LoL Universe Indexing and Search

Ionia has always been a land of wild magic, its vibrant people and powerful spirits seeking to live in harmony… but sometimes this peaceful equilibrium does not come easily. Sometimes it needs to be kept in check.

The Kinkou are the self-appointed keepers of Ionia’s sacred balance. The order’s loyal acolytes walk the spirit and material realms, mediating conflicts between them and, when necessary, intervening by force. Born among their ranks was Akali, daughter of Mayym Jhomen Tethi, the renowned Fist of Shadow. Mayym and her partner Tahno raised their daughter within the Kinkou Order, under the watchful leadership of Great Master Kusho, the Eye of Twilight.

Whenever her parents were called away, other members of the order stepped in as Akali’s surrogate family. Kennen, the Heart of the Tempest, spent many hours with the young girl, teaching her shuriken techniques, and emphasizing speed and agility over strength. Akali was a precocious child, and soaked up the knowledge like a sponge. It became clear to all that she would follow her parents’ path—along with the Great Master’s son and appointed successor Shen, she would lead a new generation dedicated to preserving Ionia’s balance.

But balance can be fleeting. The order found itself divided.

A wayward acolyte named Zed returned, and clashed violently with Kusho, wresting power in a bloody coup. Akali fled into the eastern mountains along with Mayym, Shen, Kennen, and a handful of other acolytes. Sadly, Tahno was not among them.

Zed’s transformation of the Kinkou into the merciless Order of Shadow was almost complete. But, as the new Eye of Twilight, Shen intended to rebuild what had been lost. They would return to the Kinkou’s three fundamental philosophies: the pure impartiality of Watching the Stars, the passage of judgment in Coursing the Sun, and the elimination of imbalance by Pruning the Tree. Even though they were now few, they would train neophytes to restore and grow their numbers once more.

When Akali came of age at fourteen, she formally entered her Kinkou training, determined to succeed her mother as the new Fist of Shadow.

She was a prodigious fighter, and mastered the kama and kunai—a handheld sickle and throwing dagger. Though she did not possess the magical abilities of many of her fellow acolytes, she proved to all she was worthy of the title, in time allowing her mother to step down and help mentor the younger neophytes.

But Akali’s soul was restless, and her eyes were open. Though the Kinkou and the Order of Shadow had come to an uneasy accord in the wake of the Noxian invasion of Ionia, she saw that her homeland continued to suffer. She questioned whether they were truly fulfilling their purpose. Pruning the Tree was meant to eliminate those who threatened the sacred balance... yet Shen would always urge restraint.

He was holding her back. All the mantras and meditations could quiet her spirit, but such platitudes would not defeat their adversaries. Her youthful precociousness turned to outright disobedience. She argued with Shen, she defied him, and she took down Ionia’s enemies her way.

In front of the whole order, she declared the impotence of the Kinkou, all its talk of spiritual balance and patience accomplishing little. Ionians were dying in the material realm, and that was the realm Akali would defend. She was trained as an assassin. She was going to be an assassin. She did not need the order anymore.

Shen let her go without a fight, knowing this was a path that Akali must walk alone. Perhaps that path would bring her back one day, but that would be for her to decide.

A riotous domain of constant transformation, Bandle City was no place for a yordle like Kennen. Searching for harmony and balance, he ventured out from the spirit realm millennia ago. He explored the material realm with boundless curiosity, traveling great distances in a heartbeat. But he was drawn in particular to Ionia.

In the First Lands, he witnessed ancient wars that none now remember, and a land struggling to rebuild afterward. Kennen grew fascinated by a people seeking balance for themselves and their home. Over time, he returned to Bandle City less and less, choosing to remain in Ionia, where yordles were respected as creatures of the spirit realm. Though he did not age as beings of the material realm did, Kennen embraced mortals, studying them for generations. He admired how, despite their fragile lives, they were diligent protectors of the sacred balance.

Even so, there were threats to the tranquility of Ionia. Malevolent entities of the spirit realm traversed the land with ill intent. Kennen battled these disturbances alone for years, enjoying the fun each challenge brought, but in the end he understood he was doing little to address why the incursions were happening: imbalance. He discovered a fledgling order whose members actively pursued balance between the realms—who, after careful observation, would judge what needed to be done to restore it.

They called themselves the Kinkou.

Kennen was intrigued by the order, led by a distant Eye of Twilight and a vindictive Fist of Shadow. He realized that the Kinkou’s leadership required another aspect. A consensus builder, one who would prevent the warlike Fist from domineering over the introspective Eye, and likewise keep the Eye’s tireless observation from paralyzing the Fist.

As a creature of both the spirit and material realms, Kennen proposed that he was uniquely suited to be an arbiter. The order accepted Kennen’s wisdom, and he became the Kinkou’s first Heart of the Tempest. As part of the new triumvirate with the Eye of Twilight and the Fist of Shadow, Kennen passed judgment on how best to preserve balance, and his affability and diplomacy kept the Kinkou in harmony.

Moreover, Kennen noticed that a rift had grown between the order and the people around them, as judgments were carried out swiftly, mysteriously, and without chance for appeal. Again, the yordle realized he could fill a need for the Kinkou. With his fantastic speed and compassion, he was the ideal representative to communicate the judgments of the order to those affected by them. He’d seen how the Kinkou distanced themselves from the people, wearing masks over their faces, and took care to remove his to connect with those he sought to protect.

Yet there was another side to Kennen, a far more serious aspect as Heart of the Tempest. Charged with Coursing the Sun, he addressed challenges to the Kinkou’s judgments, and not always with words.

For sometimes, the cost of balance was the blood of the offender—and Kennen’s shuriken and summoned maelstroms were quite capable of silencing all dissent.

