Bridge.
Two Enforcers still stood in the fumes, coughing, shielding their faces even with their masks. One of them looked at her, his blank mask concealing whatever he – she – who knew – felt.
The Enforcer raised the rifle and aimed at her head.
Vi clenched her teeth and cranked her depleted shields.
“Fire, you bitch!” she screamed, amid a rolling, inexplicable boom of thunder, “I won’t die here! I can’t!”
And she didn’t.
Thundercrack.
The Enforcer’s rifle spun from their hand; their body jerked like a puppet on a string; but the strings were made of lightning.
Coursing, snaking, purple-white bolts cracked and snapped and sizzled, lifting the Enforcer from their feet, arcing to their stumbling friend, flinging both of them like discarded dolls from the bridge.
Vi blinked, past her upraised hands, spots still swimming in her vision.
“Well,” called a snide, reedy voice from across the chasm, amplified by a rebreather’s familiar hollow rasp, “That didn’t go quite as expected.”
Through the new columns of smog rising from where the fried Enforcers had stood, a tall, pointy silhouette floated, dragging another false Warden, trailing grey wisps, from one clawed, Chemtech-piped hand.
With contempt and annoyance, the robed figure grunted, floated the body in a pulse of electromagnetic force, and tossed them after their fellows into the river.
Then he looked at Vi.
“…Vi, the Piltover Enforcer…” he chuckled in disbelief.
Shadows were moving in the smog behind him. Undercity thugs, their Chemtech augmentations glowing ghastly green like the eyes of evil insects, armed to the teeth.
They were all of them, even the leader, scorched, scarred, and battered from extended combat, but they were in a lot better condition than Vi.
And she’d have known that voice across a crowded Piltie gala. He was a bit fucking memorable, for better or worse.
“Oh, hey,” she laughed, a bitter, spiteful cough, “Joy to me. It’s the fucking wizard.”
He gave a howling, maniacal cackle and spread his arms wide, and Vi had the sheer displeasure of watching him lift from the ground, robes floating impressively around him, and simply glide across the gap of the broken bridge on arcs of his lightning.
“The man you hurled into the Pilt is dead. Baptised, drowned, and reborn from the gifts of the Underworld,” he boomed, amid flashes of lightning in his eyes, “I am Stormshock!”
“Cool,” Vi muttered, eyes flicking behind him.
She had the even greater displeasure of seeing his companions fire grapnel lines into the wreckage of the bridge’s frame above her – soon, one by one, they were dropping in to back up their boss.
“…I am delighted at our unexpected reunion,” he purred as his boots touched down, strolling with his arms still theatrically spread, “My, though, if you don’t mind me saying, you’re looking a little worse for wear…”
Nearly twenty of them. Terrible fucking odds at the best of times, and this wasn’t the best of times.
“Bad day, Officer?” the wizard tilted his hood.
Vi wiped blood from her mouth.
“Had worse.”
His eyes flicked left of her, to the blooms of light across the river. The North Bridge. His grandiose demeanor melted away, a bitter sigh spilling from his lips.
“I don’t want to do this,” he muttered, “But I have to reach Luxanna.”
“You won’t,” Vi said, powering up her gauntlets, stepping to block their path.
“I have to,” said the wizard, “For Noxus, you see. I’m going home, Vi. She’s my only way home.”
“You’re not getting her,” Vi growled, “And you’re not going home.”
Stormshock stared at her in disbelief, raising a hand to still the raising weapons of his goons.
“If I had a mirror,” he shook his head, “I hate to break this to you, but you’re hardly going to stop me.”
“You want her,” Vi sneered through bloodied teeth, stall him, keep him talking, give Jinx time, “You’re going through me.”
“I very easily could right now,” Stormshock snapped, “But we’re wasting time – look!”
He pointed to iron wings rushing through the smoke, tearing Luxanna from her feet, a flickering candle in a storm.
“Noxus would exalt her, but that cursed Demacian is killing her!” he shouted, “Just get out of my way!”
Vi didn’t look, knowing what she’d see. She let go, trusting her sister, trusting Jinx.
She’s yours, sis. Heart and soul. Save her.
“No,” said Vi, and raised her gloves into a fighting stance.
“By the Bastion!” Stormshock shrieked in exasperation, “FINE!”
Lightning surged, lifting stones and dirt and scraps and corpses from the rubble; Stormshock’s minions shielded their faces as their master’s power rose –
Lightning slashed, purple-white…
And yellow-green.
Stormshock flailed, his fancy robes flapping, as his lightning collided with another snaking bolt and exploded with a white-hot pop and flash, hurling him off his feet and across a ruined slab of concrete.
His men swore and opened fire…
…their bullets crawled into their guns in reverse.
Vi blinked. No, that wasn’t – trick of the light – they just hadn’t fired yet –
Something spun across their path, smacking the guns out of their hands, knocking them on their asses.
Green. Slicing trails of green, carving the smog – figures soaring from the Trench, trailing hope.
Vi spat disbelieving laughter, “Ekko!”
From the swarm of green-glowing dropboards and the white-masked Firelights riding them, Ekko dropped into view, his hand snapping up to catch some kind of techno-gizmo-discus-thing Vi had never seen before.
“Hey, Vi,” he grinned, “Sorry we’re late. You look like ass.”
“Hey, Little Man,” she shot back, “Who’s your sparky friend?”
There was a girl beside him, bright green pigtails and chunky coat, crackling with small pulses of electricity, blowing smoke from the barrel of a battered red pistol.
“Zeri,” she said, grinning at Vi, “Hoy.”
She slid her fingers through Ekko’s and winked.
“Okay, that’s cute,” said Vi, but her gaze snapped to the wizard, who was picking himself up, all his Chemtech gear glowing as it cranked up.
“At lasssst…” he whispered, his eyes fixed on the girl, feral with excitement, “The reunion I wanted…”
“Fine,” she rolled her eyes, “Ekko, get Vi to your gaga ex, I got this asshole.”
“She’s not my-” Ekko bit his lip, looking at the girl’s bandaged arm, “You sure?”
“Don’t worry, kid,” another figure dropped from a board, stepping through the haze, cracking Shimmer-glowing mechanical knuckles, “She’s not alone.”
Vi boggled.
“What the…you…”
Sevika smirked at her.
“Get the fuck out of here, Vi,” her old rival chuckled, “Bring the brat home alive.”
Vi swallowed her disbelief, her questions, her pain, and nodded.
Ekko kicked his board and dropped in next to her, hand out. “Need a lift?”, he said.
She powered down her gauntlets and grinned ear to ear.
“Hope you can take the weight.”
She leapt on as he swooped for her, the board wobbling, but taking them both, veering toward the North bridge.
“-oof, too many donuts, Vi?”
“Watch it, Little Man.”
Their grins faded as they turned back to their goal.
The Pilt scrolled beneath them, Lightning at their back, and Light at their front.
For a moment, just a moment, she’d been able to forget.
…but she’d never forget the sound of Lux screaming as she fell.
Zeri turned to face the Noxian and blew a strand of green hair from her eyes.
The skies above them swirled, smoke and clouds coiling into black thunderheads.
“At last,” he was saying, pointing a thimble-tipped finger at her, his robes billowing in the rising winds, “Long have I awaited this moment, Spark of Zaun! Our destiny awaits us here, in this hour, my nemesis! I challenged you – to test your magic against mine! A storm such as the twin cities have never known! Together, we shall make the heavens quake, and the earth cry out a paaaeeeen to our gloooooryyyyyy!”
