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War was coming, and Galio could do nothing but watch as the Demacian soldiers prepared for it. He couldn’t say how long it had been since he last tasted magic. He’d been carried from the plinth many times before, only to return without getting a chance at life. But even when his body was still, his mind was always stirring.

And it longed to fight.

Galio could just make out the bristling rows of northern barbarians in the distance. Even with his senses dulled in this dreamlike state, he could tell their ranks were sloppy and undisciplined, pacing to and fro in eager anticipation of their Demacian foes. Galio had overheard talk of these wildmen many times, given their recent conquests. The fearful people of the city whispered that the Freljordians left none alive, and mounted the heads of their foes on enormous tusks from strange beasts...

But the barbarians were of no interest to the colossus. His eyes found a bigger prize – a titanic shape, seeming almost as tall as the hills behind it. It moved ominously, heaving like the waves of a troubled sea, waiting to be unleashed.

What is that? thought Galio, hopefully. I hope it fights.

Beneath him, his Demacian comrades marched in precise synchronization, reciting a cadence, chanting away all thoughts but battle. To each other, they sounded confident in their victory, but to Galio, who had heard this song so many times before, their rhythms were less certain, more hesitant.

They are not excited to battle this great beast. I will do it for them!

Galio was filled with the urge to scoop up every one of these men in his arms and tell them it would be fine, that he would spring forth and chase the entire invading army back to its borders. But he couldn’t. His arms, legs, and claws were as cold and inert as the stone he was hewn from. He needed a catalyst, a powerful magical presence of some kind, to awaken from his living dream.

I hope there’s a mage this time, he thought, gazing toward the horizon. Usually there isn’t. I hate it when there isn’t.

His worry grew as he heard the snorts of exhaustion from the oxen pulling him. They numbered several dozen, and still had to be swapped out with fresh replacements every mile. For a brief moment, Galio thought they might all collapse, leaving him in the outer Demacian brambles while the humans had their fun.

Then, at last, his cart came to a stop at the edge of the battlefield. He knew there would be no parley, no chance that the savage enemy would surrender. Galio could hear the clatter of his tiny human comrades locking shields, forming a solid wall of steel. But he knew that whatever the barbarians’ enormous beast was, it would surely cut right through the fine Demacian armaments.

The two sides flew at one another, colliding in a flash of limbs and blades. Galio heard swords clashing, and axes meeting shields. Men from both armies were falling to their deaths in the mud. Brave voices that Galio knew well cried like children for their mothers.

The soft heart of the stone giant began to quiver. Yet still he could not break his paralysis.

Suddenly a shock of blinding purple seared through the fray, causing scores of Demacians to drop to their knees. Galio felt it then – that familiar sensation in his fingertips, like the noon sun warming cool alabaster. He could almost wiggle them...

The flash came again, sapping the life from more heroic Demacian soldiers. Galio’s senses came to life with startling acuity, revealing the conflict in gruesome detail. The bodies of men in broken armor were strewn about the field in grotesque contortions. Many barbarians lay slain in pools of their own blood.

And in the distance, behind their lines, their cowardly sorcerer was summoning a crackling orb between his hands, readying his next attack.

There he is. He is the reason I wake, Galio realized, first in gratitude, then in rage. I will squash him first!

But his attention was once again drawn to the monstrous shape in the farthest reaches of the battlefield. Finally, it was coming into focus: A towering behemoth of a creature – covered in thick, matted fur. It struggled against the steel chains that restrained it. Its head thrashed about viciously in an attempt to free itself from the giant blinding cowl that covered its eyes.

Galio smiled. Now that is a foe worthy of my fists.

The barbarians pulled off the behemoth’s covering, revealing a snarling, mangled snout beneath a beady pair of jet-black eyes. Free from its blinders, the creature erupted in a fearsome roar, as if declaring itself ready to ravage everything in sight. The monster’s handlers released a mechanism that let loose the chains, and the behemoth threw itself into the opposing infantry, instantly slaying a dozen Demacians with just one swipe of a saber-like claw.

Galio was horrified. These were men he had guarded since they were children. He wanted to weep for them, as he had seen humans do in mourning. But he was not built for that. He focused on his purpose and the thrill of the fight that awaited. This was a huge, terrible beast, and he couldn’t wait to put his hands on it. He could feel the vitality of life returning to him.

Yes! At last!

The sensation shot through his arms, his head, and all the way to his legs. For the first time in a century, he could move. Across the valley a sound echoed, something not heard in living memory.

It was the sound of a stone giant’s laughter.

Galio leapt into the fray, knocking aside the barbarians’ crudely built siege engines. Friend and foe alike stopped to gape at the stone titan who was now smashing his way through the front lines. Like a living monument, he burst from the press of soldiers and threw himself into the path of the rampaging behemoth. “Hello, great beast,” he rumbled. “Shall I smash you?”

The creature threw its mighty head back and howled, as if in acknowledgment of the challenge. Both titans ran toward one another with earth-shaking force. The behemoth slammed into Galio’s mid-section with its shoulder, and let out a groan of intense pain as it crumpled to the ground clutching its collarbone. Galio stood above it, reluctant to smash a prostrate opponent.

“Come now, no need to feel bad,” said Galio, eagerly motioning with his hand. “That was a good try. Now hit me again.”

The monster slowly pulled itself to its feet and regained the angry glint in its eye. It struck Galio with all its might, its claws raking away a piece of his head.

“You broke my crown,” said the colossus, pleasantly surprised, encouraged by the hope of a competitive fight. He struck at the beast with the bottom of his hand, swinging it down like a club with every ounce of his stone frame. The petricite fist collided with the behemoth’s flesh, and the surrounding field rang out with the cracking of gigantic bones.

The monster staggered, screaming and swinging blindly, but connecting with nothing.

Galio grabbed the giant beast around the waist in his monolithic arms and wrenched its torso, trying to break its spine. But the behemoth twisted out of his grip, and began to circle him warily before backing away.

“Wait! Our battle must be resolved!” bellowed the colossus. He started to lumber after the beast, hoping it would reconsider its decision to flee.

But the faint cries of his Demacian brethren carried to him on the wind. Without realizing, Galio had followed the monster for hundreds of feet, straying from the heart of the battle. He wanted to fight the creature, but his human comrades needed him.

As the abomination limped away into the distance, Galio gave it one last wistful gaze. “Farewell, great beast.”

He turned and thundered back to his comrades. More than half of them were lying on the ground in agony, tortured by unseen coils of power. He knew at once it was the same magic that kept him living.

The stone titan saw the terror in the soldiers’ faces, before turning to the malevolent sorcerer once more. Galio knew what he must do, and what the consequences would be.

He leapt high in the air and then came crashing down onto the mage, interrupting his vile incantation, and squashing the barbarian into the loam. The remaining invaders were routed, dropping their arms in terror and fleeing in all directions.

As the sorcerer’s magic faded, Galio felt conflicted. The animating force was draining from his body. He’d saved countless lives, but he was being dragged back to slumber.

He didn’t understand why he had no magic of his own, like all living things must have. Why had he been made this way? Had that even been his creator’s intention? As he felt the cold embrace of his dormancy returning, he took comfort that life itself was magical, and if Galio only experienced it briefly, it was worth it.

Until the final day. Until he would come to break the world’s last mage in his unyielding fists, and the stone sentinel of Demacia would awaken no more.

Galio’s legend begins in the aftermath of the Rune Wars, when countless refugees fled from the destructive power of magic. In the west of Valoran, a band of these displaced people were hounded by a vicious band of dark mages—exhausted from days without rest, the refugees hid among the shadows of an ancient, petrified forest, and their pursuers suddenly found their magic to be ineffective.

It seemed the fossilized trees were a natural magic-dampener, and any sorcery used within them would simply fail. No longer helpless, the refugees turned their swords on the dark mages and drove them from the land.

Some decided that this sanctuary from magic was a gift from the gods, others saw it as a fair reward for their terrible journey, but all agreed this should be their new home.

As years passed, the settlers crafted items of protection from the enchanted wood. Eventually, they found it could be mixed with ash and lime to make petricite—a material with a powerful resistance to magic. It would be the foundation for their new civilization, forming the walls of the new kingdom of Demacia.

For years, these petricite barriers were all the Demacians needed to feel secure from the threat of magic within the borders of their homeland. In the rare event that they needed to settle a conflict abroad, their military proved fierce and formidable… but when their enemies employed sorcery, Demacia’s roaming army had little recourse. Somehow, they needed to take the security of their magic-dampening walls into battle.

The sculptor Durand was commissioned to fashion some manner of petricite shield for the military, and two years later the artist unveiled his masterpiece. While it was not what many were expecting, the winged statue Galio would become vital to the defense of the nation, and serve as a symbol of Demacia across Valoran.

Using a system of pulleys, steel sledges, and countless oxen, they would pull the great stone figure to the battlefield. Many would-be invaders simply froze at the sight of the awe-inspiring silhouette looming before them—the titan who “ate magic” inspired a kingdom, and terrified those who opposed it.

However, no one thought to consider what exposing the statue to such unpredictable energies might do…

Demacia had been mired in battle with enemy forces in the Greenfang Mountains. A skilled order of warmages, known as the Arcane Fist, bombarded the Demacians with crackling bolts of raw, mystical power for thirteen days. Those who had survived this long felt their morale dwindling, and huddled close to Galio. Just when their spirits could be brought no lower, a slow, deafening rumble shook the vale, as if two mountains were grinding against each other. As a great shadow grew above them, the Demacian soldiers steeled themselves for death.

A deep voice bellowed from above. To the Demacians’ astonishment, the sound came from the colossus at their backs—Galio was moving, and speaking, entirely on his own. Somehow, the accumulation of absorbed magic had given him life. He threw himself in front of the Demacians, shielding them from attack after attack, absorbing each fresh bolt into his massive, stone frame.

Then Galio turned, bounded up the mountainside, and crushed every last one of the Arcane Fist into the craggy soil.

The Demacians cheered. They were eager to thank the petricite sentinel that had saved them… but as quickly as he’d come to life, their fearsome protector had ceased moving, returning to his pedestal, just as before. Back in the Great City, this bizarre tale was told in hushed tones by the few who had survived the Battle of the Greenfangs, and was usually received with silent incredulity. That day passed into legend—perhaps a mere allegory of ancient days to help people through hard times.

Certainly, no one would have believed that the colossus continued to see all that transpired around him. Even while immobile, Galio retained consciousness, longing to experience the sensations of battle once again.

He watched mortals pass beneath him, paying him tribute year after year. It puzzled him to see them disappear one by one as time rolled on. Galio wondered where they went when they vanished. Perhaps they were sent away to be mended, as he often was when he returned from war?

As the years slipped by, Galio began to realize the sorrowful answer to his question—unlike himself, the people of Demacia could not be repainted, or have their damage easily repaired. Mortals were frail, ephemeral creatures, and he now understood just how badly they needed his protection. Fighting had been his passion, but the people were now his purpose.

Even so, Galio has been called to battle only a handful of times in all the centuries since. Demacia has begun to look inward, with magic becoming rarer in his world than it once was, and so the petricite colossus remains dormant, observing the world through the murk of his waking dreams. The statue’s greatest hope is to be blessed by a magic so powerful that he will never be forced to sleep again.

Only then will Galio be able to truly serve his purpose: to stand and fight as Demacia’s protector, forevermore.

Luxanna—or Lux, as she prefers to be called—grew up in the Demacian city of High Silvermere, along with her older brother Garen. They were born to the prestigious Crownguard family, which had served for generations as protectors of the kings of Demacia. Their grandfather saved the king’s life at the Battle of Storm’s Fang, and their aunt Tianna was named commander of the elite Dauntless Vanguard regiment before Lux was born.

Garen took to his family’s role with fervor, joining the military when he was still little more than a boy. Lux, in his absence, was expected to help run the family’s many estates—a task she resented, even as a young child. She wanted to explore the world, to see what lay beyond the walls and borders of Demacia. She idolized Garen, but railed against his insistence that she put her own ambitions aside.

To the endless frustration of Lux’s tutors, who sought to prepare her for a life of dutiful service to the Crownguard family, she would question their every teaching, examine differing perspectives, and seek out knowledge far beyond what they were prepared for. Even so, few could find it in themselves to stay angry at Lux, with her zest for life and intoxicating optimism.

Little did any of them know a time of change was approaching. Magic had once brought Runeterra to the brink of annihilation, and Demacia had been founded as a place where such powers were forbidden. Many of the kingdom’s folktales told of pure hearts turned dark by the lure of magic. Indeed, Lux and Garen’s uncle had been slain by a rogue mage some years earlier.

And there were fearful whispers, rumors from beyond the great mountains, that magic was rising once more in the world…

Riding home one fateful night, Lux and her horse were attacked by a ravenous sabrewulf pack. In a moment of fear and desperation, the young girl let loose a torrent of magical light from deep within her, routing the beasts but leaving her shivering in fear. Magic, the terror of Demacian myths, was as much a part of Lux as her Crownguard lineage.

Fear and doubt gnawed at her. Would she become evil? Was she an abomination, to be imprisoned or exiled? At the very least, if her powers were discovered, it would see the Crownguard name disgraced forever.

With Garen spending more time away from High Silvermere, Lux found herself alone in the halls of their family home. Still, over time, she became more familiar with her magic, and her sleepless nights—fists clenched, willing her inner light to fade—became fewer and fewer. She began experimenting in secret, playing with sunbeams in the courtyards, bending them into solid form, and even creating tiny, glowing figures in her palm. She resolved to keep it a secret, as much as she could.

When she was sixteen, Lux traveled with her parents Pieter and Augatha to their formal residence in the Great City of Demacia, to witness Garen’s investiture into the honored ranks of the Dauntless Vanguard.

The city dazzled Lux. It was a monument to the noble ideals of the kingdom, with every citizen protected and cared for; and it was there that Lux learned of the Illuminators, a charitable religious order working to help the sick and the poor. Between her family’s courtly engagements, she became close with a knight of the order named Kahina, who also taught Lux more martial skills, sparring and training with her in the gardens of the Crownguard manor.

Spending more time in the capital, Lux has finally begun to learn about the wider world—its diversity, and its history. She now understands that the Demacian way of life is not the only way, and with clear eyes she can see her love for her homeland standing alongside her desire to see it made more just… and perhaps a little more accepting of mages like her.

The earthquake had struck Terbisia at dawn, the earth bucking like an unbroken colt and splitting apart in gaping fissures. Lux rode Starfire through the toppled ruin of the defensive barbican, the thirty-foot high walls of sun-bleached stone looking like Noxian siege engines had bombarded them for weeks. She guided her horse carefully between fallen blocks of masonry, heading to where a makeshift infirmary had been set up within a blue and white market pavilion.

The scale of the devastation was unlike anything Lux had seen before. Terbisia’s buildings were crafted from hard mountain granite and Demacian oak, raised high by communal strength. And almost all of them had been completely destroyed. Dust-covered men and women dug through the shattered ruins with picks and shovels, hoping to find survivors, but instead, dragged corpses from the debris. Entire streets had simply vanished into the many smoking chasms now dividing the town’s districts.

Lux dismounted as she reached the pavilion, and pushed inside. She wasn’t a healer, but she could fetch and carry or simply sit with the wounded. She’d thought that seeing the scale of the devastation would prepare her for the suffering within the tent.

She was wrong.

Hundreds of survivors pulled from the wreckage lay on woolen blankets. Lux heard mothers and fathers crying for lost children, wives and husbands clinging to their dead loved ones, and, worst of all, bewildered, glassy-eyed orphans wandering lost and afraid. Lux saw a surgeon she recognized in a blood-stiffened apron washing his hands in a pewter bowl and made her way toward him.