There have been many threats to the Kinkou over the centuries, but none as grave as the Noxian invasion and its aftermath. When Noxus invaded the First Lands, Kennen opposed joining the resistance, even as the war threatened to tear the Kinkou apart. In their darkest hour, after a coup led by a former acolyte named Zed, the yordle guided the order while the new Eye of Twilight, Shen, struggled to lead. Kennen urged the Fist of Shadow, Mayym, to look to her daughter Akali, whom he’d trained since childhood, and see her as a successor.

But even he couldn’t find the words to stop Akali from eventually leaving the Kinkou, frustrated at the order’s failure to act against Ionia’s enemies.

Recent events have tested Kennen, a new age of disruption and violence that has thrown Ionia into chaos. Come what may, he will protect the fractured Kinkou Order, fighting alongside Shen to defend the balance of the First Lands. Do not let Kennen’s diminutive appearance fool you—for the heart of the tempest is its calmest part, but when it turns its eye upon you, its force is never more than a moment behind.

An enigma to the spirit realm, as well as the mortal world, Shen belongs to neither. Although born to one of the most revered families of northern Navori, it was his father’s role as the Eye of Twilight that set his destiny in the Kinkou Order.

As the son of Great Master Kusho, he was immersed in the order’s culture, and its core tenets were as familiar to him as the Ionian sunset. He knew the necessity of Pruning the Tree, the determination of Coursing the Sun, but above all, he learned the wisdom of Watching the Stars. He meditated and studied throughout his childhood, and was considered exemplary by all his teachers.

His closest friend, the only one who could match him in practice bouts, was the young acolyte Zed. They grew up as brothers, often confiding in each other their personal hopes and dreams. Shen could turn to Zed for a fresh perspective on any matter, and the two became known as the Kinkou’s most promising students.

As their skills developed, Kusho brought them on dangerous missions, including a hunt for the Golden Demon plaguing the province of Zhyun. Their search took years, but Shen stayed committed even after uncovering countless gruesome murders. When they at last captured the “demon”, it was revealed to be Khada Jhin, a mere stagehand from a traveling theater. Instead of execution, Great Master Kusho ordered the criminal imprisoned.

Though he and Zed both thought the killer deserved heavier punishment, Shen accepted his father’s decision. He strived to emulate the Eye of Twilight’s dispassion, and so found himself failing to console a bitter and resentful Zed.

Even when Noxian invaders threatened the peace of the First Lands, Shen reluctantly supported Kusho’s inaction. But when Zed abandoned the Kinkou to join the fight, Shen stayed within the temple walls.

Many of the provinces were soon occupied by the enemy. Despite this, Shen focused on maintaining Ionia’s spiritual harmony. So it was, when he was far from home, he felt a jolting imbalance within the Kinkou Order—rushing back, he came upon the survivors of a bloody coup. From them, he learned Zed had raised acolytes of his own, and seized the temple.

Worst of all, Shen’s father had been slain by the man he once saw as kin.

Repressing his anguish, he led the remnants of the Kinkou to safety in the mountains. Shen took up his father’s spirit blade, as well as the title of Eye of Twilight. His role was not to seek vengeance, but to rebuild the order. Following the core tenets, he began to recruit and train others, hoping to restore its strength.

One acolyte in particular showed boundless potential. Shen taught the girl, Akali Jhomen Tethi, to master the arts of stealth and subterfuge. Her mother, Mayym, had stood alongside Kusho as the Fist of Shadow, and it seemed as though her daughter could follow the same path. Even so, Shen found himself forced to urge restraint whenever Akali would seek to strike back at their mortal foes.

When Noxus finally withdrew, many Ionians celebrated the victorious resistance. Others, like Shen, endured the consequences of war—he persisted in his duty, while in private he wrestled with his hatred for Zed, and doubt in his own ability to lead. The years of conflict had taken a heavy toll on the First Lands, and Shen was uncertain whether the rebuilt Kinkou would ever be able to redress the balance.

Indeed, even as Akali became the new Fist of Shadow, he felt her beginning to drift away. In time, she openly denounced his teachings, and left the order.

Shen meditated, watching the stars, and understood that Akali would need to find her own way… and so would the Kinkou.

Sometimes, between unseen struggles in the spirit realm, Shen still contemplates the value of his beliefs. He has never let his emotions stop him from preserving tradition, but the question remains: how long can one man walk two worlds, before the acts of one destroy the other?

Kennen had not slowed since setting off from the Great Temple of Koeshin.

The colors of the land formed a swirling palette as he flitted over hills and cliffs, plains and plateaus. The yordle was like a speeding dot amid broad strokes painted on canvas.

As the Kinkou’s Heart of the Tempest, he had delivered the judgment of the order’s leadership thousands of times before. But this time it’s different, Kennen thought. This time it’s about the lives of my Kinkou brothers and sisters.

An urgent request had come from a branch of acolytes to the south. Their temple had been corrupted by an unknown evil spirit. They could find no way to repel it, and so they sought aid from the Kinkou triumvirate.

With Akali’s former role as Fist of Shadow currently unfilled, this “triumvirate” consisted of just two leaders: Shen—the Eye of Twilight—and Kennen. They had made a decision, and now, Kennen raced to distant Raishai, on the southern coast of Zhyun.

When Noxus invaded Ionia many seasons ago, the triumvirate ruled that the Kinkou would not be involved in the war. The Raishai acolytes had been among the order’s most faithful, supporting the edict without question.

And for that, I must save them.

Kennen followed a churning river and dashed across ample golden grassland. Bolting through the misty forests of the southern Shon-Xan mountains, he was like lightning zipping through clouds. He passed a series of ruins, including the village of Xuanain.

It wasn’t until he reached the harbor town of Evirny that Kennen came to a halt under the morning sun. Zhyun’s shore was across the strait, beyond shimmering blue waters.

Kennen boarded the first ferry just before it set sail. Its mast was a living tree grown out of the hull, branches arcing backward, massive leaves catching the sea breeze like membranes on the wings of a southern-isles wyvern.

