LoL Universe Indexing and Search

The first sound I heard was the scrape of sharp metal against rock. My sight was blurred, my vision still swimming in murky darkness, but something in the back of my mind registered it, that knife-edge slide on wet stone. The rasp was the same as my mason when he marks out which rock to cut away from the cliff. It set my teeth on edge. The fog in my brain receded, but it left me with only one panicked thought as I strained at the ropes binding my hands:

I was a dead man.

In front of me, there was a grunt and a heavy wooden creak. If I squinted, I could make out the bulk of what I guessed was Gordon Ansel sitting across from me. So much for hired muscle. It looked like he was coming around as well.

“Oh good. You're both awake.” A woman's voice, refined, polished. “I was just about to put the tea on.”

I turned toward her. Half of my face felt fat and bruised. The corners of my mouth were stuck together. I tried to move my swollen jaw and a coppery taste pooled on my tongue. I should have been thankful I was still breathing. The air had a lingering chemical smell, like it would singe off your nose hair if you inhaled too deeply.

Just my luck. I was still in Zaun.

“One of you knows who is responsible for the explosion at the docks,” the woman continued. She had her back to us; a flickering bluish light illuminated her slim waist and inhumanly long legs. There was a faint slosh of water as she set a glass kettle above the near-invisible flame of a chem-burner.

“Go pound a sump, lady,” Ansel groaned.

Leave it to Ansel to make a bad situation worse.

“Baron Grime's men always have such a way with words.”

The woman turned to face us: It wasn't a lamp that lit her figure, but something within her that gave off an unsettling light. “You will tell me what I want to know as if your life depends on it.”

“I ain't saying nothing,” Ansel snarled.

Metal scraped the floor as she shifted her weight. She was deciding which of us to carve from the quarry first. The sound made no sense until she began walking toward Ansel, and then I understood. Her velvet shadow separated from the silhouette of the table. Mystifying blue light pulsed from her hips, leading my eye down her lithe form... to twin blades. She was a high-end chimeric, unlike any I'd seen in Piltover or Zaun.

“Do not insult my courtesy, Mr. Ansel. Others have. They are dead now.”

“You think them legs of yours scare me?”

The woman stood in front of my thick-headed acquaintance. I could hear the water in the kettle start to boil. I blinked and there was a flash of silver and blue. The rope that bound Ansel's hands fell to the floor.

A hoarse laugh escaped my bodyguard. “You missed, darling.” Our captor seemed to be waiting patiently. Ansel leaned forward a few inches, an arrogant smirk plastered across his weather-beaten face.

“You can lick my—”

The woman spun around. This time, the razor-sharp blade of her leg sliced cleanly through Ansel's neck.

The severed head rolled to a stop in front of me just as the kettle whistle blew. Ansel always had a big mouth. Now it lolled open, silenced at last.

I kept telling myself Ansel was dead, but his eyes still stared at me in horrified surprise. The fear in my brain climbed down my spine, stopping to throttle my gut until I was convinced whatever was left inside was going to end up on the floor.

“Now, Mr. Turek, we are going to have a cup of tea, and you will tell me what I wish to know,” she said, her words unhurried.

The woman sat down at her table and smiled. A whisper of steam escaped as she poured the boiling water into her porcelain teapot. She looked at me with an imperious pity, like I was a schoolboy too slow at his figures. It was that smile that I couldn't look away from. Deadly. Knowing. It scared the piss out of me.

“Tea?” I nearly choked on the word.

“Oh, my boy,” she said. “There is always time for tea.”

A gust of wind blew cold night air from the garden, carrying with it enticing scents of overripe fruit and blooming flowers. Ahri stood before the garden's entrance, where stone transitioned to soil and narrow labyrinthine caves opened to the sky in a deep caldera. Thickets of trees and brambles grew wild beneath the moonlight, while flowers bloomed in lush abundance. Ahri hesitated, knowing well the twin nature of danger and beauty. She had heard legends of the sacred grove since childhood, but had never before traversed the southern caverns to find it. According to the stories, those who stepped over the threshold of the garden began as one person and left as someone else entirely, or did not leave at all.

Whatever the truth might be, Ahri had made up her mind. As she stepped into the garden, the back of her neck prickled as if someone were watching her. No figure was visible amongst the trees, but the garden was far from still. Everywhere Ahri looked, new flowers bloomed with each passing second. Ahri walked a winding path through the tangle of plants, stepping over roots rumbling beneath the soil. She ducked under hanging vines that reached out to her as if clamoring for affection. She could have sworn she heard a hush from the soft rustling of leaves.

Moonbeams shone through the canopy above, revealing trees bearing leaves of silver and gold. Flower stalks entwined around their trunks, curling to display dazzling buds brighter than any gemstone. Plump spicecherries coated in a layer of frost chimed softly as they swayed amid an untamed thicket.

A snow lily stretched toward Ahri’s face and caressed her cheek gently. It was too alluring to resist. Ahri pressed her face into its petals to inhale its heady scent. Her nose chilled and she took in the faint smell of oranges, the summer breeze, and the tang of a fresh kill. The blossom trembled as it blushed with color, and Ahri’s breath caught in her throat. She swayed, dizzy at the flower’s perfume.

Snip.

The snow lily fell to the soil, severed at its stem. A viscous liquid seeped from the cut. Ahri let out a breath, her nine tails twitching as her head cleared.

Ahri startled as a woman with wisps of gray-white hair stood before her, shears in hand. She was wrapped in colorful shawls and her eyelashes sparkled with dew.

As the woman turned her sea-green gaze to Ahri, Ahri felt a strange unease, as if this woman could slice through her gut just as easily as a fibrous stalk. The woman’s face, wrinkled like tree bark, was impossible to read. But Ahri was no longer concerned for her own safety.

“You startled me, Ighilya,” said Ahri. In the stories, the old woman was known as the Eater of Secrets, the Forgotten, or the Witch Gardener. Wanting to show respect to one with such power, Ahri decided to call her Ighilya. Great grandmother.

“The flowers want something from us,” she said. “Just as we seek something from them. It would be wise to keep your nose to yourself. I would know. I have to feed these hungry babies myself.”

“So you are the Gardener,” said Ahri.

“One of my kinder names, yes. But quite beside the point. I know why you’re here, Iminha.”

Little one. Ahri felt uncomfortable at the word, often used in a familial relationship, though she was not sure why.

“You seek absolution. Freedom from your pain,” said the Gardener.

She stepped over a shrinking fern and beckoned to Ahri.

“Come.”

As they walked through the moonlit garden, flowers turned to face the old woman as if she were the sun itself, warming their leaves and helping them grow. Or perhaps the flowers did not wish to turn their backs to her.

The old woman waved Ahri to a bench in front of a gnarled cloudfruit tree, and sat opposite her.

“Let me guess. You were in love,” the Gardener said, a smile crinkling the corners of her lips.

Ahri’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry, you’re far from the first,” said the old woman. “So, who was he? A soldier? An adventurer? A warrior in exile?”

“An artist,” said Ahri. She had not uttered the syllables of his name in over a year and could not bring herself to say them now. They were like swallowing broken glass. “He painted... flowers.”

“Ah. A romantic,” the Gardener said.

“I killed him,” Ahri spat. “Is that romantic enough for you?”

As she spoke the truth aloud, Ahri could not disguise the sharp bitterness on her tongue.

“I sucked the life from his lips as he lay dying in my arms,” she said. “He was kinder, more selfless than anyone had a right to be. I thought I could suppress my urges. But the taste of his dreams and memories was too enticing. He urged me on. I did not resist. And now - now I cannot go on knowing what I did. Please, Ighilya. Can you give me the gift of oblivion? Can you make me forget?”

The Gardener did not answer. She stood and picked a ripe cloudfruit from the tree and peeled it slowly, carefully, so the rind remained in one piece. The flesh fell into six vermillion segments, which she offered to Ahri.

“Care for a slice?”

Ahri stared at her.

“Don’t worry, this one doesn’t want anything from you. Not like the flowers. Fruit never does. Fruit is the most generous part of a plant - it strives to be luscious and juicy - and tempting. It simply wants to attract.”

“Food turns to ash in my mouth,” said Ahri. “How can I feed myself when I am no more than a monster?”

“Even monsters need to eat, you know,” the Gardener said, smiling gently.

She placed one of the cloudfruit segments into her mouth, and chewed before making a face.

“Tart! In all my years in the garden, I’ve never gotten used to the tang.”

The old woman ate the remaining pieces while Ahri sat in silence. When she was finished she wiped the juice from her mouth.

“So you stole a life that was not yours to take,” said the Gardener. “Now you suffer the consequences.”

“I cannot stand it,” Ahri said.

“To be alive is to be in pain, I’m afraid,” the Gardener said.

A vine dripping with snow lily buds wound its way around the old woman’s arm. The woman did not flinch.

“I can’t go on knowing that I killed him,” Ahri pleaded.

“There are greater consequences to losing yourself, Iminha.”

The Gardener reached for Ahri’s hand and squeezed it. Her sea-green eyes glinted in the moonlight, and Ahri detected something she had not seen before - longing, perhaps?

“You will be broken,” said the old woman. “You will never again be one.”

“I am already in fragments,” Ahri replied, “and every second that passes, I split myself anew. Please, Ighilya. I must do this!”

The old woman sighed.

“This garden will not refuse a gift freely given, for it always hungers.”

With that, the Gardener offered her arm to Ahri, still entwined with the vine of snow lilies. Buds unfurled like outstretched hands.

“Give your breath to this flower as you think on the memories you wish to be rid of,” the old woman said, gesturing to the bell shaped lily. “The flower will consume them. Do not inhale again until you feel nothing.”

Ahri held the flower gently between her fingers. The Gardener nodded. Ahri took a deep breath and exhaled into the flower.

...Ahri stood next to a raven-haired man at the edge of a lake. Together they leapt into the water and screamed as they frolicked over endless waves.

Ahri’s suffering dissolved like a cloud along with the image in her mind.

...in a forest silenced by winter, Ahri watched a raven-haired man painting a single blossom. “Am I not your flower?” she asked, pulling the strap down from her dress. He lifted his brush and smeared paint over her bare back. The bristles tingled as he recreated the flower atop her spine. “You are, you are,” he repeated, kissing her shoulder with each word.

Ahri knew she should dread what would happen next, but her heart was growing cold and numb.

...she stood at the center of a lake, holding the lifeless body of the man she once loved. He dipped beneath the water, becoming contorted through its glassy refraction.

Once, this vision would have caused stabbing pain, but Ahri felt no more than a dull ache.

...Ahri leaned over a fallen woodcutter in a stone cavern, consuming his life. At the sound of boots crunching on snow, she startled. The raven-haired man stood, watching. Ahri despaired; she had not wanted him to see this.

“I can't be good enough for you,” Ahri said. “Look at me, greedy for the soul of a dying man. Please, leave me. I am not good. I cannot be good.”

Her raven-haired love responded. “I don't care.” This was the first time Ahri remembered someone loving her wholly, in spite of her nature. His voice was warm and deep with emotion. “I am yours.”

The memory caught in Ahri’s throat and she stopped breathing, breaking the flower’s spell.

No, she thought. I can’t lose this.

Ahri tried to inhale, but the air felt like a noose around her neck. It choked her and stifled her throat, as if she were breathing poison. Her vision blackened, but she gasped until her lungs were nearly bursting.

Losing this would kill him all over again.

Ahri’s knees gave out and she collapsed on the ground, still gripping the snow lily. The unnatural perfume she inhaled from the flower percolated through her mind, conjuring strange and disturbing visions.

Ahri hallucinated. In a snow-silenced forest, she envisioned each of her nine tails ripped from her spine, only to grow back so they could be torn off again.

In a stone cavern, she saw dozens of portraits of herself painted in inky black brushstrokes. In each of the images, her face was blank and cold.

She floated, weightless, at the center of a lake, and looked down to see that the lake was filled, not with water, but blood.

Where are you?

In her mind’s eye, she saw a face warped by the endless folds of her memory, one she was already forgetting. The face was blurred, like a painting of a man rather than the man himself. He looked at her, stared into her, but she could not meet his gaze.

Ahri opened her eyes. The Gardener was standing above her, holding the vine of snow lilies, which had turned raven-black.

“Can you still see him?” asked the old woman.

Ahri focused on the hazy shapes in her mind and focused until they materialized into a face. His face.

“Yes. It’s cloudy, but... I remember,” said Ahri. She fixed the image of his face in her mind, memorizing every detail. She would not let it dissolve.

The old woman’s eyes flashed - not with longing, but regret.

“Then you did what many had not the strength to do. You did not succumb to peace,” said the Gardener.

“I couldn’t,” said Ahri, choking over her words. “I couldn’t give him up. Even if I am a monster. Even if each day I fall apart and each day I must bear the pain a hundred times over. Oblivion is worse, much worse.”

Oblivion was a thousand blurry faces staring at her with empty eyes.

“You cannot take back what you gave, Iminha,” the Gardener said. “The flowers do not relinquish what was freely given. But you may keep what remains. Go, go. Leave this place before it takes hold,” she whispered. Vines coiled around the Gardener’s shoulders, revealing lilies of a deep sea-green. “As it’s done to so many others.”

Ahri tried to stand, but a vine of snow lilies had wound its way around her tails. She struggled against their tightening clutches, prying barbs from her fur, then scrambled to her feet and ran. Knotted roots broke loose from the soil, trying to ensnare her as she leapt between them. A tangled curtain of thorned moon roses swerved to block Ahri’s path, but she held her breath and dove beneath the flowers, which caught wisps of her hair as she tumbled.

The path from the garden was overgrown with snow lilies of all colors. Their leaves, sharp as knives, slashed at Ahri’s skin, while thick stalks coiled around her face and neck, binding her mouth. Ahri bit down and ripped through the fibers with her teeth, tasting sour blood. She tore through the archway to the stone caverns beyond.

She could just make out the Gardener’s voice.

“A piece of you lingers here, always,” the old woman called. “Unlike us, the garden does not forget.”

Ahri did not turn back.

Okay, I’ll admit slamming the door in their faces was a bit of an overreaction.

“Lulu.” I make the words come out calm and easy, but I can feel my palms go sweaty in the oven mitts I’m still wearing. Can’t forget about dinner. I keep my white-knuckle grip on the front door handle. Lulu stops her absent-minded twirl in the hallway, coming up to stand next to me. I take one more breath in and out before turning towards her. “Do you know why Ahri’s teammates are standing on the porch?”

“Yep,” she says, nodding her head. She draws herself up a little taller, “You said, ‘This is a man-da-tory Star Guardian council meeting.’”

Just my luck. I instinctively release the door handle, as I hear Lulu do an extra bubbly—but very stern—Lux impression enunciating each of those syllables.

I definitely said that.

To Jinx.

Who still isn’t here yet.

Lulu makes for the handle, the smile on her face positively beaming. “They’re Star Guardians, right?”

I nod dumbly.

“Super,” she says as she opens the door wide.

The three of them are still standing on the porch where I left them, although in decidedly different positions. Ez looks like he was mid-sentence trying to calm down a much more annoyed Sarah Fortune.

No, not ‘Sarah’, I remind myself. Sarah’s for friends. I learned that all too well from last summer’s outdoor adventure.

Miss Fortune’s usual smirk is now an angry grimace as she furiously texts something on her phone. Behind her, the quiet girl with mint green hair—Soraka—is carrying a bakery box from Pantheon’s Pastries. They look at me intently, probably wondering if I’m going to slam the door again. I can actually hear crickets in the bushes.

Lulu reaches out into the uncomfortable silence and takes Ezreal and Fortune by the wrists, pulling them inside. Fortune’s so surprised, she goes along with it, nearly dropping her phone. I can feel the pink climb up my cheeks as Ezreal flashes his trademark grin in my direction as he passes by. I wave meekly with one oven mitt.

Soraka leans in close and whispers “Cinnamon rolls” in my ear, like a spy password. She smiles, hands the heavy bakery box to me, and walks quickly to catch up with the others.

“Welcome,” I hear Lulu announce from the living room, “to our Star Guardian sleepover party!”

This is awkward.

I can hear the second hand of the clock in the kitchen tick off another minute that we’ve been uncomfortably quiet. Ezreal is wedged on the small couch between Fortune—still texting on her phone—and Soraka, who’s quietly watching Lulu while nibbling on a cinnamon roll. Janna and Poppy are sitting on the stiff dining chairs Lulu dragged in from the other room. Lulu is bent over the coffee table, folding a piece of paper into some complicated shape. I have no idea what she’s making, but her soft humming is the only other sound besides the clock.

And me, well, I’m pacing a well-worn path in the carpet.

The first to break the silence is Fortune. She stops texting, lets out a disgusted sigh, and finally puts her phone face down on her lap, the small pistol charms on the end jingling loudly. She looks around, taking in everything in the room from the faded pattern on the curtains to the beige-colored couch for the first time. Her disappointment is evident. As she sinks back into the cushion behind her, Ez leans forward.

“You all do this regularly?” he says. “Get together like this?”

Poppy and Janna stare at him. Poppy still doesn’t understand why Ez was chosen as a Guardian. I keep telling her the First Star chooses each of us for a reason. She crosses her arms and watches him, clearly still not convinced.

“Yes, doesn’t your team?” Janna asks. She’s calm, at least on the outside, but there’s a slight breeze circling the room even though the ceiling fan isn’t on. I can tell she’s just as on edge about them being here as I am.

“Ahri…” Ez starts and then looks at Fortune. Fortune rolls her eyes, her perfectly feathered bangs rippling as she shakes her head. “Well,” Ez continues. “Ahri prefers to be out and about where there are people. She’s not much of a homebody herself, and she figures most trouble wouldn’t be either.”

Great. They think we’re homebodies. Could this get any worse?

“Is that why she and Syndra didn’t come? They have something better to do?” Poppy asks, her foot tapping out an impatient rhythm against the foot of her chair. Janna stiffens at the mention of Syndra.

Soraka jumps in and tries to change the subject. “Your friend, the one with the long red pigtails—”

“The loud one,” Fortune interrupts. “The one with a rocket launcher.”

“Yes, the one with the glitter bombs,” Soraka finishes. “Is she coming tonight?”

“Jinx? She’s always fashionably late.” I look at my watch. ”She just loves to make an entrance.” The words are barely out of my mouth when the front door opens and slams loudly. I hear the familiar sound of a tote bag full of Shiro, Kuro, and a handful of fireworks hitting the ground in the hallway.

“Luxy-Poo! Windchimes! Shortstop!” Jinx calls out in a sing-song voice. “I’m home!”

Jinx saunters into the living room just as Lulu triumphantly finishes the last fold in her project. Jinx lowers her sunglasses to the end of her nose. It’s dark outside. It has been dark outside for more than an hour. “Looks like you got the party started without me.” Jinx smiles, obviously enjoying all eyes on her, until her gaze finds Ez stuffed in the middle of the couch.

“Oh, he’s here too,” she says, the enthusiasm sucked out of her like a fast-leaking balloon. She tugs on the bow in Lulu’s hair and focuses on what looks like an oversized paper pincher in the young Guardian’s hands. “Whatcha got there, Loops?”

Lulu takes her hands out of the folds of paper and hugs Jinx around the waist. “I need another number.”

I stop my pacing to take a better look at the star-shaped object Lulu’s made. It’s a paper fortune teller. I haven’t seen one since primary school. The numbers on the flap show how many times the fortune teller should open and close it, with the last number chosen revealing some kind of mysterious destiny. My fortunes always ended in doom. Maybe because I always played with Jinx.

“Four,” I say. Maybe Lulu’s paper project can be over quickly.

“Twelve,” Jinx says.

“Two hundred forty-six,” Fortune says. Her satisfied smirk is back.

“Two hundred and forty-six it is.” Lulu smiles at Fortune and grabs a pen off the coffee table, scribbling the number onto one of the flaps. Lulu sits down at Soraka’s feet, offering up the paper oracle, encouraging her to pick a number to start the game.

“Do you braid each other’s hair too?” Fortune asks watching Lulu and Soraka, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“No—” I begin.

“Sometimes,” Poppy says at the same time, rushing to defend the unaware Lulu. Janna nods enthusiastically.

Ugh. Can neither of them play it cool?

“What I mean is, no, not all the time. We don’t braid each other’s hair all the time,” I stammer. “I mean, we discuss team stuff. Important Star Guardian matters.” I cough. “You know, saving the universe.”

“And braid each other’s hair,” Poppy adds truthfully.

Fortune rolls her eyes and goes back to her phone.

“How about we skip the usual slumber party stuff and talk serious Star Guardian matters?” I offer.

“Bor-ing,” Jinx says. She eyes Lulu as she slowly opens and closes the paper fortune teller for Soraka. “How about we play a faster game with more consequences?” I hear the trigger click of Shiro and Kuro waking up.

Ezreal claps his hands and rubs them together excitedly. “Sounds dangerous, I’m in.”

“Great. Let’s start.” Jinx smiles, but then quickly turns on Ez. “Truth. Or. Dare. Is it true that you have romantic intentions towards our Luxanna?”

“Jinx!” I shout.

Ez opens his mouth like a beached fish, definitely not having prepared for this particular game.

“Truth,” Janna says loudly, diffusing the rising energy in the room as if blowing out a candle. All heads snap towards her.

“Ez has to answer,” Jinx says watching the color rise in Ez’s face.

“First person to volunteer goes first,” Poppy says. “That’s the rule.”

“Fine,” Jinx says, obviously dissatisfied. “Is it true that you are older than Poppy’s hammer?”

I watch Janna’s look from Jinx to Poppy. Jinx is thrilled to see Janna momentarily flustered, while Poppy absently touches the handle of the hammer where she’s set it against her chair. Janna’s gaze settles on Soraka for a moment and then moves on. “False.”

Poppy eyes her hammer with a newfound awe and respect.

“Really?” Jinx raises an eyebrow. “But, it’s true that Short Stack’s hammer has more personality, right?”

“You can’t ask her another question, Jinx.” Poppy points out. “It’s Janna’s turn to ask a question. That’s the rule. Janna, go on, who are you going to pick?”

“Soraka,” Janna says gently. “Truth or Dare?”

Soraka is halfway through a cinnamon roll, staring attentively at Lulu opening and closing the paper fortune teller while counting under her breath. Shisa sits on Soraka’s shoulder monitoring the whole operation with a focused frown, at once completely confused at what Lulu is doing, but intent on making sure it happens with the utmost efficiency. Without missing a number—and to Shisa’s satisfied approval—Lulu nudges her elbow into Soraka’s knee, letting her know she’s been tapped into the group game.