“Is he always like this?” Sevika asked her.
“Pretty much,” Zeri sighed, and stepped up to the lead of their pack.
Firelights swarmed behind her, and Sevika flanked her left, flicking away her cloak and raising her fists.
“Okay, gago,” Zeri said, the smell of ozone in her nostrils, her pigtails rising in the static, “You want a storm?”
She smiled.
“Bring on the thunder.”
Ezreal panted, hands on his knees.
The ache in his left leg gnawed like the damn Mageseeker’s knife was still in there, but it hadn’t stopped him.
He’d run, and run, and run until his lungs felt like they were full of broken glass.
But he hadn’t found Lux. He hadn’t even found the damn duckbreath Noxian. It had been one liminal nightmare landscape after another; nowhere he could see to Arcane shift to in the blinding quagmire, no way to catch up to everyone else…
By the time he’d shifted to where he’d seen the lightning go up, all that was there were the beaten-bloody forms of a few blue-haired protesters, and the scorched remains of several Wardens in full riot armor.
People he didn’t recognize, but the sight of their dead faces, the stench of their burnt flesh…stuck in his nostrils, his throat, his soul.
Whatever’d happened here, whoever’d been fighting who, he’d been too late.
Ez pushed on, running again, his lungs burning.
“…what a great day…” he panted to himself, blinking away sweat, “…everything’s on fire, can’t see a freakin’ thing, bodies everywhere, cool…”
Every now and then he’d catch a glimpse of Light – her Light – every now and then a flash of Hextech blue or the flicker of gunfire.
And every time he got there, he got there too late.
Surrounded by the bloody remains of Demacians in Mageseeker cloaks, scattered like broken dolls, Ezreal sank his hands to his knees and tried not to vomit.
Too late.
Tears stung the corners of his eyes.
I promised her…I’d never let them put hands on her again…what if she…
What if I did the right thing… let her go…just so I could be…too late?
Every muscle in his body suddenly tensed; Ezreal stumbled, craning his neck, smacked into a wall, gasped and pulled himself behind it as the sound went through him.
A howl.
His blood ran cold. That was impossible. It sounded like – there were no wolves in Piltover – and no wolf walked Runeterra that sounded like that.
“…kay,” he whispered, “New direction; away from that. Yeah.”
Away from that, toward the Light.
So many screams, echoing in the foggy haze, but one – from the river – rang clear and sharp in his ears. One of those screams was hers.
Ezreal bolted for it. Something was behind him in the gloaming shadow, pounding cobbles, huge, rasping breaths, ripping through the smoke in search of prey.
Ezreal’s spine chilled. He ran up a long stone ramp, kicked off an archway, sprinted along the curve, into the smog –
It suddenly ended in rubble.
“Ohshi-”
Ezreal jumped, from snapping jaws, screaming, legs flailing –
And tore out of the smoke at last.
Light – Light – there was Lux’s light, flashing far away, on a bridge – there was another bridge, or half of one – nearer, crackling with a cacophony of lightning and thunder and snaking arcs of green light – there was the black, glittering water of the River Pilt, rushing up toward him.
“-iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-”
Gold splashed.
Ezreal tumbled – far from the shadows of wolven teeth – onto scorching stones –
Into the middle of a freaking war zone.
There were Chemmed-up thugs spraying toxic fumes from tanks on their backs and pulsing purple-glowing shock prods– there were zipping, darting punks in white masks on dropboards, trailing green light – Firelights? Isn’t Vi friends with those guys?
And there was Kravius Goddamn Mallarde, dressed up in purple Zaunite street threads that just took him from ‘stereotypical evil wizard’ to ‘stereotypical evil techno wizard’, locked in the most terrifying magic duel Ezreal had ever seen with a punky looking girl with bright green pigtails.
Were he to retell the mighty tale, he truly might have said that had no words to describe it, except maybe shocking or electrifying or – or, look, there was just lightning goddamn everywhere, okay?
And amid the stench of ozone and petrichor and scorched, blasted stonework, Ezreal saw – when his eyes were done spotting from all the strobing and flashing – Vi’s distinctive pink hair soaring away across the dark water on the back of one of those dropboards, riding with some guy with rippling white locs who had no business looking as cool as he did.
Soaring toward Lux, locked in a storm of her own, Light and Shadow.
Ezreal drew his brows into a scowl of determination and the blue wings of his arcane bow blazed from the grip of his Gauntlet.
The pang, that Vi and her cool friend would miss how awesome he was about to be, came and went outa nowhere.
He ran – rolled, shot a blazing gatling-gun out of the grip of a mohawked Chempunk – pinged a descending axe-blade away from a fallen Firelight’s head – flipped over a slicing net-launcher – Arcane blasts zipping and darting wherever weapons were about to fall, wherever blood was about to be shed –
He shot weapons out of hands. He knocked explosives spinning into the Pilt. He knocked shooters off their aim.
Don’t care who’s fighting who! Enough bodies! Enough!
And always, he ran toward that distant Light.
Her bridge is too far, way too far, I can’t blip there – not in one jump – maybe twenty – I’d be in the river after the first–
The green-haired girl screamed.
She was moving, darting around the broken bridge, bounding off the pylons, lightning in her heels – her bolt-spitting gun chewing away the Noxian wizard’s crackling purple forcefield – but he kept slinging pieces of electrified metal debris at her amid one licking bolt of lightning after another.
And one struck a glancing blow to her bandaged arm. She tumbled, clutching it, giving a gasp of pain.
The wizard, cackling like a madman, suddenly stopped “…Spark? Are you-” and in that moment’s pause of shock – he saw Ezreal.
They locked eyes.
“Y-y-” Kravius sputtered behind his impressive mask, eyes bulging as he choked in sheer apoplexy, “Yyy-”
“Me,” Ezreal said, flipping his hair, and aimed a homing shot at the massive transistor tanks on his back.
“-YYYYOOOOUU!” the lightning mage cried, fingers spread to lick the heavens with lavender veins of electricity, and Ezreal squeezed his eyes shut, fully expecting to be fried–
But Ez’s shot arced, curved, and hit first.
One of the tanks exploded, the wizard arching his back, flailing for the tank, violet Chem-fumes pouring out of it. The girl on the ground gritted her teeth, rolled, and shot out the other.
Kravius stumbled and howled at the skies.
The girl was on her feet. She gave a sharp wolf-whistle, snapping Kravius’ gaze to her…
…and lifted him from the ground, flinging him into the miasma in a twisting neon bolt.
Flicker-flash, crack-rumble.
The lightning died away. Ezreal, daring to open his eyes again, lifted his head, finding the green-haired girl staring at him.
“…Ayo,” she coughed pale steam, more tendrils of it rising from her coat, “Nice save dude but…who are you?”
He flashed her a charming, if breathless grin.
“Name’s Ezreal,” he said, and gulped air before he nodded toward a dropboard, fallen near her, “Mind if I borrow that? Gotta rescue a princess.”
“Um, well,” she said, blowing a strand of green from her sweating brow, “Just to warn – my board’s waaaay faster than Ekko’s – cuz I strapped turbo jets to it – it’s a bit ‘experimental’…”
Off his antsy glances over the water, she shrugged.
“…Knock yourself out.”
“I probably will,” he admitted, slipping his feet into the straps and firing it up, furrowing his brows as he examined it, “Huh, bit stiff, calibrated to the Gray, I guess – are these the jet–”
The jets kicked in with a sputtering gush of of greenish flame. Ezreal shrieking as it tore him into the distance, pulling his goggles off his hair…
“Ooh, warned ya,” Zeri winced, picked up the goggles, and slipped them on her head, “I’ll hold onto these, okay?”