There was a loose crowd on the ferry, with Kennen the only yordle. The humans tipped their heads to him.

Yordles were treated with respect among Ionians, even when the spirit creatures appeared in their true form, as Kennen did now—as he always did, for he had achieved a state of balance through his Kinkou training. Especially through the teachings of the first Great Master, Tagaciiry, the first Fist of Shadow.

When Kennen joined the Kinkou centuries ago, Tagaciiry had inquired what the yordle admired most about humans.

“Your stories. You have so many.” Kennen’s eyes were wide. “Your lives are short, but your stories preserve what you hold most dear. That’s why you’re better suited for safeguarding the realms than any of the undying.”

Under that clear sky and the blazing sun, Kennen had shared his thoughts on what role he could play for the Kinkou. The Great Master listened, and considered his words.

“Someday, all of you will die,” Kennen added cheerfully. “I’d like to bear your stories. The story of the Kinkou.”

Great Master Tagaciiry had smiled then. “That is a noble idea, and not a small responsibility.”

“I can begin now, by delivering our verdicts to the people.”

“Very well,” said the Great Master. “Your role shall be Coursing the Sun—to shine the light of our judgment, and be the force that mediates between that light and its shadows.”

Kennen stirred from his reverie as the dock came into view, under chalky white cliffs crowned by an emerald expanse of trees.

He waved a clawed hand at the passengers behind him, and they wished him fair winds and swift travel. He jumped off the ferry even before it slowed to dock, skipping over water and onto land.

A storm was beginning to brew. Kennen’s Kinkou robes and mask were soaking wet as he charged through pouring rain, and he went on without food or rest.

I hope I’m not too late.

Dark clouds whirled low, pierced by lightning as the yordle leader arrived.

Kennen noted twenty acolytes sitting in front of the Raishai temple. The building appeared unremarkable, solid and intact.

“Master Kennen, you’re here.” The head of the acolytes, Hayda, stood in deference, but his limbs quaked, his knees buckling under him. “You need to help us fight the baleful spirit that plagues our temple…”

The rest of the acolytes slowly rose, their eyes glassy.

Kennen was hoping that he and Shen had been wrong, but now their worst fear was confirmed. He felt a pang of sadness. They’ve been so loyal.

“There is nothing to be fought,” Kennen told Hayda, his voice soft with grief. “The temple isn’t corrupted. It’s you. All of you.”

A riot of noise broke out. Several acolytes tilted their heads, glaring.

“Corrupted?” Hayda’s eyes bored into Kennen. “We have always obeyed… Long ago, when you told us not to fight the Noxian invaders, we stood by while our people were slaughtered!” His face contorted unnaturally, as if it had melted. “And then, when our fellow Ionians in Tuula, Kashuri, and Huroi called for aid, you bade us not to heed them, and again, we obeyed! We’ve forsaken the opportunity to bring justice to Noxus!”

“You’re filled with anguish,” Kennen said, “and malevolent entities of the spirit realm are feeding on it. They’re feeding on you.”

Kennen could see what the humans could not: dark smoke emanated from them, like tentacles bursting from their bodies. They were surrounded by inky tendrils that sought to devour, creatures clawing out of the spirit realm with greater force as their prey grew more agitated—eventually, they would consume these Kinkou and wreak havoc in Raishai.

“The world is changing,” he said. “Zhyun has descended into turmoil, and you’re torn between what the Kinkou demands of you and what your hearts desire.” He paused, then said what he came to say. “I’m releasing you from the order.”

“You’re banishing us?” said an acolyte in the back row.

“You can’t preserve the balance between realms in this state.” Kennen looked at each acolyte in turn. I need to get through to them. “Leave the Kinkou now. This is the only way you can heal. Do what you will, so your dark emotions won’t destroy you.”

“You want to get rid of us now that we’re no longer useful to you. This is dishonor!” Hayda flashed his blade. The acolytes howled in unison, unaware that shadowy talons were grasping at them with voracious intent.

Kennen could feel their pain, the kind born out of the rift between two worlds of belief. The kind Akali had felt before she left. Yet, he let lightning crackle between his hands. “Don’t think to test me.”

Snarling, Hayda and several acolytes charged forward.

The small yordle waltzed between the clumsy humans, easily evading all attacks. He clicked his clawed fingers, and arcs of electricity rippled out, dropping his attackers in one ferocious burst.

They moaned as they twitched on the muddy ground. The rest stopped, uncertain about what to do. Grief, guilt, shame—the acolytes’ faces were masks of agony, the rain washing over the ichor oozing from their eyes.

Kennen flipped away, out of range, and sighed. Then he remembered something he had learned from humans.

Sometimes, to tell a story is to lie.

“Let your story be mine to tell.” He pulled down his mask. “Go now, in peace. The sinister influence will remain in Zhyun, but the Kinkou will hear you fought hard against it before you left the order, with honor.”

To fabricate truth. To preserve what you hold most dear.

The acolytes’ eyes cleared for a moment, and the dark vapor began to dissipate. No one spoke, but some nodded their understanding to the yordle. Eventually, those who could gathered their wounded.

It was always tough to watch old comrades go, but Kennen knew it was for the best. They had devoted themselves to the Kinkou, and now they were free to find a new purpose. Their mental state could regain balance, and the malevolent entities would have nothing to feed on.

The yordle watched as the former acolytes stumbled away into the gloom. The rain did not abate. The drenched humans looked small and vulnerable.

Someday, all of you will die, Kennen thought, sorrow gripping his heart.

But I will bear your story.

Beneath Ionia’s veil of harmony lie the tales of those left behind. For Zed, his story began as a boy on the cold steps of the home of the Kinkou Order.