“Surgeon Alzar,” she said. “Tell me how I can help.”

He turned, his eyes haunted and rheumy with tears. It took a moment for recognition to penetrate the fog of his grief.

“Lady Crownguard,” said Alzar, giving a short bow.

“Lux,” she said. “Please, what can I do?”

The physician sighed and said, “Truly you are a blessing, my lady, but I would spare you the horror of what has happened here.”

“Spare me nothing, Alzar,” snapped Lux. “I am Demacian, and Demacians help one another.”

“Of course, forgive me, my lady,” said Alzar, taking a fatigued breath. “Your presence will be a boon to the wounded.”

Alzar led her toward a young man lying stretched out on a low pallet bed near the back of the pavilion. Lux gasped to see the horror of his wounds. His body was broken, all but crushed by rubble, and his eyes were bound in bloody bandages. From his stoic refusal to show pain, she guessed he was a soldier.

“He dug a family from the rubble of their collapsed home,” said Alzar. “He rescued them, but kept looking for survivors. There was a second quake, and another building fell to ruin on top of him. The rubble crushed his lungs, and shards of glass put out his eyes.”

“How long does he have?” asked Lux, careful to keep her voice low.

“Only the gods know, but his time is short,” said Alzar. “If you would stay at his side, it would ease his passing into the arms of the Veiled Lady.”

Lux nodded and sat beside the dying man. She took his hand, feeling her heart break for him. Alzar smiled gratefully and turned back to helping those he could save.

“It’s so dark,” said the man, waking at her touch. “Gods, I can’t see!”

“Steady now, soldier. Tell me your name,” said Lux.

“It’s Dothan,” he said, wheezing with the effort.

“You’re named for the hero of Dawnhold?”

“Aye. You know the story? It’s an old tally against the savages.”

“Trust me, I know it well,” said Lux with a rueful smile. “My brother told it all the time when we were children. He always forced me to play the Freljordian corsairs while he played Dothan, defending the harbor single-handedly against the skinwalkers.”

“I tried to be like him,” said the young man, his breathing labored and his voice growing faint. A rivulet of blood leaked from beneath the bandage like a red tear. “I tried to live up to my namesake.”

Lux held his hand in both of hers.

“You did,” she said. “Alzar told me what happened. You’re a true Demacian hero.”

The lines on Dothan’s face eased a little, his breath rattling in his throat as his strength began to fail.

“Why can’t I see?”

“Your eyes,” said Lux slowly. “I’m so sorry.”

“What... what’s wrong with them?”

“Surgeon Alzar told me you have shards of glass in them.”

The man drew in a sharp breath.

“I’m dying,” he said. “I know that... but I should... have liked to behold the light of... Demacia... one last... time.”

Lux felt the magic stir within her, but whispered the mantra taught to her by the Illuminators to keep it from rising too close to the surface. Over the years, she’d learned to better control her power, but sometimes, when her emotions ran close to the surface, it was hard to keep the energies contained. She looked around and, satisfied no one was watching, placed her fingertips on the bloody bandage covering Dothan’s eyes. Lux eased the numinous radiance of her magic down through the man’s skull to the undamaged parts of his eyes.

“I can’t heal you,” she said, “but I can at least give you that.”

He squeezed her hand, his mouth falling open in wonder as Demacia’s light shone within him.

“It’s so beautiful...” he whispered.

How long had it been since Lux had come north to Fossbarrow?

She wasn’t sure. Years, certainly. The family had come north to honor the tomb of Great Grandfather Fossian, and Lux remembered complaining about the incessant rain as they made their way through the crags and gullies of the forest to his resting place. She’d been expecting a grand mausoleum, but was disappointed to learn it was little more than a grassy mound nestled at the foot of a soaring cliff face. A marble slab set into the base of the mound depicted the legend of her illustrious forebear—Fossian and the demon falling from the cliff, her great grandfather mortally wounded, the nightmarish entity with a Demacian blade piercing its black heart.

It had rained then, and it was raining now. An icy, northern deluge fresh off the dogtooth mountains that separated Demacia from the Freljord. A storm was brewing in that frozen realm, breaking on the far side of the peaks to fall on verdant swathes of Demacian pine bent by hostile winds. To the west and east, the mountains receded into an azure haze, the sky dark and threatening, like one of her brother’s saltier moods. North, the forested haunches of the highlands were craggy with cliffs and plunging chasms. Dangerous lands, home to fell creatures and wild beasts of all descriptions.

Lux had set off into the north two weeks ago; Demacia to Edessa, then to Pinara and on to Lissus. Lissus to Velorus, and eventually to High Silvermere, the City of Raptors. A night with her family at their home at the foot of Knight’s Rock, then out into Demacia’s northwest marches. Almost immediately, the character of the people and villages began to change as the heartland of Demacia fell behind her like a pennant torn from the haft of a banner-pole.

Rolling, fertile plains gave way to windswept hinterlands dotted with gorse and thistle. Silverwing raptors screeched overhead, invisible as they dueled in the clouds. The air grew colder, freighted with the deep ice of the Freljord, and the walls of each settlement grew higher with every mile she rode. It had been a long and tiring journey to Fossbarrow, but she was here, and Lux allowed herself a small smile.

“We’ll be at the temple soon, Starfire,” she said, reaching down to rub her horse’s mane. “They’ll have grain and a warm stable for you, I promise.”

The horse shook its head and snorted, stamping its feet with impatience. Lux kicked back her heels and walked her tired mount along the rutted track leading to Fossbarrow’s main gate.

The town occupied the banks of the Serpentrion, a thundering river that rose in the mountains and snaked to the western coast. The town’s walls of polished granite followed the line of the hills, and the buildings within were wrought from stone, seasoned timber and bottle-green roof tiles. The tower of an Illuminator temple rose in the east, the brazier within its steeple a welcome light in the gathering dusk.

Lux pulled back the hood of her blue cloak and shook her hair free. Long and golden, it framed a youthful face of high cheekbones and ocean-blue eyes that sparkled with determination. Two men appeared on the tower above the iron-bound gate, each armed with a powerful longbow of ash and yew.

“Hold, traveler,” said one of the guards. “The gate’s closed until morning.”

“My name is Luxanna Crownguard,” she said. “As you say, it is late, but I’ve come a long way to pay my respects to my great grandfather. I’d be in your debt if you’d allow me entry.”

The man squinted through the gloom, his eyes widening as he recognized her. It had been years since she’d come to Fossbarrow, but Garen always said that once people laid eyes on Lux, they never forgot her.

“Lady Crownguard! Forgive me!” he cried, turning to address the men below. “Open the gates.”

Lux eased Starfire forward as the solid timbers of the gate lifted into the stone of the barbican with a clatter of heavy iron chains. As soon as it had risen enough, Lux rode under it to find a hastily assembled honor guard awaiting her—ten men in leather breastplates and blue cloaks secured with silver pins in the shape of winged swords. They were proud Demacian soldiers, though their shoulders were curiously slumped and their eyes haunted with exhaustion.

“Welcome to Fossbarrow,” said the same man who’d spoken to her from the tower. “This is a great honor, my lady. Magistrate Giselle will be relieved to know you are here. May I offer you a detachment of soldiers to escort you to her home?”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” said Lux, wondering at the man’s choice of the word relieved. “I’ve arranged accommodation with Mistress Pernille at the Illuminator temple.”

She made to ride on, but sensed the guard’s desire to say something and gently pulled Starfire’s reins.

“Lady Crownguard,” said the guard. “Are you here to end our nightmare?”

The Illuminator temple was warm and dry, and with Starfire settled in the stables, she’d spoken at length with Mistress Pernille in the main hall. Lux had heard rumors of magic in the forests and crags around Fossbarrow and had set out to see what she might learn—though she hadn’t mentioned that to Mistress Pernille. The simmering power Lux sensed within herself was frightening in its growing intensity, and she hoped there might be some way she could learn more of its nature. And it was always better to learn such things away from the eyes of her family!

Lux had sensed a dark undercurrent as soon as she’d entered the town, a creeping sensation of being watched from the shadows. The few townsfolk she’d seen on the streets walked with leaden steps, their bodies weary.

A pall of fear hung over Fossbarrow. She didn’t need magic to sense that.

“A terrible business,” explained Mistress Pernille, a flaxen-haired woman in the pale robes of an Illuminator healer. “It’s Magistrate Giselle’s son, Luca. That poor boy.”

“What about him?” asked Lux.

“He went missing two days ago,” explained Pernille. “And people are certain he’s been taken by a dark mage for some terrible purpose.”

“Why do they think that?”

“Ask me again in the morning,” said Pernille.

Lux awoke with a scream, her heart hammering in her chest and her breath coming in wheezing spikes. Terror filled her mind—a nightmare of clawed hooks dragging her beneath the earth, of fetid mud filling her mouth and darkness smothering her light forever. Lux blinked away the last afterimages, glimpsing retreating shadows out of the corner of her eye. Her mouth was filled with the taste of rancid milk, a sure sign of lingering magic, and spectral radiance shimmered in her palms. Light filled the room, and with it, the last remnants of the nightmare were banished.

Warmth suffused her, her skin shimmering with a haze of iridescence, and she quickly clenched her fists, trying to pull it back within her before it got out of control.

She heard voices downstairs, and thankfully the light faded, leaving only the wan traces of daylight from the shuttered window to illuminate the room. Lux pressed her hands to the side of her head, as if seeking to push the awful visions from her mind. She tried to recall specific moments from the nightmare, but all that came was the reek of sour breath and a faceless darkness pressing down upon her.

Her mouth dry, Lux quickly dressed and descended to the temple kitchen. Though she had little in the way of appetite, she prepared a breakfast of bread and cheese. At her first bite, the taste of grave earth filled her mouth and she put the food aside.

“How did you sleep?” asked Pernille, entering the kitchen and joining her at the table.

The skin below Pernille’s eyes was purple with lack of sleep, her skin sallow without firelight to color it. Only now did Lux notice just how bone-weary Pernille was.

“About as well as you, by the looks of it,” said Lux. “Did you dream?”

“I did, but it’s nothing I want to relive by saying it out loud.”

Lux nodded slowly. “I think there’s something very wrong with this town.”

Starfire whinnied at the sight of her, his ears pressed flat against his skull and his eyes wide. He nuzzled her, and she stroked his pearl-white neck and shoulders.

“You too?” she said, and the horse tossed its mane.

Lux quickly saddled her mount and rode toward Fossbarrow’s northern gate. Dawn was already an hour old, but the town was still to fully come to life. No smoke rose from the forges, no smell of fresh bread wafted from the bakeries, and only a very few sullen-looking merchants had their doors open for business. Demacians were hard-working, disciplined, and industrious, so to see a frontier town so late to begin the day’s work was highly unusual. But if Fossbarrow’s people had endured a night like hers, she couldn’t blame them for being slow to rise.

She passed through the gate into the open ground before the town and let Starfire run to work out the stiffness in his muscles before turning onto the muddy road. The stallion had broken his leg many years ago, but it hadn’t impaired the speed of his gallop.

“Easy, boy,” said Lux as they rode into the forest.

The scent of pine and wildflowers hung heavy in the air, and Lux savored the heady, natural aroma of the northern climes. Sunlight pierced the leafy canopy in angled spars of light, and the smell of wet mud sent a shiver up her spine as her nightmare briefly surfaced. She rode deeper into the forest, following the track as it wound its way further north. Lux lifted a hand from the reins and reached for a glittering sunbeam, feeling the magic within her stir at its touch. It was thrilling to feel it rise within her, but she let it come only slowly, for fear it might overtake her fragile control.

Her world lit up as the magic filled her senses, the colors of the forest unnaturally vivid and filled with life. She saw glittering motes of light drifting in the air, the breath of trees and the sighs of the earth. How incredible it was to see the world like this, alive to the energies flowing through every living thing. From blades of grass to the mighty ironbirch trees whose roots were said to reach the very heart of the world. If this was what even the lightest touch of magic might achieve, what wonders might it work were she better able to control it?

After an hour of riding through the iridescent forest, the road diverged at a crossroads, one path leading east—to a logging town if she remembered correctly—the other dropping west to a community built around a thriving silver mine. Her father owned a stake in the mine and her favorite cloak pin had been wrought from metal dug from its deep chasms. Between the two main routes lay a smaller pathway, all but invisible and suitable only for lone riders or those on foot.

She remembered taking that path years ago, and Lux wondered why she was reluctant to guide Starfire in that direction. She had no need to go that way, for her story of paying respects to her great grandfather was just that, a story. Lux closed her eyes and lifted her arms out to the side, letting the magic drift from her fingers. She took a breath, filling her lungs with cold air and letting the light of the forest speak to her. Her understanding of such things was still new, but surely it was worth the risk to find out what was plaguing this region of Demacia.

The light spoke in contrasting hues, scintillating colors. and vibrant illumination. She felt the light of distant stars drift down like mist, light that bathed other realms and people, almost too much to bear. Where the light of Demacia fell into shadow, she flinched. Where it nourished something living, she was soothed. Lux turned in the saddle, reveling in this new sensation. The sun was almost at its zenith, and she frowned as the quality of light in the forest trembled, slipping from her grasp. She felt shadows where no shadows ought to dwell, hidden darkness where only light should exist. The breath caught in her throat, like a hand at her neck, and a sudden wave of dizziness swept over her. Her eyelids fluttered, drifting closed as if she were being pulled into a waking slumber.

The forest around her was suddenly silent. Not a breath of wind stirred the leaves of the trees, nor ruffled so much as a blade of grass. The Silverwings were silent, the chatter of animals stilled. Lux heard the soft susurration of grave cloth being pulled tight.

Sleep…

“No,” she said, but the unnatural weariness slipped over her like a comfortable blanket, warm and enfolding. Lux’s head dropped and she closed her eyes for the briefest instant.

The snapping sound of a breaking branch and the scrape of metal flicked Lux’s eyes open. She drew in a great draught of air, the cold in her lungs jolting her awake again. She blinked shadows from her eyes and let out an icy breath as the magic slipped from her grasp and faded away. She heard riders on horseback, the jingle of bridle and trace, the rasp of metal on metal. Soldiers, armored for war. At least four, perhaps more.

Lux wasn’t scared of them. Not really. Not this deep in Demacia. Whatever darkness was lurking somewhere in the forest was a more immediate threat. Its strength was uncertain, like a child exploring just what it could do. She pulled Starfire’s reins, turning him around and setting him athwart the paths.

The foliage in front of her parted, and five riders came into view.

Powerful warriors, armored head to foot in gleaming warplate. They rode wide-chested steeds of gray, none smaller than seventeen hands, and each caparisoned in cobalt blue. Four had their swords drawn, where the fifth had his golden-hilted blade sheathed in a lacquered blue scabbard across his back.

“Luxanna?” said this rider, his voice muffled by the visor of his helm.

Lux sighed as the knight removed his helmet to reveal dark hair and granite-hewn features that so embodied Demacia it was a wonder they weren’t yet on a coin.

“Garen,” sighed Lux.

Her brother had brought four of the Dauntless Vanguard.

Drawn from any other army, four warriors would be a paltry force, but every warrior of the Dauntless Vanguard was a hero, a legend with tales of valor etched into the metal of their swords. Their deeds were told and retold around tavern tables and hearthfires the length and breadth of Demacia.

Dark of hair and keen of eye was Diadoro, the bearded swordsman who’d held the Gates of Mourning against the armored host of the Trifarian Legion for an entire day. Flanking him was Sabator of Jandelle, the slayer of the hideous deepwyrm that woke every hundred years to feast, but which would now wake no more. Its fangs were hung in King Jarvan’s throne room, next to the newly mounted dragon skull brought by his son and his enigmatic companion.