“Yes,” Soraka smiles, a bit absent-minded. “That’s me.”

“Truth or dare?” Poppy repeats, taking her self-appointed position of game referee very seriously.

“Uh, truth,” Soraka says.

Janna thinks for a minute. “What do you remember—”

“Well,” Soraka jumps in, excited to be included in the game. “Ezreal and I went to Pantheon’s earlier. I had a cinnamon roll. He had an iced coffee, no milk because his tummy doesn’t like dairy—”

Poppy clucks her tongue. “Janna, it has to be an ‘Is it true’ question.”

Soraka sits up straight on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her, and waits. Zephyr floats in from the dining room and curls up in Janna’s lap. Janna rests a hand on her companion, a slight breeze rustling its fur.

“Soraka.” Janna’s voice is low and calm, barely above a whisper. “Is it true you can remember a time when the First Light was whole?”

“Oh, yes.” Soraka nods with her whole body. “I mean, true.”

The room goes eerily silent. She looks around. All of us are staring at her. Jinx can’t remember what she had for lunch today. Even Poppy and Lulu can only say what it was like when they were called. I’ve asked Janna about the First Light and especially its guidance, but the memories, even for her, are murky and broken.

“Wait, you all can’t remember?” Soraka’s voice wavers a bit. “But—”

“You have to pick one person to ask a question, Soraka,” Poppy says cutting her off with the rules of the game. “And they have to pick truth, and—”

“We get it, Smalls,” Jinx jumps in, changing the subject before Janna or I can ask more questions about Soraka’s memories. I’ll have to find a quiet moment later to talk to her.

“My turn to pick. Okay, mmm…” Soraka bites her bottom lip and then turns in her seat to face Ezreal. “Ez. I pick Ez!”

“No fair. I wanted to pick Ez,” Jinx pouts.

Poppy shakes her head. “You already went.”

“Ladies, please. There’s enough adventure to go around.” Ez tucks both hands behind his head and settles back on the couch. Fortune pulls out one the small throw pillows from behind her, fluffs it, and slams it back into the sofa and Ezreal, conveniently knocking the literal wind out his gallant sails in the process. I stifle a giggle into one of the oven mitts I’m still wearing.

Ez blushes and tries to recover his normal breathing gracefully.

“Dare,” he chokes on the words. “I choose dare.”

“I… dare… you…” Soraka pauses between each word, watching Poppy to make sure she’s getting it right. Poppy nods. Ez waits expectantly. “I dare you to do that thing you do,” she says finally.

Ez shrugs, totally not following whatever Soraka is talking about.

“You know, that thing you do. With Yuuto,” Soraka continues, clapping excitedly for him. “And the portal thing.”

“Oh, yeah. Cool. I can totally do that.” Ez reaches into his backpack and taps on the bright blue of his Guardian emblem. “Hey, bud—wake up. It’s showtime.”

“Portals? Portals sound dangerous.” Poppy asks as a white-winged familiar pounces into the room. It leaps into the air, wings spread, its bright blue eyes the same color as Ezreal’s.

“Portals are dangerous. Very dangerous. But lucky for you, you’ve got me. And this isn’t quite a portal. Technically it’s a shortcut through another dimension.” Ez flashes a lopsided grin at Poppy and starts looking around the room, eyeing a black ceramic bookend and a small potted plant. “Alright, Soraka, do you think that bookend is good enough for a demonstration of a little arcane magic?”

Soraka shakes her head, wrinkling her nose. Between Yuuto’s chirping loops, I can hear Lulu deep in concentration.

“Two hundred and forty-four. Two hundred and forty-five,” she counts. “Two hundred and forty-six!” she announces triumphantly. “It’s done, Soraka.” Lulu waves the paper oracle around in her hand.

“The fortune maker!” Soraka lets out a giggle. “I almost forgot.”

“Fortune maker it is!” Ez says, “Yuuto, let’s go. Time for a true display of skill.”

Yuuto arcs in the air, turning towards Ez. It looks like Yuuto is going to crash right into Ez, but at the last minute, Ez and Yuuto combine, granting Ez a brilliant set of white feathered wings that fill the room. Less than a second later, Ez disappears through a wavering portal to reappear hovering over Lulu. He plucks the paper fortune maker out of her hands.

“Just going to borrow this for a second,” he says and then a moment later he blinks back to the sofa, leaning comfortably back against the couch cushions with no wings and a happily purring Yuuto. He unfolds the flap and reads the fortune aloud. “‘Opportunity can’t knock if you don’t build a door.’ Huh. I like it, Lulu.”

Poppy groans. “She copied that from our takeout cookies last night.”

“That’s not her fortune,” Lulu says. She gestures to the flap to the right. “It’s the next one.”

Ez unfolds the second flap and reads it to the group. “Only in darkness can the light shine brightly.”

“The First Star told me that,” Lulu says.

“The First Star talks to you?” Fortune cocks her head in disbelief. “Still?”

“Yes,” Lulu’s face is a serene smile. “Ezreal, when you open a portal like that, where did you say you go?”

“Uh-oh,” Ezreal whispers.

“What’s ‘uh-oh’, champ?” Jinx leans over Ez as he struggles to keep a grip on the folded paper.

“We may need to get rid of this.” Ez gives a weak smile. “Like right now.”

Before anyone can make good on that suggestion, the paper oracle rips itself out of Ez’s hands. It tumbles around the room like a possessed autumn leaf. A high-pitched whine begins to grow. It seems like it’s coming from the fortune teller itself.

The paper folds and unfolds a dozen times, finally dumping out a small but squat, black and green, glowing creature. Everyone is on their feet.

“Did you just bring an annoying, interdimensional hitchhiking demon into Lux’s living room using your not-a-portal portal power?” says Jinx, watching the unruly little monster jump from the arm of the sofa to the carpet.

“I might have,” Ez whispers. “Arcane magic doesn’t come with an instruction manual.”

“Cool,” Jinx says.

Ez looks at me, mouthing the word Sorry.

“This has only happened once before,” he says.

Fortune elbows Ez in the side.

“Okay,” Ez corrects himself, “This may have happened more than once. Possibly six or seven times, but it’s totally not a big deal.”

The little creature jumps on the coffee table. All I can see is Poppy’s hammer rear back and take a wide swing. There’s a crack of wood and the coffee table splinters. That is definitely not going back together ever again. The dark shape darts away unscathed.

Janna stands up, her arms lifting in the direction of the creature. A breeze starts to build, shifting the debris of the coffee table and fluttering the pages of one of the books that had been sitting on it just a moment ago.

“I got this, Janna.” Jinx is returning from the hall, Shiro and Kuro nipping at her heels.

“No,” Fortune says. I snap my head around to see one of Fortune’s shiny white pistols leveled at my face.

“Woah, Sarah. Not so fast. That’s a little close quarters, don’t you think?” Ez tries to step closer to her to push her guns off their mark. I feel my stomach drop as adrenaline coats my insides. This was her plan all along. My luck’s run out. She is going to end me.

“Fortune—”

The words barely leave my lips before I hear the pull of a trigger.

“Time to say goodbye,” she says. There’s a sharp pop like a balloon. My hands go up to my nose and eyes, quickly checking them out that they’re all intact and where they belong. A second later, there is no demon, and fine bits of paper start to rain down on everyone as the fortune teller explodes into confetti. It looks like it is snowing in my living room. Lulu is dancing in it, of course.

“Look, now it’s a party,” she exclaims. Shiro and Kuro tumble each other in the remains of the coffee table, while Shisa looks very disturbed at their delight in wanton destruction.

Unfortunately, my relief at being whole is short-lived. An angry, beeping alarm begins to wail as a smoky haze creeps throughout the house, originating from the kitchen.

“Smells like burning,” Jinx says.

Oh, no. Dinner.

The air is thicker in the kitchen. What was dinner for the team is now charred ruins stuck to a metal baking sheet. I cough and wave the oven mitts I’m still wearing, trying to move the smoke haze around. I open the window, letting the cool fall air in. The alarm finally shuts itself off.

My eyes are starting to water. I tell myself it’s from the smoke and the mess in the oven, but I’m pretty sure it’s from the mess of things going on in the living room.

“Everything’s ruined.” My voice is small and pathetic even to my own ears.

Then I hear a shuffle of footsteps on the tile floor. Janna or Ez must have braved the smoke to offer some comfort. I wipe my eyes quickly, surprised as I turn around.

It’s Fortune.

“Well that’s definitely not edible,” she says.

I nod my head in agreement. “Definitely not.”

Fortune’s phone vibrates with a text message. Ahri, I’m sure, telling her what all the cool kids are doing.

“This is probably not the way you wanted to spend your Friday night,” I offer.

I pick at the burned bits of what was dinner on the aluminum foil. “Sorry Lulu dragged you into all this. Dinner’s ruined. The party’s ruined. I totally understand if you want to go. We’ll figure things out by ourselves.”

Ugh. Too many words. Why can I not stop talking around her? I take a deep breath and try to start more clearly.

“Fortune—”

“Sarah,” she interrupts. “You can call me Sarah.”

“I thought Sarah was for friends,” I say.

Fortune’s phone vibrates again. Instead of looking at it, she puts it in her back pocket. “I came in here to apologize. You looked pretty freaked out back there.”

“Have you ever been on the other side of one of your pistols?”

“No, I guess not,” she chuckles. Her voice takes a serious turn. “You need to understand I would never hurt another Guardian. Not ever.”

I nod. There’s something more behind her declaration, a pain she hasn’t quite put away.

“I know Ez kinda made a mess of things, he does that sometimes, but would you mind if we stayed? Soraka would be fine if dinner was nothing but cinnamon rolls, but Ez ordered some pizzas to say sorry for the little portal mishap. But I totally get it if you want us to go—”

I hold up an oven mitt-clad hand. It’s Sarah who seems to have too many words now.

“Wait, you want to stay?”

Sarah opens her mouth, but is interrupted by an ecstatic Lulu skipping into the kitchen, a bouquet of pastel fabric and ribbons spilling out onto the floor around her. She shoves an armful of trimmed white flannel into both Sarah and my hands.

“These are for you,” she chirps before skipping back out of the kitchen.

“Lulu, dear,” I call after her. “What are these?”

Sarah holds hers up by its shoulders, inspecting Lulu’s handiwork.

“You’re right,” she says, smiling. “This is not how I usually spend my Friday nights, but I think this whole pajama party thing might actually be a little fun.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah.” Her grin takes on a particularly mischievous bend. “And, I’ve always wanted to see what Ezreal looks like with braided hair.”

For most of her life, Ahri's origins were a mystery to her, the history of her vastayan tribe all but lost save for the twin gemstones she has carried her entire life.

Ahri's earliest memories are of running with icefoxes in the northern reaches of Shon-Xan. Though she knew she was not one of them, they clearly saw her as something of a kindred spirit, and came to accept her within the pack.

In that wild, predatory existence, Ahri nonetheless felt a deeper connection to the forests around her. In time, she came to understand that this was the magic of the vastaya that coursed through every fiber of her being, and the realm of spirits that lay beyond. With no one to teach her, instead she learned to call upon this power in her own ways—most often using it to quicken her reflexes in pursuit of prey. If she was careful and close enough, she also found she might soothe a panicked deer, so that it remained serene and calm even as she and her packmates sank their teeth into its flesh.

The world of mortals was as distant and unsettling to Ahri as it was to the icefoxes, but she felt drawn to it for reasons she could not explain. Humans in particular were coarse, gruff creatures… and when a band of huntsmen camped nearby, Ahri watched them from afar as they went about their grim business.

When one of them was wounded by a stray arrow, Ahri could feel his life seeping away. Knowing nothing but the instincts of a predator, she savored the spirit essence leaving his body, and through it gained brief flashes of his memories—the lover he had lost in battle, and the children he had left behind when he came north. Ahri subtly pushed his emotions from fear to sorrow to joy, and comforted him with visions of a sun-soaked meadow as he died.

Afterward, she found that human words now came to her easily, like something from a half-remembered dream, and Ahri knew the time had come to leave the pack behind.

Keeping to the fringes of society, she felt more alive than ever. Her predatory nature remained, but she was caught up in a riot of new experiences, emotions, and customs across Ionia. Mortals, it seemed, also became fascinated by her in return—and she often used this to her advantage, draining their essence while charming them with recollections of beauty, hallucinations of deep longing, and occasionally dreams colored by raw sorrow.

She grew drunk on memories that were not her own, and exhilarated in ending the lives of others even as she felt the grief and woe she brought to her victims. She experienced heartbreak and elation in tantalizing flashes that left her craving more. It was overwhelming, but she sensed her own power fading whenever she tried to stay away, and could not help but partake again and again… 

In time, she began to see herself as mortals did: a monster.

Until one day, an artist stumbled upon her, hunched over a man as she drained his life essence from him. Where others would run, he stayed, offering his own life essence in exchange for her heart. For the first time in her life, Ahri let herself fall in love and be loved, wholly and completely.

Their days passed in warmth and laughter, Ahri curbing her hunger by feeding on her lover. She was truly happy... until she lost control, draining her lover completely.

Ahri fell into despair, her grief consuming her as she mourned the loss of the first and only person she's ever truly loved. The first and only person who ever truly loved her. Retreating even further from society, she became consumed with learning more about where she came from, in hopes that it would help her control her abilities.

With her twin sunstones in hand, she set out in search of others like her, a journey that would take her out of Ionia and across Runeterra, eventually leading her to the discovery of her ancestors, the Vesani, a vastayan tribe that brought innovation and magic to the world before being wiped out.

Inspired by their memories, Ahri has set off to travel the world in search of other remnants of the Vesani. She hopes to carry their legacy forward, bringing good into the world like they did. No longer burdened by the heavy weight of her regrets, she also hopes to finally leave her stolen memories behind and create new memories of her own making.

Akali could see the stars. They shimmered above her, each one a flickering flame over Valoran City.

Pretty, Akali thought, focusing on those distant lights, forgetting for just a moment that she couldn’t breathe. She forgot the feeling of gravel pressing into her back as she lay prone where they’d left her. Forgot the way the other kids had turned on her when she’d tried to stop them from hurting the small, grimy puppy they’d found in the alley. She forgot everything but the stars, until a soft voice broke her focus.

“Are you okay?”

Akali tried to turn toward that voice, curious as to who’d been brave enough to break up a five-on-one fight. Awareness of where, exactly, those punches and kicks had landed, however, kept her on the ground.

“Did they knock you out?” the stranger asked, concerned.

“Knocked down, actually,” Akali corrected her with a wince. Talking hurt. “But then I figured I’d just stay down here. It’s cozy, you know?” The girl laughed, making Akali smile... and then grimace. Smiling hurt, too.

The girl stepped forward to stand above Akali. She offered a hand, and smiled. “As comfy as that seems, maybe we should get you off the ground? This place is gross.”

Akali couldn’t argue with that, grabbing the girl’s arm and pulling herself up.

It was only then that Akali realized she recognized this girl! Tall, pink hair, prim clothes... It was Kai’Sa! Pretty, perfect Kai’Sa. Akali had never spoken to her, but she knew Kai’Sa had been popular ever since she transferred to Valoran City Middle School earlier this year. The teachers wouldn’t shut up about her. Polite, excellent in every subject, quiet. Basically Akali’s opposite, or so she had thought, right up until Kai’Sa had stormed into the alley. Akali heard Kai’Sa tell all five assailants that if she ever caught them picking on anyone, human or otherwise, she’d personally make them regret it. They’d fled without another word. Akali was as impressed as she was in pain.

“I’m gonna have bruises on my bruises,” she admitted.

“You do this often? The fights, I mean, not the losing.” Kai’Sa grinned.

“Neither,” Akali hedged. “Well, not usually. Sometimes? But they were picking on a—oh, crap! The dog!”

Kai’Sa helped her dig through the nearby bins, and Akali marveled at her willingness to get her hands dirty. Literally. They were elbow-deep in trash and muck until—

“There you are!” Kai’Sa said, pulling the trembling pup from beneath a sodden bag. The creature was filthy, more dirt than dog, but it gave a small wag of its tail as Kai’Sa held it.

“I think you made a friend,” Akali said.

“And here I was thinking I’d made two,” Kai’Sa mused. It took Akali a moment to understand.

“Me?! Why would you wanna be friends with me?” Akali wasn’t good at... well, anything, really, unless you counted playing video games. Which Akali did, of course, but Kai’Sa didn’t know that.

“Well, for starters,” Kai’Sa said as she stood, still holding the dog, “I saved your life. Figure that makes us friends. Plus, you got your butt handed to you trying to save a puppy. Means you have good character.”

Akali laughed. “All right, new friend. What are we gonna do with the dog? No way my mom would let it in the house. She barely lets me in the house!”

“My dad runs the shelter down the street. I volunteer on weekends.”

“Of course you do,” Akali said dryly as Kai’Sa set off.

“Come on,” she called over her shoulder. “We can drop this little guy off, and then I’ll walk you home.”

“Huh? I don’t need a babysitter!”

“You napping in an alley says otherwise.”

Akali realized she’d never win an argument with this girl.

Kai’Sa was true to her word. After settling the dog in one of the plush shelter beds, Kai’Sa walked Akali straight home. The journey was surprisingly pleasant, despite Akali knowing what awaited her at home. She marveled at how easy it was to talk to Kai’Sa. They made plans to grab ramen tomorrow after school, and that alone was enough to drown out the lecture that began as soon as she shut her front door. However, her mother’s admonishments of “useless” and “delinquent” failed to hit their mark for once, banished by the word “friend” blazing in Akali’s heart like a newborn star.

Valoran City Park was busier than usual. Everyone seemed to have reached the same conclusion, opting for the longer, more scenic route to the mall to soak in the beautiful day. After all, who wouldn’t want to bask in the sunshine, birdsong, and Kai’Sa’s yelling.

“You don’t even know what it’s for!”

Kai'Sa never shouted, not in the years Akali had known her, and especially not in public, so Akali couldn’t really blame the passerby for staring. Not when she shouted right back.

“I don’t care what it’s for! No petition thing is worth burning out over!”

“It’s worth it to me! And I’m not burnt out! I’m just tired!”

Akali rolled her eyes. “Tired?! Kai’Sa, tired is you forgetting your homework, not sleeping through class!”

“Look, I don’t need a babysitter, Akali.” Their old joke now felt like a jab.

“You’re right,” Akali spat. “What you need is someone who isn’t going to let you lie to yourself. You’re pulling double shifts at the shelter on top of everything else!”

“Dad needs the help,” Kai’Sa and Akali said in unison.

“Well, it’s true,” Kai’Sa said softly.

Kai’Sa was selfless to a serious fault. It was something Akali usually admired, but now...

“There’s always someone else to help.”

“Oh, so now it’s wrong to help people?” Kai’Sa demanded.

“That’s not what I meant!” Akali knew she should rein in her temper, but— “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you sacrifice yourself for other people!”

“I thought you of all people would—you know what? Never mind.” Kai’Sa’s lower lip trembled. “I need to be alone right now.”

Akali knew she shouldn’t leave. She wanted Kai’Sa to trust her to be there when things got tough. The worst thing Akali could do was go to the mall without her best friend.

It’s official. I am the worst.

Guilt and shame had been no match for pride as Akali had made the trek to the mall alone. This couldn’t all be her fault, right?

That was all my fault.

Whatever else Kai’Sa had going on, she’d always been there for Akali. When things at home had gotten really bad, Kai’Sa was there for her. They’d taken to wandering Valoran City together after school, looking for trouble and trying to stop it if they could. “A bona fide crime-fighting duo,” Kai’Sa called them. Sure, it was mostly to keep Akali out of trouble, but they’d saved a few kids, too.

See? Akali reasoned. I help people!

But Kai’Sa was the one who helped her, no matter how tough it got.

And I just left her there!

“I’m the worst!”

“The worst? Seems a bit dramatic, dear.” A little old lady at the flower kiosk was smiling at her. Akali had been talking to herself. Great.

“S-Sorry. Just... being stupid.” Akali turned to leave, but her gaze snagged on a bouquet of delicate pink and blue blossoms. She recognized them. Kai’Sa loved those little flowers so much that she’d bought matching friendship bracelets with them as charms. Akali could feel the delicate metal against her wrist.

“Forget-me-nots.” The flower seller nodded, knowingly. “They represent an unbreakable bond of love and friendship. They also make a lovely apology.”

A gift! Maybe that would help smooth things over with Kai’Sa! Akali pulled out her wallet, oblivious to the strange rumbling that began above her.

Don’t look. You know she hasn’t called! Sarah Fortune clutched her phone so hard it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. How was not hearing from Ahri worse than fighting monsters?

Don’t look. Don’t—

“Sarah?”

“What?!” she snapped.

“S-Sorry, Fortune. I mean, er, Sarah. I—you looked sort of... angry? I was w-worried.” Lux’s face had turned the same shade as her bright pink hair, and guilt needled Sarah’s conscience.

“Sorry, Lux. I was thinking. About stuff.” Oh, yeah. Very reassuring.

But Lux sagged with relief. “I know you said yes to shopping with us and everything, but I was worried.”

“I’m glad you invited me, Lux. This is a welcome distraction,” Sarah offered with a half-hearted smile. “Now hurry up. Ez looks like he’s going to implode.”

They turned to see Ezreal waving excitedly, gesturing to a Lights & Lamps store, of all places. Lux blushed.

“I’m okay, so go have fun,” Sarah said.

She wasn’t okay, but Lux didn’t need to know that. Instead, Sarah watched Lux smile before running past the flower kiosk to catch up with Ezreal. Jinx, rolling her eyes, followed them.

Sarah didn’t mind coming with them to the mall, not really. From where she sat on her bench, she could see Poppy carrying two ice-cream cones to Lulu, who might have been drooling. She spotted Janna and Soraka being as awkward as possible at the front of a line in the food court. They’d been there for ten minutes, engaged in a polite battle of wills, with many an “Oh, after you!” and “No, please, I insist,” as an irritated crowd formed behind them. Sarah almost smiled at the thought of how long Jinx had been glaring at Ezreal without blinking.

Syndra wasn’t there, of course. She’d been “busy,” but everyone else had made it. Except Ahri.

Yup. Not hearing from Ahri was worse than fighting monsters.