Taken in by Great Master Kusho himself, Zed found his place within the temple’s ancient walls. He dedicated himself to understanding the Kinkou’s spiritual tenets, quickly outpacing his peers both in combat and study. Even so, he felt overshadowed by another—his master’s son, Shen. Though Zed’s passion shone through in every technique he perfected, he lacked Shen’s emotional balance. In spite of this, the two pupils became like brothers.

In time, they journeyed together with their master to track down the infamous Golden Demon. When they finally succeeded in capturing this feared “monster,” it was revealed to be a mere man named Khada Jhin. The young Zed marched forward with his blades held high, but Kusho stopped him, ordering that Jhin be imprisoned instead.

Returning to their temple, Zed’s heart bloomed with resentment, and he began to struggle in his studies. He was haunted by the memories of Jhin’s grisly murders, and rising tensions between Ionia and the imperialistic forces of Noxus only worsened his disillusionment. While Shen was growing to adopt his father’s dispassion, Zed refused to let lofty notions of balance stand in the way of punishing evil.

He ventured deep into the temple’s hidden catacombs, and there he discovered an ornate, black box. Even though he knew it was forbidden to any but the masters of the order, he peered inside.

Shadows enveloped Zed’s mind, feeding his bitterness with contempt for the weak, and hinting at an ancient, dark magic.

Returning to the light of the temple, he came face to face with Great Master Kusho. Zed demanded the Kinkou strike at the Noxian invaders with every means at their disposal. When Kusho refused, Zed turned his back on the order that had raised him.

Unbound by Kinkou doctrine, he raised a following of warriors to resist Noxus. Any soul who threatened his homeland, or stood idle in its defense, was marked for death without mercy—including native vastaya who wavered in their allegiance. Zed urged his followers to embrace the fervor of war, but soon enough he realized his own abilities would never match his ambitions without the black box.

Amassing his new acolytes, he returned to the Kinkou temple, where he was met by Kusho. The elderly man laid his weapons at Zed’s feet, imploring his former pupil to renounce the shadows in favor of a more balanced path.

Moments later, Zed emerged back onto the temple steps. In one hand, he grasped the box—and in the other, his freshly bloodied blade.

The Kinkou, frozen with shock, fell in droves as Zed’s warriors cut them down. He then claimed the temple for himself, establishing his Order of Shadow, and began training his acolytes in the ways of darkness. They etched their flesh with shadowy tattoos, learning to fight alongside shrouded reflections of themselves.

Zed took advantage of the ongoing war with Noxus, and the suffering it brought to the Ionian people. In the wake of a massacre near the Epool River, he came upon Kayn, a Noxian child soldier wielding nothing but a farmer’s sickle. Zed could see the boy was a weapon waiting to be sharpened, and took him as his personal student. In this young acolyte, he saw a purity of purpose to match his own. In Kayn, Zed could see the future of the Order of Shadow.

Though he did not reconcile with Shen and the remaining Kinkou, now scattered throughout the provinces, they reached an uneasy accord in the aftermath of the war. Zed knew what he had done could not be undone.

In recent years, it has become clear that the balance of the First Lands has been disrupted, perhaps forever. For Zed, spiritual harmony holds little consequence—he will do what needs to be done to see Ionia triumph.

He wiped the gun’s stock a fourth time. He couldn’t be sure it was clean until he wiped it down four times. Didn’t matter that he hadn’t used it. Didn’t matter that he was only going to stow it in the bag under the bed. He couldn’t put it away until he was sure it was clean, and he couldn’t be sure it was clean until he had wiped it down four times. It was getting clean though. Four times makes it clean.

It was clean, and it was wonderful. His new patrons had been generous. But did the finest painters not deserve the finest brushes?

The scale and precision of the new device made his previous work with blades seem insignificant by comparison. Understanding firearm mechanics had taken him weeks of study, but evolving his ki techniques from blades had taken months.

The gun held four shots. Each bullet had been infused with magical energy. Each bullet was as perfect as a Lassilan monk’s blade. Each bullet was the paint from which his art would flow. Each bullet was a masterpiece. It didn’t just cut apart the body. It rearranged it.

The rehearsal at the mill town had already shown the gun’s potential. And his new employers had been pleased with the work’s reception.

He had finished polishing it, but with the gun in his right hand, the temptation was too great. He knew he shouldn’t, but he unpacked the black, eel-skin bodysuit. He drew the fingertips of his left hand across the slick surface of the clothes. The feel of the skin’s oily surface quickened his breath. He picked up the tight, leather mask, then—unable to help himself—slid it over his face. It covered his right eye and mouth. It constricted his breathing and removed his depth perception…

Delightful.

He was putting on the shoulder armor when the bells he’d hidden on the steps leading up to his room sounded. He quickly folded up the weapon and removed the mask.

“Hello?” the maid asked through the door. The lilt in her voice hinted to an upbringing far south of this town.

“You did what I asked?” he said.

“Yes, sir. A white lantern every four yards. A red lantern every sixteen.”

“Then I can begin,” Khada Jhin said as he swung open the door to his room.

The woman’s eyes widened as he exited his room. Jhin was well aware of how he looked. Normally, it elicited pangs of self-conscious loathing, but today was a performance day.

Today, Khada Jhin cut a slender, elegant figure as he walked out with a cane. He was hunched, and his cloak seemed to cover some huge deformity on his shoulder, but a jaunty stride belied this. He forcefully tapped the cane ahead of him as he marched toward the window. He tapped the frame rhythmically—three beats, then a fourth. His gold sparkled, his cream cloak flowed, and his jewels glittered in the sun.

“What… What is that?” the maid asked, indicating Jhin’s shoulder.

Jhin paused for a moment to study the woman’s cherubic face. It was round and perfectly symmetrical. A dull and predictable design. Removed, it would make a terrible mask.

“It’s for the crescendo, my darling,” Khada Jhin said.