…but Ezreal didn’t hear her. Wind rushing in his face, hair stinging his cheeks, he quickly overtook Vi and her cool guy friend, zipping in an unintentional corkscrew as he did.
Their eyes briefly met, Vi’s brows furrowing, the cool guy’s face mouthing who the fu… and Ezreal dazzled him with his most rakish upside-down smirk and what he hoped was a cavalier wink before the madly-zig-zagging dropboard whooshed on past them, and Ezreal was forced to contend with the way it was banking hard to the right no matter what he did – skidding nearer and nearer the waterfront, nearer a shadow darting through the miasma…
…and away from Lux.
Drowning out even the wind in his ears, a horrifying scream spilled out over the water.
Ezreal snapped his gaze up to a falling figure, glowing in the gloom like a flickering candle as it fell from the darkness of the sky.
“Lux! NO!” he shouted, feet planting on the board, pulling with all his might to steer it from its wayward course to intercept her fate…
…too late…
Far too late.
Darkness above her. Fire below her.
Luxanna plummeted toward the burning bridge, far below, and the Light was not there to catch her.
Ebbing, her grip, her connection…
…the Light waited only for her to grasp its power. It was abundant, infinite, invincible…
But her flesh was not.
Her torn clothing flapped in the cold air. Her wounds trailed ribbons of blood. Her shorn hair whirled like wounded snakes. Death, death, death… waited for her below – waited for her above, in the spread wings of her murderer –
One last chance.
Lux closed her eyes, thrust her hand out into the tearing winds, and touched the Light within.
She didn’t hear it coming, whipping end over end, but her heart flowed with the Light, and trusted it.
Her staff slapped into her palm and Lux closed her fingers.
Light flooded out of her, through the comforting cold of the grip, down the haft of the staff, and into the crystal clasped in fingers of gold.
Rolling, washing, blooming out of her, she felt the ruthless talons of the wind slide away as the Light buoyed her body, cradled in its loving warmth, drifting her down toward the bridge.
Her staff clutched to her chest, Lux opened her eyes–
To see the swoop of rust and steel wings, to hear the screech of knifelike pinions, and to feel the stinging pain of talons, piercing her, again.
Lux screamed, a ragged shriek of agony, ripping from her throat to echo across the waters.
Kestrel slammed down upon her, smashed her into the cobbles of the bridge, and dragged her body like a broken doll through the flaming wreckage.
Light, her shield, her armor, her only defense, flickered, flickered, cracked, and burst.
Shuddering, shivering, Lux lay, curled fetal amid the broken flagstones, clutching the stump of her staff.
The Light in its crystal waxed and waned like the beat of a slowing heart.
Blood and phlegm dribbled when she coughed. Red smeared where she pressed to the broken stones. Her leg wasn’t moving right. Her fingers weren’t responding to grip what was left of her staff.
“…Jinx…” she whispered, through lips drooling with webs of blood, “…jinx…”
Raptorian claws scraped sparks on flagstones, clicking closer.
“Luxanna…” called the thready voice of her enemy, cold as ice but quavering with hate, “Shall I tell you a bedtime story, ere you sleep, Luxanna…? A tale of faraway, very far from here, but not so long ago…”
Her fluttering eyes opened; the creature had landed, wings folded, a slim, small, hooded form silhouetted in the fumes.
“A little provincial fortress town, soaked in cold rain. A town that couldn’t sleep. A magistrate’s son, missing for days. A beautiful maiden, sister of a hero, riding in on her white horse.”
And it…they…were walking closer, step after clicking step.
“Do you remember the boy?”
Braids snaked through the dancing cinders.
The waterfront burned; fire, fire, her own cursed fire, burning everything, everywhere – blocking even her vision – my fault, I Jinxed it again – she couldn’t see the Bridge.
Jinx’s breath was shuddering, ragged snarls. Grief – Vi – rage – and fear – Lux…lux… – all mingling into something she had no word for.
Fools and foes lurched now and then from the dark. Pilties in their stupid top-hats and their stupid frills and foppery, bumbling around trying to put the fires out, fleeing in terror at the sight of a face on all the Wanted posters.
Rioters – blue haired, crude approximations of her graffiti spattering their clothes and bodies – stopping to stare in awe at her as she flew past them, as if they’d seen a ghost, a prophet, a Darkin all wrapped up in one.
Copycats. Sympathizers…
She didn’t know what to feel about that, so she felt nothing at all.
Lux…Lux…
And then there were enemies.
White-cloaked Mageseekers roamed in disoriented little packs searching for Lux, shouting old-timey-curses. The flash and boom of magic that didn’t smell like it belonged to them the way hers did blinked and scorched and froze and spat at her…
…the stupid magic-sucking rocks they relied on to protect them, though, didn’t stop bullets.
Enforcers, armored brutes, barked orders through their breather masks, eyes glowing as they caught particulates in the haze. Their guns, their tactics, deadly but predictably familiar, their glowing-eyed masks making them so easy to see when they couldn’t see her.
Jinx left piles of them perforated in her wake. They didn’t matter. Obstacles, frustrations, in her way –
No Chompers. No Fishbones rockets. One chain left for Pow-Pow and only six Zapper shots. She was running low on freaking ammo, and Lux could be-
Lux Lux LUX…
She felt Lux getting closer. Jinx couldn’t explain it if she tried. Lux was crawling in her spine, shivering in her skin, crying out for her.
Her magic. Her pain. The darkness crawling over her. Jinx felt it all.
Even the soft steps of Two approaching, moving where even Jinx could not see, upon their inevitable mission.
Jinx’s cold heart blazed.
She would fight them both for Lux.
The smoke parted, and there lay the bridge.
And there lay Lux, like a candle, flickering.
A figure like a bird of prey twisted into the shape of a person – no it was a Thing, all of floating, whispering shadows – blinking between the two as it approached her…
There lay Lux, dying.
Too far away.
Jinx, eyes wide, lips shivering, screamed…
A howl, somewhere, answered.
Glowing green flowed through the darkness and haze behind Jinx’s back. Jinx twisted to face it.
But what rushed out of the smoke at her back was not the Wrath of Zaun. It was a sweat-soaked, wide-eyed boy on a souped-up Firelight dropboard, leaning as he banked jaggedly to pass her.
“Come on!” Ezreal cried, his hand flailing for hers.
Hope and fury igniting in her, Jinx snatched his hand and leapt.
“Fossbarrow,” Lux whispered, “Luca…”
She’d rolled onto her back, her ribs gnawing at her sides with every breath, her lips swollen, blood dripping into her eyes.
The crows cawed somewhere, wheeling in the sky, but did not descend.
It wasn’t their turn.
“…who…are you?”
“No one you’d remember,” a thin, bitter gasp of a chuckle, “We were only children then. And by your return visit, your uncle, and the Order, had claimed me already.”
“Then…you’re…Magistrate Giselle’s…you’re Luca’s…”
“Ah, you do remember him, then? A brave, kind boy,” Kestrel continued, their voice soft, a storyteller’s murmur somehow cutting through the crackle of the fires, “With a secret in his heart. What was his secret, Luxanna…?”
“He was…” she choked, gulping for air, struggling to push herself up, “No…I tried to…”
The talons clicked closer.