She’s probably in space. Or she’s dead. Or she’s dead in space!

But Sarah knew Ahri would be fine. Fine, and aloof, and unwilling to confide in anyone. Not even her own lieutenant.

It had been like this ever since... that battle. With her.

No! Sarah wouldn’t think about that, even as memories of that lonely planet threatened to rise to the surface. She couldn’t think of Ahri dragging her away from their fallen friends. Not as guilt whispered that they were dead because of her. Nope. Sarah buried that pain deep. And when she couldn’t bury it, she distracted herself from it. She had her new team. She had her phone. Easy! Except when it wasn’t. Like now.

And this is why you can’t get close to the others, Sarah reminded herself. She was barely keeping it together after losing one team. Sarah didn’t think she’d survive losing another. Not if she saw them as more than the mission.

“It’s the right thing to do,” she whispered to herself.

Sarah’s training made it impossible to truly be lost in thought. That’s why one moment she sat, trying to forget, and the next she was standing, every muscle in her body tense.

A keening whistle, the sound of something moving far too fast, was followed by a rumble from somewhere above her.

“What the—?” But Sarah was cut off as something crashed into the flower stand.

Akali could see the sky. She could make out the pinks and purples of sunset through a hole in the ceiling. Petals and debris fell, and for some reason, they reminded her of Kai’Sa.

Forget-me-nots. That’s right. She had been talking to the flower seller, but she couldn’t remember why. Her head throbbed. If only her thoughts weren’t so sluggish. If only the people around her would stop screaming—people were screaming! Panic cut bone-deep. Something was wrong, and awareness, mingled with adrenaline, broke through the haze in her head.

Uh-oh, she thought dimly. This isn’t good.

“Now this isn’t good,” a male voice agreed from somewhere above her. Akali could just make out two figures in front of her, obscured by clouds of dust.

“Where are the banners? Where are the parades and adoring fans?” the voice went on.

“Looks like no one planned a party for your homecoming, Rakan.” A girl’s voice now, bored and mocking.

“I think you’re right, Xayah!”

As the dust began to settle, Akali could see who’d spoken, but—that couldn’t be right. They looked, well, ridiculous. Feathered capes? Gemstones? They were facing away from her as Xayah patted Rakan’s arm.

“Not even a balloon,” he whined. “Babe, do you know what this means?”

“That I’m going to have to coddle your fragile ego?” Xayah asked dryly.

“Well, yes, but no! It means we’re gonna destroy the city. What do you say?”

“It’s a date,” she said simply, before the pair unleashed themselves.

It was what Sarah had been waiting for—less thinking, more action. Past the clouds of dust, she could just make out Lux, Ezreal, and Jinx sprinting toward whatever had crashed through the roof. Poppy, pulling her hammer from Light only knew where, shielded Lulu, who was still eating her ice cream. Sarah couldn’t see them, but she could hear Soraka and Janna ushering panicked shoppers away from the epicenter.

“See anything?” Sarah shouted at Lux.

“Not a thing! There’s too much—Janna, help!”

A gust of wind cleared the lingering dust to reveal two figures. The taller one gave a gracious bow in Sarah’s direction, but the other only glared, hatred clouding her violet eyes. Familiar eyes. But they were the wrong color. They were wrong. They were—

Buried memories clawed their way through Sarah’s psyche. Green eyes were filled with tears. He wasn’t breathing. She wasn’t moving. Fuchsia feathers fell into puddles of black. Someone grabbed Sarah around the waist, pulling, pleading. A child’s laugh, horrible and cruel.

No! They couldn’t be here. They couldn’t be...

“Xayah? Rakan?” Sarah whispered.

“Looks like she remembers us after all,” Rakan mused, glancing at his partner, but Xayah only had eyes for Sarah. She snarled, and Sarah’s instincts took over.

Looking back, she would wonder if things might have gone differently had Ahri been there. She, at least, would have cautioned against transforming in front of hundreds of panicked patrons. She would defuse the situation in that calm, level-headed way of hers. But Sarah wasn’t Ahri.

“STAR GUARDIANS!” Sarah and Xayah shouted, Sarah’s words a command, Xayah’s a curse, as a kaleidoscope of color exploded from them all.

Sarah couldn’t say she fully believed in the First Light. She wasn’t keen on some unknowable, cosmic force manipulating her life. But she believed in the mission, in protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves, no matter the cost. That molten core of belief fueled her transformation, her world becoming one of color, light, and white-hot power. She channeled it, allowing starlight to replace doubt, replace fear. She could see the gem now glowing on her chest, her uniform twinkling like a galaxy. The old Sarah Fortune had melted away, leaving only a Star Guardian.

The light of eight transformations momentarily blinded Xayah and Rakan, and Sarah seized her chance.

“Boki! Baki! It’s showtime!” Sarah cried.

Her familiars popped into being. A small frown replaced Baki’s usual smirk, and Boki glanced with his good eye past Xayah and Rakan to where Saki and Riku, their familiars, fluttered nervously. Boki let out a sad squeak.

“It isn’t them,” Sarah said, whether to herself or her familiars, she wasn’t sure.

“Still making a habit of lying to yourself?” Xayah asked before hurling her feathers like knives. Sarah took them out with two precise pistol shots, but Xayah had already thrown a second volley.

“Not today, lady.” Ezreal teleported in front of Sarah, firing bolts at the oncoming darts, only to be caught off guard by Rakan. One of his feathers clipped Ezreal’s gem, missing his heart by inches.

“There can only be one leading man, you know,” Rakan offered, almost amicably.

“Yeah,” Ezreal agreed, taking aim with his gauntlet. “I’m pretty sure it’s me!”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ME!” Jinx shouted just as her familiars, Kuro and Shiro, unleashed a storm of bullets.

The battle became a blur of light and color, Xayah and Rakan matching the guardians’ combined attacks. How were they so powerful?! Rakan charged headfirst at Poppy, only to narrowly avoid the downward swing of her hammer. Xayah zipped toward them, but Lulu threw Pix at her face. Before Xayah could retaliate against the flapping familiar, Lux shot an orb of light that bound Xayah and Rakan in prismatic rings.

“Why are you attacking us?!” Lux demanded. “Stop this!”

“‘Stop this!’ Ugh. You guardian losers never change.” Xayah looked disgusted.

“Whatever you two are, you shouldn’t be here,” Sarah said.

“Well, you shouldn’t have—what was it she did to us, Rakan?” Xayah said as she struggled against her bindings.

“Abandoned us to die?” Rakan broke free from his ring, Xayah a beat behind.

“Abandoned us to die! Yup, that was it!” Xayah said.

Sarah aimed a shaking barrel at Xayah. “That wasn’t you! The real Xayah and Rakan are dead.”

“Is that what you’ve been telling yourself?” Xayah chided.

Sarah fired. Rakan soared to Xayah’s side in an instant, a golden shield enveloping them.

“Or is that what Ahri told you?” Xayah seethed. “That we died? Or that we weren’t worth saving!” She broke out of Rakan’s protection toward Sarah once more, but another brilliant beam of light from Lux forced her back.

“Fortu—Sarah, we have a problem,” Lux said.

“Wow, Lux. I hadn’t noticed.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“Not them!”

Did Lux just snap at her? But Lux wasn’t looking at her, or at Xayah and Rakan. She was staring behind them, to where a small figure cowered in the wreckage of the flower stand.

“We have a problem,” Sarah agreed.

“You need to get her out of here,” Lux said.

“Me? You don’t even know what you’re up against—”

“And you’re too close to this!” Lux really did snap at her! “I watched you hesitate. You never hesitate. And we need help. Go get Ahri. Or Syndra. Anyone! And get that girl out of here.”

Sarah didn’t move, not until Lux whispered, “Please.”

She knew Lux was right. Someone had to help the kid, and Sarah... really was too close to this.

“You’re in charge,” Sarah said, jumping into the air.

“Do you ever not run away?!” Xayah threw another feather at her, but Janna knocked it off course with a well-aimed breeze. Rakan tried to intercept Sarah, but Pix hit him in the head with a smack.

“STOP THROWING THIS THING AT PEOPLE,” Rakan shouted, spinning in mid-air to land on his feet. Lulu waved at Sarah.

“Time to save a star,” she said dreamily before readying Pix for another attack.

Sarah landed next to the girl, who trembled against the only remaining wall of the flower stand.

“Hey, kid. We gotta get you out of here,” Sarah coaxed, but the girl didn’t move. She just stared at the very real, very magical fight happening in front of them.

She’s in shock.

Well, from lieutenant to babysitter. Sarah pulled the girl to her feet, half dragging her toward the exit. A swirling path of stars appeared, lighting the way. Sarah nodded her thanks to Soraka, not stopping even as Xayah shouted after her.

“Leaving your friends to die again, Sarah? You’re pathetic!”

A part of Sarah worried Xayah was right.

Akali was running, aided in no small part by an older girl she didn’t recognize right away. But then Akali remembered. She’d been one of those people fighting in the mall.

Sarah. That’s what one of them had said, right? And she had...

A gun. She had two guns.

Without hesitation, Akali kicked her in the shin. Hard.

“What the heck?!” Sarah shouted, releasing Akali and taking a startled step back. “What’s the matter with you?!”

But Akali was already outside. Had she hit her head? A concussion? That might explain why she’d seen a bunch of teenagers flinging light and bullets at each other like it was nothing. Aliens or a concussion, Akali decided. The only two options that made sense.

“HEY, KID! WAIT!”

The alien-concussion girl called Sarah was following her! Akali didn’t know what this hallucination wanted, but she certainly wasn’t about to find out.

She sprinted and—why were there so many people?! Far more than there’d been in the mall this close to closing. Akali skirted around them, veering left toward the center of Valoran City, away from the fleeing crowds.

Akali rounded a corner and stopped. She was staring at the city’s heart.

What was left of it, anyway.

Akali heard Sarah catch up to her, but it didn’t matter anymore. Not when the once unbroken skyline was now fractured under the weight of falling stars. But they couldn’t be stars. Some were made of darkest night, others glowing embers. They zipped across the twilight sky, changing course midair to crash down without warning. Where they landed, corrosive purples, pinks, and blues blossomed. Buildings collapsed, only to be swallowed by fathomless black holes that winked like all-seeing eyes. Now Akali knew why there’d been so many people. They’d been running away, not just from the mall, but from this. It was terror. It was madness. It was—

“Pretty,” Akali whispered, unable to look away.

“Snap out of it!” Sarah spun Akali away from the chaos.

Akali leaped back. “Don’t touch me!”

Sarah raised her hands. “Hey, hey. I’m on your side. I’m a Star Guardian! We’re the good guys!”

Akali laughed. “Star Guardians? Do you hear yourself?” she scoffed. “Lady, last I checked, good guys don’t destroy malls. Or cities!”

“We didn’t do this, kid!”

“Akali,” she corrected out of pure habit.

“Okay, Akali,” Sarah spat. “Back there, we were just doing our jobs! Protecting people like you from—”

“Your friends,” Akali cut her off. “That other girl... Xayah. She knew you. Which means you’re one of them!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sarah glowered. “And those two were... It doesn't matter who they were. They aren’t like us!”

“Xayah... She said you left them to die. I don’t care who’s on what side, but good people don’t do that!”

Before Sarah could respond, a loud whoosh preceded an inferno of purple fire that funneled into a swirling mass from somewhere blocks away.

That wasn’t very far. Akali had been there barely thirty minutes ago, after all.

“The park...” Akali whispered, right as Sarah said, “Syndra?!”

Akali didn’t ask what a Syndra was. She was already running.

“Hey!” Sarah shouted after her.

“You may be okay leaving your friends to die, Sarah, but I’m not!”

Akali’s gonna get herself killed. Sarah thought about letting her go. It was a terrible thought, but her shin hurt, and Akali’s words had stung. The girl was a brat. A liability.

And she’d been right.

“I’m going to regret this,” Sarah muttered, with no one but Baki and Boki to hear her. They quipped sounds of encouragement as Sarah shot into the air after Akali. She couldn’t have gone far.

As Sarah scanned the city below, her stomach dropped. This particular brand of destruction was worse than she remembered. Or maybe she’d simply tried to erase the memory of what, exactly, Zoe’s magic was capable of.

Don’t remember. Don’t remember. Sarah forced herself to ignore the memories, just as she ignored the screams from the city below. She had to focus on the mission.

“Akali! Where the heck are you?”

“Come on!” someone shouted. Was it Akali?

Sarah landed, tearing off down an alley... and there! Thank the Light. Akali was kneeling in front of a pile of rubble that had clearly broken off a nearby building.

“Come on!” Akali repeated, hurling brick after brick off the mound. A falling paddle star zoomed overhead, illuminating the rubble. Something was under there. Fabric covering what looked like—

“Akali...” Sarah took a step toward her. She could see Akali’s hands, nails cracked and fingers bruised from desperation.

Another star, but the light was too bright this time. This paddle star crashed nearby, and a piece of wall was dislodged by the impact.

“Akali!” Sarah wrapped an arm around Akali’s waist and twisted, flinging her to one side. With her other hand, she aimed her pistol. Bang! The wall broke apart, landing in pieces where Akali had been moments before.

“No!” Akali screamed as debris further buried whoever she’d tried to save.

Sarah launched them both into the air. “They’re gone, Akali.”

“You don’t know that!” Akali sobbed. “They might still be alive!”

“I had to make the call! It was you or them, and it was too late for them!”

“You don’t know that...” Akali whispered again and again, just as Sarah had to Ahri on a lonely planet a lifetime ago.

They had been a team then, stronger than they’d ever been. That must’ve delighted Zoe as she snuffed each one out like a candle. Rakan fell first, as if Zoe knew how much it would shatter Xayah. Neeko was next. One spell to the chest. That was all it took. And Xayah—

“Put me down,” Akali rasped. “Put me down now!”

“If you kick me again, I will drop you.”

“I said put me down!”

“Absolutely not.” Sarah had to get Akali somewhere safe. Had to find Syndra. Had to help her—

“—friend!”

Sarah almost did drop her. “What did you say?”

“My friend—she’s out there!” Akali pleaded. “We argued in the park, and the explosion came from there, and—”

Sarah landed, placing Akali gently on the ground in front of an arcade. Its lights flickered on and off, but the structure seemed sound.

“That’s what this is about? You kicked me, made me chase you around the city... so you could find your friend?”

Akali nodded.

“Look, ki—Akali. I can’t stop all this if I’m babysitting you.”

Akali opened her mouth to argue, but Sarah cut her off. “Even if you found your friend, do you really think you could save her?!”

Akali looked away. Sarah sighed. Don’t do it, Fortune! You don't have time!

“Look. If I find your friend—” Sarah began.

“Kai’Sa! Her name’s Kai’Sa!” The hope in Akali’s voice made Sarah’s throat burn. Fortune, you big, soft idiot. “If I find Kai’Sa, I’ll make sure she finds you.”

“Promise?!”

Sarah held Akali’s foolish hope in her heart like a counterweight.

“I promise,” she said.

Sarah worried it was a promise she couldn’t keep.

Sarah was flying faster than she’d ever flown, heading toward the park. No more babysitting. She was a Star Guardian lieutenant once again. As she soared between the last of the skyscrapers, she saw a grassy field leading up to the edge of Valoran Park. There, two figures stood at the base of the Wishing Tree.

“What took you so long?” Xayah crooned.

Sarah plummeted, Xayah’s quills passing harmlessly above her.

Where are the others? Sarah pulled up from her dive and hovered in midair, looking back to the buildings she’d passed, dread bubbling up once more. Lux. Ezreal. Her frien— Her team. What if Xayah had—

Xayah leaped, her body a missile heading straight for Sarah. There was no time to dodge! Sarah braced for impact... but it never came. Instead, gale-force winds blasted from between the buildings, knocking Xayah out of the air and into Rakan. Janna and Soraka ran onto the grass a moment later.

“That was very good,” Soraka said fondly to Janna. Poppy and Lulu rode on the older girls’ shoulders, and Sarah didn’t know if she should laugh or cry with relief. They were okay! Sarah landed just as Lulu glared from behind Soraka’s waves of green hair.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to chase people?” Lulu demanded.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude not to just let us kill you?!” Rakan countered, as Xayah rolled off him.

“Oh, shut up!” Jinx said as she shoved past a sprinting Lux and Ezreal. She fell to one knee, aiming her rocket with unusually careful precision.

BOOM! Jinx’s whoop of satisfaction was followed by Rakan’s cry of pain. The rocket had clipped his wing.

“I’m sick of you shooting at us!” Xayah swore, firing a quill at Jinx.

“Well, we’re sick of you two being jerks!” Ezreal retorted as Yuuto burst out of his

gauntlet to knock Xayah’s attack off course.

“Nice one, bolt boy.” Jinx gave him a rare grin.

“Ez! Jinx!” Sarah ran to them, fighting an insane urge to hug them. “Can you clear

me a path?”

Ezreal nodded, before teleporting right to Rakan. Sarah expected him to fire an arrow, or an orb, but to her utter delight, Ezreal simply tackled Rakan to the ground. Xayah raced for Rakan.

“Whatcha think, kiddies? Should we help out?” Jinx said to her familiars. Kuro let out an almost intimidating roar in answer. Shiro, ever in contrast, gave a small, horrifying grin that matched Jinx’s own. And then they were sprinting, Kuro and Shiro raining bullets on Xayah without mercy.

Lux gave the barrage a wide berth as she caught up to Sarah. “That purple explosion earlier... that was Syndra and Multi?”

Sarah nodded. “Can you hold them off?” she asked, watching Ezreal and Rakan roll on the ground.

“What does she think we’ve been doing?” Poppy said, leaping off Janna’s shoulders. She ran, hammer raised, to help Ezreal.

“We’ve got this,” Lux said as another plume of purple fire scorched the sky above the park. “Go!” She ran toward the others.

Sarah didn’t need to be told twice. Syndra was still alive! Sarah knew she was powerful, but against some foes, power was never enough.

I’m coming, Syndra. Just hold on.

Sarah raced through the trees, not stopping to marvel at the paddle stars that had fallen in an eerily perfect circle, leaving the heart of the park intact.

As she passed through the circle, she saw a tall girl with midnight hair.

“Syndra!” Sarah cried, though her relief was fleeting.

In front of Syndra sat a little girl on the swings. But this was no child. The swirling eddies of her purple hair were streaked with blue and adorned with shimmering stars. The girl looked at Sarah and smiled.

Laughter on a lonely planet. Friends screaming, falling around her. The taste of chaos and magic scorching her tongue. Cold, fathomless eyes. A grin that promised nothing. And everything.

Zoe.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Syndra muttered, not daring to turn her back on the Twilight Star. Fear made every step an effort as Sarah moved next to Syndra. Sarah could see her own terror-stricken face mirrored in the gem atop Zoe’s brow. Still, she chanced a glance around the park. No sign of Kai’Sa. Thank the Light for small mercies.

“I came for you,” Sarah said. It was clear Syndra and Zoe had been fighting, but Syndra seemed unharmed. Just how strong was she?!

“You need to worry about yourself,” Syndra advised, just as another voice rang across the park. Xayah had caught up to them.

“Worrying about herself is the only thing Sarah’s good at!” Xayah spat, much to Zoe’s delight.

“Xayah! Sarah! I missed you two,” Zoe said.

“Can’t say the same,” Sarah replied.

“But we had so much fun last time,” Zoe whined. “Right, Xayah?”

“I don’t know if I’d call dying fun,” she admitted.

“It was fun for me! And I bet it was fun for Sarah! She probably couldn’t wait to get away from you.”

Sarah balled her hands into fists. “I know what you’re doing, Zoe.”

“I’m telling the truth,” she crooned. “I mean, why else would you leave?”

“Rakan was gone. Neeko was dead!”

“What about Xayah?” Zoe asked, innocently. Sarah said nothing.

“ANSWER ME!”

Zoe’s shout was so sudden that Sarah didn’t have time to react as she opened a black hole between them. A paddle star shot from the void, arcing around to slam into Sarah’s back, searing the exposed skin between her shoulder blades. Sarah fell to her knees, doubled over in agony. She pressed her forehead on the cool earth, trying to calm herself against the heat and pain, but a foot pressed on her shoulder, holding her down. Xayah.

“I didn’t know,” Sarah said through gritted teeth.

Zoe cackled as Syndra fired off three orbs of dark magic.

“See, Xayah? Sarah’s got new friends now,” Zoe teased. She then yawned, summoning portals of pitch to swallow Syndra’s attack. “It’s probably because Syndra’s stronger than you, Xayah.”

The pressure vanished from Sarah’s shoulder, and she raised her head to see Xayah turn on Syndra. Her feathers soared, and Syndra sprinted out of the way. Now at a safe distance, Syndra called upon Multi. Her familiar rose to orbit around her like small, giddy moons. Mouths opened wide, Multi swallowed the feathers whole.

“Whoa! That was almost as impressive as me!” Rakan whistled, finally catching up to Xayah. He turned to Sarah. “What’s not impressive is, like, how obnoxious your friends are? They keep following me—”

“Syndra! Sarah!” Lux was first to arrive, but Sarah heard the others not far behind.

“See what I mean?” Rakan said, before the whizz of his feathers clashed with the sound of Lux’s magic.

But Sarah didn’t watch them. Not as Xayah walked back to her, kneeling down where Sarah still struggled to rise. Zoe could hardly contain her glee, a dark aura beginning to pulse around her. Just like before.

“I watched you run,” Xayah said softly.

Xayah grabbed Sarah’s chin, forcing her to look up. At her. At Zoe. She watched as grasping hands began to take shape, magic peeling off Zoe in ligaments that clawed at Xayah’s wings. Her head. Her heart. Xayah didn’t notice.

“I watched Ahri grab you and run. I called out to you. I was alive, and you left me there.”

The hands clasped around Xayah’s throat as if to choke her, and when they moved, the wound on Sarah’s back writhed in pleasure. Chaos. Corruption. Zoe.

“No...” Sarah rasped. Darkness and pain lodged between her shoulder blades and beat like a second heart, every pulse a misery.

Sarah thought someone said her name, but Zoe shushed them.

“This is the good part!” Zoe said, and the paddle stars suddenly became a torrent, a curtain cutting the others off from Sarah and Xayah.

“Do you know what it feels like... to die?” Xayah asked. The grip on Sarah’s chin tightened painfully.