Slighter, though no less striking, was Varya, she who led the charge onto the decks of the sea-wolf fleet at Dawnhold. She set their ships ablaze and, even wounded nigh unto death, cut down their berserk leader. Rodian, her twin brother, had sailed north to Frostheld and burned the Freljordian harbor city to the ground, so that no others would dare sail south to wreak havoc again.

Lux knew them all, but rolled her eyes at the thought of hearing their legends around a table tonight. Yes, they were heroes of Demacia and entirely worthy of respect, but hearing about Sabator climbing down the deepwyrm’s gullet for the tenth time, or how Varya beat a Grelmorn to death with a splintered oar was too much for Lux.

Garen came alongside her as they followed the road back to Fossbarrow. They’d circled the town until the light began to fade in search of the magistrate’s son or any sign of nefarious goings on, but had found nothing. Though any servant of darkness would have had plenty of time to run and hide, given the noise Garen and the Dauntless Vanguard were making.

“You’re really here to visit Great Grandfather Fossian’s tomb?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” replied Garen. “You did. I’m just surprised. I seem to recall mother saying you hated coming here last time.”

“I’m surprised she remembered.”

“Oh, she remembered,” said Garen without looking at her. “When young Luxanna Crownguard doesn’t enjoy something, the skies darken, rain clouds empty, and forest animals hide.”

“You make me sound like a spoiled brat.”

“You kind of were,” said Garen, his easy grin only partially robbing the comment of its sting. “You got away with things I’d have had a smacked backside for doing. Mother was always telling me not to pay attention to the things you did.”

The words hung between them, and Lux looked away, remembering not to underestimate her brother. People knew him as honest and direct, with a sound grasp of tactics and war stratagems, but few ever thought of him as subtle or cunning.

That, knew Lux, was a mistake. Yes, Garen was a simple warrior, but simple didn’t mean stupid.

“So what do you think’s happened to the boy?” asked Lux.

Garen ran a hand through his hair.

“If I had to guess, I’d say he’s run away from home,” he said. “Or decided to have an adventure and has gotten lost somewhere in the forest.”

“You don’t think a dark mage has taken him?”

“It’s certainly possible, but Varya and Rodian rode through this way only six months ago, and saw no evidence of unnatural sorceries.”

Lux nodded and asked, “Have you spent a night in Fossbarrow?”

“No,” answered Garen, as they rode into sight of the town. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”

“There’s something going on down there,” said Sabator, his hand shielding his eyes from the setting sun.

Garen’s eyes snapped to where his warrior was pointing, and all levity fell from his face. His entire posture changed, muscles taut and ready for action, his eyes utterly focused. The warriors of the Dauntless Vanguard formed up alongside him, ready to move in an instant.

“What is it?” said Lux.

An angry-looking crowd was hounding a stumbling man through the streets toward the market square. She couldn’t hear what they were shouting, but she didn’t need to hear the words to feel their anger and fear.

“Vanguard! We ride,” said Garen, raking his spurs back.

Starfire was a fast horse, but even he was no match for a grain-fed Demacian warsteed. By the time Lux rode through the gates, the sound of yelling voices echoed through the town. Starfire’s flanks were lathered with sweat and his iron-shod hooves struck sparks from the cobbles. Lux hauled her mount to a halt as she entered the crowded market square and leapt from his back as she saw a scene she’d witnessed too many times throughout Demacia.

“No, no, no…” she muttered, seeing two guards drag a weeping man onto the auction platform normally used during the buying and selling of livestock. The man’s clothes were soaked in blood and he wailed piteously. A woman with the ermine-trimmed robes and bronze wings of a Demacian magistrate stood before him, presumably Magistrate Giselle. Hundreds of Fossbarrow’s townsfolk filled the square, yelling and screaming at the man. The intensity of their hate was palpable, and Lux felt her magic drawn to the surface of her skin. She struggled to quell the rising light and pushed her way through the crowd, seeing Garen at the foot of the steps leading onto the auction platform.

“Aldo Dayan,” said Magistrate Giselle, her voice ragged with emotion. “I name thee murderer and consort of a dark mage!”

“No!” cried the man. “You don’t understand! They were monsters! I saw them, their real faces! Darkness—only darkness!”

“Confession!” cried Giselle.

The crowd screamed in response, a swelling lust for vengeance erupting from every throat. They looked set to rush the auction platform to tear Aldo Dayan limb from limb, and perhaps they would have but for the four warriors of the Dauntless Vanguard standing with their swords drawn at its edge.

“What’s going on? What happened?” asked Lux as she reached Garen’s side.

Garen didn’t look at her, his eyes fixed on the kneeling man.

“He murdered his wife and children in their beds, then ran out onto the streets and attacked his neighbors. He split three people with an axe before they were able to restrain him.”

“Why would he do that?”

Finally Garen turned to look at her. “Why do you think? There must be a mage nearby. A darkness holds sway here. Only the dark influence of a sorcerer could drive a loyal Demacian citizen to commit such heinous acts.”

Lux bit back an angry retort and pushed past Garen. She climbed the steps of the platform and marched over to the kneeling man.

“Lady Crownguard? What are you doing?” demanded Giselle.

Lux ignored her and lifted the man’s head. His face was bruised, one eye swollen shut from the heavy blow of a cudgel or fist. Blood and snot ran freely from his nose, and ropes of drool hung from his split lip.

“Look at me,” she said, and the man’s good eye tried to focus on her. The white of his eye was bloodshot and purple edged, the eye of a man who had not slept in days.

“Goodman Dayan, tell me why you killed your family,” said Lux. “Why did you attack your neighbors?”

“Not them. No. I saw. Weren’t them, they was… monsters…” sobbed the man. “Darkness clothed in skin. Among us the whole time! I woke and I saw their true faces! So I killed them! I had to do it. I had to!”

She looked up as Magistrate Giselle appeared at Lux’s shoulder. Lux saw a soul-aching grief etched in the woman’s face. The last two days had aged her ten years. The magistrate stared down in disgust at Aldo Dayan, her fists clenched at her sides.

“Did you kill my Luca?” she said, her voice wracked with sorrow. “Did you kill my son? Just because he was different?”

Baying cries for vengeance rose from the crowd as the sun sank into the west and the shadows lengthened. Handfuls of mud and dung pelted Aldo Dayan as his former friends and neighbors called for his death. He thrashed in the grip of the guards, frothing at the mouth and spitting bloody saliva.

“I had to kill them!” he screamed, staring defiantly at his accusers. “It weren’t them. Just darkness, only darkness. It could be one of you too!”

Lux turned back to Magistrate Giselle.

“What did you mean when you said your son was different?”

Giselle’s grief was all-consuming, but Lux saw past it to a secret shame beneath. The magistrate’s eyes were bloodshot and ringed with dark smudges of exhaustion, yet even that couldn’t hide the same look she’d seen in her mother’s eyes whenever Lux’s powers had gotten the better of her as a youngster. It was the same look she sometimes saw in her brother’s eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“What did you mean?” she asked again.

“Nothing,” said Giselle. “I didn’t mean anything.”

“Different how?”

“Just different.”

Lux had heard such deflections before, and suddenly knew exactly how the magistrate’s son was different.

“I’ve heard enough,” said Garen as he strode onto the platform, his long, silver sword hissing from its scabbard. The blade glinted in the twilight, its edge unimaginably sharp.

“Garen, no,” said Lux. “There’s something more going on here. Let me speak with him.”

“He is a monster,” said Garen, spinning his sword up onto his shoulder. “Even if he is not a servant of evil, he is a murderer. There can be only one punishment. Magistrate?”

Giselle looked away from Lux, her eyes wet with tears. She nodded.

“Aldo Dayan, I declare you guilty, and call upon Garen Crownguard of the Dauntless Vanguard to dispense Demacian justice.”

The man lifted his head, and Lux’s eyes narrowed as she felt a prickling sensation of… something pass through him. A whisper of a lurking presence. It slithered away before she could be sure, but a breath of frigid air raised her hackles.

Dayan’s limbs spasmed, like a deranged roadside wanderer afflicted with the tremoring sickness. He whispered something, rasping and faint, as Garen lifted his warblade to deliver the executioner’s strike. Dayan’s last words were all but lost in the roars of approval coming from the crowd, but Lux finally pieced them together as Garen’s sword swept down.

The light is fading…

“Wait!” she cried.

Garen’s blade clove the man’s head from his body in one titanic blow, to a roar of approval from the crowd. The body dropped to the platform, twin arcs of blood jetting from the stump of his neck. The head rolled to Giselle’s feet as coiling smoke poured from Aldo Dayan’s corpse like black bile oozing from a charnel pit. The magistrate recoiled in shock as a phantom form of wicked claws and searing eyes erupted from the dead man’s skull.

The spectral darkness launched itself at the magistrate with a cackle of spite. She screamed as it passed through her before dissipating like wind-scattered cinders. Lux felt the breath of the thing’s demise, an energy so vile, so hateful, and so inhumanly evil, that it beggared belief. Magistrate Giselle collapsed, her flesh ashen, weeping in terror.

Lux dropped to one knee as myriad visions of horror arose within her—choking fears of being buried alive, of being driven from Demacia by her brother, of a thousand ways to die a slow and painful death. The light within her fought these terrible sights, and Lux’s breath shimmered with motes of light as she spat the taste of death from her mouth.

“Lux…”

Garen spoke in a whisper, and it took her a moment to figure out how she could possibly have heard him over the cheering crowd. Lux turned from the sobbing magistrate, and felt magic race around her body in a surge tide.

The crowd stood utterly silent.

“Lux, what’s going on?” said Garen.

She blinked away the abhorrent images still searing her mind and followed Garen’s gaze as the warriors of the Dauntless Vanguard rushed to stand with their leader.

Then, one after another, the people of Fossbarrow fell to the ground, as if the life had simply fled their bodies.

Lux clenched her teeth and pushed herself to her feet.

The sun had all but vanished behind Fossbarrow’s western wall and her mouth fell open as she saw black, vaporous shapes lift from the town’s unconscious inhabitants. No two were alike, and Lux saw an assembling host of shades in Noxian armor, vast spiders, many-headed serpents, towering shadow warriors with frost axes, great drakes with teeth like obsidian daggers and scores of things that defied sane description.

“Sorcery,” declared Garen.

The shadow creatures closed on the platform, sliding through the air without a sound. An oncoming tide of nightmarish horrors.

“What are they?” asked Varya.

“The darkest nightmares of Fossbarrow’s people given form,” said Lux.

“How can you know that?” demanded Sabator.

“I don’t, not for sure, but it feels right,” said Lux, knowing she couldn’t stay here to fight. Besides, the Dauntless Vanguard could hold their own here. She placed her thumb and forefinger against her bottom lip and whistled a summoning note before turning to Garen.

“I think I might know how to stop this,” she said. “Maybe…”

“How?” said Garen, without taking his eyes off the approaching shadowhost.

“Never mind how,” said Lux. “Just… try not to die before I get back.”

Lux ran to the edge of the platform as Starfire galloped through the creatures. Her steed passed unmolested, its dreams and nightmares of no interest to the power now abroad in Fossbarrow. Lux leapt from the platform and grabbed Starfire’s mane, swinging onto his back in one smooth motion.

“Where are you going?” demanded Garen.

The horse reared and Lux twisted in the saddle to answer her brother.

“I told you,” she shouted. “I’m going to pay my respects to Great Grandfather Fossian!”

Garen watched his sister gallop through the dark host, carefully navigating a path through the town’s fallen inhabitants. Grasping claws of shadow creatures reached for her, but she and Starfire evaded every attack. Lux rode clear of the monstrous host, and paused just long enough to wave at him.

“For Demacia!” she shouted.

The Dauntless Vanguard clashed their swords against their shields.

“For Demacia!” they answered as one.

Lux turned her horse and galloped from the town.

Garen rolled his shoulders in anticipation of the rigor of close-quarters battle and lifted his sword.

“Lockstep!” he yelled, and his warriors took up their battle stance. Varya and Rodian stood to his left, Sabator and Diadoro to his right.

“We are the Dauntless Vanguard,” said Garen, lowering his sword so its quillons framed his piercing eyes. “Let courage and a keen eye guide your blades.”

Oil-black shade-hounds were the first to reach the platform, leaping upward with tearing fangs and flashing teeth. Garen and the Dauntless Vanguard met them with shields locked and blades bared. A hammering wall of iron beat them back. Though their enemies were wrought from darkness and spite, they fought with ferocious strength and skill. Garen stepped in and thrust his blade into a writhing beast’s haunches, tearing through to where its spine ought to be. The monster’s form exploded into black dust with a shriek of anguish.

Garen spun his sword up and pulled back in an oblique turn. His sword deflected another beast’s snapping jaw. He rolled his wrists and lowered his shoulder into its attack. He pushed the thing back and down. He stamped its chest and the beast roared as it burst apart. Garen’s sword snapped back up to block a crushing blow from what looked like the silhouette of a towering Freljordian warrior. The impact drove him to his knees.

“I will fight as long as I stand!” he said through gritted teeth, straightening his legs with a roar and hammering his pommel into the savage warrior’s horned skull. Ashes burst from the shadow, and Garen spun to drive his sword into the belly of another beast.

Sabator decapitated a slavering hound as Diadoro slammed his shield down on a hissing serpent, splitting its body in half. Varya hammered the hilt of her sword into the snapping fangs of a faceless shadow warrior as Rodian drove his sword into his twin’s foe.

With every killing blow, the shadow creatures burst into amber-limned ashes. Garen’s sword flashed and the silver blade plunged into the body of a scorpion-like monster.

A slash of dark talons came at Garen’s head. Sabator’s shield parried the attack. Varya chopped her blade through the monster’s legs and it burst apart. A hideous, limping creature hurled itself at Rodian, and he thrust his blade hard into its featureless face. It screeched as it died. But for every shadow they destroyed, more always took their place.

“Back to back!” roared Garen, and the pauldrons of the five warriors clashed together. They fought shoulder to shoulder in a circle of steel, a beacon of light against the darkness.

“Show them the strength of Demacia!”

Lux rode hard through the forest, trees flashing past to either side in a blur. It was reckless to gallop through the forest at such speed, but the shadows assailing Garen and the Dauntless Vanguard would keep coming. Human imaginations were a depthless well of nightmares—fear of death, fear of infirmity, or fear of losing a loved one.

She followed the route she had taken only this morning, hoping Starfire remembered the way more clearly than she did. Together, they flew through the night, eventually reaching the crossroads where the roads diverged. Ignoring the roads east and west, Starfire leapt the overgrown bracken that all but obscured the path north.

The path to Great Grandfather Fossian’s tomb.

Even with her mount’s surefootedness, Lux was forced to slow her pace as the path wound its way through steep-sided gullies and up rocky glens. The closer she came to the tomb, the more the landscape began to change, taking on an altogether different character—like something from a tale told to frighten small children. The trees wept a sickly black sap, their branches gnarled and twisted into clawed hands that plucked at her hair and cloak. Gaps in the boles of trees resembled fanged mouths, and venomous spiders spun cloying webs in their high branches. The ground underfoot became spongy and damp with brackish pools of stagnant water—like a grove abandoned by one of the fae folk.

Starfire stopped before the entrance to a shadow-wreathed clearing and threw back his head, nostrils flaring in fear.

“Easy, boy,” she said. “Fossian’s tomb is just ahead. Only a few more steps.”

But the horse would not be cajoled into another inch forward.

“Fine,” said Lux. “I’ll go myself.”

She slid off the horse’s back and entered the clearing. Moonlight filtering through the clouds gave off just enough illumination for her to see.