With each step, the shadows crept a little closer, too. Crawling where they flickered in the fire’s reflections, twisting and dancing into the shapes of nocturnal horrors, painting the words of the story on the broken cobbles and blasted pylons.
“When the curse fell over that town, when Shadow claimed that boy as its own, when it choked him in Nightmare and I – and I was –”
Their footsteps slowed, a tremor cutting through that voice.
“…I wasn’t there to save him…”
A shuddering breath shook their brown-and-grey cloak.
“A shining maiden rode to his aid, like a hero of legend. She banished the shadows, like her ancestor before her. She drove out the nightmare, lifted the curse, and saved the boy.”
Lux’s breath quickened, tears streaming down her cheeks, “Luca…I…I swear I never…”
“And then she told him something. Didn’t she, Luxanna?”
She shook her head, tangled gold streaked with blood.
“I…I told him that…”
Lux’s battered fingers found a solid piece of masonry; pushed, testing her weight, pushing herself slowly, weakly to her feet.
“She told him he was safe,” Kestrel snarled, “She told him she would help him! That he didn’t have to be afraid of himself anymore. That they’d learn to control it – together!”
It cut her, right to her heart, deeper, crueler, than any whip, claw or blade.
“And then she did what heroes do.”
She saw their shoulders tensing beneath the cowl and cloak; the faceless mask stared at her, blank, soulless, but the figure beneath it trembled.
A blink, and they were on her, kicking her knee out from under her, a fist cracking her temple, slamming her down against the stones again, stabbing into her back, her shoulders, through the dints they punched in her cuirass.
“She got on her white horse and rode away.”
They loomed above her, in the flames, against the burning night sky.
“…I-”
A talon speared through her right hand, pinning it to the stones. A searing, blinding pain; Lux could only gape. Lux tried to lift her other hand, Light glowing between her fingers, a dimming candle.
The foot twisted, cruelly, and yanked away from her pierced hand. Its talons snapped about her raised wrist, biting into the bracer, drawing blood.
Kestrel’s gloved hand flicked out to one side, a second set of iron claws slithering from the wrist, locking over the knuckles. Between the fingers, oozing, seething Shadows crept to meet her Light.
The head twisted, cocked like a bird, black pits staring, pitiless.
“You gave my brother a gift, Luxanna. What was the gift? What did the Light create?”
Lux breathed through the shrilling agony, her eyes dimming, the Light in her hand ebbing away.
“Hope,” she answered, a broken whisper.
“It wasn’t enough,” said Kestrel, “Luca is dead.”
Lux shivered, tears glittering, lifting her eyes to those holes, wishing she could see the human eyes beyond them, even if they hated her.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“No,” said Kestrel, “You aren’t. Not yet.”
They lifted those claws –
To their mask.
And pulled it away.
From no̪ ͉̗f̳ac̼͉͇̜̠̻e̬̻̣̟̺̱ ̤͉ at all.
Nothing lay beyond the mask but darkness, seething, empty planes of shadow. The eyes weren’t pinpoints anymore; they were white, dancing flames, oozing from hollow sockets.
Lux sucked in air, stinking of the grave, tasting of the bitter, black soil, soggy, soaked in the rain of the northwest marches of Demacia – every nightmare, on my lips, on my tongue – just the same as that first night years ago…
In Fossbarrow, where, under the soil of her ancestor’s tomb, It had been sealed by his brave but futile sacrifice, seething in its imprisonment for generations, until a frightened young mage boy had slept exhausted upon the soil, and given it his tears…
…and his dreams.
The faceless visage danced like an inverted flame, roiled like the smoke, shedding no light, only Darkness.
Two Demons once stalked Demacia.
One, high above the rotten rows, cloth and metal, teeth and crows…mimicking, luring, stalking, feasting…
The other, creeping across the bedcovers, stealing sleep, twisting dreams, feeding like a foul, shadowy leech unseen…
A predator and a parasite.
Fear and Nightmare.
Now both were here.
The shadows coiled under her body, a bed of trickling, cold wisps lifting her until she knelt before her executioner.
Nocturne lifted a finger of oozing darkness to the gap where its lips should have been.
She knew, somehow, it was smiling.
The claws clamped on her Demacian breastplate and tore it away, snapping the straps, knocking the wind from her body.
Eyes wide, shadows creeping into their corners, twisting into the shapes of all of her midnight fears, Lux sucked her consciousness into her Light, plunging into its radiant wellspring to defend herself –
Too late. Kestrel’s other hand stabbed a petricite injector into her heart.
Pain shot through her – unimaginable pain – gnawing, gnashing - a million cold chalky needles – eating into the Light, suffocating its flow through her veins.
Lux tried to scream, but only choked. Spittle, blood, flecked her lips.
Her frantic eyes, staring in all directions, thought she caught glints – of purple – of green – glowing trails slicing closer, over the water –
A void, not of darkness, but of petricite gray, seeped into her vision.
.̘.̳̞̪̣̥̫̗.̺̙̬̯͎͙S̘̖l̥e̪̞e͕̩̬͕̦p̞̳̩̦ͅ.̗͈͚̯.̣̺.̲͔͙̖ whispered the Nightmare Man.
Light, fading, ebbing, d̤̬i̳m̬̥̳mi̼͖̫͉ng͉ …she did.
Kestrel breathed out. Watched her, dying, all that beautiful Light leeched of its many colors.
Shadows oozing from their feet, oozing through their veins, painting their every subconscious horror on the world around them.
The Demon had won, and Kes, numbly, wondered why they’d fought so hard to stop it.
Years of the hollow ache of vengeance. Years of staving It off in their dreams, in the agony of petricite tattoos, keeping It in…
Trickling away with her heartbeat, and Kestrel felt nothing.
“Fade away now, Luxanna,” they murmured, let her slump, and picked up their fallen weapon, “And leave me with my ghosts.”
She was still breathing. She might succumb to her many wounds. Kestrel was amazed she was still able to kneel. But the petricite wouldn’t kill her.
She hadn’t even told them why she’d left Luca. They’d not given her the chance.
A flick of the wrist, the thumbing of a latch; the whip slithered back and locked into a sword.
Movement caught the corner of their eye, a snaking trail of green.
By the time they’d burst from the smoke, the boy and the girl on the juddering dropboard, Kestrel was already behind Luxanna, claws pulling her head back by the hair.
They lifted the edge to her throat.
The look on Ezreal’s face was one of pure anguish. The look on the face of the girl – the face that must be Jinx – was indescribable.
“Stop!” Ezreal roared, raw-throated, the blue-glowing bow at his wrist drawn, “Don’t touch her you fucking monster!”
If Kestrel felt anything at all, they might have laughed.
Jinx said nothing. Her eyes promised death. She dropped from the board and stalked, circling, a clunky, three-barreled weapon taut in her ice-white grip.
There were more green trails coming.
“Let her go or you die!” Ezreal snarled, face white as ash, his bow-hand shaking.
“I died already,” Kestrel said softly, “On the floor of a Mageseeker prison. With my brother’s last breath.”
Ezreal clenched his teeth.
Jinx simply pointed her gun at Kestrel and began to spin the barrels, calling their bluff.
“I don’t care,” she said.
Kestrel locked eyes, black to glowing pink.
“She did,” they said, and slit Lux’s throat.
Jinx’s universe shattered in a slither of steel.
Lux’s eyes opened, right in that moment, focused on hers, blue as the sky, bluer than her hair, blue as love.
Her throat opened, too.
R͜e̶d. ̵Po͟u͢rin̴g. ̢F͝all͞in̵g͜.