“No, no, no—” Sarah was crying, not from pain, but from memory. The dark fire beneath Sarah’s skin became tendrils, wrapping around her guilt, her fear, crushing all that she was.

“Dying was nothing.” Xayah’s voice was quiet yet somehow louder than the falling paddle stars. “Nothing compared to watching Rakan die.”

Green eyes filled with tears. He wasn’t breathing. She wasn’t moving.

The tendrils thrummed, gorging on her grief, and Sarah wanted to scream.

Fuchsia feathers fell into puddles of black.

“I didn’t know, I didn’t know—” Sarah’s mantra was a discordant harmony with the pain in her back and the voice in her head screaming, It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

Someone grabbed Sarah around the waist, pulling, pleading. Someone was shouting— Wait. Someone was shouting! Someone apart from the screaming memories.

“DON’T GIVE UP,” a voice, so at odds with the chorus in her head, rang out.

“Who are you?” Zoe demanded, and for a brief moment, the stars ceased falling.

Rakan ran at Sarah but stopped, his eyes shifting to the sky above them. A fresh host of paddle stars waited there, but they did not fall. They were suspended, trembling in midair as if held by tenuous threads ready to snap. Rakan looked from Sarah to Xayah, some war inside him raging that Sarah didn’t understand. One side must have won out as he pivoted to Xayah, pulling her out of Zoe’s line of sight and away from the petrified stars above.

“Don’t give up!” the voice said again. But Sarah was giving up. It was her fault. The darkness in her heart knew it was time to let go. But that voice...

With effort, Sarah managed to turn to see a young girl. The girl was covered in dirt and dried blood, but it did nothing to dim the fire burning in her eyes. Sarah knew, as sure as she knew her own name, that it was Kai’Sa.

“Shut up!” Zoe yelled, hopping off the swings. Sarah watched Rakan pull Xayah farther back. “Why aren’t you shutting up?! You have to listen to me!”

Kai’Sa did no such thing, her eyes fixed on Sarah’s. “Your friends are behind you, so don’t you dare give up!” Sarah’s heart swelled, and she swore the tendrils in her back recoiled.

“Stop ignoring me!” Zoe seethed.

Sarah was struck by the raw determination in Kai’Sa’s voice. It reminded her of Akali. That foolish hope. But was it foolish? It seemed so strong to her now. That unbreakable bond was only possible when—

Your friends are behind you.

And they were. Sarah’s friends had come for her. The tendrils thrashed.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” Zoe screamed, stomping the ground with a rage that shook the earth. Her footfalls gave way to pools of pink and purple slime oozing from newly formed fissures in the ground. Zoe could have blasted Kai’Sa with a thought, but Sarah realized Kai’Sa had played the only card in her hand. She’d made Zoe lose her temper.

“You’re not alone!” Kai’Sa said, her eyes glowing like twin stars.

Sarah turned again, to where Xayah and Rakan struggled to avoid the fissures and slime. They, at least, weren’t a threat at the moment, but Sarah knew it wouldn’t last. She saw Lux, and the others, all their attention fixed on Zoe. They were ready to attack, but hesitating. Sarah understood. Zoe, distracted by her own fury, seemed oblivious to everyone, even Kai’Sa. An attack could very well provoke Zoe into action, and Lux knew, as Sarah knew, they might not get to Kai’Sa in time. So they waited, poised on the knife’s edge. Syndra stood slightly off to the side, but there was a small smile playing about her lips.

Sarah turned back to Kai’Sa. “You see?” Kai’Sa said. “You’re not alone. You hear me? YOU’RE NOT ALONE.”

And as if Kai’Sa summoned them, two stars illuminated the park from high above. These were no paddle stars. They hurtled past Zoe’s suspended stars, crashing beside where Sarah knelt and Zoe raged.

“Well,” a voice said from the smoldering crater. It was a voice they all recognized. “You heard her.”

“Ahri!” Lux sounded as relieved as Sarah felt.

“Listen to the little yelling girl, Sarah!” Another oh-so-familiar voice. It wasn’t possible, but what did that matter? Neeko was smiling at her, offering a hand.

“You’re not alone,” Neeko said.

And Zoe lost control.

Zoe was screaming, but it was all wrong. The stilled paddle stars above were vibrating, attuned to the tenor of Zoe’s fury. The pools of liquid at her feet began to boil and overflow, setting the ground aflame with multicolored fires. None of that scared Sarah, not until the screaming stopped. And Zoe began to laugh.

It was so much worse than the screams. The paddle stars dropped, crashing into one another, shards falling into black holes that sprang across the park. But it was Zoe herself that was more concerning. Her mouth had grown far too wide, her features distorting, and Sarah watched in horror as Zoe’s limbs began to stretch, cracking at odd angles only to spring back like a ball-jointed doll’s.

Zoe was growing, shooting up past the tree line, and Neeko trembled as she pulled Sarah to her feet. Sarah retched, corruption still churning along her spine. Neeko held her steady as the other Star Guardians ran up behind them, desperately holding off the careening paddle stars.

“I have seen her do this before. It is... not pleasant,” Neeko said, her voice carrying over the crashing stars. Sarah looked to where Rakan did all he could to shield Xayah from the deluge.

“Then let’s take her out!” Jinx shouted, taking a shot at Zoe’s leg. It passed through harmlessly, her body shimmering like a mirage. “Or... not.”

“Her body is more chaos than flesh right now. We have to wait until she solidifies,” Neeko said, and Ezreal winced.

“That’s gross,” he said.

“It is very gross!” Neeko agreed, “but it means she cannot attack us. At least for now.”

Sarah backed away from Neeko. “I’m afraid to ask what else you’ve learned since you died.” She couldn’t keep the edge from her voice. Neeko flinched as Ahri stepped in.

“We can talk about all that later,” Ahri said coolly.

“We can talk about it now!” Sarah demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me? Either of you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, it matters, Ahri—” But a yelp cut Sarah off. Kai’Sa had managed to dodge an errant star shard by centimeters.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Sarah agreed through gritted teeth.

“Hello, little yelling girl!” Neeko said to Kai’Sa. “That was very brave of you, back there.”

“You’re Kai’Sa, right?” Sarah asked, trying to keep the pain from her voice as her back throbbed.

Kai’Sa whipped toward her. “You know my name?”

“Akali told me—” Sarah began, but Kai’Sa had already grabbed her by the shoulders. Ouch.

“You saw Akali?! Is she okay? Something hit the mall and—”

“She’s fine—” Sarah started, but her voice was drowned by another shout.

“Whoa! Watch it!” Ezreal said, leaping out of the way as a girl-shaped blur ran through the trees into the park.

“KAI’SA!” The relief in Akali’s voice was palpable.

“Fine and incapable of listening, apparently,” Sarah muttered, but she wasn’t angry. Not as she watched the pain and desperation melt off Kai’Sa’s face.

“AKALI!” Kai’Sa sprinted to meet her, the danger all but forgotten, even as Zoe’s light began to envelop them.

Lux blasted a few stars apart before they could intercept the girls, who now crashed into each other in a fierce hug.

“I thought you’d taken her somewhere safe,” Lux said.

“I did, but I should’ve known she wouldn’t stay put. I guess... sometimes friendship is worth the risk.” Sarah saw Neeko look away, but Ahri was looking at the sky.

“The stars aren’t falling,” Lulu said, though her usual dreaminess failed to tinge her voice.

“Then the only thing that’ll be falling is you!” Xayah, no longer distracted by the onslaught of paddle stars, was on the attack once more.

Janna was having none of it. “I am getting rather tired of you!” she said, summoning a small tornado to encircle Xayah and Rakan, pinning them in place.

“We have, um, bigger things to worry about right now,” Soraka whispered to Lux.

“A bit of an understatement, Soraka,” Sarah offered.

Zoe glowed, a mountain of distorted chaos far above them, but the speed of her ascension seemed sluggish, as did her movements.

“Looks like she’s almost done,” Ezreal observed.

“Then we don’t have much time until she can attack again. What’s the plan?” Sarah demanded.

“The plan is you getting those two girls, and yourself, to safety,” Ahri said firmly, gesturing to Kai’Sa and Akali.

The two girls still held each other tightly as if afraid to lose one another again. Sarah should have been moved, but anger kept her attention on Ahri.

“No way! I can fight!” Sarah blustered.
“You can barely stand,” Ahri reminded her.

“I’m standing fine! And I’ll decide when I’m not fit for battle, captain. Just because you’re back, you think you can tell me what to—”

“I’m telling you I can’t lose you!” Ahri snapped.

Sarah knew the other guardians were beginning to tire, the paddle stars only growing in number. Janna’s hold was beginning to weaken, and Xayah and Rakan would be on them in a moment, but Sarah couldn’t look away from Ahri. She was caught, not just by her words, but by silver glistening in the corners of her purple eyes.

“I won’t risk you burning out,” Ahri said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. “That means I’m making the hard call.”

“Ahri is right, Sarah. You need to rest. Let us—let me help this time,” Neeko whispered.

“I can’t hold them any longer!” Janna shouted, the wind dying. Xayah was already on her feet, but Ahri held Sarah’s gaze a moment longer.

“It won’t be like last time,” Ahri promised.

“It better not be!” Xayah spat, just as her feathers collided with Neeko’s chest.

Neeko vanished. It was a clone! The real Neeko stepped out from behind Xayah, kicking her legs out from under her. Neeko sprinted back into the trees.

“You wanna play?” Rakan shot a quill at Ahri. It missed, Ahri ducking it with ease, but the feather clipped Sarah’s shoulder instead. She screamed in pain.

“You really tried to steal the show, but I think you’ll find we’re still the main attraction.” Rakan smirked.

Xayah raised her feathers, her smile the promise of death, but she stumbled.

The ground had started to quake.

Sarah couldn’t stand, not as Zoe shuddered above them, sending tremors through the earth that made balance impossible. Unable to coordinate on the turbulent ground, the other Star Guardians took to the air, their magic igniting a path to where Zoe thrashed above the city. Paddle stars continued to fall, more erratic than ever. Sarah watched as a star slammed into a purple light—Syndra or Janna, she couldn’t tell—only for them to recover and continue their ascent.

Sarah wanted to help, needed to be up there, fighting alongside them, but she couldn’t. Even if the earth and sky weren’t literally cracking around her, she still wouldn’t have been able to move. Not under the weight of hatred in Xayah’s eyes.

“This needs to stop, Xayah,” Sarah said. Her voice sounded so, so weak.

“Sarah’s right. You’re safe! Now we can—” Ahri started, keeping herself upright against the tremors through sheer force of will.

“Safe?!” Xayah shouted, Rakan holding her steady. “You think I’ve been safe?!”

Xayah laughed without humor. Zoe’s massive form turned, the tremors easing. Sarah wondered if Zoe was somehow listening in at that great height, reveling in Xayah’s anguish. But no. Like all that Zoe did, it was so much worse. As Xayah went on, each word dripping bitterness and grief, Zoe glowed brighter, drawing power from Xayah’s pain.

“I burnt out. I died my real, actual death. And you know what? It was amazing! I didn’t have to live with knowing that you two left me to her! I didn’t have to exist without Rakan! But then she brought us back. And I saw you.” She pointed at Neeko, who winced. “I saw that you were still alive. Safe. Which meant I’d come back not to two betrayals, but three!”

“X-Xayah—” Neeko tried to walk toward her, but she stumbled as the earth moved again.

“You ran away, Neeko. Just like they did.” Xayah pointed at Ahri and Sarah. “I came back to what? A life that wasn’t even mine? Well, lucky me!”

Sarah didn’t think Xayah knew she was crying.

Rakan tightened his arm around Xayah as he looked at Sarah and Ahri. “Why did you leave?” he asked softly, as if he didn’t think anyone would answer.

Ahri did. “I heard it... when your heart stopped beating, Rakan.” His mouth parted in surprise. “You were dead, and Xayah’s heart was slowing down.” Ahri faced Xayah. “Sarah didn’t care, you know? She tried to come for you. All of you were dead, or dying, and I was about to lose her, too.”

“You pulled me back,” Sarah whispered. Ahri nodded.

“You could have tried!” Xayah countered.

“I had to make the call,” Ahri said. “You know that!”
“We all would have died,” Neeko added.

“Then at least we would have been together!” Xayah cried. “But you three got to live!”

“But we didn’t,” Sarah said softly. They turned to her. “I didn’t.”

Xayah glared.

“You were right,” Sarah continued. “I have no idea what it feels like to die. I can’t begin to understand.”

Rakan tilted his head, considering.

“I didn’t know for sure you’d died,” Sarah admitted. “I thought you did, but I never stopped going over the battle in my head. I needed to know where we failed. Where I’d failed.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Ahri interrupted, but Sarah shook her head.

“But that’s just it. I could have done something. I could have died. You were there, Ahri. I wanted to throw myself at Zoe because I knew I couldn’t live with the loss. And I was right! You were my team. You were my friends—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Xayah cut in.

“You were everything to me!”

“Shut up!” Xayah said.

“Xayah.” Rakan cupped her face with a gentle hand.

“Y-you can’t believe them! They’re liars!”

“They are,” he agreed, and Neeko began to cry. “They left us there, on that stupid planet, and all that’s left is you and me against the world.” Xayah’s lip trembled, and he chuckled.

“Xayah,” he said again, her name so gentle on his lips.

“Th-they let you die,” she whispered.

“I know,” Rakan said, brushing a tear from Xayah’s cheek. He leaned close to her ear and whispered something that made Xayah clench her teeth and curl her fists. Sarah couldn’t hear what he said, but by the way Ahri’s ears flicked and her breath caught, she knew Ahri had.

Rakan turned to Ahri, and they both glanced up to where the other guardians dodged the downpour of paddle stars. Rakan grinned, and Ahri gave him an almost imperceptible nod, just as Zoe readied her final attack.

On pure instinct, Akali had thrown her body over Kai’Sa when the earthquakes started. They’d been like that for some time, exposed under the rain of magic and stars, and Akali marveled that they were still alive. She wondered how long they could survive. Maybe longer than she thought, as both the Star Guardians and... whatever Xayah and Rakan were, leapt into action.

“Looks like she didn’t like our little chat,” Rakan mused.

Akali had to agree. The liquid that had been oozing slowly from the newly formed fissures now fell upward, drawn to Zoe by sheer gravity. In fact, much of the city seemed caught in her orbit, broken star fragments and pieces of buildings slowly moving toward her like a receding tide. Akali didn’t know what it meant, but she knew it was bad. Really, really bad.

Rakan jumped nimbly over a fallen tree that flew at him just as Xayah took out the cluster of paddle stars above.

The park afforded almost no cover, so Akali had to improvise. Whether intentional or not, the guardians had cleared a sort of path toward the jungle gym. It was close to where Zoe loomed, but at least no stars fell there. Akali pulled Kai’Sa along, dodging the bubbling color that now rained in reverse. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if that liquid touched her.

As they sprinted underneath the structure, Akali saw that the falling stars beyond the trees had started cracking like stone eggs, unleashing ominous clouds of black butterflies. The insects amassed in a huge, surging swarm, aiming for where Sarah, Ahri, and Neeko stood opposite Xayah and Rakan mere feet away.

“Look after the kids!” Ahri yelled to Sarah as she flung an orb of flame at a cluster of butterflies.

“Yeah, get outta here! Also, wait... why are these things attacking us?!” Rakan demanded, ducking under a butterfly.

“I don’t think Zoe can see us down here,” Xayah said.

“Or she doesn’t care about you,” Ahri reasoned.

“You’re literally the last person to talk right now. Rakan, don’t let those things touch you!”

“Uhh, why not?”

“Do you really want to find out?”

“Excellent point, my love.” He dodged another butterfly, then fired a feather at a cluster of them. Each one he struck broke apart... into more butterflies!

“I swear that wasn’t on purpose!” Rakan yelled.

Kai’Sa watched as the five of them were overwhelmed, butterflies pushing in from all sides, but Akali kept glancing up at where Zoe raged so close by. Akali could feel the pull as Zoe continued to suck in the destruction around her. She held onto Kai’Sa tightly. Akali saw dots of light flitting about Zoe’s face—the other guardians. How do they do it? Keep fighting, even now?

Kai’Sa placed her hand atop Akali’s and squeezed. “It’s gonna be okay,” she said, and Akali laughed. She must sound hysterical, but—

“None of this is okay, Kai’Sa. People died. People are still going to die. I mean, look at them!” Akali pointed to the butterflies. Sarah could barely hold up her pistol as the one with the lizard tail, Neeko, tried to shield her. “They’ve got magic powers, and they’re just as helpless as we are.”

“We’re not helpless. We found each other, no magic needed.”

“And there’s a good chance we’re still gonna die, Kai’Sa! Optimism can’t stop the sky from falling down.”

“But there are good people up there trying to stop this,” Kai’Sa whispered, glancing between Zoe and the butterflies. The swarm did seem a little thinner. “The least I can do is believe in them. And in myself.”

Akali wished now, more than ever, that she could be more like Kai’Sa. But she knew she never would be.

“I’ve watched them this whole time, thinking there were good guys and bad guys,” Akali said. “But they were friends, once. Just like us.” She saw Xayah take out a butterfly with a feather, almost hitting Ahri in the process.

“And now they hate each other,” Akali said. Kai'Sa didn’t respond, letting Akali work through her thoughts aloud as she always had. “Whatever is happening here, it’s strong enough to corrupt them from the inside out. It’s going to destroy them. It already is.”

Before Kai’Sa could respond, they heard Ahri shout.

“—said get to cover, now, Sarah!”

Sarah, it seemed, was finally ready to listen, the exhaustion on her face clear even at a distance. She limped toward the jungle gym, a blaze of Ahri’s foxfire igniting a pursuing cluster of butterflies.

“Leaving again?” Xayah demanded, though she didn’t look ready to attack for once.

Sarah shook her head and said to Ahri, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Instead of responding, the fox-eared girl looked at Rakan. He smirked.

“I always know what I’m doing,” Rakan said, and Akali didn’t know what to make of it.

Sarah reached the jungle gym and collapsed against a metal pole. Her ragged breathing was constant, at least. Akali shifted awkwardly.

“That was... a lot,” Akali said.

Sarah snorted. “Understatement of the millennium.” She sounded so tired.

“Sorry I didn’t stay put,” Akali offered, and Sarah opened a weary eye. She glanced at Kai’Sa and smiled.

“I’m kinda glad you didn’t,” Sarah said, and she sounded like she meant it. “Friends... Well, they’re worth fighting for.”

“So what about you? You all gonna go back to trying to kill each other after this?”

“Akali!” Kai’Sa admonished, but Sarah smiled.

“Like I said... friends are worth fighting for.” She nodded to where Rakan and Xayah faced the others. The butterflies were gone. Ahri scrutinized the two fallen guardians for a long while, and nodded.

“Do we have to?” Xayah asked, her eyes full of resentment as she stared between Ahri and Neeko.

“I don’t like sharing the spotlight, remember? Not with anyone,” Rakan reminded her.

And then Xayah and Rakan moved next to Ahri and Neeko, standing so the four of them now faced Zoe. Together.

Sarah was still angry as she watched her former team speed toward Zoe. She was furious at Ahri and Neeko for not trusting her, at Xayah and Rakan for putting the other guardians through so much to get to this point, but that anger paled in comparison to the wild, foolish hope she now held. Hope that warred with the painful memories she could no longer keep buried as Xayah and Rakan unleashed themselves upon Zoe alongside Ahri and Neeko.

Sarah knew that Zoe had broken her, with her words, with her magic, but a small voice that sounded a lot like Lux asked if maybe part of her needed to break so she could remember.

Rakan and Xayah bickering over boba, Ahri, Sarah, and Neeko laughing with them. Shopping trips and summer festivals. Battles won and lost, hopes and dreams shared, all of it together.

Sarah glanced at Akali and Kai’Sa, huddled against one another, their faces illuminated by Zoe’s horrid glow, but also by the light of the guardians fighting above them. Sarah didn’t know how to tell Kai'Sa how right she’d been—that everyone fighting out there against Zoe... they were her friends.

It was for her friends that Sarah’s heart sank. Zoe’s tantrum had faltered under the onslaught of everyone’s attacks, but now the aura around Zoe was growing again, and Xayah—where was Xayah?! She’d been right there with the others, but now—

“Look!” Kai’Sa pointed, right as Zoe lunged for a lone magenta spark twinkling by her hip.

“Xayah!” Sarah knew Xayah couldn’t hear her. Not as Zoe’s hand plucked her from the air before hurling her to the ground.

Sarah stood up, forgetting her own pain, as another speck of light followed Xayah’s descent. Rakan! His shield would protect her! Sarah watched them crash for the second time today, a mere twenty feet from the jungle gym. Rakan was soon back on his feet, but Xayah remained where she’d fallen.

“Something’s wrong,” Akali murmured.

“What’s happening to her?” Kai’Sa asked.

Sarah watched Xayah try to stand, but she was pulled down, sinister hands of chaos distorting the air around her. It made phantom tendrils in Sarah’s blood shudder.

“Corruption,” Sarah whispered.

Xayah was doubled over. Rakan reached for her, but she held out a trembling hand, and he faltered. Sarah stepped toward them.

“What are you doing?” Akali demanded.

“She’s hurt.”

“So are you,” Kai’Sa reasoned, but Sarah took another agonizing step forward, and then another. She made it all of five feet before her legs gave out.

Sarah couldn’t walk. Couldn’t fight. Couldn’t fly. Okay, then. She’d crawl. She moved, inch by painful inch, toward Xayah and Rakan.

“Sarah!” Akali shouted, but Kai’Sa shushed her.

Good girl, Sarah thought, knowing Kai’Sa, at least, could keep Akali under control. Zoe, too busy batting away the other guardians like gnats, hadn’t heard Akali shout. But Xayah had.

Xayah lifted her head, watching Sarah struggle to reach her, and for the first time since she and Rakan had returned, there was no hatred in her eyes. Only grief and... resignation?

Jinx and Ezreal crashed a dozen feet from Sarah, but they didn’t look at her before they flew back into battle. Their light, however, brought Xayah into stark relief, and that’s when Sarah saw it. Something beyond chaos had etched its way up and down her arm. Sarah fought the urge to vomit as black feathers sprung forth in clumps from beneath Xayah’s skin.

These were like no feathers Sarah had ever seen. They moved, each undulating blade dripping viscous sludge that seemed to fall in slow motion to pool in a puddle of darkness in front of Xayah. Pure corruption. Sarah pulled herself closer now, as close as she could to the edge of the crater.