From the inn’s window, he had a clear view of the rest of the town in the valley below him. This performance had to be wonderful, but there was still so much work to do. The councilman would be returning this evening—and so far, all of Jhin’s plans for tonight seemed… uninspired.

“I brought some flowers for your room,” the woman said, walking past him.

He could have used someone else to place the lanterns. But he didn’t. He could have changed clothes before opening his door. But he didn’t. Now she had seen Khada Jhin in his finery.

The inspiration he needed was so obvious now. So preordained. There was never a choice. There was no escaping the Art.

He would have to make this maid’s face... more interesting.

Shen considered the interior of the White Cliffs Inn. It was deceptively simple and rough. The wood weavers had been masters, removing the tree bark and living leaves only where necessary.

The candle on Shen’s table flickered… wrongly. He slid away from the table, retrieving his blades from under his cloak.

“Your students are as quiet as a pregnant worax,” he said.

Alone and dressed like a merchant, Zed entered the inn. Brushing past the waitress, he sat down three tables away. Every part of Shen wanted to dash at his foe, to avenge his father. But such was not the way of twilight. He calmed himself as he realized the distance was too far… even if only by the length of his index finger.

Shen looked over at Zed, expecting to see him grin. Instead, his rival sighed. His skin was sallow, and dark folds hung beneath his eyes.

“Years, I have waited,” said Shen.

“Have I misjudged the distance?” Zed asked wearily.

“Even if my head is cut off, I will still close and strike,” Shen continued, sliding his foot backward and cocking it against the floor. Zed was ten paces and one half of a finger length away.

“Your path’s closer to mine. Your father’s ideals were a weakness. Ionia could no longer afford them,” Zed said. He leaned back in his chair, keeping himself just outside of the range Shen would need to strike a killing blow. “I know that’s not something I can make you understand. But I will offer you a chance for vengeance.”

Shen inched forward to the edge of his chair. “I do not act because of vengeance. You defy the balance. For that, you are damned.”

“The Golden Demon escaped,” Zed said, simply.

“Impossible,” Shen replied, feeling a hollowness that caught in his chest.

“Your father’s greatest victory. And now, again, his foolish mercy has tarnished his legacy.” Zed shook his head. “You know what that… thing is capable of.” Then Zed leaned over the table, well within Shen’s range—his neck intentionally exposed. “And you know that we are the only two people who can get close enough to stop him.”

Shen remembered the first time he’d seen the body of someone killed by the infamous Khada Jhin. His skin prickled from the memory; his teeth clenched. Only his father had been strong enough to still believe a merciful justice could be served.

Something in Shen had changed that day. Something in Zed had broken.

Now, that monster had returned.

Shen put his swords on the table. He looked down at the perfect bowl of soup in front of him. Little droplets of the pork fat’s oil shimmered on its surface, but he wasn’t hungry anymore.

From the jetty, Jhin looked back to the foreign ship. The tide had come in, and the ship would be leaving in a few moments. He would have to return soon if he was going to perform in Zaun next month. Risk on top of risk.

He stopped to check his reflection in a puddle. From the water, a worried, elderly merchant stared back at him. Years of acting practice combined with his martial training had given him total control of his facial muscles. It was a common face, and he had given it an unexceptional expression. When he walked up the hill, Jhin blended easily into the crowd.

He checked the white lanterns above him, counting the distance. If Zed appeared, he would need them. At the inn on the top of the hill, he glanced at the planters where he had hidden traps. Sharpened steel blades, shaped like flowers. They protected his escape route in case anything went wrong.

He thought of how the metal would slice through the crowd and splash the building’s freshly painted teal walls with red. It was tempting.

He was pushing through the crowd when he heard the village elder speaking to Shen.

“Why would the demon attack her and the councilmen?” the elder asked.

Shen, dressed in his blue outfit, didn’t answer.

Another of the Kinkou, a young woman named Akali, stood beside Shen. She walked to the doorway of the inn.

“No,” Shen said as he blocked her path.

“What makes you think I’m not ready?” Akali demanded.

“Because I wasn’t when I was your age.”

At that moment, a town guard stumbled from the entrance, his face pale and hollow.

“Her flesh, it was… It was…” He took a few steps, then collapsed to the ground in shock.

Against the far wall, the tavern’s owner laughed. Then he began weeping—his face painted by madness. “He saw it. He saw the flower!”

These were not people who would forget seeing Khada Jhin’s work.

Shen scanned the faces of the onlookers.

Clever boy, Jhin thought, before fading into the back of the crowd.

He checked the rooftops for Zed as he walked back to the ship.

The work was inescapable. Together or apart, Zed and Shen would chase the clues he had left. They would follow them back to the Blossom Festival. Back to Jyom Pass. And when they became desperate, then they would have to work together again.

It would be like it had been when they were young. They would huddle together in awe and fear.

Only then would the great Khada Jhin reveal himself…

And his true masterpiece would begin.

“Ah— Hey! Bo’lii!” I cry out. “Cut me a little deep, don’t you think?”

I crane my head up and around from the wicker mat I’m lying prone on to stare right into the eyes of the vastaya kneeling over me. I can feel the blood sliding down my back.

“How about you be a little more careful?” I add.

Bo’lii pulls his qua’lo and mulee away from my shoulder, the tools of a tattoo artist, like a hammer and chisel, made from serpent bone. Some use other animals or metal, but the serpent bones are just hollow enough to give the ink the fine line that a master like Bo’lii demands in his work. A little more of my blood drips off the mulee and onto my back. He smiles, dabs it with a swatch of old linen and shakes his head. Then he holds up his hands and shrugs, as if to ask, You want me to stop?

The words don’t come. Noxian soldiers took most of his tongue long before I began coming here, but I know him well enough to know what a look can say. His work is more than a fair trade for a little discomfort.

And the blood? I can take a little blood. A lot, if it’s not my own.

“Just clean it up a little, okay? I don’t think we have much time,” I tell him.