The eyes widened and saw nothing more. The Light went out of them.
She fell, empty.
Jinx heard nothing. Saw nothing. Didn’t even feel Pow-Pow’s trigger in her grip.
A black hole collapsed in her heart, while the watching crows laughed triumph.
Pink blazed and screamed for her, the teeth of her Wolf-soul shrieking her agony from spinning barrels. Blue-white arrows of arcane force ripped and scorched to her left. The boy – the pauper-prince, who’d loved her too – was screaming and crying at the same time as his bow howled again and again.
Together, they tore into the grey and brown bird, ripped holes through it, punched it to shredded pieces while it took slow, swaying steps toward them, arms spread, laughing as its body flinched and jerked, sloughing off all human shape, until it was nothing but black blood and smoldering wisps of shadow –
The shadows had nearly reached Jinx, their claws snaking for her throat.
But Lux was hollow eyed on the stones, blood pooling from her throat, sticking to her golden hair.
…gone gone gone…
And Jinx died there too, with the last beat of Lux’s hear–
⧗
The claws snaked back from Jinx’s throat.
The human shape sloughed back together, bullets peeling from its flinching, jerking flesh, arrows flashing back to their spectral bow, the brown and grey bird walking step-by-step-by-step backward through a hellstorm of grief, loss and hate-
Golden hair glinted as it peeled from a spreading pool of blood, flowing backward into a pale throat –
Steel slid in reverse.
⧖
The Timewinder smashed the sword from Kestrel’s grip, sending it spinning into the river. Black eyes widened – in shock – in thwarted rage.
Their iron claws hissed, raised to tear Lux’s eyes from their sockets…
…Vi’s massive Atlas Gauntlet clamped over Kestrel’s hand. Gray eyes burned into the black. Hextech fingers clenched, crunching steel, leather, flesh, and bone into a shapeless pulp.
“No,” she said, and her other fist crashed into Kestrel’s face, hurling them back – her fingers stayed clenched – the sheer force of the punch ripped Kestrel’s hand, wrist, and arm from their elbow, the stump spouting blood black as ink.
The shocked, agonized face beyond that falling hood was pale, with delicate, heart-shaped features, wide black eyes, tousled strings of black hair.
But the scream that tore from their throat was nothing human.
Silver daggers zipped from their other hand toward where Lux still slumped–
A glowing green sword-bat parried them aside. Ekko dropped in front of her and caught the Timewinder with his other hand.
Kestrel’s banshee wail rose, mouth a hideous black circle – no teeth or tongue – eyes empty holes, just the same, the white face just a skin mask over black black black –
A wall of shadows crept up behind Ekko, seething into screaming pinpoint-eyed silhouettes, a man and a woman, gaunt and skeletal, clawing to pull him down into the b̲̖̞̫͈̮ot͇̟͎̜͎̦ͅt͓͔o̭̭̗̗̱̪m̖͓l̜̩ess̠̱ ͈̳̗d͉͎̬͔̪̞͙ar̪k ͔̭̹̳̯̩̼of –
Ezreal ran, slid, two arcane shots flashing past Ekko, tearing through the specters of his dying parents, shattering them apart into wisps of shadow. Their eyes met, and Ezreal actually, somehow, still had the audacity to give that charming smirk.
“Hey.”
Then he twisted, face filling up with icy wrath. His bow zipped again, tearing through Kestrel’s other hand, another shot ripping through their thigh, dropping them to one knee.
“Should have started with the left!” he spat and aimed again.
Kestrel lunged, clawing for their petricite shield, and swung it up to block the shot that would have taken their head.
Jinx, still staring at Lux, sucked in her breath.
Lux’s eyes opened.
Blue.
Bright.
Alive.
You.
Lux smiled with bloody lips.
Jinx, eyes trailing Shimmer tears, tore her gaze from Lux, swiveled and let Pow-Pow burn.
Triple barrels spun as Jinx advanced, Kestrel withering and flinching like a flower in a hailstorm – bullet after high-powered bullet punching through the petricite shield –
Its magic-draining power proved worthless against hot Chemtech-propelled lead.
The minigun ripped through the shield, their breastplate, their body; Kestrel’s back arched, black spears spewing from every bullet hole like inverted shafts of light –
“What the fuck are you…?” Vi whispered, falling in by her sister, fists raised.
The scream rose higher.
Jinx screamed, too, clenching her eyes shut as the sound overwhelmed her sensitive hearing; the others doubled over, covering their ears. The Bridge rattled, the burning wires wobbling and slashing, rubble and gravel hissing as it vibrated, cracks spreading in the stone.
Shadows spilled from every one of them, a seething, roiling, night-black sea, the Pilt rising up over them black as oil, cold as death, and stinking of a thousand opened graves –
Shadows – taking form – stealing sight – Vi, Ekko, Ezreal and Jinx crowded together, back to back, shielding Lux with their bodies, staring wide-eyed into the heart of a black hurricane – everywhere teeth – s̘̹̬n̞͇̮̦̰̼͕e͈̜ẹ̝r̫i͔͈n̼̻͈̬g̺͕̪̱ͅ ̞̯̯̘̜̣̠f̱̙͍̫̩ͅa͉̻̣c̝͇e͓̦̬̼͓s ̤̮̮– ̤͕s͇̮̮͚̺̘o̪͍͖ͅb̝̩͎ͅb͍͖̗i͕n̩g̖̙̼, t̩̟̰͚ẉ̠̝̤is̯̺̪̞̩̹t̼̬̭̮̯̳e͍̳̜d͖ ̪̘̤̳͍̗̺vis͚̖̱̦ag̙̰ͅe̟͉̬͓ͅs̝͍̫ ̺̻̱͇o̗̹̩͖f̟̜͈̝̣ ̱l̘̖̪̠͉o̤̜̠s̖̠̱ͅt̤ ̲lo̠̲͇͓v͕̰͖͍̦e͇̱d̘̰ ͉͉̺on̹̮͙e͚̩͉̟̩͕s̝̣̻̱̠̙̖ ̯͙̪–̮͓̬̝̳̦ ̪t͖̖̹̼̪w̼̥̪̲i͚̰̯̼͎̺s̫̥͓̤̲t͚̩e̻̱̺d͉ ͍̙̻̥m̙̟̺͇̙̖͔a̫̳̹͍l̝̦̫̯̺̻̲f̥̬̹̺̝o̗͈̞̭̣̫r̪̤͚͓͍̼̳m͎̗͕̞͇̳̲e͈̞̦̭d ͎̬b̙̳̹e̫a̠̯͔̩͙͚̖s͇͈̭͕̗t͖̱̺̠͓̝̞s̬̰̪͉̮̰ ̝̦͔̖͖̰̹–̜͎̼̱̝̖̮ ̘̞̰o̮oz̰i̻͉̜n͈͖͚g̗̻ ͖͕̰r̗̬͚͉͍ͅͅe̻̯͕m̝i̠̖̜͓ͅn͍̤d̬̜͈̳̘̩e̮̼͉̮̠r̥̭̣̳̱͈̼s͖̪ ͔͖̗̹o̙̜̗̗̬f̰̹̬̞̝ ̱̝͓̝̬͚͉f̝̜a̪̠̰̯̮̞il̩̖̩̣̥͙͎u͓̩̦͇r̹͚͔̦͚e̘̦̯,̫̗̗ ̞͇̞o̮͚̥f͓ ͇̩̫l͓̝͚o̱̦̤̘̯s̲̣̟̰̖͔͉s͕̖̟ͅ,̙̼ ̼͕̭̙̯̪w͖̣̗̭̻̱̺ea̫̘̩̙k̙̟͔͕͔̪n̘̝͇e͕͚̬ṣ̗̭s̘͙̳͕̪̟̩ ̹̰͚̬–̹͍̮ ̗o͙f͎͈̗̭̜͎̺ ̥̯͓ͅ
N ̻̱̪̥̮̜Ḭ̙̠̺͚̭ G͓̮̤͇͖̫̣ ̠̺̟͍H͓ ̜͓̱͚͈ͅT͚̼ ̫̱̭̹̰̙ͅM̯̼̺̥̺ ̳̥͉̯A͉̯ ̻̼͎R̳̞̙̜͔̲͉E̯͈̱͕ ̖͖͓̗͙–̝̭̜͚͕
Kestrel’s mangled body faded into silhouette, lost in the abyssal winds.