Lulu landed next to Rakan. “That doesn’t look good,” she said.

“Yeah, well, Zoe’s pretty mad we joined up with you jerks,” Rakan quipped, but his heart wasn’t in it. Not as he glanced between Sarah and Xayah. Lulu patted his arm gently.

“I know what might cheer you up,” she said. Rakan quizzically looked down at her. “Mind giving Zoe a taste of my own medicine?”

Sarah wasn’t sure what she meant until Rakan picked her up by her tiny shoulders.

“You sure?” he asked.

Lulu nodded, and Rakan hurled her up at Zoe’s face. He whistled, impressed with his own aim. The green star that was Lulu grew, and grew, until she was nearly half Zoe’s size—the perfect height for headbutting Zoe right in the stomach. She stumbled at the impact, and Sarah nearly smiled in spite of herself. Lulu always knew what to do, didn’t she?

Rakan did smile, then. “Your friends are all right, I guess.”

His smile froze as he turned back to Xayah, and it nearly broke Sarah’s heart anew. Rakan had fought back, had somehow pushed against Zoe’s influence to help them, and Xayah had been hurt because of it. He knelt before her, with that false, beautiful smile on his handsome face. He took both of Xayah’s hands in his, one small and delicate, the other no more than a mass of surging, swelling feathers. Rakan didn’t seem to mind.

“What’s happening?” Xayah whispered. Rakan squeezed her hands tighter.

“Zoe’s corruption,” he answered softly. Gone was the cocky arrogance, the theatrical demeanor. This was just Rakan, a boy who loved a girl with his entire, twisted heart. He pressed his forehead against Xayah’s, and Sarah could see how bright his eyes shone in Zoe’s light.

“You fought back.” He choked on a laugh. “I am so, so proud of you... And I’m going to save you.”

Xayah’s smile faltered and then vanished. She tried to pull away from Rakan.

“No!” she screamed, but Rakan held tight.

“Come on, love. You know how this story goes.” Where Rakan’s hands met Xayah’s, a soft golden light began to build.

“No, no, no—” Xayah begged.

“The prince has to save the princess. Those are the rules.”

“Those are stupid rules! I will shred those rules with a fistful of feathers!” Xayah swore, still struggling to break his hold.

“I know you will. Breaking rules is what you’re best at. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Ahri and Neeko flew to them, only for Neeko to smash into a shield that now shimmered around Xayah and Rakan. Ahri caught her as she bounced off the barrier.

“What is going on?” Neeko asked, dazed.

“Rakan, he’s—” Ahri began, but Rakan interrupted.
“Nope! This is my moment!” Rakan chided, but it was clear he was in pain. Still, his voice was strong... and gentle. “The star-crossed hero risking it all for love? It’s the role of a lifetime.”

“RAKAN! STOP!” Xayah begged, but with a flash, Rakan’s barrier disintegrated, golden light surging into Xayah. The corrupted feathers along her arm vanished, only to erupt across Rakan’s in turn. Xayah crumpled to the ground, but Rakan still stood, his body rigid.

Ahri took a step toward him, ready to brace him, but Rakan shook his head stiffly. Sarah gasped as black sludge began to ooze from his eyes.

“I wish there’d been another way,” Ahri said sadly.

“This is... how it has to be... captain.” His bravado was punctured by his own hacking coughs, corruption now filling his lungs and mouth. Somehow, he still managed a genuine smile as he looked between Ahri, Neeko, and Sarah.

“Protect... her.”

“We won’t leave her again,” Sarah promised, as Neeko knelt beside Xayah.

And even though dark feathers continued to pierce through him, chaos corrupting him from the inside out, Sarah was awed by how brightly he shone.

“Everyone!” Ahri shouted. “On Rakan’s signal, give her everything you’ve got.”

“NO!” Xayah screamed again, but Neeko held her back, arms wrapped tightly around Xayah’s middle.

“We promised. We promised,” Neeko cried as Xayah thrashed wildly.

Sarah tried to stand, to go to Xayah, but she still couldn’t get up.

“Not again,” Xayah wailed as Rakan shot like a spear, straight for Zoe’s heart.

His signal.

Rakan was so very small now. Barely a pinprick of flame against the night sky, but he wasn’t alone. He was never alone. Sarah watched as Lulu, still massive, held Zoe in place, the guardians one after the other firing off everything they had. Rockets and windstorms, hammer strikes and orbs of darkness, all of it rained upon Zoe’s titanic body. And still the small star that was Rakan hurtled on. He was heralded by a beam from Lux’s staff, bolstered by Ahri’s foxfire. Their conjoined attacks pierced armor made of magic itself, a crack just wide enough for Rakan to crash into.

Zoe had miscalculated. The guardians alone couldn’t stop her, but Rakan? Empowered by their attacks, Xayah’s corruption, and Zoe’s own magic? He was the quill that pierced through chaos itself.

For a moment all was darkness, before light erupted across Valoran City.

Akali couldn’t see the stars. When Rakan crashed into Zoe, the explosion had blanketed the city in a light so vibrant that she had to close her eyes against it. When she did, all she could see was magic like dark blood leaking from Rakan’s eyes as Xayah screamed. Sarah crawling, her back a scarred and bloodied wreck. Guardian after guardian swatted from the sky, falling like ragdolls, only to get back up to face death itself again and again.

Kai'Sa had been there. She’d been there with Zoe before Akali had even found her. And what did it even matter? Akali had no powers. Wanting to help meant nothing. Akali couldn't do anything. She couldn’t help anyone! She couldn’t! She—

“Akali?” Kai’Sa startled her. Akali’s heart was beating too fast, her hands shaking too much. “Akali... They won.”

She struggled to focus because what Kai'Sa was saying was wrong.

As Akali tentatively crawled out of their shelter, three things struck her. The first, and most obvious, was that Zoe was gone. So sudden and startling was her absence that Akali worried she’d dreamed the whole thing.

“They won,” Kai’Sa repeated in wonder.

They watched the guardians land where Neeko still held Xayah in her arms.

The second thing that struck Akali was that Xayah looked... different. It was subtle, but a soft glow seemed to radiate from within her, and the diamond mark on her forehead was gone. Even her uniform seemed brighter. But as Xayah looked around, Akali saw her dim, green eyes, and was forced to acknowledge the third thing. That Xayah was looking for someone who wasn’t there.

“He sacrificed himself. For her,” Kai’Sa said, and Akali could only nod. “He loved her.”

“And it didn’t matter, did it?” Akali snapped. She could feel a chasm opening inside her heart, a fissure she couldn’t stop. Friendship? Love? It wasn’t enough. None of it was enough.

“It mattered,” Kai’Sa said softly. “He saved her. Us. We’re alive because he won.”

Akali stilled.

“She’s lost him twice, Kai’Sa,” Akali said, pointing at Xayah. “Does that look like winning to you?” Kai’Sa had no answer.

“It’s terrible,” Kai’Sa said eventually, “but that monster is gone. We have him to thank for that.”

Akali looked at Kai’Sa, and saw what Kai’Sa so clearly saw in Rakan. Sacrifice. Akali knew for certain now that Kai’Sa would never keep herself safe, not if it meant saving someone else.

“Why do you always put yourself last?” Akali asked.

“Not this again. I didn’t just survive the end of the world to start fighting again.”

“I don’t want to fight!” Akali said quickly. “I just want to understand.”

Kai’Sa sighed. “It’s not that I put myself last, Akali. It’s that I’ll always put the people I care about first. You know the petition thing? The one you got mad at me for?” Akali nodded slowly. “It was for an afterschool program, I guess. Volunteers to take kids to places like the beach or the arcade when they don’t have anywhere else to go. It sounded like a good way to—”

“Keep kids out of trouble,” Akali finished. “Kids like me.”

“Like a lot of people. If I hadn’t helped you that day, you might still be getting your butt kicked trying to save stray dogs.”

Akali tried to smile. “You’re not wrong.”

“Those kids that picked on you back then... Maybe they were just jerks, but I thought... what if they had something to care about? Someplace where they had people they could rely on.”

“Like you relied on me for the petition?” Akali felt hurt settling in her chest.

“It wasn’t because I didn’t want to tell you.” Kai’Sa took a step toward her. “If anything, I wanted to do this for you.” And wasn’t that just like Kai’Sa? Endangering herself, even though Akali would never ask that of her.

“I think I get it,” Akali said, only half lying. “But, Kai’Sa, don’t shut me out next time. You can rely on me, too.” Kai’Sa nodded, but Akali shook her head. “Promise me.”

Akali lifted her finger, and Kai’Sa hooked it with her pinky, the petals of their pink and blue forget-me-not bracelets glittering in the starlight. “I promise, Akali.”

A small part of Akali worried that this was a promise Kai’Sa was going to break, another opportunity for Kai’Sa to pick Akali over herself. But Akali held onto that moment, their promise, regardless, even as she tried to forget all that had happened. All that had changed.

Akali buried her pain deep inside, where a tendril of darkness unfurled within the chasm in her heart.

Ahri led the Star Guardians as the sky began to lighten. They had spent the last several hours searching for survivors in the ruins of Valoran City until exhaustion threatened to overtake them. Syndra had already left, intent on surveying other planets for traces of Zoe’s presence.

Sarah leaned on Lux, the younger girl using her staff as a walking stick. Sarah was grateful. It hurt even to breathe. Neeko still held a dazed Xayah, and Sarah couldn’t quite accept that they were both here, alive. Her anger almost felt pointless now. Almost.

The knowledge of what still needed to be done was something none of them were willing to face. Buildings were strewn across the streets like discarded blocks. Pools of Zoe’s corruption still bubbled along the cracks in the ground, and they weren’t sure how to get rid of them, though Soraka had some theories.

People had lost their lives last night, but many more had lost their homes. Their friends. Their sense of normalcy. Innocent people who could no more defend against Zoe than they could deny the existence of the Star Guardians. Sarah didn’t know what that meant, that this planet now knew of them, but she could tell by the set of Ahri’s shoulders that it mattered.

Xayah was the first to break the silence.

“I’m going to find Rakan,” she said, surprising no one.

“We’re coming with you,” Sarah said. Everyone but Xayah stared at her.

“What if he is not—” Neeko tried, but Xayah cut her off.

“He’s alive.”

“He could be anywhere,” Ahri added.

“So we look everywhere!” Sarah snapped.

“Why do you want to find him?” Xayah’s voice was cold, and she still wouldn’t look at her. Sarah knew, somehow, that what she said next would irrevocably impact how Xayah saw her. She took a deep breath.

“Rakan is my friend. He never stopped being my friend. Not in death. Not after. And I failed him. I refuse to do so again.”

Xayah finally turned. Wariness, distrust, and doubt all warred in her gaze, but not, Sarah noted, hatred.

Still, Xayah just shook her head before leaping into the air without a word. They watched her go. Sarah wasn’t sure where Xayah was headed first, but she knew nothing and no one in the universe would keep her from finding Rakan.

“She didn’t say we couldn’t go with her,” Sarah mused.

“Are you going too?” Lux asked.

“I said I was going to protect her,” Sarah said softly. “It’s a promise I intend to keep.”

“Then we’re coming with you!” Lux said.

The other guardians turned to look at them. Sarah opened her mouth, ready to shoot her down, but Lux put a hand on her shoulder.

“Star Guardians are a team.” Lux glanced at Ahri. “We’re in this together.”

Slowly, Ahri nodded, and Sarah considered, not for the first time, how startling Lux’s transformation had been. Gone was her hesitation. Her confidence was a beacon as she leapt into the air, lighting their way. Without delay, Lulu and Poppy went with her.

“She’s becoming a real leader,” Janna whispered, before taking to the sky.

“What are we waiting for?” Jinx said, turning to Ezreal, of all people. “Ready to hog the spotlight, sparky?”

Ezreal grinned, before he and Jinx made their exit.

Soraka turned to Sarah. “Are you ready?” she asked.

Sarah nodded. “We just... need a minute. We’ll catch up.”

Soraka smiled, understanding as ever, and then she departed, leaving Ahri, Neeko, and Sarah alone.

Sarah was almost grateful for her exhaustion. It helped dampen the painful awkwardness.

Ahri, of course, took the lead. “I’m sorry,” she said simply.

Neeko shook her head. “You don’t have to—”

“Yes, she does,” Sarah interrupted. “You knew she was alive.”

“I didn’t know for sure that Neeko—”

“I’m not talking about Neeko. And I’m not just talking about now. You knew Xayah was alive when we left them there. You thought all three of them could be alive when you left me here with nothing. No way to contact you. No way to help you!”

Ahri said nothing.

“Why didn’t you trust me?” Sarah asked softly.

That managed to crack Ahri’s façade. “I trust you more than anyone,” she said.

“You don’t act like it! I am supposed to be your lieutenant!”

“You’re also my friend! What was I supposed to do? Tell you that there was a one-in-a-million chance Neeko was alive? That Xayah maybe would live long enough to watch you die if you’d tried to save her?!”

Sarah inhaled, but Ahri wasn’t done.

“You’re not the only one who lost people that day. You were the last one. My last friend. The last person I could trust. I couldn’t give you hope and have it be a lie.”

And then Ahri was sobbing. Sarah saw her own doubt and grief now reflected in Ahri’s tears. She watched Ahri collapse under the weight of overwhelming pressure. She was their leader. She did everything in her power to protect them, but she’d tried to do it alone. Star Guardians were there for each other, right? So Ahri had failed them, just as Sarah had failed them.

Sarah grabbed Neeko and Ahri, holding them tight even as it tore at the wounds in her back. Pain was nothing in the face of this moment. They stood like that for a long time, leaning on each other. Battle had become so easy for them, but they’d forgotten what it felt like to be more than the mission. They remembered now, just as sunlight began to shimmer over the wreckage of Valoran City behind them.

Sarah Fortune could no longer feel the corruption in her back, the tendrils all but gone from her heart. But dread? Doubt? That still seemed to lurk somewhere she couldn’t quite reach. Maybe it always would, but that didn’t matter. Not when her friends shone like stars before her, their blistering light holding back the darkness.

She looked up to where the other Star Guardians had vanished, to where Xayah was already looking for Rakan, and despite the rising sun, Sarah swore she could see the stars.

PopRox: Hello to our international audience! Today we have very special guests for you. I’m here with the four members of K/DA. If you haven’t heard of them, and how have you not heard of them, are you living under a rock?! Go to YouTube right now and search for their hit song “POP/STARS”.

We are so excited to have you today, K/DA.

K/DA: Hi everyone! My name is Kai’Sa and you’re listening to PopRox! The rest of K/DA and I are excited to hang out!

PopRox: I got to say, Kai’Sa, it’s so lovely to hear your accent. Tell us more about your upbringing.

Kai’Sa: Thank you. Well, I grew up all over actually; my parents traveled quite a bit. My accent is pretty international.

PopRox: Any favorite cities?

Kai’Sa: <LAUGHS> Of course! My favorite cities are Cape Town, Seoul, New York, and Hong Kong, where I spent most of my time before K/DA.

Ahri: 그래서 저희 안무에 이국적인 느낌이 있어요. 카이사랑 안무 연습을 하면 연습 같지 않고 너무 즐겁죠.
(She brings international style to our choreography too! It's never a boring dance practice with Kai'Sa.)

PopRox: That’s incredible! And thank you, Eve for translating. How long does it take for you to get ready for a performance?

Ahri: A lot of time! 상상도 못 할 정도로 오래 걸려요. 다들 최선을 다하거든요. 투어 중에는 빨리 일어나서 의상 챙기고 메이크업 받고 준비를 하죠. 투어 중이 아닐 땐 스튜디오에 일찍부터 가 있고요.
(Everyone in the house works so hard. We get up early to get dressed and prepare for a day during tours. If we're not touring, we'll be at the studio early.)

PopRox: Alright, let’s talk about you Ahri. How does it feel to be back in the limelight and with such a hit single?

Evelynn to Ahri: 자꾸 왜 이런 걸 물어볼까? 난 이 질문 별로야.
(I don’t think it’s a great question. They always ask.)

Ahri: 너무 그러지 마, 이블린. 저는… 일단 음악에 집중했어요. 팬분들께서 좋아하고 자랑스러워하실 만한 노래, 대담하고 아름다운 노래를 만들고 싶었거든요. 언제나 다양한 문화에 열린 마음으로 저희를 응원해 주시는 팬 여러분께 감사하다는 말씀 드리고 싶네요. 정말 감사합니다! 꿈이 현실이 된 것 같아요.
(It’s ok, Eve. I focused on my music. I wanted to make bold and beautiful songs that people love and have confidence in. Thank you to our fans around the world for the continued support and acceptance of our cross-cultural artists. Thank you for all your love. Our vision came together.)

Eve: This is important. Ahri did not disappear. She saw real issues with the restrictions of creativity from music labels and found a way to unleash a powerful album with a fearless team.

PopRox: That’s a great point, Evelynn. You have a reputation in the music industry as a difficult artist to work with. Do you feel you’ve found a perfect position on K/DA?

Eve: Oh, I’m familiar with the “bad girl” or “diva” labels. I have nothing but good things to say about previous bands I’ve worked with. We simply had creative differences. Everything we do in K/DA is collaborative. Ahri’s leadership enables each of us to express our talents equally. Yes, this is a perfect fit for me.

PopRox: Can you tell us more about your album, K/DA?

Ahri: 카이사, 네가 대답할래?
(Kai’Sa, can you answer?)

Kai’Sa: There is a place between fantasy and reality where anything can happen. You have the power to be anyone, and do anything. It is your dream. In our in-between world, K/DA feels confident and strong. We can do anything, and so can you.

Akali: So can you!

Ahri: <LAUGHS>

PopRox: Why do you think the song “POP/STARS” is such a hit?

Ahri: 아칼리 덕분이죠. 저희의 비밀 병기라고나 할까요? 목소리가 독보적이잖아요.
(Akali. She's our secret weapon. No one sounds like her.)

Akali: No! No it’s not me I promise. I am trying to break tradition, but it’s easier with K/DA doing it together. It’s all of us. Eve and Ahri work so hard to encourage each of us to unleash our minds. For example, I wrote the rap for “POP/STARS” so many times, and each time Ahri encouraged me to go further. Eve… well Eve is more direct.

Eve: I told her to stop trying to be the most creative rap artist in Asia, and to just be it.

Kai’Sa: I feel like Akali brings this truly unique vibe. We each have our own style and with Ahri’s direction we make music completely different than current pop songs. And our fans love it!

PopRox: Akali, you perform on the street, right?

Eve: You can’t stop her.

Akali: Ha. Yes. Sometimes. I don’t want to be successful because people know who I am. I want them to like my lyrics because they’re good.

Eve: They’re good.

PopRox: That’s pretty rare for a pop star, and we really appreciate it. You’ve been spotted in Hong Kong and Tokyo as well, wherever you girls tour. There’s a viral video of you in Seoul rapping and doing a few flips.

Akali: Ha. Yeah. Just a few flips.

PopRox: What was each of your favorite parts in “POP/STARS?”

Kai’Sa: Oh I adore Akali’s rap. The black light scenes showing how there’s so much more than what meets the eye, that’s the kind of art I like making.

Akali: Kai’Sa spray painted the art herself! She made my mask. My favorite part is Ahri’s elegance. Her parts in “POP/STARS” give us a strong foundation to set up this magical world.

PopRox: You two have so many talents! What about you, Eve?

Eve: Driving down the tunnel at Kai’Sa was a thrill. The thing is we filmed that scene only seven times. I wish I had more time with that sports car. We did put Kai’Sa in front of the speeding car once, but they told us not to do it again. Seeing the final version of it was fabulous.

Kai’Sa: You know I would’ve gotten away in time.

Eve: But the stunt coordinator might not.

PopRox: Ahri?

Ahri: POP/STARS에서 제가 제일 좋아하는 부분은… 마지막 장면에서 같이 안무하는 거요. 촬영 중일 땐 따로 있는 경우가 많다 보니까 함께인 순간이 좀 특별하게 느껴져요. 넷이 같이 춤을 출 때 저희가 제일 빛나는 것 같아요.
(Dancing together in the last scene is my favorite part of “POP/STARS”. We’re not always together when we film. When we are, it’s very special to me. When the four of us dance together, K/DA shines.)

PopRox: So what’s next for K/DA?

Ahri: 팬분들을 위해서 투어도 계속하고 음악도 만들어야죠. 저희 음악의 가치는 자기표현이나 사랑, 아름다움, 우정, 자신감 같은 데 있는 것 같아요. 더 많은 분들께 그런 가치를 전해드리고 싶어요.
(We’ll continue to travel and create music for our fans. I believe our music celebrates self expression, love, beauty, friendship, and confidence. We will take that all over the world.)

Eve: Basically, we’re just getting started.

PopRox: Thank you so much for spending time with us K/DA. Wishing you the best of luck at the League of Legends Worlds Championship performance. And thank you to our listeners from around the world. This is PopRox signing off.

All eyes in Fortune's Glory were on Twisted Fate. He felt the gambling hall's many patrons regarding him with a mixture of envy, vicarious excitement, and spiteful longing for him to lose everything on the turn of the last card.

Beyond the avarice common to dens of chance, Twisted Fate felt a singular purpose at work here, a noose being slowly drawn around his neck. The cards were twitching in agitation, warning him of danger. He knew he should fold and get out before whoever was hunting him sprang their trap, but the opportunity to make a pauper of the man across the table was too enticing to forego.

He grinned at his opponent, a greedy merchant whose fortune was built on the whipped backs of enslaved miners. The man's robes were expensive: Freljord furs, hand-tooled leather, and Bilgewater sea charms. Every finger boasted a ring of blood gold worth more than most men would see in a lifetime. Aromatic smoke drifted from clay pipes to hang over the fortune in coin, jewelry, and deeds lying between them like a pirate's treasure horde.

Twisted Fate nodded toward the merchant.

“I do believe it's your call, Master Henmar.”

“I am aware of the rules, river rat,” said Henmar, as Twisted Fate ran his tattooed fingers in a repeating spiral pattern on the backs of his cards. “And do not think any of your fancy sleight of hand is going to distract me into making an error of judgment.”

“Distract you?” said Twisted Fate, exuding laconic confidence in every gesture. “I declare, I would never stoop to such a low and dishonorable ruse.”