Bo’lii begins tapping the mulee with the qua’lo and adding the ink. He has the best inks, rich colors made from crushed Raikkon wild berries and the enchanted flower petals found only on the southern faces of the Vlonqo cliffs. He is a master, and I am honored to be his canvas.

I started coming to Weh’le not long after I stopped listening to Shen. All those years in the Kinkou Order “treading carefully”? No. Shen was wrong about that. About me.

Restraint has never been my thing.

I turn back around on the mat and rest my chin on top of my hands. Keeping my eyes trained on the door that leads into Bo’lii’s tavern. His place is clean, but the air hangs heavy with guilt. The tavern is home to a collection of thieves, rogues, and bad decisions. People come to Bo’lii’s to arrange a way out of Weh’le. Out of Ionia. Because getting into Weh’le is hard… but getting out is even harder.

Weh’le is a phantom port, a hidden coastal village, protected by the mystical properties of Ionia. Unlike Fae’lor, she doesn’t welcome outsiders, and you won’t find her on the maps. Should Weh’le appear at all, it is always on her own terms, daring people into doing very dumb things.

Most approach from the sea, dreaming of riches, discovery or maybe just a new start, only to have their hopes dashed in an instant. First, the shoreline that once called to them vanishes behind a dense wall of cobalt fog crackling with arcane power. The sea rises and falls violently before unleashing torrents of crushing waves. As the survivors cling to their splintered vessel, the fog pulls back for the briefest of moments, allowing them one look at the flickering lanterns of Weh’le cruelly saying goodbye just before the water pulls them down to the bottom of the Breathless Bay.

I can’t do anything about those people. Not my people. Not my problem.

Bo’lii stops tapping. I’m here for someone else entirely.

I feel my satchel against my thigh. It puts me at ease, although I would rather have it on me. From there, I could fire three kunai into three hearts on instinct. Three kills without a thought. Where it is now, I’d have to think a little.

I look up just in time to see the man come through the front door. He is flanked by three guards in their battle dress.

“Well, that makes it easy… I wonder which one I’m supposed to kill?” I mock.

Bo’lii laughs. He can still do that, even without a tongue. It sounds a little weird, but it’s real. He shakes his head again, and does that thing he always does. With a series of hand movements and head nods he tells me to try and do my business outside this time, after they leave his establishment.

“You know I can’t promise that,” I say as I check my satchel, and turn towards the din of the tavern.

I pause at the doorway and turn back to him.

“I’ll do what I can,” I say, before lifting the mask over my face. I don’t mind them seeing me, but if they saw me laughing at them, I think it would be just too much.

The guy with the guards is my people—a high councilman from Puboe, a place not far from the Kinkou Order. But, like many, he sold out his people to the invaders for gold and safe passage to Weh’le, and beyond. So now he is my problem.

But this is as far as he will get. Sure, I could’ve taken him out in his sleep at the inn, or when they made camp along the road to Weh’le, but where’s the fun in that? I want him to taste the salt air. I want him to feel a sense of relief before the end comes. But I also want the others to see him pay for his crimes, and know that this will not stand.

Actions have consequences.

I approach without a sound. His hands are shaking as he raises a mug of ale to his lips. His guards stand in his defense when they notice me. I’m impressed.

“Nice to see manners around here for a change,” I say with a smile they cannot see.

“What’s your business, girl?” One of them asks through a plate of pitted and tarnished steel.

“Him,” I say pointing with my kama. It glistens with hues of the magic it was forged in. “He’s my business right now.”

The guards draw their weapons, but even before they can step towards me, they disappear in a thick ring of blinding smoke. The kunai begin to fly, hitting their targets with a satisfying flesh and bone THUNK.

One. Two. Three.

Footsteps.

I send two more kunai in that direction. A clang of metal, followed by the THUCK-THUCK of them ricocheting into the walls.

More footsteps.

“Aw, you’re gonna bleed!” I call out, flinging a single shuriken from my hip, and flipping across the room, following in its wake.

I break through the smoke to see the last guard splayed out on the ground next to the door. The three prongs are lodged deep in his windpipe—I can see his chest rising and falling ever so slightly. I grab him by the collar, raise him up, just to be sure.

“Almost…” I whisper.

At that moment, I hear a gurgling behind me. I turn to see the councilman through the receding smoke, bleeding out on the floor. His eyes are open, darting back and forth across the tavern, wondering what just happened.

He looks so peaceful now.

One can travel to nearly any village across Ionia and hear the tale of the Capture of the Golden Demon. Depicted in a variety of plays and epic poems, the cruel spirit’s banishment is still celebrated to this day.

But at the heart of every myth there lies a kernel of truth, and the truth of the Golden Demon is one far different than the fiction.

For years, Ionia’s southern mountains were plagued by the infamous creature. Throughout the province of Zhyun, and even as far as Shon-Xan and Galrin, a monster slaughtered scores of travelers and sometimes whole farmsteads, leaving behind twisted displays of corpses. Armed militias searched the forests, towns hired demon hunters, Wuju masters patrolled the roads—but nothing slowed the beast’s grisly work.

In desperation, the Council of Zhyun sent an envoy to beg Great Master Kusho of the Kinkou Order for help. Charged with maintaining the balance between the spirit and material realms, Kusho was adept in the banishment of demons. Leaving in secret lest the cunning creature be alerted to their intent, Kusho, his teenage son, Shen, and young apprentice, Zed, traveled to the province. They tended to countless families shattered by the killings, dissected the horrific crime scenes, and looked for connections between the murders. Soon, Kusho realized they were far from the first to hunt this killer, and his conviction grew that this was the work of something beyond the demonic.

For the next four years, the Golden Demon remained beyond their reach, and the long investigation left the three men changed. The famous red mane of Kusho turned white; Shen, known for his wit and humor, became somber; and Zed, the brightest star of Kusho’s temple, began to struggle with his studies. It was almost as though the demon knew they were seeking it, and delighted in the torment sown by their failure.