Slowly, puppet-like, it raised to its feet. The stump of the arm flicked out, squelching and bunching hideously as slimy black claws wriggled their way from the elbow – fingers – a hand – a new arm – pushing from the ruination –
With the ringing of a thousand razors, a gigantic, jagged blade ripped from the forearm, mirrored by its twin on the opposite arm.
The face that lifted wasn’t Kestrel anymore. Nocturne’s eyes danced, white pools of flame in bottomless, ever-shifting void of its sockets.
The sun rose behind them.
Luxanna Crownguard pushed to her unsteady feet, her eyes lost in blinding luminosity, her shaking, trembling body spearing its radiance in all directions.
A scream of her own tore in answer; both of her hands thrust out, fingers hooked, and with them rose a ragged, roiling, unstable pillar of LIGHT–
Shadows, wailing, crawled into every crack and crevice on the bridge, as Nocturne abandoned Kestrel to their fate.
Lux unleashed.
Her friends threw themselves aside and shielded their eyes – the beam swung to follow the path of her hands like the sword of a towering titan.
It sizzled and steamed as it sliced a rift in the River Pilt; it scorched and melted stone, brass and iron as it cut through the North Bridge –
It sliced straight through Kestrel’s armor, their steel wings eaten through like dry paper, and straight through their body at the waist.
The two halves of Kestrel toppled from the shattering bridge, tattered wings fluttering, black eyes staring up as they fell, far from their dreams of the sky.
They tumbled down, down into the dark, where they belonged.
Zeri’s everything hurt. The Piltie boy with the energy bow – cute, she’d admit, but weird – was long gone, wobbling on an unfamiliar dropboard across the darkness of the river after Vi and Ekko.
She wished she could follow. She wished she could move another goddamn step. Straight from the Firelight tree, to here; her arm was a mess of searing pain, her legs were jelly, her magic was exhausted flickers.
It had all gone quiet over the water. The that mesmerizing, terrifying pillar of light was gone, the sounds had died down, the wrecked bridge – two down now, Zeri had to wonder how Piltover would take that – had faded into the fumes.
Whatever had happened on that bridge with Lux, with Vi, with Ekko and Jinx, she had no power to influence it.
She could only hope, and deal with what was in front of her right now.
Shimmer-purple glowed in the rusty haze; slumped bodies, kneeling, surrendering enemies. Pain and exhaustion and the post-battle haze.
Sevika, spitting blood from a split lip, kicked the legs out from under the last of the Noxian’s minions still standing and raised her fist.
“…W-wait!”
A thin hand, tipped with ruined metal claws, rose out of the brume; the wizard was crawling forward, on his hands and knees.
He scrabbled in front of the pile of wounded goons, pushing between Sevika and the skinny Chempunk in a red bandanna cowering before her fist.
“Stop,” he rasped behind his breather, between wheezing, smoking breaths, “I…I lost…”
“Yeah,” said Sevika, “You sure did.”
She raised her fist again.
“Wait, Sevika!” Zeri said, hand up, “Let him talk.”
“You nuts, Zeri?” The brawny woman stared aghast at her, then at the Noxian, snorting in disgust, “Hasn’t he talked enough? We ought to ice this clown and move on.”
Zeri shook her head. The Noxian looked up at her.
“I’m beaten, Spark,” he wheezed, “You’ve bested me. Pains my Noxian heart to choose the Lamb…but my life is forfeit to your mercy.”
He knelt before Zeri and bared his throat, shaking, but firm.
“I beg only that you spare my men,” he said, “They are of Zaun, like you, the bravest I’ve ever served with, loyal without exception.”
“Boss…” quavered the thin guy, “What are you doing?”
“Let them live,” said Kravius, “And end me how you please.”
Zeri looked at him, at the gun in her hand, and grunted in disgust.
She lowered her pistol and sighed.
“…Go home, man.”
To her surprise, his shoulders crumpled, his already labored breathing growing thicker.
“I…can’t,” he said, “You don’t know Noxus. I failed the Grand General. Without her I’ll be killed on sight.”
Zeri growled, staring at him in disbelief.
“…then why the hell do you want to go back there?”
“It’s my home,” he said, sinking further into his despairing puddle of scorched robes, “I’ve nowhere else.”
Zeri breathed in and out, an aching breath, and slumped down on a chunk of rubble opposite him. She gave him a weary glance, then looked to the somber expressions of his Chempunks, all of them fixed on their ‘boss’, as he laid his life on the line for theirs.
“Yeah. I don’t think that’s true.”
Stormshock lifted his hood, “What?”
Zeri chewed her lip, staring out across the water, into the ash-choked night – wondering if they’d all be okay.
“Home doesn’t have to be a place, gago,” she said, with a smile, “Sometimes it’s not a where, it’s a who.”
Without another word, she closed her eyes, sucked in her breath, and pushed up to her feet. She swept her gaze over her friends and nodded.
Gathering their wounded, and leaving their defeated foe with their own, the Firelights withdrew, glowing threads fading into the dark.
Sevika lingered, glaring at the wizard and his thugs.
“Not many people get a second chance,” she growled, “Don’t waste it.”
Then she, too, was gone.
“Boss…” Bench swallowed, “What…what do we do? What about Trezk?”
Stormshock, eyes distant, slowly pushed to his feet.
“He can shove his little war where the Gray dare not creep.”
He unclipped his mask, coughing in the bitter air, and smiled with scarred lips.
“Gentlemen. Let’s go home.”
Jinx stared in awe into the glowing trail still cut into the night sky, bisecting the clouds right through to shining starlight.
Her heart still pounded, her eyes still burning with the reflection of what Lux had done…
Of what Lux was.
Then her eyes focused on her.
“…Blondie…” she whispered, Pow-Pow clattering to the ruined bridge as she ran to Lux’s side.
Lux gasped, wheezed, and dropped to her knees.
Smoke was rising from her eyes, from her nostrils, her lips, her skin.
“…w-what’s wrong with her?” Jinx stammered, “What’s wrong with her!?”
Only now did Jinx register the extent of her wounds.
She was bleeding from gash after gash, her leg bent awkwardly, one arm hanging wrong. Wet holes in her tunic wept dark stains. Her face, swollen, her lips split and cracked, eyes nearly gummed shut by all the blood and bruising.
She barely looked like Lux anymore.
Jinx shook like a leaf. Their faces were around her. Vi – Vi! – Ekko – Ezreal –
Lux was making horrible sounds. Wrong sounds. That weren’t breathing, wheezing, coughing, choking. Just a thin, rattling whine that pulled into and out of her chest.