“No? Then why is it your eyes keep darting from the table?” said Henmar. “Listen closely, I have negotiated with the best of them, and I know the tell of a desperate man when I see it.”

Twisted Fate gave a sly grin, swapping the cards between his hands and theatrically doffing his wide-brimmed hat.

“You're sharp, sir. I can see that,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the gathered crowd. The usual collection of hangers-on; men and women hoping that whoever won might be generous to those nearby. The cards trembled as Twisted Fate's eyes fell upon certain individuals and he felt his mouth fill with the rancid flavor of sour milk. He’d long learned to trust that reaction as a sign of imminent bedlam.

There. A man with an eye patch and a flame-haired woman. They were almost certainly armed and well aware of his slippery nature. Did he know them? Probably not. Were they working for Henmar, protecting his assets? Unlikely. A man like Henmar would make it obvious who he'd brought. Bounty hunters then. The cards were growing ever more alarmed in Twisted Fate's hands. He slipped them together and placed them flat on the table.

“You have a look that tells me you know you have already lost,” said Henmar with the tone of a man who believes everyone to be his inferior.

“Then what say we make this a little more interesting, sir?” replied Twisted Fate, spreading the cards in a fan and watching as the hunters eased closer. “Care to double down?”

“Are you able to cover that much?” asked Henmar suspiciously.

“Easily,” said Twisted Fate, locking his gaze with the merchant and lifting a heavy pouch of coins from the voluminous pockets of his long coat. “Can you?”

Henmar licked his lips and snapped his fingers. A flunky behind the merchant handed him a matching bag of coins. The patrons of Fortune's Glory gave a collective moan as it was added to the gold heaped in the middle of the table. Wars had been waged for less coin than was at stake here.

“You first,” said Henmar.

“Always,” agreed Twisted Fate, flipping over his cards as the bounty hunters made their move.

The man with the eye patch lunged at him with a capture collar. The woman shouted his name and drew a matching pair of pistols.

Twisted Fate kicked the underside of the table, spinning it into the air in a shower of coins, cards, and parchment. The pistols fired with deafening roars, blasting fist-sized holes in the table. The capture collar snapped closed, but when the smoke cleared and the screams stopped, Twisted Fate was nowhere to be found.

Henmar rose to his feet, his face twisted in outrage as he searched in vain for his opponent. He looked down at the broken pieces of the table and the color drained from his face.

“Where is the money?” he yelled. “Where is my money?”

Five cards fluttered face-up to the floor of Fortune's Glory.

A winning hand.

Like most who rise to notoriety in the twisting, salt-crusted labyrinth of Bilgewater, Sarah Fortune has no shortage of blood on her hands…

Beloved daughter of the renowned gun-dame Abigale Fortune, Sarah spent much of her happy childhood in the forge of their island settlement just off the coast—learning to file wheel locks, set trigger pulls, and even cast batches of custom pistol shot. Her mother’s skill in crafting firearms was legendary, and her bespoke handguns were to be found in the collections of many a wealthy merchant captain.

But oft-times, they were coveted by those with more meager means, and darker hearts.

One such individual was an up-and-coming Bilgewater reaver, known to his crew as Gangplank. Cocksure and certain of his power, he demanded a pair of Fortune pistols the like of which no other man could hope to possess. A reluctant deal was struck, and a year later to the day, Gangplank returned. With no intention of paying for the work, he had masked his face with a grimy scarf. He was there to take the guns by force.

Abigale had crafted two masterpieces, twin hand cannons of exquisite workmanship and pinpoint lethality—indeed, she declared, too fine for the likes of him. She could see the brutish thug that Gangplank had become. Enraged, he seized the pistols and gunned her down with her own creations before turning them on her husband, and young Sarah too. Then, out of nothing but spite, he set the workshop ablaze and smashed both pistols on the cobblestones, to wipe the Fortune legacy from the face of Runeterra completely.

Sarah awoke to agony. Her wounds were grave, but she managed to crawl from the burning ruins with the remains of the two pistols clutched to her chest. In time, her body healed, but waking nightmares and night terrors would torment her for many years to come.

Even so, she endured. She was determined to have vengeance. She rebuilt her mother’s pistols, and learned all she could of the masked murderer who had since declared himself the new reaver king of Bilgewater, and forced even the most influential ship captains to honor his claim.

No matter. When Sarah faced him again, she would be ready.

Taking a ship to Bilgewater Bay, she killed her first man within minutes of setting foot on the crooked timbers of the quayside—a drunken pirate with a gallon of Myron’s Dark in his belly, and a price on his head. Sarah dragged his corpse to the bounty board officials, before tearing off a dozen more warrants and heading off into the city.

Within a week, every one of them was settled, and those with the misfortune to be hunted by Sarah were either dead or in chains. She quickly earned a reputation in the taverns and gambling dens, becoming known only as “Miss Fortune”. Gangplank would never see her coming. What was one more bounty hunter on the streets of his city?

In the years that followed, tales of Miss Fortune’s exploits spread far and wide, each more fanciful than the last. She drowned the leader of the Silk-Knife Corsairs in a barrel of her own stolen rum. She took the Syren from a captain who learned the hard way what it meant to slip a hand where it wasn’t wanted. She tracked the insane Doxy-Ripper to his lair in the belly of a half-dismembered leviathan down on the slaughter docks, and shot him in the back as he fled.

In spite of all this, Gangplank was far too powerful to confront openly, with the fierce Jagged Hooks crew always at his side—but Miss Fortune knew just killing him would never be enough. Only his abject humiliation, and the burning to ash of all he had stolen, would satisfy the girl who had died on the floor of her mother’s workshop.

And so, little by little, she began to surround herself with a small but loyal cadre of allies that would eventually help her lay her demons to rest.

Miss Fortune risked everything to make her move against Gangplank. Plots within plots saw his ship, the Dead Pool, blown to flaming wreckage in the harbor, and the tyrannical reaver king overthrown. Best of all, everyone in Bilgewater saw him fall. It was everything Sarah could have hoped for, exactly as she’d planned.

And it was over in moments.

With Gangplank gone, the other rival captains quickly descended into fighting amongst themselves for control of the city. What little semblance of law there had been was gone in an instant, with countless innocent civilians caught between the warring crews. Reluctantly, Miss Fortune stepped up—as captain of the Syren, and backed by her own people, she brokered an uneasy truce that has somehow held to this day.

But little is ever really permanent in the port city, and Captain Fortune still finds herself having to impose her own brand of order on every reaver, ganglord, and distant threat that comes her way.

The real battle for Bilgewater has only just begun.

She cannot breathe.

Her eyes are open, but there is nothing but a heavy, suffocating blackness. It crushes down on her. Her breath smothering. She draws in a slow, rasping breath. It fills her nose with the scents of blood and offal, a slaughterhouse stink. There is something else too, something thin, caustic, and sharp, coiling its way toward her lungs.

The weight around her shifts. She hears something heavy tumble away, the muffled sound of lifeless limbs slapping into mud. The darkness wanes in patches, giving texture to her prison. Bloodied rags. Shattered plate. Cold, abused flesh.

Bodies. She is buried under bodies.

The urge to fight, to escape and survive, rises all-consuming. Adrenaline rushes through exhausted veins. She struggles, wrenching from side to side to force a cavity between herself and the mass. She sees a hairline crack, the faintest trickle of light spilling in. Hope feeds her frenzy. She scratches and claws. Eyesight blurring, rasping breath as she tears the gap wider.

Her hand punches free. Cold air floods in, gulping it into her lungs, but that toxic, bitter something comes with it again. She gags as it coats her tongue, spilling down her throat. She pushes out an arm, beginning to haul herself out.

Her head and arm are free. Gasping for breath but her lungs are twin lanterns ablaze. She can see the ground churned to mire, patches of it burning azure and silver, strewn with the dead. A felled tree’s trunk reaches out for its lost branches, the leaves screaming in tongues. The battle is over.

She glimpses shapes wandering through pale, boiling fog. Creatures gather in the aftermath, wicked birds and gaunt dogs. The dead are carrion now. The vanquished, food.

There is a body just ahead of her, the one she had heard fall away from atop the mound. A boy sprawled out on the ground, his armor broken open, the protection it once offered him gone.

A dog feeds. The boy shudders like a marionette from the roving muzzle. She tries to shout, to drive the beast away, but razors line her throat. The fog covers everything in its acrid and corrosive touch. The boy’s head lolls to the side, the eyes meeting hers glazed over and lifeless.

Then he blinks.

Arrel sat up, placing her hands against the ground to stop her head from spinning. The smell of wet earth and grass asserted themselves over the blood and sour air of the dream. Rainwater trickled down through gaps in the tent over her head.

She looked to her side and found Second sitting there, watching Arrel intently with her helm in his jaws. She stared at the drakehound for a moment, blinking away the afterimages of a starving beast’s maw lined with gore. She gestured, and he padded closer, releasing the helmet into her hands as the flap to the tent was pulled open a fraction.

“Mistress,” came a familiar voice from outside. “It’s time.”

Arrel replaced the helm, taking a slow, rasping breath and ignoring the pain it stitched down into her lungs before standing up. The damp fabric of her bedroll squelched beneath her feet as she stooped to leave her tent and stepped out into the rain. First trailed behind the tracker, joining the other three of the pack that waited outside as they followed obediently in her wake.

Erath stepped back from the tent, eyeing Arrel carefully. Hers had not been a silent sleep, and they had been getting worse since they had left Fae’lor.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Strike the tent,” the tracker replied. Arrel looked out across a small clearing in the wooded hills they had chosen to make camp, shrouded in a gentle rain that glittered and shone with every color of the rainbow. Some of the drops struck the ground as rain should, others winked in the air like tiny stars, dissolving in a mote of light with the soft chime of a distant bell.

She hated Ionia, and it pursued Arrel even into her dreams. She could swear, grasping back at the images, that Riven’s body was among the dead. It would have been so much simpler, if that were true.

Arrel looked back over her shoulder at Erath. “Has she kept the scent?”

The blade squire nodded once. “The runesmith’s blade still sings to her.”

“Then I’ll range ahead,” said Arrel, already walking.

“No need,” said Erath. “Teneff and I found a village up nearby, we aim to stop there for supplies.”

Arrel grunted, fists clenching as she came to a halt. “We ought to avoid them. We are not welcome here.”

“Our provisions are growing scarce,” said Erath. “Teneff and I will go alone. She thinks Marit, Henrietta, and your hounds will attract attention we don’t desire. We shall return quickly and then be on our path again.”

After a few moments, Arrel gave a nod.

Erath did not know the name of the village. Like so much of Ionia, he simply assumed it would be something unknowably poetic, like a secret whispered between friends he could neither hear nor understand.

He had thought the rain would make it easier to conceal themselves. The group of them had discarded as much Noxian gear as possible when they left Fae’lor, to avoid notice of both the locals and the empire as they conducted their mission, but they were still strangers in a strange land. As he followed Teneff down the muddy thoroughfare of the village, Erath felt every pair of eyes on him, dissuading him of any pretense of camouflage.

“Stay close to me,” said Teneff, her gruff tones affecting a calm Erath attempted to adopt, though he didn’t feel it. Both of them were armed, but that was not unusual for anyone in Navori. Though Erath was beginning to come to the realization that not every weapon was one that he could see.

“Hold on,” whispered Teneff, and the pair faded back to lean against the wall of a tea house. There was a scuffle developing ahead, a handful of warriors edged in red surrounding an Ionian elder. A small crowd of onlookers was gathering.

“What are they doing here?” said Erath, his eyes locked to the Noxian soldiers.

“We have an outpost not far to the south,” said Teneff quietly. “This might just be a patrol, or a reprisal sweep if we got hit in the night by a Brotherhood raid.”

The pair moved closer, skirting around the periphery of the people who were watching the confrontation. Erath tugged his hood down further over his head, his fingers brushing against the bone pendant around his neck, then down to check the short blade at his belt. They stopped once they came close enough for the shouting to become words.

“I come from festival,” the old man was trying to explain, his lips fighting to pronounce the Va-Noxian. “In Weh’le.”

“Weh’le,” repeated the lead soldier. “That’s pretty far.” He eyed a paper-wrapped bundle the old man held.

“T-tea.” The Ionian clutched the parcel to his chest protectively. “This tea, this blossom tea.”

The soldier’s eyes narrowed. “All the way to Weh’le and back, for tea?”

“I’ve heard of that festival,” remarked another of the Noxians. “It’s their death feast.”

“Celebrating war heroes?” The lead Noxian took a step closer to the man. “Reminisce a little, dig up some old hurts—people can get crazy ideas in their heads doing that.”

“Like setting fire to a stockade last night,” offered another soldier.

“Nothing like that,” said the Ionian. Suddenly the packet he carried glimmered with a faint blue light. The Noxians sprang into combat postures, leveling their blades at the Ionian.

“That is magic,” barked the lead soldier. “That is a weapon!”

“No! This, this,” the old man struggled to find the words. “Ezari! Ezari, my… son. My wife, too old to go. I bring back for her, to see him.”

“More lies,” snarled a Noxian.

“Yeah, yeah, just like before,” another soldier hissed, her eyes glazed over with the scars of a hateful memory. “You all make nice, wait ’til our backs are turned before you whisper some curse and then boom! Boyod bursts into flame, Iddy’s legs gone, my friend Kron’s heart turned to salt in his chest! That’s what you do!”

“This is getting ugly,” murmured Erath. “What should we do?”

“Nothing,” answered Teneff, still brutally calm. “Not our fight.”

“Surrender the weapon,” snarled the lead Noxian, the haft of his axe creaking in his grip.

“Is no weapon,” the elder pleaded. He looked to the crowd, but their eyes were fixed on the blades carried by a dozen Noxian soldiers, and they did nothing to help him.

“You heard him,” barked another soldier. She advanced, snatching at the parcel. The two struggled over it, and Erath heard the sound of paper tearing.

The Ionian cried out, wordless anguish spilling from his lips as the tea scattered across the ground. He tried to save a measure of it, but the rain was already sweeping it from him.

“Ezari…” croaked the old man as he sank to his knees, watching the tea disintegrate into the mud. Every raindrop that struck the powdered leaves elicited a pulse of radiant blue, each successive one growing fainter and fainter until it finally washed away.

“Try something,” said the lead soldier to the crowd as the Noxians joined ranks and began to edge their way back. “Please. I’ll burn all this to ashes.”

“Xiir!” the Ionian shrieked, his face turned up into the rain. “Xiir!”

Erath felt a hand grip his shoulder.

“We are leaving,” said Teneff, not taking her eyes from the soldiers as they marched the opposite way.

“Do you see those Ionians?” said Erath. “Our comrades won’t make it out of this town alive.”

“Not our fight,” Teneff said again. “You can sympathize for them on an empty stomach, blade squire. Now we’ll have to make due on the trail.”

“That word he was screaming,” said Erath, looking back over his shoulder as he followed after Teneff. “What does it mean?”

“Xiir,” Teneff repeated. “It is a curse that they use for those of us that come from ‘the Captive Lands’. It means locust.”

Tifalenji was waiting for them just outside of the village. The runesmith’s sword was drawn, and faint traceries of emerald light ghosted across the surface of the blade.

“What was all that?” she asked.

“Our outpost near here got hit last night,” said Teneff. “Probably the Navori Brotherhood. Looks like the warleader there sent out troops to track down leads, or just cause trouble for the locals.”

The runesmith absorbed her words for a moment. “Were you seen?”

“No,” Teneff replied. “And from reading the town, it didn’t seem wise to linger and seek out barter.”

“There speaks wisdom,” Tifalenji nodded. “Let us be off then.”

Erath accepted the reins for Talz, the group’s hulking basilisk, from the runesmith. Patting the side of the creature, he glimpsed Arrel and her drakehounds. The tracker looked haggard to him, but he had learned better than to pry.

“Where is Marit?” asked Teneff.

“She said that waiting for you all was boring, so she rode ahead,” said Tifalenji.

For a while they walked in silence, trudging through the ankle-deep mud and shimmering rain. Erath thought back to the village and the sequence of events that had unfolded. The anger, hatred, and fear he had seen on the faces of the Noxian soldiers. His hand strayed to the bone pendant around his neck.

“Teneff?”

The veteran looked back at him. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s just, those villagers, all the Ionians. How can we convince them to join the empire like that?”

Teneff’s aspect darkened. She stopped, allowing Erath to catch up to her. “Do not judge your fellow Noxians, boy, until you have endured what they have endured, and seen what they have seen.”

Erath looked at Teneff.

“Each of them came here to bring the promise of the empire to those who they would call brethren,” she continued, “just as we did across Valoran, and in Shurima. This land is… different. It lays a great challenge upon the soul of every soldier in service to Noxus. We all strive to enlighten these people, to draw them to us and enrich us all by doing so, but it is not always a simple thing. Ionia is very much not a simple thing.”

“So much is different here,” Erath agreed. “Do Ionians really turn into flowers when they die?”

Tifalenji grunted. “A spirit blossom. The souls of the dead inhabit them, and when they bloom they call out to the living, if what I have been told is true.”

“That holds with what I know,” said Teneff.

“Is it only Ionians who inhabit the blossoms?” Erath asked Teneff.

“I know not, why?”

Erath reached under his jerkin, and took his pendant off. “During the war, all the fighters in our tribe came here. For years we heard nothing, until one day a woman came with this.” He held out the sliver of bone in his hands, lifting it up to show Teneff. “This is all that she said is left of my father. I wonder, could he be in one of the blossoms? Is his spirit still here, and could I find him?”

“Even if there were,” Tifalenji interjected, “we have no time for such fancies. I need you focused now. Remember why you are here, blade squire. The purpose each of us is bound to carry out. Put all else from your mind.”

Erath lowered his head. Unlike Tifalenji and the huntresses, his own purpose here felt elusive, a hard thing to balance against something as absolute as desertion. He dragged a thumb over the surface of the pendant. “Yes, mistress.”

Teneff looked back over her shoulder. “If your father died here, then he died a hero for Noxus. That is all that matters.”

Erath nodded, slowly slipping the cord and the pendant back around his neck.

Does the rain here ever stop?

Erath hauled one foot out of the mud, fighting to keep the mire from sucking the boot off him and only partially succeeding. Bouncing on one foot, he reached down to tug his boot up, shivering and at complete odds with the world surrounding him.

The shimmering color of the rainfall made everything like a dream in a wavering, queasy way. He heard creatures make calls from the branches of trees the color of summer sunsets, sounds that didn’t seem like they could come from an animal. Maybe it was the trees themselves that were calling, as their leaves waxed and waned from orange to indigo.

It was all so unreal.

The only thing that felt truly real to Erath at that moment was the grumbling of an empty stomach. He wished they had managed to barter with the villagers before the soldiers had rendered their chance impossible. The whole scene had sat wrong with him, scattering his mind with jagged, uncomfortable thoughts. Is that how war was fought here? Was that how his father had fought it?

Erath’s boots struck hard ground, and he breathed out a moment’s relief at the prospect of being free of the mud. He stretched the muscles in his arms as he led Talz forward across the stretch of pale stone ahead of them.

As he walked, Erath took notice of the ground, seeing subtle shapes and lines that were somehow familiar to him. There was something intentional about the rock beneath his feet. An artfulness, even. His eyes grew wide.

They were walking across a pair of cupped hands rendered from stone, half buried in the earth. Much of them was hidden beneath the surface, but the palms alone were wide enough to span a courtyard. Erath wondered about the size of the person they would be connected to, and where they might have come from.

“I would like to know how anyone could make such a thing,” said Erath.

“I’m rather more keen to know who could have destroyed it,” replied Tifalenji, her face stern as her gaze drifted over the scars and fissures where immense fingers had once been. “Or what.”

“Hold,” Arrel warned, a low guttural chorus of snarls issuing from her hounds.

She pointed.

There was something lying in the center of the hands. It was a small shape, mewling softly in the rain. Erath pawed water from his eyes, squinting as he went nearer to it. Every time he blinked it was a different color.

“Careful,” said the runesmith. Her eyes were on their surroundings, wary as she slowly drew her sword in a low rasp of steel.

Curiosity pulled Erath forward. The creature was small, a little less than the length of his falchion’s blade. He glimpsed both feathers and scales, short coiling fronds that grasped feebly at the air and raised nubs that might one day sprout what appeared to be wings. The blade squire knelt, finding himself saying the same phrase he had repeated again and again ever since he had first set foot in Ionia.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” murmured Erath. He reached toward the creature. “Hey, little one. You hungry?”

“No, no, no,” breathed Teneff, her eyes darting to and fro like the runesmith’s. “No, no, no.”

Erath blinked. “But, what if it’s hurt? This is just a baby.”

“Exactly,” Teneff agreed. Erath heard the links of her chain unravel from her arm. “Where do you think the mother is, then?”

Something detached from the trees beside them. The already chilly air grew colder. Erath’s breath caught in his throat as a massive form revealed itself, and the rain began to fall upward.

Like the tiny, helpless thing they had found it was part bird, part beast, and part sea creature. Grown to its full size, though, every facet was heightened to a fully monstrous extent. The baby’s grasping fronds were, on the “mother”, tentacles thick as a man’s arm, the subtle bumps razored talons. Half its form seemed to ripple in and out of solidity, as though it existed only partially in the same reality that Erath did.

A deafening shriek slashed out from the forest of teeth and eyes that could have counted as the thing’s face. Erath cried out in pain, clamping his hands over his ears. The creature beat the rows of multicolored wings upon its back, buffeting Erath away from its progeny.

“Back!” Teneff roared, not to the creature but to Erath. “Keep Talz safe!”

Erath’s falchion was drawn but he did as she said, watching as Teneff spun her chain until it blurred into a blackened spiked arc. Arrel had ghosted behind the thing, her hounds slavering as they waited for her to unleash them. Tifalenji was chanting an uncanny litany that drew blood from her nose as her blade shuddered with emerald light.

The beast screamed again, and was attacked from three sides.

Arrel made a sharp series of hand gestures, and her hounds leapt upon the creature. Fangs and claws tore into its rippling hide. It writhed, twisting and undulating as it fought to shake them loose. The pack was hurled to the ground, but Third came away with a wing in his jaws.

“Fr-ah deh-AHK!” Tifalenji bellowed, her blade trailing a constellation of burning jade as she swung. A pair of tentacles came free in a welter of incandescent blue blood, blurring into smears of dirty light before vanishing with a snap of air pressure. The oozing stumps twitched for a moment before sprouting, each appendage lost replaced by three new ones that formed like the branching limbs of a tree.