Upon finally finding a pattern to the killings, the Great Master is quoted as saying: “Good and evil are not truths. They are born from men, and each sees the shades differently.” Kusho sought to hand off the investigation, believing now that they sought not a demon, but a wicked human or vastaya, taking them beyond the Kinkou’s mandate. Shen and Zed, unwilling to turn back after all they had sacrificed to bring the killer within reach, convinced him to continue the hunt.

On the eve of the Spirit Blossom Festival in Jyom Pass, Kusho disguised himself as a renowned calligrapher to blend in with the other guest artists. Then he waited. Shen and Zed laid a carefully prepared trap, and at long last, they found themselves face to face with their hated quarry. Kusho was proven right—the famed “Golden Demon” was a mere stagehand in Zhyun’s traveling theaters and opera houses, working under the name Khada Jhin.

After they caught Jhin, young Zed made to kill the cowering man, but Kusho held him back. He reminded his students that they had already broken their remit, and that killing Jhin would only worsen matters. Kusho worried that knowledge of Jhin’s humanity would undermine the harmony and trust that defined Ionian culture, or could even encourage others to commit similar crimes. Despite Jhin’s actions, the legendary master decided the killer should be taken alive and locked away within the monastery prison at Tuula.

Shen disagreed, but submitted to the emotionless logic of his father’s judgment. Zed, disturbed and haunted by the horrors he had witnessed, was unable to understand or accept this mercy, and it is said a resentment began to bloom in his heart.

Imprisoned in Tuula, Jhin kept his secrets, revealing little of himself as many years went by. The monks guarding him noted he was a bright student who excelled in many subjects, including smithing, poetry, and dance. Regardless, they could find nothing to cure him of his morbid fascinations. Meanwhile, outside the monastery’s walls, Ionia fell into turmoil as the Noxian empire invaded, and war awoke the tranquil nation’s appetite for bloodshed.

Jhin was freed from Tuula sometime after the war with Noxus, possibly put to use by one of the many radical elements vying for power of the First Lands near the conflict’s end. He now has access to the Kashuri armories’ new weapons, though how he came to possess such implements of destruction, and what connection he has to Kashuri, is still a mystery.

Whoever his shadowy patrons might be, they have endowed Jhin with nearly unlimited funds, and seem unconcerned by the growing scale of his “performances”. Recently, he attacked members of Zed’s Yanlei order, and mass murders and assassinations bearing his signature “flair” have occurred not only across Ionia’s many regions, but also in distant Piltover and Zaun.

It seems that all of Runeterra might be but a canvas for the atrocity that is Khada Jhin’s art, and only he knows where the next brushstroke will fall.

Rakan is the worst.

He’s not listening. He’s fixated on his own golden feathers—as if they’d changed from when he cleaned them this morning. I’m going to have to repeat the plan. Although, thinking it over again, it probably was too complicated for a rescue mission. Simple is better.

“They will kill me if they catch me,” I tell him.

“Who?!” He looks ready to kill at the thought of anyone harming me.

“The guards,” I say. “It’s always guards.”

“Then I’ll distract them!” He puffs his chest out. “When?”

“Look for a green flash before the sun sets. Then draw the guards away from the western walls while I run along the ramparts to the cells.”

“I put on a show the moment the sun sets,” he says like it was his idea. “Where do we meet?”

“At the gate. I’ll throw a golden blade into the sky. But you have to be there in ten breaths.” I pull one of his feathers from his cloak. It’s warm on my fingers. A memory floods back of me lying in his arms by the Aphae Waterfall. The sun filtering through the leaves, catching the edges of our feathers as they lay atop each other. That was a lovely day.

“I will be at the gate the moment you throw the blade,” he swears.

I take his hand in mine and lean close. “I know.”

That smug, confident grin cracks his face. I want to slap him. Or kiss him. Or both.

“Now, darling—if I were you, I would stay behind the cover of the tree line, so you’re not spotted.”

Our embrace is so warm I wish it would last all night. But the sun is dangerously close to the horizon, and our esteemed consul isn’t going to escape a dungeon guarded by a horde of shadow acolytes on his own.

Rakan tells me to be careful as he wanders away, looking at the sky. Every time he leaves, my heart sinks. I’m sure it won’t be the last time I see him. Although, one day, it might.

“Remember, my heartfire,” I whisper after him. “Sunset.”

I dart in between the fortress’ parapets unseen. Years of avoiding the stares of humans taught me their many blind spots.

Six acolytes guard the gate leading to the dungeons. They carry double-firing crossbows, swords tucked in their belts, and who-knows-what-else in the pouches fastened around their waists. I slink along the inner wall behind them to get within striking distance. I pluck five of my feathers and stack them neatly in my palm, holding them in place between my index finger and thumb, ready to send them flying.

There’s a noise from outside the walls. The crash of a gong. Shouts. Confused men. It has to be Rakan.

The prison guards hear it, too. Worry chokes my heart. I hope my love is okay. I know he’s going to be okay. He’d better be okay, or I will force a necromancer to resurrect him so I can murder him myself. He knows I’ll do that, too. I’ll figure it out.

The guards are distracted from their posts. He’s early, but it’s perfect timing. I can get in without needing to fell a single one of them.

I almost reach the dungeon door, when I see another guard climb the parapet and take deadly aim with his rifle. Nobody aims anything at my Rakan. I’ll have the still-beating heart of anyone who dares to harm as much as one of his feathers. It’ll make a cute beating-heart necklace.

I stop. The prisoners won’t be going anywhere. I’ve got time to turn this guard into a sieve.

I leap back toward the parapet. The first feather I throw slices off the barrel of the gun. It clatters loudly to the floor. The rest slice through his chest. He drops like a bag of turnips.

“Intruder!” one of the guards at the gate shouts.