Her eyes locked onto Jinx, but she couldn’t speak.
“I don’t know – I don’t know – something’s wrong with her magic–” Ekko cupped hands over his mouth, his little genius mind scrambling for an answer behind his eyes.
“She – what? She burned herself out?” Vi snapped, “Does that even happen?”
“No,” Ezreal was babbling, “No no–” he had an empty injector in his hand – “It’s petricite, they–she forced her magic through it-oh no, oh shit no-”
Jinx heard nothing more.
Her hand throbbed, reminding her of a fresh-healed cut. She snatched the thing from Ezreal’s hand, smashed it on the stones and slashed her hand with the torn edge of the metal tube.
“Wait-!”
“…stay stay stay,” she whispered, blubbered, as she poured her dark blood into Lux’s mangled lips, “…please please…Luxie…”
Lux’s eyes blurred out again, then focused on her.
Shimmer pink snaked through the blue irises, mingled with the gold of her light still lingering there like the afterglow of a glorious sunset.
The flesh-wounds began to crawl closed, her veins darkening, twisting, glowing, her body jerking, a snarl from her lips.
Lux’s eyes flared wide – Jinx held her tight, knowing how Shimmer rage could be, lending all her strength to holding her girlfriend down, close, tight, safe, until it was over.
Shimmer and gold met, mingled and – flickered – like a fritzing chem-bulb.
Lux started choking. Froth bubbled at her lips. Her skin was turning grey.
“No-no-no it’s not working it’s not working it’s not working–I was just trying to-”
Jinx wailed, sobs tearing at her lips.
“I was trying to help Luxie Luxie no no no please please don’t go please I was only-”
Ezreal had both hands cupped over his mouth. Vi’s face was ashen, Ekko’s frozen.
None of them were helping.
None of them could.
Dimly, Jinx heard the familiar spit and ping of bullets hitting stone and metal.
Shadows were moving toward them across the way. Of course, the Enforcers – the traitors who shot Vi – of course they’d seen that. Everyone from here to Bilgewater must have seen the last desperate beam of Lux’s light, slitting open the heavens.
Everyone would be coming for them.
They were marching in, cautious, shooting from cover. With the bridge cut in half, they were trapped. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do but die.
Jinx was okay with that. Lux was shaking in her arms, slipping away from her, and there was nothing she could do. No enemy to shoot. No bomb to blow.
At least she had her sister here, her best friend, and Ez was okay too, maybe.
Vi flung her gauntlets up, pinging Enforcer bullets from the backs of their massive palms. She twisted, looking over her shoulder at Jinx.
Why? It’s over.
Jinx looked back.
“Go!” said Vi, “Get out of here, Jinx!”
“…what?”
A warm hand on her shoulder. Dark-skinned fingers, worn gloves, a face she used to love to see smile. Ekko was pointing at the dropboards.
“We can take her!” he shouted, “We’ve got her. It’s okay!”
Ezreal knelt and slipped his arms around Lux, his eyes frightened, gingerly pulling her out of Jinx’s arms –
“No no – no you can’t – don’t-”
Jinx fought the urge to bite his face off, to kick, to scream, to cling to Lux.
Their fingers slipped apart.
“Go!” Vi shouted, teeth clenched, her shield rippling with each impact, “Get her to the hospital! Now!”
Blue eyes half-opened one more time to brush hers as Lux was pulled away from her.
Ekko had her, now, her arms over his shoulders, her head lolling against his back. The green trail lit, and he gave Jinx a worried glance over his shoulder.
Ezreal was shouting something, pointing in the direction of the hospital building for Ekko to see. He ran for his own dropboard.
An Enforcer grenade rolled near his foot.
Jinx sprang up, pouncing like a cat, knocking him down behind a fallen pylon. The grenade blew, and so did the fuel in the board’s turbo-jets; Ezreal’s ruined dropboard spun away into the Pilt.
Ezreal locked eyes with Jinx, white-faced.
Ekko peeled away into the sky, with Lux, snaking into the dark haze toward the silhouettes of Piltover’s mighty towers.
And Lux was gone.
“We’ve gotta go!” Vi growled, while the Enforcers at the end of the bridge were reloading for another volley, “She’ll be okay! Worry about us!”
Jinx let out a shivering breath, her broken eyes to her sister’s.
“Trust us,” said Ezreal, “Please.”
Vi nodded at her and gave her those gray puppy eyes.
She flinched as a ricochet hissed near her face, and turned, ripping up a chunk of masonry to use as a bullet shield.
Jinx swallowed a shaking, bottomless rage, bowed her head, and pushed to her feet.
Ezreal turned to the gap in the bridge and hesitated, looking at his gauntlet, and then at Jinx.
Jinx scowled and shoved him; he got the message, pinching his finger to his wrist and vanishing in a splash of gold. Another blinked on the other side of the broken bridge, but she couldn’t see him anymore.
Jinx took a deep breath and looked back at her sister.
There were too many of them, and she was out of ammo, and here they were, together, and-
“I love you, Vi.”
Jinx’s chest swelled up as she heard her own voice say it. She didn’t know where it’d come from. Hidden in her, all these years, beneath all the spite and bitterness and guilt. Such a simple thing to say. So easy. So impossible.
Maybe hearing Lux say it had changed that.
Vi stiffened up and stared at her. The Enforcers were coming closer, reloading again, trying to angle to get a shot through Vi’s cover.
Vi stretched her hand, those giant metal monster hands that were capable of so much pain and so much protection all at once.
“Too much,” Jinx whispered, when they were close, when her tiny hands were in Vi’s huge one.
Vi drew her close, squeezed her against sweat, solace, strength, sister…
“Too much,” Vi whispered back.
Then Jinx felt her tense up. The huge hands closed over her. Vi’s legs bunched, and she was running, clutching Jinx to her like a child.
Running for the edge of the broken bridge.
Vi leapt, screaming out her pain and fury, Jinx tight against her chest, Hextech blazing around them, jets of light venting from the backs of her gloves.
The world jolted dizzily, crazily, Jinx sucked in air – they weren’t going to make it –
Vi unfurled her arms, flinging Jinx ahead of her, tumbling in a jolting agony onto the broken pavers, rolling over and over –
Vi’s fingers clamped onto the very edge of the crumbling bridge.
She pulled herself up, bullets pinging around her.
Jinx, dizzy, swaying on her feet, emptied the last six bullets in Zapper into the first five Enforcers at the edge of the bridge. She wasn’t even sure if she’d killed them; she wrapped an arm around Vi and ran, dodging away into the smoke, tears running down her cheeks.
No time for thought. No time for anything.
Ezreal was there. Of course, he’d waited for them, because he was a stupid dork maybe not the worst, and she maybe shouldn’t have kissed him and hurt him and made Lux mad at her but that made her think of Lux and then everything hurt too much.
So, she didn’t. She just ran.
The Enforcers must have circled around, at some point, because they found themselves running down an alleyway and out into a broad Piltie concourse, the tall buildings evidently having trapped the smog. It was even darker here than on the bridges.
Except for the eyes of the marching Enforcers, taking up firing positions at the end of the street, blinding floodlights booming as they pulled on, strobing through the burning mist.
Jinx looked at her empty gun, and then at Vi.
Vi glared at them, scowled, and pushed in front of Jinx, shielding her sister with her own body.
“We’ve got her, come find us when it’s safe!” she growled, “Ez, get her out of here. She’s public enemy number one, go somewhere nobody will see her!”
“What?” he gulped, “What about you?”