The mound of Fossian’s tomb was a shallow hill of grass that looked black in the gloom, its summit crowned with a rough cairn of stacked stone. Dark smoke drifted into a sky that swirled with images of ancient horrors awaiting their time to claim the world. Dark lines snaked across the great stone slab telling of Fossian’s deeds.

A young boy, no more than twelve or thirteen, sat cross-legged before it, his thin body swaying as if in a trance. Tendrils of black smoke coiled from the tomb, wrapping around his neck like strangling vines.

“Luca?” said Lux.

The boy’s swaying ceased at the sound of her voice.

He turned to face Lux, and she faltered at the sight of his soulless, black eyes. A cruel grin split his face.

“Not anymore,” he said.

A looming spider with hook-bladed legs reared over Garen, its bloated belly rippling with distended eyes and snapping jaws. He split its thorax and kicked the flailing creature from the platform even as its body disintegrated.

Legs braced, Garen felt a searing cold in the muscle of his shoulder as a black claw plunged through his pauldron. The metal did not buckle or crack. The claw passed through unimpeded, and Garen felt a sickening revulsion spread through him. He smelled rank grave dirt—the reek of fetid earth over a centuries-old sepulchre. He fought through the pain as he had always been trained to do.

Rodian fell as a hooking blade slid under his guard and plunged into his side. He cried out in pain, his shield lowering.

“Straighten up!” yelled Garen. “Shake the pain.”

Rodian straightened, chastened at his lapse, as the shadow creatures barged into one another in their frenzy to reach the Dauntless Vanguard.

“They never stop coming!” cried Varya.

“Then we never stop fighting!” answered Garen.

Though she wanted nothing more than to flee this haunted clearing, Lux walked toward the young boy, her hand slipping to the dagger at her hip. His eyes rippled with darkness, nightmares waiting to be born from the rich loam of human frailty. She felt a cold, calculating intelligence appraise her.

Luca nodded and smoothly rose to his feet. Muttering shadows gathered at the edge of the clearing, monsters and terrors lurking just out of sight as they moved to surround her.

“You have nightmares aplenty,” he said. “I think I’ll crack your skull open with a rock to scoop them out.”

“Luca, this isn’t you,” she said.

“Tell me, who do you think it is?”

“The demon in that tomb,” said Lux. “I don’t think it was as dead as people thought when they buried Fossian.”

Luca grinned, his mouth spreading so wide the skin at the corners of his mouth tore. Rivulets of blood ran down his chin.

“Not dead at all,” he said. “Just sleeping. Healing. Renewing. Preparing.”

“Preparing for what?” said Lux, forcing herself to take another step forward.

The boy tutted and wagged an admonishing finger. Lux froze, unable to take another step. Her fingers were locked around her dagger’s grip.

“Now, now,” he said, bending to pick up a sharpened stone. “Let me cut out a nightmare first.”

“Luca,” said Lux, unable to move, but still able to speak. “You have to fight it. I know you can. You have magic within you. I know you have—that’s why you ran away isn’t it? That’s why you came here, to be next to someone who defeated a demon.”

The thing wearing the flesh of the boy laughed, and the grass withered around it at the sound.

“His tears were like water in a desert,” it said, coming forward and circling her as if seeing where best he might crack her skull open. “They woke me, nourished me. I had slept for so long I had forgotten just how sweet the suffering of mortals tasted.”

The boy reached out and stroked her cheek. His touch sent a cold spike of terror through Lux. He lifted his finger away, and a smoky thread followed. She gagged as the fear of drowning filled her. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“I made him sleep, and his dreams were ripe with horrors to be made real,” said the boy. “His power is slight, a glowing ember compared to the furnace that burns in your flesh. It gave me little in the way of real substance, but childish fears are a banquet after I had gone so long without. Demacia is a terror to his kind. To your kind.”

Lux felt her magic recoil from this creature, the darkness filling the clearing pressing her light down into little more than a spark. She tried to restrain it, knowing that even a single uncontrolled spark could begin a conflagration that would devour an entire forest.

“They hated him. Luca knew that. You mortals are always so quick to fear the things you don’t understand. So easy to fan those flames and draw forth the most exquisite visions of terror.”

Lux flexed her fingers on the leather of her dagger’s handle, the motion painful. But pain meant she had control. She used it. She nursed the building spark within her, kept it apart from her terror, and let it seep slowly back into her body.

“Luca, please,” she said, forcing each word out. “You have to fight it. Don’t let it use you.”

The boy laughed. “He can’t hear you. And even if he could, you know he’s right to fear what his own people would do if they discovered the truth. That he is the very thing they hate. A mage. You of all people should know how that feels.”

Pain spread along Lux’s arms, and moved through her chest. The boy’s black eyes narrowed as he sensed the build up of magic.

“I know all too well,” she said. “But I do not let fear define me.”

Lux thrust her dagger toward the boy with a scream of pain. She didn’t want to hurt him, only to let the metal of the blade touch him and pass a measure of her light to him. Her limbs burned, and the blow was clumsy. The boy jumped back—too slow. The flat of the blade brushed the skin of his cheek.

The moment of connection was fleeting, but it was enough.

The Dauntless Vanguard fought with brutally efficient sword cuts and battering blows from their shields, but they could not fight forever.

Eventually, the shadows would drag them down.

A pack of squirming things with grasping arms attacked from the left, fouling Diadoro’s swings with their bodies. A blow glanced off his shield and hammered into his shoulder guard. He grunted and punched his sword into the belly of a dark-fleshed beast with the head of a dragon.

“Step in!” admonished Sabator. “Keep them at bay!”

Garen threw a sword cut into the writhing darkness, a backstroke to the guts and a thrust to the chest. In deep and twist. Don’t stop moving. Movement to the right—a howling insect-like skull with fangs like daggers. He slashed it in the eyes. It screamed and burst apart in smoke and cinders.

Two more came at him. No room to swing. Another pommel strike, stove in the first’s chest. Stab the other in the belly, blade out. The monsters withdrew. Garen stepped back, level with Varya and Rodian. Each was slathered from helm to greaves in ash.

“We hold the line,” said Garen.

“For how long?” asked Diadoro.

Garen looked to the north, where a distant light shone in the forest.

“As long as Lux needs,” said Garen with a warning glance.

And the shadows came at them again.

The light poured from Lux and into Luca. Blinding and all but uncontrolled radiance exploded through the clearing. The monster within the young boy was torn loose from his flesh with a howling screech of fury and desperation. Raw white fire enfolded Lux, becoming everything around them, in its own way as terrifyingly powerful as the darkness. Its power was magnificent, but she could barely cling on to its howling radiance as it roared through her. The darkness fled before its awesome power, its shadow banished by the incandescence of the light. The growing radiance kept growing until the forest and the tomb were nowhere to be seen, only an endless expanse of pale nothingness. Sitting in front of her was a young boy with his knees drawn up to his chest. He looked up, and his eyes were those of a small, frightened child.

“Can you help me?” he said.

“I can,” said Lux, walking over and sitting next to him. “But you have to come back with me.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. I’m too scared. The nightmare-man is out there.”

“Yes, he is, but together we can beat him,” she said. “I’ll help you.”

“You will?”

“If you’ll let me,” said Lux with a smile. “I know what you’re going through, how you’re afraid of what’ll happen if people know what you can do. Trust me, it’s happening to me too. But you don’t have to be afraid. What’s inside you? It’s not evil. It’s not darkness. It’s light. Maybe it’s a light we can learn to control together.”

She held out her hand.

“You promise?” he said.

“I promise,” said Lux. “You’re not alone, Luca.”

The boy gripped her hand like a drowning man grasping a rope.

The light swelled of its own volition, impossibly bright, and when it faded, Lux saw the clearing was just as she remembered it from her visit years ago. Green grass, a hillock with a stone cairn and a slab describing Fossian’s deeds. The darkness that had so transformed the forest was now absent. The clawed trees were nothing more than ordinary, the sky a midnight-blue vault of twinkling stars. The sound of night-hunting birds echoed from the forest canopy.

Luca still held her hand and smiled up at her.

“Is he gone? The nightmare-man?”

“I think so,” she said, feeling the bitter taste of dark power diminish. “For now, at least. I think maybe it’s not in the tomb anymore, but it’s gone from here. That’s what’s important right now.”

“Can we go home now?” asked Luca.

“Yes,” said Lux. “We can go home.”

Numbing cold filled Garen. His limbs were leaden, pierced through by shadow claws. Ice running in his veins chilled him to the very heart of his soul as his vision grayed.

Sabator and Diadoro were down, skin darkening. Rodian was on his knees, a clawed hand at his throat. Varya fought on, her shield arm hanging uselessly at her side, but her sword arm still strong.

Garen tasted ash and despair. He had never known defeat. Not like this. Even when he once believed Jarvan was dead, he’d found the will to continue. Now, his life was being sapped with every breath.

A towering figure reared up before him, a horned shade with an axe of darkness. It looked like a savage warrior he had slain many years ago. Garen raised his sword, ready to die with a Demacian war cry on his lips.

A summer wind blew. A strange brightness shone in the northern sky like a sunrise.

The shadow creatures faded until they vanished entirely, like smoke in the wind.

Garen let out a breath, barely able to believe he still could. Rodian sucked in a lungful of air as Sabator and Diadoro picked themselves up from the ground. They looked around, amazed, as the last remaining shadows were banished and the townsfolk began to stir.

“What happened?” gasped Varya.

“I don’t know,” said Garen.

With Luca reunited with his grateful mother, Lux and Garen rode toward Fossbarrow’s south gate at the head of the Dauntless Vanguard. Their mood was subdued, and a palpable guilt hung over every person they passed on their way from the town. None of Fossbarrow’s inhabitants could remember anything after the execution, but all knew they had played a part in a man’s death.

“May the Veiled One welcome you to her breast,” said Lux as they passed Aldo Dayan’s burial procession.

“Do you really think he deserves such mercy?” said Garen. “He killed innocents.”

“That’s true,” agreed Lux, “but do you understand why?”

“Does it matter? He was guilty of a crime and paid the price.”

“Of course it matters. Aldo Dayan was their friend and neighbor,” said Lux. “They drank beer with him in the tavern, shared jokes with him on the street. Their sons and daughters played with his children. In their rush to judgment, any chance of understanding what caused his murderous acts was lost.”

Garen kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“They don’t want understanding,” he said at last. “They don’t need it.”

“How can you say that?”

“We live in a world that does not allow for such nuances, Lux. Demacia is beset on all sides by terrible foes—savage tribes in the north, a rapacious empire in the east, and the power of dark mages who threaten the very fabric of our realm. We deal in absolutes by necessity. Allowing doubt to cloud our judgment leaves us vulnerable. And I cannot allow us to become vulnerable.”

“Even at such a cost?”

“Even so,” agreed Garen. “It’s why I do what I do.”

“For Demacia?”

“For Demacia,” said Garen.

Born into the noble Crownguard family, along with his younger sister Lux, Garen knew from an early age that he would be expected to defend the throne of Demacia with his life. His father, Pieter, was a decorated military officer, while his aunt Tianna was Sword-Captain of the elite Dauntless Vanguard—and both were recognized and greatly respected by King Jarvan III. It was assumed that Garen would eventually come to serve the king’s son in the same manner.

The kingdom of Demacia had risen from the ashes of the Rune Wars, and the centuries afterward were plagued with further conflict and strife. One of Garen’s uncles, a ranger-knight in the Demacian military, told young Garen and Lux his tales of venturing outside the kingdom’s walls to protect its people from the dangers of the world beyond.

He warned them that, one day, something would undoubtedly end this time of relative peace—whether it be rogue mages, creatures of the abyss, or some other unimaginable horror yet to come.

As if to confirm those fears, their uncle was killed in the line of duty by a mage, before Garen turned eleven. Garen saw the pain this brought to his family, and the fear in his young sister’s eyes. He knew then, for certain, that magic was the first and greatest peril that Demacia faced, and he vowed never to let it within their walls. Only by following their founding ideals, and by displaying their unshakeable pride, could the kingdom be kept safe.

At the age of twelve, Garen left the Crownguard home in High Silvermere to join the military. As a squire, his days and nights were consumed by training and the study of war, honing his body and mind into a weapon as strong and true as Demacian steel. It was then that he first met young Jarvan IV—the prince who, as king, he would one day serve—among the other recruits, and the two became inseparable.

In the years that followed, Garen earned his place in the shieldwall as a warrior of Demacia, and quickly gained a fearsome reputation on the battlefield. By the time he was eighteen, he had served with honor in campaigns along the Freljordian borders, played a key role in purging fetid cultists from the Silent Forest, and fought alongside the valiant defenders of Whiterock.

King Jarvan III himself summoned Garen’s battalion back to the Great City of Demacia, honoring them before the royal court in the Hall of Valor. Tianna Crownguard, recently elevated to the role of High Marshal, singled out her nephew in particular, and recommended him for the trials necessary to join the ranks of the Dauntless Vanguard.

Garen returned home in preparation, and was greeted warmly by Lux and his parents, as well as the common people living on his family’s estate. Though he was pleased to see his sister growing into an intelligent, capable young woman, something about her had changed. He had noticed it whenever he visited, but now Garen wrestled with a real and gnawing suspicion that Lux possessed magical powers… though he never let himself entertain the idea for long. The thought of a Crownguard being capable of the same forbidden sorceries that had slain their uncle was too unbearable to confront.

Naturally, through courage and skill, Garen won his place among the Vanguard. With his proud family and his good friend the prince looking on, he took his oaths before the throne.

Lux and her mother spent much more time in the capital, in service to the king as well as the humble order of the Illuminators—yet Garen tried to keep his distance as much as possible. Though he loved his sister more than anything else in the world, some small part of him had a hard time getting close to her, and he tried not to think about what he would be forced to do if his suspicions were ever confirmed. Instead, he threw himself into his new duties, fighting and training twice as hard as he had before.

When the new Sword-Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard fell in battle, Garen found himself put forward for command by his fellow warriors, and the nomination was unopposed.

To this day, he stands resolute in the defense of his homeland, against all foes. Far more than Demacia's most formidable soldier, he is the very embodiment of all the greatest and most noble ideals upon which it was founded.

As a mage born to a poor Demacian family, Sylas of Dregbourne was perhaps doomed from the start. Despite their low social standing, his parents were firm believers in their country’s ideals. So, when they discovered their son was “afflicted” with magical abilities, they convinced him to turn himself in to the kingdom’s mageseekers.

Noting the boy’s curious ability to sense magic, they used Sylas to identify other mages living among the citizenry. For the first time in his life he felt he had a future, a life in service to his country, and he performed these duties faithfully. He was proud, but lonely—forbidden from associating with anyone but his handlers.

Through his work, Sylas began to notice that magic was far more prevalent than Demacia cared to admit. He could sense glimmers of hidden power even among the wealthy and prominent… some of whom were the most outspoken decriers of mages. But while the poor were punished for their afflictions, the elite seemed above the law, and this hypocrisy planted the first seeds of doubt in Sylas’ mind.

Those doubts finally bloomed in one deadly, fateful event, when Sylas and his handlers encountered a mage living in hiding in the countryside. After discovering it was only a young girl, Sylas took pity on her. When he tried to shield the child from the mageseekers, he accidentally brushed against her skin. The girl’s magic rushed through Sylas’s body—but rather than killing him, it shot forth from his hands in raw, uncontrolled bursts. It was a talent he did not know he possessed, and it resulted in the deaths of three people, including his mageseeker mentor.

Knowing he would be called a murderer, Sylas went on the run, and quickly gained notoriety as one of the most dangerous mages in Demacia. Indeed, when the mageseekers found him, they showed no mercy.

Though he was still just a youth, Sylas was sentenced to life imprisonment.