Teneff charged. The beast wailed, lashing at her advance and raking the heavy pauldron on her left shoulder with its talons. She dipped her head behind the armor plating as a shower of sparks danced over her. She let loose her chain in a whirl of snapping links and it crashed against its flesh, but was quickly overwhelmed by slithering tentacles. The serpentine appendages pulled, seeking to yank Teneff off her feet, but she dug in her heels and held fast. She spun the short blade in her other hand, driving it into the creature’s flank again and again until the stone became slick with gore.

The beast beat its wings, sending Teneff flying back. Her chain, still embedded in the creature’s side, snapped taut, wrenching her shoulder at an unnatural angle. With a bellow of pain she released her hold on its barbed links, hurtling backward to crash against the stone.

Erath sprang toward Teneff, but was warded off by her outstretched hand. She glared back at him, her face a mask of blood from a gash across her forehead. Tifalenji launched herself at the monster, another incantation flowing from her lips, but she was smashed from the air by a clutch of tentacles.

Every fiber of Erath’s being screamed at him to move, to do something. He shot Talz a glance, and set his jaw. It was time to pull his weight.

Scrambling up the side of the basilisk, Erath took a tight hold of the reins and drove his heels into Talz’s flanks. The beast lumbered forward with a throaty grunt. Erath rode forward, placing himself between the creature and Teneff. A tentacle flicked at his face and he brought up his falchion in a blur of steel, slicing it away.

Blood pounded in Erath’s ears as he deflected another slashing limb, making ready to charge. He pushed forward, slicing into a swarm of tentacles assailing him.

“Stay clear of my manservant, beast!” came a voice from behind the creature.

The sleek, agile silhouette of Lady Henrietta appeared from between the trees. The reptilian steed dashed forward, eager to coat her jewelry in a fresh kill. Seated upon her back, the masked figure of Marit laughed in equal eagerness, the blade of her glaive singing as it cut the air.

With another piercing shriek the creature whirled around to face Marit in a disjointed, boneless spin.

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” She flung out her glaive until she gripped the very end of it. She leaned back, spinning the spear in a wide arc before swinging it in closer. The blade slashed upward alongside the beast, shearing away an entire shoal of tentacles and two wings. The creature recoiled, and Marit hopped up to stand in a crouch on Henrietta’s saddle. Using her weapon for balance, she leapt up into the air before landing on the monster’s back.

Clutching at a tentacle with her free hand, Marit scrambled up atop the beast as it bucked and rolled in a frenzied attempt to dislodge her. With a battle cry she plunged the tip of her glaive down into the base of the monster’s skull, and answered the steaming jets of glowing blood that splashed her with a sharp twist. The creature’s ear-splitting hiss was cut abruptly short as its limbs went slack and it toppled heavily to the ground. The rain fell normally again.

The Noxians collected themselves, joining together in a loose circle around the dead creature. Erath climbed down from Talz’s back, still wary of sheathing his blade as he imagined the beast rising once more.

Marit ripped her glaive loose with a grunt muffled by her leather mask. “I believe I am beginning to grow a touch weary of being your personal savior, runesmith.”

“That creature,” said Tifalenji. “It came from the other realm.”

“Indeed?” Marit raised an eyebrow. “Well, whatever part of it that is in this realm is dead.”

The runesmith looked up at the rider. “When all this is finished, I shall craft you a weapon as savage as your spirit.”

Marit matched her gaze. “I may just hold you to that.”

“Well met, Marit,” Teneff dipped her head.

“Yes,” Erath nodded hastily. “Thank you.”

Arrel said nothing.

“Of course,” Marit’s eyes smiled, and she gave a theatrical bow. “I’ll be damned if I have to endure any more of this adventure without the hired help.” She glanced back at the monster’s corpse. “Do you think this thing is good eating, or bursting with some ghastly poison?”

“You want to try it?” scoffed Arrel. “Be our guest. Only fair as it is your kill, after all.”

“I see,” Marit tilted her head. “What about the little one?”

The Noxians all turned their attention to the smaller creature. Raising its head, the tiny monster trilled. It shivered for a moment before bursting into a cloud of snowflakes, which each then became a sound, and then nothing.

Erath stared at the now empty space, releasing a breath slowly through his nose. “Someone tell me again, why do we want this place?”

“The veil is thin here,” said Tifalenji, cuffing the trickle of blood from her upper lip as she sheathed her sword. “This land teems with the bizarre. Ignore it.”

“This land is nothing but bizarre,” Erath muttered.

Marit stepped gingerly onto the skull of the dead creature, snapping her fingers to draw Henrietta close. Sinking her glaive into the earth, she pushed down on the end of the haft, using it like a vault to swing herself over onto the saddle once more.

“How long have you been up in that saddle, eh?” teased Teneff. “Why don’t you give Lady Henrietta a rest?”

Marit scoffed. “I’m not touching Ionia any more than is absolutely necessary, thank you.”

“Sounds like an awful long time to hold one’s piss,” Teneff grinned.

“Hmm, well I’ve some jars stashed away here somewhere, if you’re in need of a fresh batch?” Marit began to rummage through her saddle pouches. Erath’s shoulders shook as he stifled a laugh.

“Can we not?” asked Tifalenji, looking at both women in exasperation.

Teneff shook her head. “You are no fun, runesmith.”

“No fun at all,” echoed Marit. She looked to Erath, eyes narrowing into slits of cruel slyness.

“Now, manservant, I don’t completely hate you yet, so whilst we are on the subject, a word of warning as you care for Lady Henrietta. Her urine is highly acidic, so no matter how desperate and overcome with thirst you might find yourself on our travels, you must look elsewhere, understand?”

“Why?” Erath chuckled. “Is that what happened to your face?”

Marit visibly tensed. Her eyes flashed wide for an instant, fingers digging into the haft of her glaive. “No,” she said coldly, winding Henrietta’s reins around her free hand and riding off without another word.

The color drained from Erath’s face. “I—”

“Let it be,” Teneff shook her head. “Just bide back a distance from her for a while.”

Erath’s heart sank as he dragged himself back to Talz. After all this time, he had felt the faintest idea of being part of the group, of belonging. Now he felt it spill out between his fingers, like the elder Ionian’s tea.

He had been so close, and he ruined it.

The next week’s trek had been calm, or at least as calm as the wilds of Ionia could be to an outsider. The rains had ceased, and Erath savored marching over dry land for a change. The absence of bone-deep cold and the other miseries brought to a soldier by mud allowed him to truly see the natural splendour of Ionia in all its wondrous, breathtaking glory.

Everything was in subtle motion, from the dancing of the birds to the gentle sway of the multicolored trees. Even the chase between the predator and its prey, glimpsed for only an instant at a time in the spaces between the trees, unfolded in a sort of graceful harmony. It was as though they were all moving in concert to some silent melody that was just beyond Erath’s ability to experience, a wider world he inhabited, but couldn’t see.

They had been proceeding along the course of an immense river ever since they made landfall on Navori, never straying out of sight from its banks for too long. Not only had it served as a source of food and fresh water, but as a guide deeper into the interior, as the huntresses followed the eerie song that radiated from Tifalenji’s blade.

“Night soon,” said Teneff, glancing over at the runesmith.

Tifalenji’s eyes darted up at the swollen silver crescent of the moon, barely visible in the reddening sky. Erath thought he saw a moment of frustration flash across her features, before they become impassive and unreadable once more. “We’ll stop here, then.” She looked at Erath. “Make camp.”

“Second,” murmured Arrel. The hound presented himself. “Find Marit, bring her back.”

Second chuffed and turned, sprinting away into the deepening dusk. Marit had ridden ahead of the group since the incident after killing the creature, the thought sending a twist of regret in Erath’s gut.

“I’ll go get some wood for a fire,” said Erath, drawing a hatchet from where it hung off Talz’s back.

“Take care in how you do,” warned Teneff. “The trees here are alive.”

Erath frowned. “Aren’t all trees alive?”

“She means they’ll-kill-you alive,” said Arrel.

Erath’s frown deepened.

Night had fully descended, wrapping the world in a blanket of twinkling black velvet, by the time Erath had collected enough firewood. After the battle against the creature, he had opted to collect scattered branches from the ground rather than chop a fresh one loose and risk awakening some vicious animus within the tree that would seek one of his limbs to balance the scales.

He returned to the campsite and made a fire. Once he was satisfied the embers were growing into a healthy flame, he slung a cooking pot and weighted net over his shoulder and made for the river. After checking how light their provision sacks had become, he hoped to return to camp with a fish.

The minutes stretched by as he crouched on the river bank, staring into its glassy black surface. His pulse quickened as he saw motion in the water, and he flung out the net, cinching it tight and hauling it back onto land. The net wriggled and leapt with a captive carp.

Breathing out a sigh of relieved triumph, Erath filled the pot with clear river water and dropped the carp inside.

He walked back to camp, his step much lighter than when he had set off as he thanked the fish for its devoted service to the Noxian empire.

“It’s ready,” said Erath as he portioned the soup out in each warrior’s tin cup. He was careful to drag the ladle across the bottom of the pot every time. When he had handed out the last cup he poured what was left for himself, and took a seat near the fire.

For a while no one spoke, each of them content to enjoy the comforts of a hot meal and the crackling warmth of the fire. Erath was no exception, happy to fill his belly and give rest to sore feet and tired muscles.

For that brief span of time, nothing else mattered.

Each of the Noxians did their best to attempt some relaxation. Arrel was surrounded by her hounds, carefully inspecting their claws and teeth. Tifalenji had walked a short distance away, sitting cross legged beneath the light of the moon as she chanted and wrapped her levitating blade in magic. Teneff had taken out a battered pipe, slowly breathing out quivering rings of blue-grey smoke that crackled in the firelight.

“You still use that thing, Ten?” Marit looked down from where she lounged atop Lady Henrietta’s back. “You do know that stuff will kill you.”

Teneff shook her head. “This won’t be what kills me. Besides, I’m not allowing myself to die until this business is done.”

Erath felt everyone’s thoughts coalesce, and cleared his throat. Teneff looked at him.

“This person we’ve been sent to find,” said Erath.

“Riven,” said Arrel softly.

“You all knew her?”

Tifalenji allowed her sword to drop into her hands. “Only by reputation.”

“I shed blood alongside her, when first we came to these shores,” said Teneff, staring into the flames. “Tough little thing, you wouldn’t guess it by looking at her but she could haul a pair of legionaries down to her level, each by an ear. That sword of hers, took incredible strength to even lift it.”

“Let alone the dancing she could do,” added Marit.

Erath noticed the runesmith out of the corner of his eye, regarding Teneff carefully at the mention of the blade. The uncomfortable thought rose in his mind of how little he truly knew about Tifalenji, and how thoroughly his life depended on her now.

“She was quiet at first,” said Marit, “mostly kept to herself.”

“But stand together in the line with someone,” continued Teneff, “forge that bond with iron and blood…”

“You become sisters,” Arrel finished.

Silence descended, the three huntresses lost amidst their thoughts.

“Why did she stay here?” said Marit, a thin edge creeping into the words. “All these years, everything that’s happened. Why did she betray us?”

“We don’t know what happened,” said Teneff.

Marit snorted. “Don’t play the imbecile, Ten. It does not suit you.”

“You think I don’t seek to bring her to account?” Teneff stood and rounded on Marit. “Why else am I here?”

“Years, she’s been here,” Marit replied, unmoving. “Years. Every opportunity to report back, and she didn’t. She is a deserter, and theirs is a weakness we cannot abide. A treachery we cannot forgive. We are here to seek vengeance.”

“Don’t call it vengeance,” said Arrel. “This will be justice.”

“Call it whatever you wish,” Marit replied. “Riven made her choice, and we are the consequence.”

Erath tried to sleep, but despite his exhaustion it eluded him. He had seen the power the huntresses wielded when they worked together. Who was this person who was able to divide them without even being there? Who was Riven, who had left such a mark on each of them?

The questions swirled around his head, though they slowly began to sink down beneath a promise of rest, before it was shattered by a voice.

“Up!”

Erath stirred. It was Teneff, standing watch.

“Get up!” she bellowed again, clanging her short sword against her armor. “The river is flooding!”

The Noxians scrambled to their feet. Erath turned to look at the riverbank, and his blood ran cold.

Something had roiled the current, transforming it from a peaceful flow into a riot of churning rapids. Erath saw human faces take shape in the foaming walls of rushing water, boiling into being and mouthing silent, enraged curses before dissolving back. All the while it rose toward them, devouring the bank inch by inch.

The river wasn’t flooding. It was alive.

“Get to the treeline!” barked Tifalenji.

Teneff was already running. Marit had only to spin into a riding position on Lady Henrietta before they were darting for the trees. Erath’s first thought was Talz.

He hurried to the basilisk, taking hold of whatever he could from the camp as the ground beneath him turned to a marshy quagmire. Water rushed over his boots as he reached the massive reptile. He looked back just in time to see another great swell smash down over Arrel.

And it looked like it had hands.

Prying out the stakes rooting Talz in place, Erath started climbing onto his back before the basilisk charged. Erath clung to the straps and rigging on the beast’s flank for dear life as the water surged after them. He hauled himself up, his legs swinging free, head ducking as equipment, tools and what remained of their food supply tore loose.

They made it to the trees, and Erath climbed as the water battered them. Talz clawed himself up to his hind legs to keep his head above the surface, each fresh surge crashing higher up his back and neck. Erath looked back. Teneff and Marit were clear, but Arrel and her hounds were caught in the swamp their camp had become, slowly being sucked back into the river.

Erath braced as another swell struck him like a hail of stones. The tree next to him sagged, nearly snapping from its trunk. He looked from the tree to back at Arrel, and dropped down into water that reached his waist.

Grabbing the hatchet from Talz, he swung, chopping into the wet bark of the ailing tree. He swore he heard some mournful note rasp from its leaves as it finally broke, smashing down at an angle toward the river. Erath watched a cluster of shapes approach it.

Arrel’s hounds. They were paddling in a circle around her, dragging her up onto the tree. But there were only three of them.

The waters began to recede as the first light of day broke through the foliage in bars of copper and gold. They glittered across the water. A horrific sound, like a dirge being played by a drowning man, filled the air as the tide slid back into the river.

Marit galloped back, and Teneff climbed down, all of them converging on Arrel and the fallen tree. She had followed the bank, scanning the becalmed waters with her pack.

“Second!” she called, pausing. “Second…”

“He was carried beneath the water, Arrel,” said Teneff. She laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Arrel’s hand shook. She balled them into fists and set her jaw into a hard line.

“We’re wasting time here,” the tracker croaked, shrugging off Teneff’s hand. She stood, sharply gesturing to bring the other hounds from their somber watch on the riverbank. Fourth lingered a second longer than the others, but a glare from Arrel brought him trotting to her.

Erath flinched as the sunlight faded. He held out his hand, feeling heavy drops as they struck his palm. Their short reprieve from the rain was over.

Within minutes the sun was gone, hidden behind heavy black stormclouds. The rain was joined by howling gales, whipping the downpour into twisting sheets of freezing water. The cold sliced through Erath to the bone. He could barely see an arm’s length in front of his face. It even forced Marit to dismount from Lady Henrietta.

Tifalenji held her sword aloft. With a whisper, the blade burst with emerald flame, forcing back the storm’s blinding winds a fraction. Teneff retrieved a length of rope from Talz, looping it around each of their waists to bind them together.

Leaning into the wind and lashing rain, the Noxians wandered forward behind Tifalenji, a tiny capsule of green light in the maelstrom. Time blurred for Erath as he trudged on. He couldn’t tell if it had been minutes or hours before Tifalenji spoke up.

“We have to stop,” she roared over the wind.

“Look!” Marit pointed with her glaive. “There’s light up ahead!”

Erath could make out the faintest cluster of lights, like a constellation in the heavens.

“This is wild country,” warned Teneff. “It could be bandits, or a Brotherhood camp for all we know.”

“Then we kill them all,” hissed Marit. “The rune-witch is right. We have no supplies, and if we do not take shelter, this storm will end us.”

Teneff spat out a mouthful of rainwater, and nodded. Together they fought the storm, putting one foot ahead of the other, until they reached the lights.

The trees overhead formed an overhang, absorbing the worst of the storm. A village materialized before them, small and isolated amidst the woods. It looked like an extension of the forest itself, the tall, thin dwellings appearing woven and sculpted. They could just see them over a wall of intertwined branches barring their way, as though the land itself had formed a stockade. The branches shuddered, peeling apart enough to create a small passage.

A dozen men and women stepped through the opening. They wore hand-spun robes, faces hidden behind hoods raised against the storm. The huntresses noted the axes and swords in their hands, the broad slab-like blades chipped and worn. The battered remnants of armor plating they were clad in.

The huntresses formed a line, with Erath and Talz behind them.

“Those are Noxian weapons,” said Teneff.

“And those are Noxians carrying them,” added Arrel.

As one they sank into battle postures. Arrel’s hounds snarled.

“Lower your weapons,” said the lead villager in perfect Va-Noxian. He pulled back his hood to reveal a scarred face, his dark hair and beard shot through with streaks of silver. “We don’t want a fight.”

“Well, you are deserters,” sneered Marit. She spat upon the ground.

“Remember what’s behind us,” Teneff grumbled under her breath.

“Realize what’s in front of us!” Marit snapped.

“Stop!” Erath pushed his way between the huntresses. There was something about the man, hearing his voice. He stepped forth with trembling hands. He regarded the lead Noxian with wide eyes.

A single tear descended the curve of his cheek.

“Father?”

The man led Erath out of the storm into one of the huts, passing onlookers, Noxian and Ionian alike, their faces expressing a spectrum of shock and anger to fear. Erath followed him, as though in a trance, struggling to believe that this was Jobin, his father.

Alive.

“You look like you’ve missed a meal or two,” said Jobin. The two sat down around a fire pit. Jobin opened a steaming pot, scooping out a measure of rice into a pair of wooden bowls and handing Erath one. “My son, what are you doing here?”

They talked, of Erath’s journey, of home. He omitted much, careful as he spoke with a man he thought was dead.

When they were done, Jobin’s eyes gleamed in the firelight. “Look at you. You’re a man now. My little enhasyi.” He paused. “How is your mother?”

“Still mourning you,” Erath said, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. He removed the bone pendant from his neck. “Who even is this?”

“Me,” Jobin raised a hand, showing where one finger ended in a stump. “A sacrifice we all sent back, that we hoped might bring you peace.”

“Peace,” Erath exhaled the word.

After weeks traversing a realm of wild magic, of illusion and the uncanny, he had to ask the obvious question.

“Are you real?”

Jobin leaned forward. “What?”

“Are you real?” Erath said again. “Or a spell to make it appear my father is not truly dead? If it is deception I would thank you, I truly would, for all that the alternative would mean.”

For a few moments, neither spoke. The silence stretched.

“The world used to be so small,” said Jobin, finally. “You never knew it. We tended our herds, we traded with our neighbors, we raised families. We had simple lives and we were happy. Then the empire came, and our little world became so much bigger, and so much darker.”

He glanced out the door of the hut. “Being here, seeing this place, it brought me back to that.”

“And that was worth treachery?” asked Erath.

“Against what?” Jobin looked back at him. “Against some distant ruler I would never meet, pushing markers across maps? Those markers are people, Erath. Noxian people, Ionian people. We should have never begun this war.”

“But we are stronger together,” Erath insisted. “Noxus didn’t put us in chains, it set us free. No more herds growing thinner every year, no more raids from those same neighbors. And we can do the same here. You’ve been gone a long time, it isn’t the Noxus you remember. We’ve truly become part of something greater.”

“I don’t believe much has changed,” Jobin shook his head. “We came here believing what you believe, that this place needed Noxus. ’Rath, I don’t think they need our help, and they don’t need our rule, but we can coexist. I didn’t have to kill them, to become family. Once I understood that, I knew I couldn’t return.”

Erath processed his father’s words, and hung his head. “Everything you taught me was a lie.”

“I’m sorry, my son.” Jobin laid a hand on Erath’s shoulder. “I was deceived myself by it. But there is always time for something different. Something better. There is a place for you, here.”

“A lie,” Erath repeated. Slowly, he looked up. “So why should I believe you now?”

Jobin visibly sagged. “My son…”

“No,” Erath’s eyes were hard. “You don’t get to do that. You lost a finger, I lost you! And now you sit there and preach, as you hide in the woods? We had an excuse before we joined the empire, of being blind to the wider world. We don’t have that ignorance anymore. Now you are either working to unite the world, to make it better, or you’re running.”

Erath stood.

“I’m not running.”

Erath and Jobin emerged from the hut. The blade squire looked up, seeing the clouds thinning through the canopy of the trees. The rain had slackened as well.

“Think upon what I’ve said, my son,” said Jobin.

“I have,” Erath replied, stepping away to stand beside the huntresses.

Jobin swallowed, and cleared his throat. “We have offered you shelter. Now that the storm is passing, we will offer you a portion of our harvest. We ask in return only that you leave us in peace, and forget you ever found this place.”

Teneff eyed the runesmith. She tilted her head, and the huntresses stepped back to confer amongst themselves.

“The only question worth asking,” said Marit, “is if we kill them all.”

“His father is among them,” Teneff nodded toward Erath.

“His father is a traitor,” Marit replied.

“He isn’t the only one,” said Arrel. “Close to half of this village are Noxian… or were.”

“Scared of getting your hounds dirty?” Marit ran a finger down the edge of her glaive.

“Slaughtering cowards and villagers finds us Riven how?” the tracker retorted.

Erath looked to Tifalenji. The runesmith held the lives of these villagers—the life of his father—in her hands. For the life of him, Erath couldn’t decide what he wanted her to say, and that more than anything turned his heart to a lead weight in his chest. The huntresses studied her too, trying to parse her impassive features for her judgment.

Teneff rested a hand on her chain. “What’s it to be, then?”

“We move on,” Tifalenji stated. “Our task is to find one deserter, and these are not her.” She eyed Marit. “It is not a discussion.”

“As you wish,” she shrugged, walking back to her mount. Tifalenji looked sternly upon Erath.

“Were the circumstances different, I would not condone leaving them here alive.”

“I understand,” Erath replied.

“Now make haste,” ordered Tifalenji. “Time is against us, and you know what lies ahead.”