“Someone’s been recruiting from Stillwater,” Vi spat on the ground, “I’ve got a score to settle.”
Jinx shook her head, lips quivering.
“Hey,” Ez said, squeezing her hand, his charming smirk somehow more charming when he was so obviously putting on a brave face over terror and worry for her sake, “Your sister’s tougher than that rhino you stole from the zoo. She’s got this. She’ll come meet us.”
“You’re full of it, bucko,” Jinx, breathing hard, stared at him, “But whatever! Fine!”
One last look shared with Vi.
“Die and I’ll haunt you,” Jinx whispered.
One last crooked, exhausted smile returned, “Promise?”
Then Jinx and Ezreal peeled away into the smoke –
Bullets zipped and popped – Ez wasn’t even stopping to return fire, and Jinx had nothing – Zapper was dry – Pow-Pow was on the broken bridge – Fishbones bounced, empty on her back – her Chomper belt blown sky high with the Vault.
They were still hunting her.
“Hey!” someone shouted, “It’s her! It’s Jinx! It’s actually Jinx!”
Figures loomed in the smoke ahead of her and Ez. Jinx gritted her teeth, ready to fight tooth and nail if she had to…
Until a flaming bottle swept past her, smashing in front of an Enforcer at the mouth of an alley.
“Get them away from her! Nobody touches Jinx!”
Bodies ran past them. Blue dye, blue hair like hers, ocean splashes in the rusted grey.
Jinx stared in confusion; someone took her hand. Bodies were crowding around her, shielding her.
Above, a banner waved, tattered, with an approximation of her monkey on it.
“Not enough teeth,” she mumbled, but Ez was there with her, looking just as confused as she was, and someone had pressed one of those bottles into his hand.
“Jinx!” someone shouted, but not the way people usually did; a pretty, curvy girl with brown hair dyed blue halfway leaned in, “We’re with you!”
“What…?” She whispered, numb, “Why?”
“Because you’re Jinx!” the girl shouted, as if that explained everything, and Jinx peered past her, watching as blue-haired protesters became blue-haired rioters, swooping on the Enforcers in the smoke with their signs, makeshift weapons, their bare hands, “You started it!”
The girl pushed ahead of her, swinging a sign to bean an Enforcer in the face, and that’s when Jinx recognized her from her wedding.
The weight in her heart was still there. The hole where Lux should have been. But that couldn’t keep the madwoman’s smile from twitching on her lips.
It only made it madder.
She grabbed the bottle from Ezreal and lobbed it at an Enforcer’s head.
The Enforcers shouted familiar warnings, but Vi knew the difference from more than the tone of their voices.
These weren’t Cait’s Wardens. These weren’t her comrades. It wasn’t in the faces, or the uniform, or the weapons, or the tactics.
It was the smell.
Vi rolled her knuckles.
She didn’t bother shouting taunts this time. She just powered up the Atlas gauntlets and let them come.
Everything hurt. Jinx’s Shimmer blood was wearing down, burned out by the sheer exertion. Her wounds were catching up to her.
But she wasn’t done yet.
There was a giant with a riot shield, but he had a bald, sneering face, gold teeth – he wasn’t Kepple –
There was a woman growling at her, swinging at her knees with a baton – she wasn’t Mir – the brawler and the pistol-wielder weren’t Zayne or Amelia.
The sniper pinging her blast shields from afar sure as hell wasn’t Cait.
Atlas’ knuckles crashed and cracked. Servos whirred. Hextech boomed, glowed in the smoke.
There were too many, and the goddamn lights kept blinding her every time she swung their way.
Then baton girl got behind her somehow and then she was down on one knee.
Vi spat blood and uppercutted her out somewhere into the smoke. Didn’t even see her land.
Riot shield man smashed her shoulder, charging out of the darkness. She clamped her fingers on the edge of his shield; her teeth caught strings of spit as she roared in his face and smacked him away with his own shield, tumbling out of her sightline.
An Enforcer with a gun stood behind where he’d just been, pointing it at her head.
Vi grabbed the barrel just as it fired; the muzzle flash lit up the man’s eyes behind his helmet just before Vi knocked it from his head.
He stumbled back in the choking void, flailing arms up to shield his face. Vi raised her fists, clenched her teeth, swung back for a right hook –
“…Hardwicke?” she faltered, eyes searching the familiar red hair and broad, scowling young face.
He had nothing for her but heaving breaths and eyes full of bitter hate.
Vi lowered her fist. His eyes slipped from hers, to his fallen gun…
…and filled with terror as they glanced behind her.
Snatching up his bent gun, Hardwicke tried to fire it over her shoulder – it backfired in his hand, and he threw it aside with a curse and fled, fumbling and white-eyed, into the dark.
Vi heard something moving, but when she turned to look, there was only the painful white glare and the smoke.
Lights, too many lights.
One of them flickered, the atmosphere darkening, like a shadow passing the moon. Because a shadow had passed the light, something huge, moving quick and quiet as a ghost.
Someone screamed.
One by one, the lights burst. One by one, the silhouettes of the Enforcers vanished into the smoke, tugged away like dolls on the wires of a brutal puppeteer.
But the sounds coming out of the dark – the crunching – the ripping – the splattering – the screams, most of all…
Shield man, picking himself up from where he’d fallen, looked at her and turned to run.
Blood splashed across the Atlas gauntlets, and he was gone. Most of him, anyway.
Vi looked up.
A gigantic shadow swelled in the dark. Blood red eyes, burning like hellfire.
Vi swallowed. The smoke smelt, suddenly, like blood and iron and the Sump, but most of all, like wet dog.
Whatever the hell this was, now, she had already fought demons today – demons of her past, in rasping breather masks – demons of the present, trying to snuff out the Light – even her own nightmares brought to shadowy, whispering life.
What was one more?
“…fine,” she whispered, voice shaking, “Let’s go.”
Her gauntlets, shaking, lifted up before her, primed and powered.
The new monster lifted up, looming above her, a tower, a hulk of fur and Chemtech tanks and cables and muscle, a nightmare that couldn’t be real, even after the Nightmare she’d already faced…
Long ears flattened to its long, low skull, only a vague shape in the smoke, but all Vi could think of was the snarling murkwolf heads, staring fiercely but blankly from their wooden mount at the back of Benzo’s shop…
It drew a long, shuddering, sniffing breath, and Vi tensed, waiting for the pounce.
She could have prepared herself for anything but what came next.
“…Vi…o…let…”
The voice crawled through her, a hideous, bestial growl, distorting around a word – a human word – filled with terrible pain.
Vi’s gauntlets lowered, wobbling on her shaking arms.
The beast pulled away and vanished into the smoke. She heard the distant cawing of crows and scraping of metal.
An inhuman, primal howl faded after it.
Vi started shaking all over, her mind blanking entirely.
She couldn’t even raise her fists when more running footsteps came through the haze. She couldn’t even do anything.
Silhouettes in the smoke. Breather masks. The figure in front held a pistol, tracking, cautious steps.
Vi lifted her face, breathing hard, as the figure came into view, tall and lean, hair pulled back, a Piltie breather over the lower face.
A shaking hand lifted to the breather and pulled it away from lips she’d so often kissed.
“Vi…?” the voice whispered.
Vi’s bruised lips smiled, her chest shaking for a different reason.
“Cait…” she replied, reaching for her.
It’s all okay now.
They’re all safe now.
I can rest now.
Caitlyn’s face was the last thing she saw as she sank forward, into the haze of red smoke.
Into a dreamless dark.