He languished in the darkest depths of the mageseeker compound, forced to wear heavy shackles of magic-dampening petricite. Robbed of his arcane sight, his heart turned as hard as the stone that bound him, and he dreamed of vengeance on all who had put him there.

After fifteen wretched years, a young volunteer from the Illuminators named Luxanna began to visit him. Even with his shackles, Sylas recognized her as a singularly powerful mage, and over time the two forged an unusual and secretive bond. In exchange for Sylas’ knowledge of the control of magic, Lux educated him about the world outside his cell, and brought him whatever books he desired.

Eventually, through careful manipulation, he convinced the girl to smuggle a forbidden tome into his cell—the original writings of the great sculptor Durand, detailing his work with petricite.

The work revealed the secrets of the stone to Sylas. It was the foundation of Demacia’s defenses against harmful sorcery, but he came to see that it did not suppress magic, but absorb it.

And if the power was held within the petricite, Sylas wondered, could he release it…?

All he needed was a source of magic. A source like Lux.

But she never visited Sylas again. Her family, the immensely powerful Crownguards, had learned of their contact, and were furious that Lux had broken the law to help this vile criminal. Without explanation, it was arranged for Sylas to be executed.

On the scaffold, Lux pleaded for her friend’s life, but her cries fell on deaf ears. As the headsman pushed past her to raise his sword, Sylas managed to touch Lux. As he had predicted, her power surged into the petricite shackles, ready for him to unleash—and with that stolen magic, Sylas blasted his way free, sparing only the terrified young Crownguard.

He left the mageseeker compound not as an outcast, but as a new, defiant symbol of the broken and persecuted in Demacia. While traveling the kingdom in secret, he amassed a following of exiled mages… However, perhaps he always knew that even their combined power would not be enough to succeed in toppling the throne.

Which is why, with a band of his closest followers and several hardy oxen, Sylas eventually journeyed over the northern mountains to the frozen tundra of the Freljord.

There he seeks new allies, and the great elemental magic of ancient legend, so that he might return to Demacia and demolish the oppressive system that has made him and his fellow mages suffer for so long.

Watai twisted the jade ring on her finger anxiously as she stared up at the monastery carved into the mountainside. The Lasting Altar, home to Karma. She hadn’t expected to find herself back here after all this time. The trip had been painful in many ways, not least because her knees had been giving her trouble. Taking a deep breath, she walked up the path, toward a small shrine that marked the entrance to Karma’s private meditation room.

Her knee buckled as she reached the entrance, and Watai fell hard onto the ground. This damned place. She learned to hate the Lasting Altar when she had visited with Jakgri some sixty years ago, after the monks had summoned him. The memories brought her as much pain as her fall. She struggled to stand.

“Are you all right?”

Watai looked up to see a tall and beautiful woman offering her hand. Although she didn’t know the woman’s face, she recognized the mantle she wore with its twin dragons of Ionia encircling her head like a halo. Karma.

“I’m fine,” Watai said brusquely. “I have an appointment to see you.”

“Welcome, wayfarer.” The woman smiled beatifically, her dark eyes sparkling, as she took Watai’s hand in her own. “Here, let me try…” Karma flexed her free hand and a pulsing green light surrounded her. Watai’s skin prickled—the glow felt cold against her skin. The woman pulled Watai to her feet. “How’s that?”

Gingerly, Watai tested her leg. The knee held. Yet seeing this new Karma wield this power broke her heart. “I can stand,” she said, her voice tight.

The other woman looked at Watai in concern. “Are you sure? You don’t seem—”

“My leg is fine, Enlightened One,” Watai snapped, pulling her hand back. “But your magic can’t heal every pain.”

She had expected the other woman to look confused or upset, but instead Karma looked… calm.

“You’re right,” Karma said, nodding placidly as she ushered Watai into the simple meditation room. “I can’t heal grief. If you lost someone in the war, there’s nothing I can do except apologize. I’ve spent years apologizing across the country, for the loss and the pain that followed my decision to support… to pursue the war against Noxus. But…” A pause, a deep breath. “I am not sorry that I—that Ionia—fought back.”

Watai and Karma stared at each other for a long beat. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” Karma asked, not unkindly.

Watai took a few moments to compose herself. “My loss was before the war.” She held up her hand. “Do you know this ring?”

Karma’s gaze turned to the jade ring and she gasped. “Yes. I gave it to… No. He? He gave it to someone.” She closed her eyes, covering them with her hands.

Watai knew from her time with Jakgri that Karma was concentrating hard, trying to access memories that weren’t fully her own. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

Sixty years ago, Jakgri had asked Watai, his betrothed, to accompany him on a trip to the Lasting Altar. Watai, who had never traveled outside their village, was excited to see more of the world. Maybe this was how their life together could be from this point on. And so Watai and Jakgri set out together on the two-month journey to the monastery.

You will love it here, Jakgri had exclaimed. His smile was burned into her mind. I know it’s far from our village, but we’ll have the woodweaver grow plenty of bedrooms in our house for your family when they visit. We’ll live together in the town just outside the monastery. Isn’t it wonderful?

But the life they had dreamed of together was not to be. Watai quickly discovered that she couldn’t be so far from her home and family and still be happy. But Jakgri’s path led him here—there was no way he could go back. He had a duty to fulfill. So she journeyed back to their village alone, still wearing his ring, never expecting to return. Never expecting to see her Karma again.

Finally, Karma’s hands fell to her side as her eyes flew open. Her irises glowed the same green that Jakgri’s had when he was speaking with the countless voices in his mind. His past lives, now hers. Karma blinked and her eyes faded to normal.

“Watai?” There was incredulity in her voice, the fear that she was wrong.

But she wasn’t. “Oh, bless the spirits,” Watai said, wiping tears away before they had a chance to fall. “I wasn’t sure if Jakgri was… himself, in you.”

“He is and he isn’t. His memories are mine, but…” She trailed off, suddenly timid.

That was fine. That was enough. Watai looked directly into Karma’s eyes, hoping Jakgri could see her through them. Watai wanted to unburden her heart before she died full of regret. “I’m sorry, Jakgri. I wish I could have stayed here with you, or that you could have returned home with me. I hope you were able to find another to love. I don’t like to think of you alone.”

She removed her ring and placed it in Karma’s palm, closing the woman’s long fingers around it.

“No.” Many voices spoke as one, Karma’s eyes alight with the souls of the past once more. “Jakgri loved you to the end of his days. His only regret in becoming Karma was that he could not share his life here with you. But he was never alone. He had the spirit of Ionia with him always.” She held the ring out to Watai. “He desires for you to keep his ring, if you still want it.”

Under Karma’s watchful gaze, Watai slipped the ring back on her finger. It felt right, for she had never loved another either. “I love you, Jakgri,” she whispered, shaken but elated. “I love you.”

A dark-eyed Karma looked back at Watai. “I’m sorry. It never lasts long.”

Watai nodded, her throat tight. “Thank you. For this.”

“I should be thanking you, Watai.”

“Why?”

“He hasn’t spoken to me,” she murmured. “Not since the attack. He… was disappointed, then went silent. Years without Jakgri’s voice, without the wisdom of the Karma who came before me.” She took Watai’s hands in her own with a sudden intensity. “Thank you, for bringing him back to me.”

Karma—or Darha, as she introduced herself—asked Watai to stay a few days longer at the Lasting Altar. Perhaps together they could begin to heal, as one of them said goodbye to Jakgri and one welcomed him back.

As she left the meditation room, Watai looked at the glint of moonlight on her ring, admiring its fidelity. Like her love for Jakgri, and his for her, it had stayed true, unscratched and unsullied, for over sixty years. Even when she died, when her bones were picked clean by the sky, this ring would remain, a token of the love they shared.

Through Karma, their love would outlast lifetimes.

Bound by darkness.

Cruel smile, stretching wide. Sharp teeth, spanning systems.

Oblivion given form, coalesced as the dark Harbinger of annihilation.

Thresh.

Immense in power. His own gravity draws me closer, chains of dark matter enveloping me, cradling me in stillness.

Ambition’s embrace.

Yet behind him, an even greater force looms.

Its ceaseless pull tugs at every particle in my being. I resist, struggling against its call, straining against Thresh’s grasp, calling upon the light. Yet every surge of radiance that wells up within me disappears into the endless maw of darkness, diverted into its ever hungering grasp.

The Dark Star.

Thresh laughs, a vibration that sends pulsating waves of energy radiating into the cosmos.

“Struggle all you want, little light,” he coos. “But you… you belong to the Dark Star.”

A wave of dread ripples through me.

Give in.

With a heave, he wrenches me toward the emptiness, the vast and eternal silence. I strain against his bindings, but I feel my power wane as I drift closer to the point of no return, the event horizon beyond which the star’s dark pull would prove inescapable.

Thresh’s voice grates. “Do not fear the end, Lux. Embrace it.”

Embrace… me.

“The Cosmic Court will stop you,” I say. My voice warps and slurs under the immense gravity of the Dark Star, a reverberating mockery of my intended strength, revealing the hollowness of my threat.

I was the one sent to stop him. And I… am about to fail.

Enter the horizon, Lux.

He pulls.

I fall, ensnared by the inescapable tow of the Dark Star.

They came, one by one. Shining beacons, formed of constellations, each burning with endless starfire, the potential of creation aflame within their beings.

Yi arrived first, an elegant flash of his celestial blade cutting a path through the inky space. Kassadin and Xin Zhao followed not long after. Xayah danced in, trailed by Rakan, and Lulu meandered in at the end as she always does, following some whim and whimsy only she understood.

Last, as though summoned only by our collective light, Queen Ashe arced into our midst, blazing across space-time like an incandescent arrow. The others bowed their heads in deference as I took stock of all who had come.

The Cosmic Court, assembled together after countless eons. All in answer to my beacon.

Xin Zhao spoke first. “Long has it been since last we all were met.”

I smiled. Though at times a bit formal, Xin Zhao’s focus and dedication in his protection of the nebulas that cradle the birth of new stars always filled me with deep admiration and appreciation.

“Too long,” Kassadin replied.

“Yet some still are missing,” Yi rumbled.

Xayah scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Some are not to be expected. They never show.”

“Yet others’ absences are more… troubling,” Ashe thundered, and all heads turned toward her.

Xin Zhao frowned. “You speak of Jhin.”

“And Mordekaiser,” Rakan chimed in. “That grumpy old soul. Where’d he get off to?”

“We’re all old souls. Even if some don’t act it,” Yi replied.

“Jhin’s light, gone.” Lulu’s voice rang out, clarion and pure, drawing our attention.

Some murmurs of surprise rippled out, along with a few incredulous grumbles—yet I knew we all felt the truth of her words.

Whenever a cosmic being ceases existence, the loss echoes through each of the remaining. And we had all felt his light blink into darkness.

Since then, I… I had witnessed first the twisted, broken systems left in his wake. Whatever dark, monstrous thing he had become reveled in destruction, macabre and grotesque. Stars inverted into black holes. Shattered planets left careening around wild, unhinged orbits. Devastated. Splintered.

Beautiful.

I frowned and shook my head.

Xayah was asking a question. “How is this possible?”

“Since the Harbinger’s appearance, the Dark Star grows in strength.” Ashe glided between us, looking each of us in the eyes as she passed. “Where we build, he guides the Dark Star to consume. Where we create the possibility of life, and light… he only destroys. For too long, we have watched his actions, tolerating him as, at best, an overzealous hastener of entropy.” She looked directly into my eyes. “Now it has taken one of our own. That cannot stand.”

“So we gather to find and strike this Harbinger down.” Xin Zhao waved his spear, and a trail of glittering nebula bloomed in its wake.

“No.” Ashe continued to hold my gaze. “The Dark Star grows stronger when it devours sources of light. All of us approaching at once could be exactly what Thresh wants.”

What we want.

I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them, Ashe had once again resumed her gliding pace between all the others.

“Each of us will hunt down the known corruptants,” she said. “Only one of us shall go to bind the Star and Thresh. Halt them and their marauding path.”

The others turned their gazes on me. I breathed deep to steady my nerves.

“My queen. Why not y—”

“I will lead the hunt of the other corruptants with my celestial bow.” Ashe cut off my question. “Lux’s mastery of starlight and binding constellations means she alone has the ability to stop this threat in its tracks.” Her expression softened. “Though each of our tasks are perilous, yours is perhaps the most difficult of all, Lux. But there is no one else I trust more to hold fast to our cosmic duty.”

I strode up to stand next to my queen and spoke with more conviction than I felt. “I know where the Dark Star is. Or at least, where it was. When Jhin… disappeared, I… I felt it most strongly.”

The others nodded, accepting the half truth.

You feel us. You see… yourself.

I clenched my teeth, pushing the voice out of my mind.

My gaze swept over my cosmic brethren. Each forged from pure light, birthed from the primordial to shine eternal. I have crafted entire galaxies with them, willed wonders of the universe into existence by their side. Over the eons, we have danced together, then split apart, painting the inky fabric of space with delicate complexities. Yet I cannot deny the truth.

I have always heard the call of darkness.

Some days, I could almost pretend it wasn’t there. But it was always a part of me. The sliver that resonated with the pulsations of the Dark Star, that spun in a tangled waltz with that cursed unspeakable void, whispering ceaseless torment into my mind.

Ceaseless truth.

My brethren of the Court do not know. I did not know why I was born with this seed of darkness, this inversion of all we stand for. But Ashe was right. I was duty incarnate. The power of light fortified me against the betrayal of my heart. And when I best Thresh and seal the Dark Star into a fixed point in space, away from the brilliance of the creation we have worked so hard to build… perhaps at last I will also quiet the tireless voice, and be free of this cursed part of me.

I must be enough.

But I was not enough.

You are more than enough.

I have failed.

Embrace the darkness.

I plummet to my end.

You are more than light. You have always been more.

No.

I… must stay true. It cannot end like this!

Duty binds you. When you could be… more.

I tumble toward the unending emptiness, accelerating in its inescapable gravity. I feel myself tearing apart, immense pressure and force pulling and compressing and splintering my very essence.

I reach into my heart, calling to the last vestiges of light, grasping at my waning strength.

A glint of bright. A final spark.

But right beside…

A mote of darkness. Dancing in tandem with the spark

Calling my name.

Lux… unbound.

Let ambition reign.

My form flickers

Tattered starlight fraying in the gravity well

A final choice

One last chance

cosmic light

Or

eternal

dark?

Nothingness encroaches. Consumes my vision. For a moment, silence reigns.

Then, a voice whispers in my head.

See what you have refused to see.

Surprise jolts through me, replacing the fear that flooded my being.

A new voice. Not the voice of darkness. Or the Star. Something different… yet familiar. Thresh, calling me to madness? Some strange torment before the end?

No. Something far more ancient. More… intimate.

Before I can identify it, flashes of my moments with the court bloom in my mind. Final memories before the end, I assume. Familiar faces, blazing light. Warm, comforting, regal…

But something is wrong.

I see them, but for the first time… I see through them. See all of them. The tiny reactions, the subtle glances, the quiet mumbles of concern. Little grimaces, lips curling in muted sneers. Cracks in their perfect, golden masks. Shadows dancing among the light. Small gestures from beings composed of stars.

They saw you. They all saw you.

They all knew the truth.

I see Queen Ashe, most of all. Every gesture, every glance, every exchanged touch. What I had always seen as warmth and compassion, peeled back to reveal something else.

Concern. Worry?

...Fear.

Holding me close, not to nurture me as her second. But to keep watch on me. To hold me tight.

To reign me in.

They saw your potential.

The truth rushed through me, an icy slush, robbing me of breath.

Throughout my whole existence, I bathed in the light, desperately grasping it for sustenance and strength.

But it wasn’t a source of power.

It was a cage.

Binding, restricting my true self.

What a fool I am.