I duck and roll as crossbow bolts ping off the stone wall behind me, or stab into the wooden posts. Staying low, I race straight toward the acolytes who are fanning out to get better angles. I leap. They shoot where they think gravity will take me, instead of where I am: hovering in the air.

I throw another handful of feathers, shaping them into blades mid-flight.

Five of the guards drop, my quills sticking out of their chests. The remaining acolyte narrows his eyes and squares his shoulders, ready to fight. His sword is out before my feet touch the ground.

“Your soul will serve me forever,” he grunts. I can feel the shadow magic bound up in his blade, the essence of every life it has taken.

I laugh. “I killed more people in the last twenty paces than you have in your entire life.”

The acolyte hesitates before slashing wildly in my direction. His little sword leaves wavering trails of darkness. I don’t have time for this, the sun is setting. I turn my back.

With a snap of my fingers, my quills tear free of the corpses behind the acolyte, and fly back toward me.

I hear the sword clang to the floor a moment before the dull thud of his body. I’m sure the Order of the Shadow will find some way to harness these men’s souls into a slingshot or something. I don’t really know how these guys work, but good on them for being so economical. One shouldn’t waste life essence.

I take Rakan’s feather and launch it high into the air. It hangs in the sky, a golden message that should turn some heads. But there’s only one who knows what it means.

Meanwhile, I have a date in the dungeons with the consul.

He looks terrible sitting in a cage. Emaciated. Weak. Beaten. He doesn’t look up, figuring me for one of the guards. He and his mate are Sodjoko, but his entourage are vastaya from other tribes. Their harrowed eyes thank me more than their tongues. They know as well as I that this is no time for gratitude. We’re not out of the fortress yet.

As I lead the prisoners toward the eastern gate, I’m perplexed by the appalling lack of guards. Nearly every post is deserted. Isn’t this supposed to be a fortress? Who makes their schedules?

We round past the armory and the barracks. There’s the gate. Looks like Rakan found the guards. Dozens of them. They’re surrounding him. My feathers bristle. Heartbeat necklace, here I come!

Rakan reaches us. His smile turns from confident to bemused as he speaks with the consul. Akunir is one of my father’s oldest friends, and the most important of our ambassadors. I have much to discuss with him once we’re out of this.

“All of you, run for the tree line,” I command.

They’re panicked, but thankfully Rakan took out the riflemen. More of us will survive crossing the field. “Run!” I yell.

Akunir’s too slow. Rakan begins to lead him toward the forest.

The consul grabs at Rakan. “No. Please, protect Coll.” Rakan turns back toward her.

I shake my head. Rakan understands. He drags the consul behind him.

I nod to the strongest-looking juloah. He lifts Coll in his arms. She calls him Jurelv, and he pledges on his horns to keep her safe.

He makes it ten paces before the first arrow strikes him, but he doesn’t stop. He carries Coll into the forest. The shadow acolytes surge forward after them.

“Xayah!” Rakan yells. “Bowtube or tubebow?!”

I wish I had time to play, but I don’t.

Instead, I join the fight.

And it’s not pretty.

For the acolytes.

We were safe under the forest canopy by the time Jurelv’s body could ignore its wounds no longer.

Coll kneels next to his corpse. His blood is on the leaves. We have already prayed that his spirit finds our ancestors in joy and peace. His family will mourn for moons.

I’m used to death. It doesn’t move me as it once did. Rakan takes it hard; I have to be strong for him.

At least the consul is safe. After taking his hand off his wife’s shoulder, he turns to me.

“I have friends in the south,” he says. “The Kinkou must be informed.”

“Humans broke the pact.” I feel my blood rising. “How can you not see this as a grievous trespass? To them, magic is power. To us, it is life. They will never respect our boundaries.”

“Humans are a splintered race, Xayah. Only Zed and his shadows broke the pact. They do not speak for all men.”

“You are naïve. Your friends in the south will betray you. Then, they will turn on us all.”

“The Kinkou are honorable. They will believe me. I trust them.”

“So you’re not naïve, you’re an idiot.” Akunir is shocked that I dare speak to him like this. I reject the notion of being diplomatic. Diplomacy will not restore life to the dead.

Coll stands up. Her face is a mask of grief and anger. “I will go back north, Akunir. I will tell them what was done to us.”

I honestly didn’t think she had it in her.

The glow fades from Akunir’s eyes. “Coll, no.”

“I will bear word of Jurelv’s fate to his kin, and mourn with them. Then, I will muster arms and prepare the tribe to fight.”

“You cannot do that!” the consul proclaims.

Coll ignores him. “I forsake my claim to you. I forsake your claim to me.”

“Coll… please.” His voice falters.

“No,” she says.

The consul takes a step toward her, but Rakan stops him.

“I will speak with my mate,” Akunir says to Rakan. To his guards.

But Coll is already turned away. She looks at me, and I no longer see a diplomat’s wife. I see a warrior. She gathers those loyal to her—all but two of the consul’s entourage.

“Thank you, Xayah,” Coll says before she turns north and walks farther into the forest.

Akunir and his guards watch her leave, then wordlessly set off to the south.

Rakan moves in close to me. I feel his heart beating in time with my own.

“Promise me nothing will come between us like that, mieli,” I say.

“We’re not like them, miella.” Rakan assures me. “We’ll never be like them.”

I watch Coll as she disappears among the trees.

“Where to now, Xayah?”

“Let’s just stay here a moment longer,” I murmur.

I bury my face in his chest. He drapes his cloak and arms around me. My head rises and falls with his breath. I could stay here forever.

“Repeat it back to me,” I tell him.

“We are not like them,” he says. “We are not like them.”

He smiles and kisses my forehead. The vows we took at the Aphae Waterfall spring to mind. His heart beats for me, and mine for him. Home is within his arms, his breath, his smile.

There is no one better than Rakan.

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.