The huntresses gathered and began the march out of the village. Erath spared a final look back as they passed through the unfolding stockade, then touched Teneff’s arm. “What lies ahead?”

Her face turned grim, and her eyes distant. “The place where all this started.”

They marched in silence, though troubled thoughts made it feel as though Erath were pushing his way through a crowd. He couldn’t reconcile the man who raised him with the one he discovered living in that village. A son is raised in the image of his father, but does he end up the same person?

The bone pendant around his neck grated against his chest.

The landscape changed, growing more arid and dry, as did the dispositions of the huntresses. Postures stiffened, reflexes had them twitching at the slightest sound, and all three had their weapons drawn, clutched in white-knuckle grips. Erath could smell a faintly acrid tang in the air.

The Noxians crested a hill, and witnessed a dusty expanse of dessicated plains ahead. A marker was erected at the border to the plain, little more than a stone totem marked with Ionian script. He could not decipher it, but the meaning behind it was clear to Erath.

It was a warning, to stay away.

They found an old man sitting by the marker. Quietly he hummed to himself, flicking a necklace of chimes he wore looped around his shoulders. His eyes grew wide as the Noxians approached, and using a cane for support, he slowly pushed himself to his feet.

“Travelers,” he raised a hand. “I have no part in any quarrel, and serve no master. I keep vigil here, at the threshold of a terrible place, to ward off those who might seek to cross.”

The huntresses were silent. Erath had never seen such tension radiating from them. Tifalenji stepped forward.

“We wish no harm to you, gatekeeper,” she said. “But do not seek to bar our passage.”

“I beg you,” the Ionian clasped his tiny hands together, “go no further. You cannot imagine the pain that occurred here.”

“We don’t have to,” answered Teneff, as she walked past.

Erath followed, passing the dejected Ionian by. “I will sing for you,” said the gatekeeper. “For your pain.”

The first step onto the dusty plain, and Erath felt like he had been transported somewhere alien, even for Ionia. It was absolutely devoid of life. The ground had a sickly, greenish tint, and the air was sour, stinging his nose and throat. His eyes and lips tingled.

A profound sense of loss emanated from the earth like a haze, stabbing into Erath.

Teneff stopped, slowly taking in the landscape.

“This is where it happened.”

“It was here,” breathed Tifalenji, the runes along her blade pulsing. She blinked. “She was here.”

“We had been fighting for years,” said Teneff. “Everything ground to a stalemate. They said they had a way to break through, brought us some mad Zaunite and his concoction.”

“Chemical fire,” Arrel murmured.

“Something so caustic it would strip the life out of anything it touched,” said Marit. “We were safeguarding the payload, moving it up to the line, when it all went wrong.”

Erath looked from one huntress to the next as their words flowed over each other.

“We were ambushed…”

“…so many of them…”

“Riven called out for support…”

“They couldn’t have known where we were.”

“They fired—”

“—and the jars ignited.”

Marit reached behind her head, undoing the clasps that kept her mask in place. The straps slackened, came loose, and Erath swallowed.

Her entire face and skull was a mass of hairless, glossy red scar tissue. Erath had seen things killed by burns, the way the flesh looked afterward, but this was different. Black veins threaded the tissue like cobwebs. Erath could not fathom what pain she must endure, even now.

Only her eyes remained unscathed. She looked at Erath, holding his gaze in cold silence.

Arrel removed her own helm. Erath glimpsed wounds around her lips and neck. The tracker hacked and spat a gobbet of blood phlegm.

She must have breathed it in, Erath realized.

“It was chaos,” said Teneff. “Comrades, enemies, boiling away, screaming themselves dead. I never saw Riven again. I believed that she died here, like all the rest.” She looked at Erath. “Do you understand? If we can find her, the thought that we can make something good from all this—”

Then she stopped, her eyes on the horizon. Erath looked, seeing a group of figures appear on the hill. They were Ionian, clad in lightweight armor and festooned with blades of all kinds. Their faces were hidden behind masks and hoods the color of dark iron.

“Calm is the ocean before the storm,” shouted one of the Ionians. “Stand to account, xiir! If any are to control this land, it will be us.”

“Navori Brotherhood,” Teneff bared her teeth, speaking the words like a curse.

“Full warparty,” said Marit, her voice calm and level despite an edge for the violence sure to come.

“The village you stole from,” said the Brotherhood warrior, spreading his arms wide. “They were all so eager to speak of you. To help us fulfill our promise.”

Erath’s blood ran cold.

“We should have killed them,” Marit snarled, rage twisting the ruin of her face as she pulled her mask back on. A light rain began to fall from the iron-gray sky.

“This forsaken rain,” hissed Arrel.

The Brotherhood warrior took a step down the hill. “We promised to find you, the xiir, wherever you might be in the First Lands. We promised to hunt you, stalk you, to cleanse our homeland of those who have destroyed the balance between the twin realms.”

The Ionians roared, raising weapons, many of which coursed and shivered with magic.

“We make these promises to all those you have taken before their time, those whose limbs you have taken, whose peaceful dreams you have stolen and replaced with terror and broken memory. These promises we will keep, so long as our hearts beat life within us!”

A dozen warriors descended the hill, coming within a handful of paces of the Noxians with weapons ready.

“Tell me,” said the Ionian. “What will you promise?”

Teneff breathed, slowly shut her eyes and opened them. “I promise… to make this hurt.”

“You promise blood, then,” the warrior smiled beneath his hood. “We accept.”

Teneff roared, hurling her hooked chain. It struck one of the Brotherhood in the temple. The force of the blow smashed him to the ground. Teneff stomped on his chest, tearing the hook free in a spray of blood. More flecked from the hook as she spun it again.

Arrel flung out her hand and her hounds attacked. First tackled one of them, clamping down around the woman’s neck. The drakehound shook savagely, wrenching her body back and forth until she went limp, then moved on to another.

The two groups closed into melee. Tifalenji thrust her sword into an Ionian’s midsection. She spat a curse and the blade ignited, setting the man ablaze with screaming jade flame. Marit strafed through their midst. Her glaive was a blur, never ceasing as it cut, stabbed and slashed in tandem with Lady Henrietta’s snapping jaws.

Erath watched the opening strikes. This place had awakened something in them, unleashed a rage that they had crushed down deep within themselves for years. The runesmith had waded in, knowing the only way to achieve her goal was to eliminate the Ionians in her way. Talz’s reins slipped from his hand, replaced by his falchion.

Teneff locked blades with the Brotherhood leader, their faces inches apart.

“This ground pains you,” he taunted. “The xiir you lost, would you like to see them again?”

As if on command, a young Ionian who had remained halfway down the hill began to sing. It was a lilting, haunting melody, a tune that no living thing should be able to make. It stilled the Noxians for an instant, the absolute wrongness of it.

Erath’s footing slipped as the earth shook. Tiny things appeared up from the ground, like seedlings but pulsing with a sickly, intermittent unlight. Erath realized after a moment that they were fingers.

Soon hands emerged, arms bursting through the soil. Insubstantial silhouettes of ragged men and women clawed their way up from below, dressed in incorporeal rags of Noxian garb, all radiating the same cold spectral darkness.

“The dead here are not at peace,” hissed the Ionian, grappling with Teneff.

“Madness,” Teneff snarled.

The Brotherhood warrior leapt back, drawing a blade. “And you will join them!”

The youth continued to sing, and more pale phantoms clawed their way up from the earth. Erath found himself surrounded, and slashed out in a wide arc. The spirits boiled away at his blade’s touch, only to resolve like a sickened wind. He struck again, carving an opening to see the wider battle.

The Brotherhood numbers were thinning from the fury of the huntresses, but the dead were massing, dredged back into being by that hellish melody. Erath recoiled, sensing that even these Ionian’s kin would condemn the evil they were unleashing. They had but moments until they were overwhelmed, and it had to be stopped.

He made for the hill. A Brotherhood warrior leapt in his path, wielding a pair of long daggers. Shouting an Ionian curse, he lunged at Erath. The blade squire parried the first dagger going low for his gut, but saw the flash of the second seeking his throat. He backpedaled, losing his balance and falling to the ground.

The Ionian dived atop him. His mask slipped free, revealing a young determined face trying to drive one of the daggers into Erath’s chest. His falchion had slipped from his grasp in the fall. He fought the man, gripping his wrists as the dagger’s tip pierced his flesh. With a roar of pain and anger, Erath rolled, reversing the positions as he drew his knife.

Erath dropped his weight down, driving the knife into the Ionian’s gut. Grunting, he twisted it sharply, and felt the strength leave the Ionian’s grip. Tugging the blade free he collected his falchion and stepped over the dying man.

Rain and blood turned the ground to mire. Erath ran, weaving between clashes of blades and the moaning hordes of lost Noxians reaching for him. Their touch numbed his flesh, as though they were filling his veins with ice water. He gasped for breath as his side was raked by translucent claws.

The singer’s eyes were closed, the lids twitching as he wept blood. Trickles of ruby issued from his nose, ears, and lips as he stood transfixed and dirged. He didn’t see Erath coming. The blade squire surged forward, pushing against cold, grasping hands. He was bent double, crying out in agony as one climbed on top of him. He thrust himself upright, throwing the ghoul back. Breathless, his vision narrowing like a collapsing tunnel, he charged forward and with the last of his strength brought his blade down.

The Ionian’s song fell silent as he collapsed, his lifeblood emptying out from where Erath’s blade had split him from collar to sternum. The phantoms shrieked, their forms elongating as they were drawn violently back down into the earth. Within moments, all that remained of them was a pale, sickly fog, and the echoing cries of the unquiet dead.

Erath turned, stumbling like a drunkard as he returned to the fight still raging below. The Navori Brotherhood warparty was down to their final warriors. They had clearly chosen to die rather than flee, save for one. Arrel’s hounds ran him down, and tore him apart. Lady Henrietta feasted, her jewelry stained crimson. Blood sizzled and snapped where it touched the runes of Tifalenji’s blade.

Erath arrived in time to see Teneff with the leader of the warriors. She had encircled his neck with her chain and drove his face into the quagmire, a boot on his back as she watched him suffocate.

All of them bled from a dozen wounds. Teneff looked up at Erath as he approached. She stood up straight sharply, snapping the Ionian’s neck, and stumbled back. She sank to one knee, overcome by the bone-deep exhaustion of prolonged fighting hand to hand.

Erath looked down. The earth fizzed and fumed wherever blood had seeped into it. His skin burned from the dust, already reddened and peeling.

“Insanity,” snapped Marit, flinging blood from her glaive. “Ionians claim to revere the dead, and yet do this?”

“We aren’t their dead,” murmured Arrel. “Even still…”

“Insanity,” Marit repeated.

“We can’t stay here,” panted Tifalenji. “The toxin is still in the ground. And who knows what further ruin their necromancy has wrought.” She stood beside Teneff.

“I had almost hoped to see Riven among them,” she said, looking up at the runesmith. “I had wished that you were wrong.”

The runesmith offered her hand. “I am not.”

After a moment, Teneff took it.

For once the rain was a blessing. Cool and cleansing, it washed the blood and poisoned earth from their bodies as they left the site of the chemical attack behind. They could all see the runesmith’s sword was shining now, humming to her.

“She’s close,” Tifalenji whispered, eyes locked to the runes. “So very close.”

She nodded to Marit and Arrel, and the two began ranging ahead.

Erath felt his chest as they walked. Gingerly avoiding his dagger wound, he pulled his pendant out from under his jerkin, rubbing a thumb slowly over its surface. “He gave us up. My father gave us up.”

“He may have been coerced,” said Teneff. After a while she shook her head. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“I was only a child. They told me that he died, he’s gone, he’s never coming back, I’ll never see him again. Then I do see him, and everything I knew about him was a lie.” He looked at Teneff, taking a shaking breath. “What do I do with that?”

Teneff reflected for a moment. “You can let him go.”

Erath cuffed away a tear. “How does that help, after everything?

“It’s not about helping everything.” She gripped his shoulder. “Just you. So long as Noxus endures, you will always have a family, Erath.”

Erath paused. He let the words and memories of the past days wash over him. Exhaling, he pulled at the pendant until the cord around his neck snapped. He stared down at it, and slowly tilted his palm until the sliver of bone fell to the ground.

Without looking back he jogged off to catch up to the others, as the pendant quickly vanished beneath the earth.

I have too many questions I want to ask her. I sneak a side-glance as we walk. She’s looking straight ahead. I watch her gaze sweep back and forth across the far perimeter of the park, her red hair catching the last scraps of the afternoon light with each step. Does she see something? Is this the way she normally patrols? Is she bored? Why is she here? I can’t believe she wanted to come. Why did she come? I quicken my pace to keep up.

“Fortun—Sarah,” I say, remembering.

She doesn’t look away from the path ahead, so I keep going.

“Ez really does have detention, Lux,” she says.

“Oh,” I stammer. “It’s cool.” I can feel the pink in my cheeks. I tug on the tips of my gloves. She turns to look at me, a smug grin softening her face.

“He wanted to be here,” she says. “Soraka too, but Pantheon’s was short staffed. And tonight is Syndra’s astronomy class at the university—”

“—And Ahri?” I blurt out too quickly.

Sarah’s smile tightens. “She’s been busy.”

“No worries,” I say, looking for a way to change the subject. In the middle of the park, Janna pushes Poppy and a free-loading Jinx on a squeaky merry-go-round. Lulu sways idly in a close-by swing set, its metal chains clang softly, like lonely windchimes. There’s no one else in the park besides us. “It’s pretty quiet.”

“Like you said, it’s probably nothing,” she says casually.

I take the folded slip of paper out of my pocket. The frayed edge where I tore it out of Lulu’s notebook flutters in the breeze. The shapes of the playground equipment and power lines surrounding Valoran City’s metro park were clear enough, but it was the dozens of circles in the sky that worried me. Poppy said that it was too warm in physics class, and Lulu was just doodling to stay awake.

“Look!” Lulu shouts from the swing, snapping me out of my thoughts. She is at the top of the swing’s arc, gesturing excitedly at the horizon. A bright spot has risen just over the silhouette of the skyline. “Twilight star! I saw it first.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It’s just a star. Stars can’t hurt us.

“The twilight star is not a real star,” Poppy groans. “Technically it’s a planet.”

“Janna said everything has starlight in it,” Lulu argues back.

Janna nods her head in agreement.

“What are you gonna wish for, Loops?” Jinx juggles Shiro and Kuro absently as the merry-go-round spins. Lulu pumps her legs on the swing, pushing it higher.

“More stars!” she shouts. “I want to see more stars.”

“But it’s not dark yet,” Jinx says. “The other stars aren’t out yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Lulu pumps her legs harder. “The other stars are always there no matter what. Even if you can’t see them.”

“Rocket-breath is right,” Poppy says, hiding her reluctant agreement with Jinx by examining a non-existent scuff on her hammer. “It needs to get really dark before you can see the stars in the city. It’s not like at the camp.”

I cup my hands together and shout back to them, “You’re all right.” Jinx opens her mouth to argue, but shrugs and takes the win.

I turn back to Sarah.

“Are they always like this?” she asks. I’m sure she’s thinking about us compared to her own team. How this kind of talk would never happen if it was only them. They would just get right down to business. Search the park and be done. I can’t tell if she’s disappointed or annoyed or both.

“You mean are they always this argumentative?” I offer. “No, I mean, well, yes… sometimes—”

“This innocent,” she says, quietly.

“Well, you have Ahri to lead you. Of course you always know what you’re doing. Us, well… All they’ve had is me.”

“Innocent isn’t always a bad thing.” She has that faraway look on her face again, like she’s trying to remember a dream she had a long time ago. She nods her head slowly as if agreeing on the memory. “Yes, that’s who you remind me of.”

“Me? Remind you of Ahri?!” I ask, trying desperately to not sound desperate. Does she really think I’m like Ahri? Which part? Maybe a younger Ahri? I mean, she should know, she’s Ahri’s lieutenant. Did Ahri have multiple lieutenants on her old team? Maybe if our teams join, I can be another one, like Sarah?

“No.” Sarah lets out a sharp laugh. I don’t know if she can read minds, but my hope deflates like an untied balloon.

“Someone else. You remind me of someone else,” she says, softening. “Someone I lost a long time ago. She had pink hair too.” She looks me over again, and I try not to squirm under the scrutiny. “Come to think of it, you’re also too loyal for your own good… and such a dreamer. You’re kinda a mix of all of them,” she says.

Them? The team you lost? Is this a bad thing? Who were they? I add ten more questions I want to ask her to the list running constantly in my head.

How did it happen?

“Lux! Sarah! Look.” Lulu yells happily, interrupting my thoughts before I can get any further. “My wish!”

We look back at the distant playground. I run through a quick check. Lulu. Jinx. Poppy. Janna. Still safe and sound. The twilight has softened all of them, making them seem younger than they really are. The street lamps in the park click on in an unsettling coincidence. Hovering above the team are a swarm of twinkling lights. The team looks like they’re caught in a magical dream.

“Loops, It’s like Short Stop said, it’s not dark enough…” The creaking of the merry-go-round slows to a stop as Janna, Poppy, and Jinx look up as well. It’s getting darker fast. Too fast. I can barely see the trees around the edge of the park. Sarah and I start walking back toward the playground more quickly.

“Those aren’t stars,” Sarah says. I squint to get a better look. The points of light waver, almost glistening. As we get closer I can see what Sarah means. Dozens of thin translucent spheres reflect the light from the street lamps. Bubbles? They were… bubbles? I stuff Lulu’s drawing into the cuff of my glove.

“I don’t think the twilight star heard you right, Lulu,” Poppy says. “Those are bubbles.”

They aren’t just bubbles. One of them floats down toward Poppy, almost as if it was following the sound of her voice. Poppy steps back, letting it drift toward the metal railing of the merry-go-round.

The hushed silence is interrupted by a snort-laugh from Jinx. “C’mon. They’re harmless—”

A trail of bubbles begins to close in on her. I reach for my wand as I start running. “Jinx!”

I throw the staff out ahead of me. It and a prismatic rainbow of starlight just graze the top of Jinx’s pigtails before returning to my hand. A sphere of multicolored light covers Jinx and Poppy. A few bubbles bounce off the barrier and pop against the swing set leaving behind a swirl of dark mist, fluttering black shapes—bugs perhaps, or moths?—and a long, high-pitched laugh, like the delighted cackle of a child.

“That can’t be good, right?” Jinx whisper-yells. “Let’s pop these bad boys!”

“My thoughts exactly.” A double shot of Sarah’s twin pistols fire before she can finish her sentence. A wave of bubbles pop in a shower of black haze and twisted butterflies.

“What’s inside doesn’t look that great either,” Poppy says.

The high-pitched laugh stops short and is quickly replaced by an annoyed groan. The noise echoes around us, setting my teeth on edge. In the center of the pack of toxic bubbles that Janna gathered, a thin circle takes shape. The circle opens into a portal, letting long tendrils snake out from some dark dimension. One unsettling squid eye opens, followed by a second. The gelatinous blob unfolds into some cross between an evil octopus and demonic jellyfish.

“Take it down,” Sarah yells. Shiro and Kuro fire eagerly. Poppy twists around, pulling her hammer back for a long, arcing hit. She growls through the effort as the hammer swings around. In a resounding smack, it connects with the bubble mass, knocking the now angry and disoriented jellyfish out of the center. The malcontent blob drifts for a moment, but collects itself and the scattered bubble pack. They move purposefully toward Sarah.

“Sarah, get down,” I yell. I can feel the heavy power of pure starlight channel through my staff, vibrating the bones in my fingers and arm. The creature darts around, hiding behind bubbles. I fire in a beam of white-hot light. The little jellyfish slips between the bubbles and I miss. I try to get closer, but it feels like time is standing still.

“Loops, no!” Jinx yells.

It’s too late. From out of nowhere, a tiny Lulu pushes Sarah out of the way. Sarah lands hard, but rolls onto her back, both barrels blasting above her.

One bubble escapes the pack above. It floats down, straining to get closer. It breaks against Lulu’s cheek in a wet pop. The darkness seeps out, expanding, and in the space of two heartbeats, Lulu is enveloped by an inky cloud. Her eyes close as she crumples to the ground in a small heap. I dive for Lulu, scooping her up in my arms. More bubbles pop above me as Sarah and Jinx finish off the last of them. A portal opens above the dark jellyfish. The maniacal laughter gets louder and the little beast floats toward the opening, almost as if was buoyed by the sound. As it crosses the portal’s threshold, it disappears, taking the remains of the dark magic with it.

I bring my ear down to Lulu’s face. She’s breathing, slow and even… is she asleep?

“Lulu!” I shake her by the shoulders. Lulu lets out a soft moan and her eyes flutter for a second. I bring my wand up, the brightness is near blinding. Lulu’s closed eyes flinch. “Lulu, by Starlight, wake up!”

“Lost. They were lost.” Lulu’s voice is barely a whisper. Her eyes close tighter against the light, and her lip quivers. It’s as if she’s stuck in a nightmare. “Dark now,” she says.

Lulu sits bolt upright, her blue eyes wide open now. She looks past all of us, like we’re not there, like she’s seeing through us to somewhere else. Like she’s somewhere else.

“She’s on her way,” Lulu says.

“She? Who, Lulu? Who’s on their way?” This is big. One blaring thought shuts out all the others in my brain. Could it be her? Is Ahri on her way? I bite my lip. I look around at Janna, Poppy, Jinx, and finally Sarah.

“Ahri!” I say. “Ahri will know.”

“No,” Sarah says.

“Of course she will.” I push off her muted reply, trying to keep a smile of optimism for the others. “Can you call her, Sarah?”

“I can’t.” Sarah won’t look at me.

“Wait, why?”

“We’re not talking right now,” she says quietly.

“Sarah, I think this is more important than—”

“—The slumber party.” Sarah interrupts looking me straight in the eye. “That night. She was supposed to come. At the last minute, she said there was something she had to take care of. Something she wouldn’t let me help with. I thought she was just being…”

“Ahri,” I finish as she nods her head in confirmation. “You haven’t seen her since?”

Sarah shakes her head no, tightening her grip on the pair of pistols in her lap. Just before Sarah looks away, I see it—a flicker of panic. I can feel my heart thump harder in my chest.

A hundred more questions flood my brain. My stomach tightens.

What could make Sarah panic like this? Where did Ahri go? What’s coming?

Are we strong enough to face it?

Am I strong enough?

I want to ask her, but I can’t.