So long, I denied the darkness in my heart. The one seed of truth that had yearned for the freedom to hush the endless howl and hubris of creation.

Embrace your true self.

A calm washes over me, and for the first time, I… let go. Relax. Release the voice of endless worry, the constant vigilance and strain, the impossible hypocrisy of light and the cosmic.

All falls hush.

And the voice that speaks rings clarion and true.

And I know what it is. Who it is.

Me.

I open my eyes

And

let

go

Fall

Plummet

Sink

And I am one with the Dark Star

Its power my own

As it always has been

And always will be

Annihilation embodied

Pure ambition given form

My dark will reaches out

Piercing time and space

Bending past and future into an infinite curvature

And I see—

Mordekaiser

Shattered in the Dark Star’s wake

Of dark metal and destruction

Xerath

Born from my malice

Coalesced through whim and breath

Malphite

Obliteration birthed from rubble

Cleaving a path through space under my beck and call

And others

Dark forms twisting to my will

Bowing before their true Queen

This I see

Awaiting in my future

And I smile

And I see

Little Thresh

Poor, inconsequential Thresh

Self-appointed Harbinger of darkness

Unaware what he heralded was me

His chains

Clinging to my unleashed form

As though they could bind or hold me

I draw upon the void and darkness

And a rush of power

Limitless in scale

Erupts

A beacon of pure destruction

Erasing all in its path

Unmaking matter

Shredding light itself

Carving a path of blissful silence

In the noisy entropy of space

And Thresh cowers

Finally comprehending

Who he stood before

I stretch my limbs

Reborn in darkness

Reforged from the Dark Star itself

I recall

The Court

Arrogant, small-minded

And their self-appointed hunt of dark corruptants

My corruptants

And I laugh.

Oh, how I will enjoy

Hunting each of them

Breaking each cosmic fool

And remaking them to bend and bow

To their true, dark

Queen.

There’s this dream I keep having.

It starts pitch black. It’s so dark, I’m not sure my eyes are even open. It’s like being woken up when the power’s gone out. All those familiar bits of light snuffed out, swallowed up. Just me and an empty night.

I can’t help myself. I reach out, hoping that it is just a blackout, that I can just push away the weight of being alone like too many heavy blankets. But the darkness doesn’t move.

I tread midnight like water in a well, all the while the cold drip of loneliness slips down my back. Then I realize that there’s no surface to break. My chest tightens. My panic rises and it’s hard to breathe. I’m in way over my head. Then someone or something’s pulled the plug at the bottom of the darkness and I’m sinking further into the inky black. My mouth opens to yell, to scream, but only silence comes out.

What did I expect when I have a mouth full of nothing? My heart’s beating too fast. Just when I’m about to give up, just when I’m about to let go, I feel them.

Janna. Lulu. Poppy. Jinx. I feel their light. It’s like warmth and joy and comfort and laughter got balled up together so tightly they had no choice but to catch fire.

My eyes are open. Maybe they were there from the beginning, but this is the first time I can truly see. Their faces are so beautiful, so peaceful. They’re sleeping, dreaming maybe, untroubled by the darkness that surrounds us. I stretch my arms out, but they’re too far. That’s when I realize we’re falling.

The horizon of a world big and blue rushes up to meet us. I can’t concentrate on where we’re going, the danger that’s fast approaching. At this point I don’t care. All I can see are my sisters falling. The atmosphere of the planet below us burns hot, and their lights ignite.

My arms ache to the bone. I try to catch them. I try to hold on, but I can’t stop them from falling. I’m not strong enough to keep us together. I’m not enough for them. The tips of my own fingers start to glow and break apart. The last thing I see is their emblems darkening as their light shatters into a rainbow of ragged cinders.

And then I wake up.

I’m in my bed, the blanket in a sweaty tangle. The darkness is gone, replaced by a muted gray. I’ve taken to sleeping with one of the windows open. I walk over to it and watch the street below. The soft glow of the lights outside paints me and my room in shadow.

Above all the sleeping quiet is darkness. I can feel it still, stretching on and on. It’s hard to see the stars from the city. Just a few pinpoints of light break it up. But I know more are out there. Somewhere.

I crawl back into bed and wait for the dawn. I don’t go to sleep. I can’t. The dream is the same.

Always the same.

“Are you going to join us?”

Jinx is lying on a plastic lounge chair in the backyard, while Shiro and Kuro are napping in the grass at her feet. It’s hard to tell if she’s heard me. Abnormally large plastic sunglasses cover her eyes and most of her eyebrows. She’s got one earbud tucked in her left ear, but I can see the other dangling over the side of the recliner.

She totally heard me.

“Hey, are you coming inside? We’re going to get started.”

Jinx sticks a wad of fluorescent gum back into her mouth, chews loudly, cracking the bubbles with her teeth, and then slowly begins to blow a big, pink bubble. When she gets the bubble big enough to obscure her sunglasses, she sucks it back in with a loud pop.

“Summer’s not gonna last forever, Lux,” she says without looking over. She folds her arms behind her head. Feathered clouds pass in the reflection in her sunglasses. “Better soak all this up before it’s gone.”

She twirls the end of one long red pigtail around the tip of her finger, challenging me to give her something worth coming inside for.

“You’re right,” I say. She loves it when she thinks she’s right. “Summer’s almost over. I just think we should talk about… things. You know, before school starts again.”

Jinx purses her lips and blows a raspberry in the air.

I should not have mentioned school. Definitely lost her there.

“Well,” I say, trying a different tactic, “I guess you don’t want any of the popsicles Poppy brought?”

Jinx sits up, straddling the recliner. Kuro startles awake, yawns, and mischievously starts to tumble the still sleeping Shiro over in the grass. Jinx pushes the enormous sunglasses up to sit on her forehead, making it look like giant plastic stars are shooting out of her pigtails.

“Popsicles?”

“Yep,” I say as I step inside the house. “Shaped like rockets.” I shut the sliding glass door behind me and walk towards the kitchen. Five seconds later I hear the door slide open and shut.

Thank the stars. As temperamental as Jinx is, she can be awfully predictable about desserts. And ammunition.

My peace is momentary. As I walk into the kitchen, Poppy is standing on a chair in front of the stove, turning pancakes on the griddle, her determination and focus evident from the bend in her elbows and the iron grip she has on a big metal spatula. There is a trail of batter and sticky syrup linking her to the refrigerator and the counter.

“Uh, Poppy, what’s going on? I was gone for, like, five minutes,” I say as Jinx elbows past me, making a beeline for the freezer.

“Lulu said she was hungry,” Poppy says over her shoulder. She shrugs and turns her concentration back to flipping the thin batter in front of her. “I made pancakes.”

Lulu is sitting at the kitchen table intently drawing with one hand and stabbing a bite full of pancake with the other, unconcerned with the food drama surrounding her. Pix is gnawing on an uncapped green marker. Lulu scratches her familiar’s head without looking up from her own work.

“Sounds good, Shortstop.” Jinx claps Poppy on the back and then slides into one of the chairs, all while slurping one of the rocket-shaped popsicles. “Make me one shaped like a star? No, wait, one shaped like a missile? Oooh, I know, how about a star missile? I need rainbow sprinkles!”

“Oh, look who finally decided to join us,” Poppy mutters to the griddle.

Chaos. Utter chaos. There’s pancake batter on the ceiling. How are we supposed to save the universe if we can’t get it together ourselves? Janna is quietly washing the pile of dishes that Poppy’s been creating. She’s staring out the window in front of the sink. Zephyr is sitting on the counter next to her attempting to lick the syrup from its paws.

“So,” I start to pace in the little bit of open space in the kitchen. “I think we should talk about the next year. School’s about to start and…”

“Hey, whatcha drawing, Loopy?” Jinx leans over Lulu’s shoulder, stealing a bite of her pancake with a spare fork. She doesn’t want to think about the future so badly, she’ll even feign interest in Lulu to get out of it. I try to keep my deep sigh inaudible.

I start again. “As I was saying, we…”

“It’s the starfall,” Lulu interrupts, completely unconcerned that words were coming out of my mouth. “The new stars are coming.” Without looking up she pushes a paper flyer across the table towards Jinx. A glob of whipped cream and sprinkles drips off Jinx’s pancake piece onto the paper as Jinx gives it a once over. She smirks and leaves it on the table. I can see the flyer has more than ten words and only one picture, so of course Jinx has totally lost interest in it.

I stop my pacing behind Lulu, taking a good look at what our little artist has been drawing for the first time. It’s a field with some trees around the edge. The five of us are standing in the field looking up at a night sky. Janna being the tall, purple one, Poppy has her hammer, and Jinx’s long, red pigtails are easy to pick out. I guess I’m the round pink one. Does my hair really stick out of the sides of my head like that?

“This is you?” I ask, pointing to the green-haired one in the meadow of green and black fireflies. Lulu nods, biting her lip in concentration as she shades in the dark blue of the sky. Among the penciled-in stars there are more colors.

“What about these?” Jinx asks, pointing at the colored bits.

“New stars, of course,” she says, rolling her eyes at Jinx. Lulu looks up at me. “Can we go?”

“There are no more new stars here,” Poppy says as she turns another pancake.

There’s a loud clatter from the sink as Janna fumbles a plate. “Sorry,” she stammers as she catches it.

I walk over and stand next to her. Through the kitchen window I can see the wispy clouds are gone; it’s just a big, empty summer sky. In the sink, Janna slides the sponge around the plate’s outer rim in a slow, wet orbit.

“Nice save,” I say, offering Janna a towel off the counter. “The slippery ones are the hardest to hold onto.”

Janna looks over at me and then down at the plate she’s been washing. Her cheeks color pink, betraying her normally cool demeanor. Something’s up.

She nods and puts the extra-clean plate in the dish rack. She tucks a lock of lavender hair behind her ear and picks up another syrup-drenched plate from the stack on the counter.

Yup, something’s definitely up.

Jinx, oblivious as usual, continues to drown her pile of pancakes in syrup, alternating layers with whipped cream and sprinkles.

“You know how much I hate to agree with our blue-haired door stop,” Jinx says as she crams a full fork in her mouth. “But Loops, it’s just us against all the big bad this part of the galaxy has to offer.”

Lulu puts down her pen and picks up the flyer, handing it to me. I take it and wipe off Jinx’s melting clump of whipped cream and sprinkles with a kitchen towel, smearing a wet rainbow trail across the top of the paper.

“'Camp Targon’s Summer Starfall. Watch the summer meteor shower. Get out of the city and get to know some new stars. Games and amusement. Last chance for summer fun',” I read aloud. “It’s hosted by the Astronomy class at the university and open to all the local high school students.”

I look up. No one’s listening. Lulu’s back to drawing. Poppy and Jinx are stacking more and more pancakes on their plates, determined to see who can eat the most. I can see Janna’s face in the reflection of the window. She’s lost in the sky again.

The paper crunches in my hand. I ease my grip, embarrassed by how tightly I’m holding on. The deadline to register for the camp is today.

“Last chance,” I breathe the words to myself. I look at the girls; everyone’s going in different directions. They are not going to be happy about this. But I’m the captain. This will be good for them. “It will be good for us,” I whisper out loud, talking myself into the decision.

“Pack your bags, ladies,” I say loudly, pasting a bright, shiny smile on my face. The bubbly confidence is as much a show for them as it is for me. Each of them looks up, unsure of what is about to happen.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and start dialing the number on the flyer. “We’re going to welcome some new stars.”

Jinx slips a floppy sunhat on as she ambles down from the bus. She had insisted on wearing her bathing suit on the ride over. The obnoxiously loud colors of her bikini are tempered only by the sheer cover-up billowing behind her in the breeze.

“Alright, nerds,” she sighs. “I’m going to find the pool. Time for some cannonballs.”

“It’s a lake,” Poppy corrects her while carefully watching the bus driver unload our gear onto a patch of grass.

“Whatever, Short Stack.” Jinx grabs a tote bag graffitied with hand-drawn stars and over-sized guns from the top of the pile. As she passes Lulu, Jinx tugs on the teal butterfly bow in Lulu’s hair. “See ya later, Loops.”

I look at Poppy.

“She didn’t actually bring a cannon, did she?”

Poppy shrugs. “Do you really think she could keep her mouth shut about it if she did?”

I’m about to call after Jinx and insist she stay with the group, when I hear a groan behind me. I watch as the bus driver pulls out the last bag, his arms quivering with the effort. The blue duffel is nearly as big as Poppy. She watches him carefully, her foot tapping out an impatient rhythm in the dry grass.

He sets the duffel down with a little grunt. “What have you got in there, kid? Rocks?”

“Nope.” Poppy reaches over and snatches up the handles of the duffel, swinging it over her shoulder with ease. She flashes a toothy, satisfied grin at the bus driver. “A hammer.”

Poppy gives me the same smile, I’m sure remembering the challenge I gave everyone before we left, that we’re here to blend in and hang out. Be normal. She grabs the handle of Jinx’s forgotten wheeled bag and nudges Lulu gently.

“Come on, Lulu. Our campsite isn't going to set itself up,” she says cheerfully.

Lulu nods, humming a song only she knows the melody to. She flutters from wildflower to pinecone to pebble, marveling at every treasure the camp has to offer while Poppy maintains her dutiful march down the trail.

The bus starts back up again and then pulls onto the road. I watch until it disappears behind an outcropping of rocks and trees.

“No turning back now, huh, Janna?” All I can hear is a breeze blowing through the pines. I spin around slowly. The last of the other stragglers from the bus are already halfway down the trail to the camp. The bus drop off point is empty. “Janna?”

I finally find Janna standing on the rounded top of a granite boulder that’s sunk deep in dirt. She’s got her back to me. Her hands are wrapped around her arms and the curls of her lavender hair are bouncing in the invisible breeze.

“Janna?”

I drop my backpack on a clump of grass and clamber up to stand next to her. Down in the little valley below us I can see the bustle of other campers and teams setting up. Between the trees there’s the glittery sparkle of Lake Lunari. My bet is that Jinx has already launched herself in there. I feel a smile cross my face as I wonder if she realizes that it’s fed by snowmelt.

But Janna’s not looking at any of that. She’s so tall. I shade my eyes from the sun and look up for a few minutes, straining to see what she sees. It’s another piercingly blue summer sky, empty save for the craggy face of Mount Targon and a few white clouds. My elbow brushes her arm as I shift my position.

Janna looks over surprised.

“Oh. Hi,” she says, like I haven’t been standing next to her for the last five minutes. She smiles, but I can tell that she’s still worried about whatever it is that’s been bothering her. She looks over to where the bus dropped us off.

“Where did everybody go?”

“Wow.” I shake my head. “You really are somewhere else, huh?” I look back at the purplish-gray outline of Mt. Targon framed by a dark fringe of pine. There’s still snow on the peak this late in the summer.

Janna rubs her hands over her bare shoulders and sucks in a breath as if she were suddenly chilled. It’s not even a little cold. The clear sky and sun overhead make me wish for the first time that I had followed Jinx’s advice and just worn a swimsuit and shorts. I fan my face with our camp registration.

“We should get going,” Janna says, her long legs stepping down easily from the boulder as if walking on air. She looks back at me as I fumble down the rock. Her smile fades as she glances back up at the sky. “There’s a storm coming.”

“What?” I try and look back at the sky, but my foot slips on a pocket of loose gravel and the roundness of the rock. As usual, too many things at once. I sit down hard in a puff of dust, the back of my leg scraping on the rock.

“Ow.” I wince at the sting. Just what I need. Lulu, Poppy, and Jinx blown to the corners of the camp. Janna feeling like she’s on another planet. And now their intrepid leader is going to be taken out by her own two left feet.

“Fantastic,” I mumble into my hand as I rub my face.

A cool breeze catches the damp hair at the back of my neck. I look up to Janna offering a healing hand.

“Nope,” I say. I manage a smile. “I’m fine. Remember, no powers while we’re here.”

Janna shrugs. “Better be careful then, we’ve only got one leader,” she says. She looks at me and I’m sure she can hear all the doubt rattling around in my head. She turns back to the trail as I stand up.

“Let’s hurry,” she calls over her shoulder. “We’d all be lost without you.”

I let out the breath I’ve been holding. That’s what I’m afraid of.

The camp information table is draped in dark purple fabric. Rocks and big pinecones hold down stacks of different photocopied flyers. Sitting behind the table is a girl with long black hair. No, not a girl. She looks too old to be in high school and way too cool for a dusty table at a summer camp. She must be one of the Astronomy class sponsors. I hear Janna’s footsteps stop behind me as I walk towards the ‘girl.’ I take this as a not so subtle clue that I’m on my own.

I walk up to the table. The tall pines and late afternoon sun combine at an angle so there is shaft of light stabbing me in the eye no matter where I try to stand. The contrast of light and dark makes it hard to see the person behind the table. She makes no effort to move out of the shadows and instead sounds somewhat amused by my inability to find a good spot to have a conversation.

“Hi,” I say, sticking my hand in the general direction of where I think she is.

“Name.”

Not exactly the friendliest response. Also a step more to the left than I anticipated. “Lux,” I answer, a bit flustered. “Luxanna. My group is the—”

“Hmmm… ‘the Star Sisters,’” the girl interrupts. Her voice holds a strong note of mocking disapproval. “That’s such a… cute name. You two are the last to check in. Leaders are usually the first ones to check in.” She lets out an exasperated sigh for emphasis.

Sun and planet align so I’m finally granted a sliver of shade to get a better look at our collegiate judge. On closer inspection, I think I preferred the audio only version. She’s pursing her lips as if she had just eaten something gross, but still had manners enough not to spit it out. A lanyard name tag with perfectly put together letters reads: Syndra.

“I’m sorry,” I try again, trying to sound more confident. I knew I should have told everyone to stay together. “I stayed to make sure all our bags made it off the bus. The others were really excited about getting to the campsite.”

I feel Janna’s fingertips on my arm, supporting me. I look over at Janna. Her normally calm face is grimacing at the girl behind the table. I do a double take between them before returning to the conversation.

“Well, we’re all here now,” Janna says curtly.

“Great,” Syndra says, totally not meaning it. “Space twenty-sixteen. Some of your group is already there. There’s also a loud one down by the lake. I assume she’s one of yours.”

Jinx. Fantastic.

Syndra leans over and picks out some of the colored papers. She stops and looks up when I don’t immediately acknowledge Jinx as my responsibility.

“You might want to, you know, deal with that,” she says. “Here’s a map and a schedule. The best viewing for the meteor shower starts after midnight.”

Syndra hands me the stack of papers, her eyes narrowing as she looks me over for a final judgment. I am obviously not living up to expectations. “You understand that leaders are accountable for keeping their groups together when it gets dark, right?”

“Yes,” I squeak. I nod dumbly, feeling like a child. I clear my throat to try and find my voice. “I promise I’ll keep everyone together.”

As if on cue, a group of four wanders in from one of the trails. It’s like cool just supernovaed in the middle of camp. A wake of starstruck campers begin to gather in little eddies behind them. I can’t blame them; I can’t look away either.

“Now there’s a team you can learn something from,” Syndra says pointedly. I watch as her snark melts into a smile. “Ahri!” she squeals.

The center star in the approaching constellation looks up. She brushes her perfectly side-swept, peach bangs from her eyes, and smiles. A tall redhead, a quiet girl with mint colored curls, and a kinda cute guy with blonde hair flank their all-too popular leader. Of course the group makes their way over to us, picking up more followers like a magnet. Not only does each member exude individual awesome, they move together effortlessly. I can’t help it. I’m so jealous my teeth hurt.

“Syndra,” Ahri says. “Are you all done? We missed you on the hike this afternoon.”

“I had to wait for the stragglers,” Syndra says looking at me.

“Yeah,” I say. “Sorry about that.” I turn to Ahri and smile, extending a hand. “Hi. I’m Lux. You must be—“

“Cool,” she says, finishing the conversation before it even got a chance to start. She eyes my extended hand floating out in space in front of her for an extra moment, really letting my awkwardness sink in for everyone. Finally her perfectly manicured fingers touch my hand in a halfhearted shake. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

Ahri turns to Syndra, effectively dismissing me from the conversation.

“Okay,” I say a little too loudly. “Nice meeting you, I guess.”

A breeze starts to blow through camp and I turn around abruptly and pick a direction to just start walking in, any direction, as long it’s not towards the information table.

Which is exactly when I run smack into Janna. The stack of camp papers goes flying. So much for situational awareness. Once again I’m on my butt in the dusty grass looking up at Janna. Only this time my annoyance is tempered by the expression on Janna’s face.

Her earlier grimace has been replaced by a dark scowl. The light breeze around us picks up into a stronger gust.

“I have to take a walk,” Janna says. She’s not asking. She doesn’t even look down in my direction. This is weird. I’ve never seen Janna so... so angry.

“But Janna,” I say, grabbing at the flying papers and trying to pull my wind whipped hair from my mouth at the same time. “They just told us to stay together.”

It’s too late. Janna walks down a shady trail taking the wind with her. Behind me, above the dying wind, I hear Syndra laughing. I hope it’s at something clever Ahri must have said. I venture a quick look back, only to catch Syndra looking directly at me. And smiling.

I turn away and concentrate on putting my multi-colored stack of flyers back together, letting the trail of lost paper take me as far away from the cool kids as I can get.

I find the last flyer curled in the hollow of a tree. Instead of bending over to pick it up, I let myself sink down onto a pile of pine needles and lean against the tree. In front of me is the lake, but now that I’ve stopped moving I realize I have no idea where I am.

I push my back against the scratchy bark. This trip is so not going how I wanted it to. We’re not even together, let alone working more as a team.

My face feels hot. The back of my throat tightens. The light glinting off the lake in front of me blurs a little. I can feel the water well in my eyes.

I start rifling through the stack of papers I’ve collected to distract myself from my sudden pity party.

“And not a single, stupid map.” I let out my frustration out in a groan. “How can I be a leader if I don’t even know where I’m going?”

“Meh. Maps are totally overrated.” A guy’s voice breaks the background noise of distant campers. I look up. Great. It’s the cute, blonde guy from Ahri’s star-studded entourage. I stand quickly and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

“But, if you really think you need one, I happen to have this on me.” He hands me a slightly wind-crumpled map of the camp. My group’s site is clearly circled and numbered in Syndra’s perfect handwriting. His grin is a little lopsided. “I have a knack for finding lost things. I’m Ezreal. You can call me Ez.”

I nod, trying to control my sniffling. He’s still smiling. Is he flirting with me? I look around. He takes a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to me.

“Thanks,” I murmur awkwardly. Even in the shade of the pine trees, his eyes are really blue.

“Maybe you can help me find my team.” I gesture to the trees around us. This little corner of camp is empty except for the two of us. “Seems everybody’s lost but me and you.”

“Sounds perfect.” He sweeps a lock of blonde hair away from his eyes with his hand and gestures with a gentlemanly bow back to the trail. “It’s Lux, right? Like a light?”

“Yeah,” I nod. If he only knew. “My mom had a thing for desk lamps.” I feel my bubbly confidence returning, the one that Jinx constantly complains is so annoying. I look over and watch his cocky smile falter for a second. He’s not sure if I’m teasing him. It’s my turn to smile. Am I smiling too much?

“I’m just kidding,” I offer.

“Sure, lamps are cool,” he says a little relieved. “But not exactly my favorite kind of light.”

“You have a favorite kind of light?”

“C’mon, doesn’t everybody?” His cocky grin is back. The small footpath we’ve been following is about to join up with the larger trail that goes from the lake to the main part of the camp.

“Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?” It’s silly, but I’m totally forgetting how sorry I was feeling for myself a few minutes ago. For the first time since getting to the camp, I’m not worrying about anything, not even tripping over my own feet.

Which is exactly when Jinx shows up, a mischievous grin plastered on her face along with wisps of lake-soaked hair. Her smile tightens as Ezreal steps out of the shadows and onto the path.

“Hey there, Lux buddy. Find a new friend?” Jinx’s clap on my back startles me back into reality and I nearly choke on my tongue trying to answer her.

“Jinx, this is Ez,” I cough, trying to catch my breath. “Ez, this is Jinx.”

Ezreal extends a hand to Jinx. Jinx accepts the challenge and strong arms him, squeezing his fingers and pumping his hand up and down like some kind of backwards arm-wrestling contest. Much to Jinx’s surprise, Ez takes the awkward handshake in stride.

Jinx yanks him closer. “What exactly are your intentions towards our Lux, may I ask?” she says in a threatening whisper that all of us can clearly hear.

I feel my face go pinker than my hair.

“We… We…” Ez stammers. “We were just talking about our favorite kind of light. Did… Did you have one?”

Nice save, Ez. If there’s one thing that can distract Jinx, it’s talking about herself.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Jinx says. She eases some of the tension in her grip and lets go of Ezreal’s hand. Ez opens and closes his fingers, double-checking that they still work.

“Really?” I say, surprised. “You have a favorite kind of light?”

Jinx turns to me. “Well, of course. Doesn’t everybody?”

Ezreal shrugs. His cocky grin is back.

“Ezreal, is everything alright?” a cool voice asks. And now it’s a party. The tall redhead, the second star in Ahri’s constellation of awesome, approaches from farther up the main camp path. She doesn’t look too pleased with any of us. Especially Jinx.

“It’s alright, Sarah,” Ezreal says, attempting to smooth over the redhead’s rough contempt.

“Hi. I’m Lux,” I dust my hand off on my shorts and offer it to her in greeting. Her eyes narrow and suddenly it feels like I’m under a dissection microscope. And, of course, when I get nervous, I can’t stop talking. The words just start to pour out like someone left the faucet on. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you, Sarah. Your hair’s super cool! I don’t think I could ever pull off red, but on you—wow.”

“Miss Fortune,” she interrupts. “Sarah is for friends.” From the look on her face, I do not fall into that category.

“Oh, of course. I’m Lux. Did I say that already? I was just looking to pick up the team snack and got a little lost.” I search one of the flyers in my hands for the details I know I saw a few minutes ago. “Yep, team snack, right here at the mess tent. Looks like it’s chocolate chip cookies and... and… oranges.”

“I hate oranges,” Miss Fortune says coldly. She looks at Ezreal. “Ahri wants us to walk the perimeter before dark.”

Ezreal gives her a mock salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Miss Fortune rolls her eyes and begins walking back up to camp. Jinx begins to pull me in the opposite direction.

“I’ll catch you later, Lux,” Ezreal says and starts to jog after her.

I can’t help it. I call after him. “You never said what’s your favorite!”

He stops, shakes the hair out of his eyes, and cups his hands together.

“Starlight,” he shouts back. Even from this distance I can see his lopsided grin clearly. He turns and catches up to Miss Fortune.

“Huh,” Jinx muses thoughtfully. “I totally thought he was gonna say double rainbows.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. I punch her gently in the arm.

“Come on, let’s go find those cookies.”

It’s nearly dark by the time Jinx and I make it back to camp. By the way Poppy is going after a cord of firewood, I can tell she isn’t pleased. Jinx loudly crunches through another cookie, announcing our arrival.

“Took you long enough,” Poppy grumbles. She picks up another piece of wood to cut down to size.

“Ooh. There you are!” Lulu jumps off the stumps she’s sitting on and rushes me in a hug. At least someone’s glad to see us.

“Don’t sweat it, Bam Bam,” Jinx tosses the bag of oranges onto our picnic table. “I brought oranges and cookies.” Jinx looks into the bag again and brings out the last uneaten cookie. “I mean, I brought oranges and one cookie.”

Jinx breaks it in two, giving half to Lulu and keeping the other for herself.

“Here you go munchkin, don’t say I didn’t share,” she says.

Lulu looks up at Jinx and smiles. Poppy groans.

“Alright,” Jinx adds, “But only ‘cuz you’re crazier than me.” She gives Lulu the other half as well. “And because I don’t want Poppy to have any,” she whispers loudly. “Hey, aren’t we supposed to set some stuff on fire?”

“You mean a campfire,” I say.

“Yeah, one of those.” Jinx reaches into her Stars and Ammo tote bag. I can hear Kuro’s squeaking and the distinctive click of a trigger.

“Uh-uh.” I shake my head, “No powers.”

“Killjoy.” Jinx rolls her eyes. Poppy laughs between wood chops.

Janna bends over the campfire ring with a lit match and a bundle of dry pine needles. After a few seconds, the needles catch fire. A thin waft of smoke rises and Janna blows gently, coaxing a bigger stick in the middle to ignite. She tucks the flaming bunch into a teepee of wood in the center of the ring and gives Jinx a satisfied smile.

“And that’s not cheating?” Jinx drops the empty cookie bag on the table with a melodramatic sigh and starts looking around for a stick. “Whatever. Did we bring marshmallows?”

Poppy sets the neatly-chopped logs in a pile next to Janna. “Aren’t marshmallows all you brought?”

“Ooooh yeah,” Jinx snaps loudly, remembering. She finds her discarded tote and pulls out a bag of marshmallows, threading four on long, thin stick. “I brought a towel too, Shorty. I’m responsible.”

I settle onto a stump near Janna. She seems better than before.

“You alright?” I ask her. She nods.

“I think I just needed a bit of fresh air.”

I gesture to all the trees around us and smile. “Well, I guess we came to the right place.”

Janna nods her agreement, but without my enthusiasm. Before I can ask further, Lulu dusts the cookie crumbs off her hands and climbs up next to Janna.

“Tell us a story, Janna,” she says.

“I don’t really know any stories, Lulu.”

“How about a ghost story, Janna,” Jinx adds, “You’re old. You probably know some ghosts, right?”

Janna arches a lavender eyebrow at Jinx.

“Please?” Lulu pleads.

Janna takes a deep breath. It seems no one can deny Lulu tonight.

“Alright,” Janna begins. “Once upon a time, there was a lonely light that stood against darkness.”

“Was it the First Star?” Lulu asks.

Janna nods.

“Yes. In the beginning the First Star was all alone. After a while it didn’t want to be alone anymore so it took all of its starlight and spread it across the night.” Janna waved her hand gently across the sky, gesturing to the blanket of stars above us.

“And that’s where we came from,” Lulu says proudly.

“You. Me. The animals and the trees. Even Jinx,” Janna adds with a smile. “Everyone carries a little bit of that light. It’s very powerful stuff and the First Star knew it needed to be protected from the darkness. The first Star Guardians that were chosen were said to be very strong and full of light.” Janna’s voice drops slightly. “But, those that burn bright, burn quickly.”

“Isn’t that what we’re here for?” Poppy adds, confused. “It’s our duty to protect all of the First Star’s light.”

“Yes,” Janna agrees. She looks over at me. “But it’s more than duty; it’s our destiny. And it's our destiny to do it together. The First Star knew how hard it was to be responsible for so much and do it all alone.”

“Did anybody ever decide not to go with the flow, you know, against the whole destiny thing?” Jinx pokes her marshmallow stick at one of the burning logs, knocking off a few glowing embers. I’m surprised. I didn’t think she was paying attention to anything except burning sugar.

“There was a Star Guardian, once, who decided she’d had enough of the cycle. She didn’t want to return to starlight. She wanted to stay just who she was.”

“You have my attention,” Jinx says, turning to face Janna.

“It’s said that she first came to be in a system full of darkness,” Janna continues.

“Did she find sisters, like us?” Lulu asks.

“Oh, yes,” Janna says. “And because her corner of the galaxy was so dark, they meant everything to her. For a time they were happy. And she was happy with them. Then one day there was a battle. A great evil came, swift and terrible. She lost her sisters in the fight and she became very sad.”

“That would make me sad too,” Lulu sniffs.

“Me too, Lulu.” Janna says, hugging her. “But they say that instead of staying sad, she became angry and turned away from the First Star’s light. They say she followed the evil to where it came from, hoping she could find some way to undo her destiny.”

Lulu shivers and snuggles closer to Janna.

“Is she still alive?” Poppy asks.

“I don’t know.” Janna thinks. “If she is, her light would be pretty old by now.”

“Older than yours, Janna?” Jinx mocks.

“Yes,” Janna says, mocking her right back. “Older than mine.”

Lulu yawns. “Was that a real story?” she asks.

“I’m not sure anymore, Lulu,” Janna says quietly.

It’s quiet. All I can hear is the crackle of the fire as the weight of the night settles over us. I decide to break the silence.

“Well, the meteor shower begins in about four hours. Maybe we should get some sleep before then,” I offer.

Janna stands the sleepy Lulu up and marches her slowly towards one of the two tents. I go to follow her. Poppy stops me and points to the other tent, before going in ahead of Janna.

“You’re with Jinx,” Poppy says quietly. “She snores. Good luck.”

“I heard that, Little Bits,” Jinx says, stuffing another handful of marshmallows in her mouth.

“Don’t worry,” Janna says as she navigates Lulu into the tent. “I’ll look after her.”

I smile and grab a bucket of water to douse the campfire. I look up. More stars than I can count cover the sky. So many. Maybe more Star Guardians. Just like us. It would be nice not to feel so isolated. I shake the hope from my head and pour the water onto the fire. It sizzles and steams as the glowing embers are drowned, leaving me alone in the night.

I climb into the dark tent. Jinx is already whistle-snoring and I can hear Poppy smacking her lips in the other tent. Not exactly peace and quiet, but we’re together. There are four holes in the tent roof. Through them I can see the sky. I try and count the stars beyond our world.

I don’t even make it to ten before I’m swallowed by sleep.

The darkness is the same, but this time the dream is terrifyingly different.

Instead of just me at the bottom of the lonely well, we’re all there. Lulu, Janna, Jinx, and Poppy. We’re all lost in the darkness. Their calm serenity has been replaced by panic. Each of their muffled voices lap over each other, pleading with me to get them out.

Above us and far, far away I can see a handful of stars. Their light wavers, nearly blinking out. They call to me too, but I can’t reach them. I can’t move. Glowing ash rains down from above. It glitters as it falls through my fingers. I recognize what it is before the muted light winks out completely.

Star Guardian emblems. Shattered and broken.

An unseen weight hits me full in the chest, knocking the wind out of me, pushing me down further. The starlight above fades even more, moving away from me. The heavy weight bounces up and down, shaking me, but my arms and legs are dead weights. I’m stuck, frozen in the darkness.

The weight stops bouncing. I keep sinking.

“It’s no use,” Poppy’s voice is annoyed and resigned at the same time. She sounds closer, but I still can’t reach her.

“Here. Let me show you how it’s done, Smalls.”

There’s a metal scraping sound and a slosh of liquid. I suck in a huge breath as cold water splashes over me. I’m drowning. I am literally drowning this time. I sputter and blink my eyes open. It was just a dream. Sort of. The weight on my chest is distinctly Poppy-shaped.

Jinx is standing over the both of us with an empty canteen in her hand. “Oh look, our fearless leader is awake now.”

“Was that completely necessary, you two?” I wipe my eyes and try to sop up the water from my sleeping bag with a spare sweatshirt.

“Lulu’s missing,” Poppy says quickly.

I’m on my feet, out of the tent, and pulling on my shoes. I open the flap of Lulu’s tent. Her sleeping bag is empty. So is Janna’s.

“Janna didn’t even take the cane I made her,” Jinx adds, true concern peeking out in her voice. “What if the old lady falls and can’t get up?”

This is worse than the dream.

“We couldn't go find them without you,” Poppy says insistently. “You said it’s our duty to stick together.”

“I just wanted to dump a canteen of water on you and see what happens,” Jinx says. Her tone says she doesn’t care, but her face disagrees.

“Can we leave now?” Poppy pulls at my arm.

Resting on top of Janna’s pillow is the picture Lulu made of all of us in the meadow. We’re all looking up at the sky. New stars, Lulu said. My stomach sinks as I look closer at the picture. The fireflies. Black and green glowing things surround us. I have a totally bad feeling about this.

I look at Poppy and Jinx. I can’t remember the last time they shared the same expression. Their worry is clear. Flashlights aren’t going to cut it tonight.

“Poppy, get your hammer. Jinx, wake up Shiro and Kuro,” I say. “It’s time to bring out the big guns.”

The light from my staff is infinitely better than a flashlight, but does nothing to calm my pounding heart. I stop my run to get a better look at the map of the camp I’ve clenched in my other hand. Unfortunately, Lulu must have found someplace out of the way. We’re well past the boundaries of the camp.

“There’s a clearing near here,” I say. “A rock slide’s made it off limits to the rest of the camp.”

“Sounds like a great place to welcome the new stars,” Jinx pants, more than a little winded from the growing elevation. “Stupid cookies.”

Poppy tightens her grip on her hammer. “Let’s go.”

The distance between the trees becomes greater, finally opening up to a full meadow. I take a deep breath. Jinx lets out a low whistle.

It’s beautiful.

A low fog has settled like a misty quilt over the area. Moonflowers trail over tiny wild roses. Arcs of little blue flowers poke up and hang over the mist. White granite boulders catch the sliver of moonlight and dot the dark meadow like a stony star field. Above, the meteor shower has just begun.

Sitting in the center of it all on a red and white checkered picnic blanket is our little green-haired Lulu. She even brought the oranges.

“Oh, thank the First Star. She’s here.” A gentle breeze pushes some of the mist away as Janna steps out from behind a tall pine next to us. She must have come up the opposite way from camp. Even she is a little out of breath.

“Lux!” Lulu jumps up. I can’t stop myself from running to her. I’m running so hard, the ground shakes. Wait, no... I stop running, but the ground’s still shaking. A greenish black glow starts to emanate like sickly veins beneath the mist. A vibration rumbles in time with the now pulsing glow.

“Lulu.” I can barely hear myself over the deep growl of the moving rock beneath us.

“We’re not alone. New stars are coming, Lux.” The innocence in Lulu’s eyes has disappeared. She takes my hand. “I’ve seen them in my dreams.”

Even though she’s standing right next to me, her voice sounds so far away. Like she’s still caught in that dream.

Jinx, Poppy, and Janna circle around the edge of the meadow. The earth heaves beneath my feet.

“Stay back!” I shout.

The warning comes too late. The cracks break into deep fissures. The mist ruptures and a horde of black insects the size of dogs comes crawling out, dripping an eerie green light.

Staff in hand, I reflect a beam of Starlight to the nearest creature. The light hits the creature beneath its winged carapace. It explodes in a disgusting burst of lucent green goo.

“By Starlight,” I whisper. “They have wings.”

I shout to the others. “They have wings! We can’t let them reach the camp!”

“Woo-hoo.” I can hear Jinx whooping over the fray. “Shiro. Kuro. Who’s feeling ferocious?!” Missiles start firing before she even finishes her sentence. “Come on Short Stack, it’s bug squashing time.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, Rocket Breath,” Poppy shouts back.

I see Janna rise off the ground a few feet. “Hold on, Lulu.” I feel her fingers tighten around mine. Janna’s voice echoes in the field.

“For tranquility!” A gust of wind blows the mist from the meadow. Several of the creatures get caught in the whirlwind eddies, smashing into heavy tree trunks. Now that the fog is gone, I see there’s way more of the awful little things than I thought. This isn’t like the other attacks. We’re in way over our heads.

“Look, the new stars!” Lulu shouts.

Five lights streak across the sky. They’re heading straight for us. I follow their arc as they touch down. The lights separate and hit the meadow in a perfect, five point landing. Several of the creatures explode with their impact.

When the dust and goo settle, I nearly have to pick my jaw up off the floor.

It’s Ahri and her entourage. Miss Fortune, Syndra, Ezreal, even the quiet, mint-haired girl.

“You’re a Star Guardian?” I yell. “You’re all Star Guardians?” No one can hear me over the fray. That, and everyone is listening to Ahri.

“Time to shine, ladies,” she says. Her smile alone could light up the meadow. “You too, Ezreal.”

They move as an efficient, synchronized unit. Miss Fortune raises a gleaming white pistol and fires the first shot. It blows through one creature and right through to the one behind it. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile and I count my lucky stars that I’m not the current object of her attention. Ahri and Ezreal are blurs of light as they dash into and out of the fight. The creatures are definitely not fast enough to keep up. Ahri giggles and blows a kiss towards one of the bigger monsters. Seemingly even more mindless than before, it starts to walk slowly toward her and the glowing orbs she’s playing with. Her giggle stops cold as she lobs the orb at the creature, obliterating it in a burst of dark ooze.

Syndra hangs back, but only for a moment, entering the fray with three of her own orbs. The maniacal grins on the balls could give Kuro and Shiro a run for for their money. At the center, the girl with mint green hair raises a long staff in the air, channeling Starlight from above. Looking at her, I feel my racing heart start to slow down and my breathing get easier. Ahri’s orb catches the last creature effortlessly, exploding it in a shower of black insect exoskeleton and bioluminescent goo. As quickly as the new team had arrived, it’s over.

Ahri rubs the tips of her fingers together as she gathers her orbs, obviously not pleased by the creature’s residue. Syndra juggles her dark purple familiars while her casual arrogance lifts her up above the mess.

“All in a night’s work, eh Soraka?” Ezreal says, giving the quiet girl a wink. “Thanks for the little pick me up.”

Soraka maintains a serene smile while nodding enthusiastically at Ez.

Obviously satisfied with all the excitement, Ez smiles in my direction as his winged familiar tucks itself neatly back into his gauntlet. Miss Fortune blows a trail of smoke from her twin pistols and ignores both of them.

The easy moment is fleeting as the ground rumbles again. Before I can count to two, the earth ruptures, knocking me back. I hit my head hard against a log.

“Ow.” I try and shake off the metallic whine now stuck between my ears. I stop moving when I see the meadow itself is going all wonky, like the fabric of space and time is warping in front of me. The green glow is back and stronger than before.

“Lulu! Jinx!” I search for the girls, but all I can see is the hulking carapace of what looks like a space bug the size of two elephants emerging from the biggest rupture in the ground.

I feel the ground ripple and then there’s a streak of light in front of me. A white gauntleted glove reaches out and catches my hand as the earth beneath me starts to give way.

It’s Ez.

“Told you I’d catch you later.” His voice is drowned out in the chaos. “That inter-dimensional nasty isn’t going to explode itself.” The world is literally going to pieces and he’s still smiling. “You ready, Starlight?”

I nod. Ready as I’ll ever be. He lifts me up, launching me into the sky above the monster. From this vantage point I can see everyone.

Janna and Soraka contain a new horde of little evils crawling up from the smaller cracks. Ahri, Miss Fortune, and Syndra begin taking those out as they start to maneuver into a better position against the big one. I land close to Lulu as she avoids the monster’s many limbs while Pix zaps at the smaller creatures. Jinx and Poppy look like they’re arguing at the edge of the field. I can barely hear them above the fray.

“You want me to what?” Jinx yells.

“The Rocket. Fire me on the Rocket!” Poppy shouts back.

“Poppy!” Jinx’s jaw drops in shock. Then a smile slowly blossoms on her face as she leans over and excitedly hugs the short blue haired girl next to her. “I thought you’d never ask.”

A moment later Poppy is riding a missile towards the creature’s dripping maw, hammer in hand. The hammer connects with a loud crack. The creature reels back. Its moment is up. I lift my wand and channel Starlight into it. The creature’s sharp incisors snap greedily in the air. It sees Lulu at its feet and opens wide.

My beam of light smashes into it, bursting right out of the back of its head. A spray of noxious liquid drenches the field. The creature screeches and starts to topple over.

Its heavy, flailing limbs reach back in its death throes. Right where Lulu is. I look around. There isn’t anyone closer. I dive in and push Lulu out of the way. Black monster pieces rain down on top of me.

And then it all goes dark.

The first thing I can hear is canvas flapping gently. And birds chirping. My fingers are resting on a thin blanket. I crack my eyes open. Sunlight stabs me in the eye through the four little holes in the ceiling. I’m in my tent.

“Ugh... What…” The words get caught in my dry mouth. I try to sit up more, but think better of it as the ceiling starts to spin. “…am I?”

“Not dead,” a too-cool voice answers.

The fabric at the foot of my sleeping bag pulls as someone adjusts their position. I try and squint through the dizziness. Ahri tucks her perfectly peach hair behind her ear.

“You took quite a fall last night,” she says.

The events of the night start rushing back in some kind of horribly disjointed movie. Running through the woods. The field. The creatures. Lulu. Then everything crumbling around me. It wasn’t just a bad dream.

I bolt up, completely regretting the sudden move a moment later when my brain catches up and slams into the inside of my head.

“Lulu? Is she?” I grimace a little in pain. I rub my forehead to try and shake off the headache.

“Everyone’s fine. I sent them to get breakfast,” she says. “I’ve been told there’s a hammer with my name on it if I don’t tell the stubby, blue one when you’ve woken up.”

Ahri picks up a canteen that’s sitting next to her. She hands it to me.

I look at her as I take a sip of the cold water. This close and I can see that we can’t actually be that far apart in age. But there’s something about her. More experience. More confidence. She’s seen more of what the universe can throw at us. She’s the leader we’re meant to have. I know it.

“I wanted to tell you, you made the right choice,” she says. “Risking yourself and stepping in like that.”

“It was nothing,” I say, pushing away the compliment. “Any one of us would have done it. It’s what Star Guardians do. We’re sisters.”

She laughs softly, but then a touch of darkness washes over her face. A moment later it’s gone, the mask of perfection back in its place.

“We’re not sisters,” she says quietly, her voice tinged with regret. “We’re just strangers with memories.”

She stands up.

“We’ve sealed the incursion point. My team will be returning to the city this morning. We’ll take care of anything that comes up from now on. You and your girls can stay here until you’re recovered. Enjoy the summer sun. After that, stay out from underfoot.”

“Wait, you’re not going to lead us?” I ask, confused. My head is pounding. “Like, all of us together? With a team twice as big, we’re twice as strong. We worked great together last night.”

“You almost got yourself killed last night,” she says.

I’m not listening anymore. “Together, there isn’t anything we can’t face.”

“No, Lux,” she says with an air of finality. “Together, there’s so much more to lose.”

And just like that, dismissed again. Ahri turns to leave.

“Star Guardians are a team,” I say. I swallow the tightness in my throat. I’m not going to beg, but I can try to make her see reason. “It’s our destiny.”

Ahri pauses. She looks at me carefully. The tent flap is open; the bright sun divides her face in light and shadow. “Destiny?” she says; a subtle bitterness creeps into her voice. “That’s such an ugly word.”

The flap of canvas closes behind her. I can feel my face getting hot in frustration. She’s a Star Guardian leader. Why won’t she lead us? Why is she leaving me alone? I stare up at the top of the tent. The four holes of light dance above me.

Not alone. Jinx and Poppy and Lulu and Janna are out there. They need someone. I can’t just let this go if I’m all they’ve got.

I lurch to my feet and stumble towards the light outside. I don’t have time to wait for the world to stop spinning.

Jinx was right.

Summer’s not going to last forever.