LoL Universe Indexing and Search

With a kiss to my wife and resting my spear against my shoulder, I joined my fellows as we left the village. The morning was new, dawn stretching through the thick forests of Tokogol as the six of us made our way to the watch point by a worn dirt path. We were travelling light, as our vigil would only last until the next moon before another band of spearmen took our place. Tokogol shared borders with Noxus, and its increasing belligerence of late had stirred the house lords to ensure that all of their spears were honed.

Our journey was short and uneventful, a soldier’s dream. The better part of a half day’s march brought us within sight of the outpost, and we pointed as the signal fire was lit, welcoming us with a column of thin, white smoke. The mood among my comrades was light, the easy talk of bonded brothers and neighbors. Though our duty was to watch the frontier in search of any sign of it, war in Tokogol was a distant thought.

When we arrived, we found the gates to the stockade open and unbarred, yet not broken or forced. An odd feeling crept over us, like a chill dancing up our spines. I could see it in the others, just as surely as I felt it in myself.

We formed a tiny shield wall, two ranks of three men, and entered the stockade expecting to find slaughter—ruin and destruction, with signs of Noxus for all to see.

But we found none of this.

What we discovered was the picture of an outpost no different than any other. The fires had crackled down to embers beneath cooking pots that were still full. Clothes hung drying, and the lanterns were still on their poles from the night before. We looked at each other in alarm, in confusion. It was as if our comrades had simply disappeared.

“What could have happened here?” whispered Bel. Our wall straightened and broke as we searched the outpost for any sign of life.

“Could they have been captured?” asked Ulryk.

I approached a wall of the stockade. A stripe of the timber was burnt blacker than pitch. I reached toward it, and the barest touch of my fingertips sent it crumbling, revealing a crater of smooth wood underneath. The others found similar marks across the camp, though none of us could fathom how they had been made.

A cry sent us all back into a warrior’s crouch. “Come quick!”

It was Afron. We ran to him, finding him standing over a body.

“It’s Halryn,” he said, looking to us. “The tanner’s boy.”

The young man was pale, lying fetal on the ground. We saw no sign of battle on him, no blood or wounds.

I drew my knife. Sinking to my haunches, I brought the blade beneath Halryn’s nose. The day was cold, and shallow puffs of breath clouded the steel in a slow, stilted rhythm.

“He yet lives,” I said, reaching for his shoulder. We leapt away as soon as I’d rolled him onto his back.

Halryn’s eyes were open, yet there was nothing there. From what we could tell, he was conscious, but his right eye simply stared up at the sky, empty of light.

That was not what we had recoiled from.

“By the gods,” Ulryk breathed. Afron spat to avert evil, and we joined him.

Where Halryn’s left eye had been, only a dark pit remained. I had seen enough battle in my time to know the telltales of a spear or blade, but no weapon I knew could have made such a wound. It was too clean, too precise for battle’s disordered frenzy. No pain marked the boy’s face from the horrific injury.

“What could have done this to him?” Bel demanded. “Some beast? A plague?”

We shrank back from the body at the thought. “No,” Caer frowned, his hand straying to the satchel of herbs and poultices at his waist. “No sign of festering. This wasn’t disease.”

“Find the others,” ordered Bel. “Now.”

One by one, we found them. These were men we knew, men of our village who sold fish and hammered steel. All bore the same wound to their left eye, all reduced to the same catatonic state. They appeared almost serene, and all the more horrifying for it.

Afron looked to Bel. “What do we do?”

“We must give warning,” said Ulryk.

“Of what?” asked Caer. “We have no idea what is happening here.”

They argued. Voices clashed and overlapped. Above it all, I noted the smell of smoke in the air.

“Wait.”

The others stopped, looking back at me. I swallowed.

“If they are all in this state,” I pointed back to the signal fire behind us, “then who lit the beac—”

Ulryk was in the air before we knew what was happening. A blinding flash stole my sight, but I glimpsed a huge, darkened shape against it. Oaths, prayers and curses filled the air from my comrades’ lips. They were silenced by a crack like a bullwhip, followed by an overwhelming, fizzing shriek.

When I could see clearly again, I was on the ground.

I looked down to see my legs splayed, broken. Other warriors, my brothers and friends, lay staring up at the sky above.

I heard only one other voice, and turned. I could only watch as Afron, a youth of barely sixteen, struggled beneath the monster. Bathed in harsh violet light, he writhed as one of its appendages sank into his skull through his eye. His screams stopped as he became a mere husk, like all the others.

Then the monster turned its baleful gaze in my direction.

In an instant, it was looming over me. I looked up into that single, swollen eye, and sensed a hunger beyond imagining. A hunger not of flesh, but something far deeper. My soul teetered on the edge of this abyss, its merciless hunger pulling…

No.

I am Hennis Kydarn, a warrior and a spear of Tokogol. I refused to give it the satisfaction of my cries, even as its tentacle knifed down through my eye. There was no pain—

—as I work. The analysis can inflict physical pain, should I desire it, but that is not critical here. I have learned much of pain, and its uses.

This one’s information is precious, as all knowledge is. A settlement, interactions, castes. A particular female of the species, and offspring… This one resists my analysis of those, but it is a simple thing to overcome.

With nothing more to consume, I travel here, to disseminate what I have collected.

The rift beneath me is a conduit for information to be passed into the true realm. The creatures that inhabit this world have designated our domain as the Void. Such curious poetry these entities weave—a curiosity that illustrates how far my task is from completion.

A universe of knowledge surrounds me, of great power and distant lands, and I shall collect it all. I offer this information, now, and all of the rest to come.

Accept.

Consume.

Learn.

Neeko was born on a remote and largely unknown island, far to the east, where the last members of an ancient vastayan tribe remained isolated from the rest of the world. They were called the Oovi-Kat, and could trace their lineage generation by generation back to the legendary Vastayashai’rei—the ancestors of all vastaya.

The Oovi-Kat were peaceful beings, of unrivaled potential. Their harmonious society blended seamlessly with the spirit realm, so that their sho’ma—their spiritual essence—could intermingle with other beings through mere proximity, and even help them mimic other physical forms. No secrets existed between the Oovi-Kat, but few were as curious, resilient, or energetic as young Neeko.

She developed a fondness for games, hiding trinkets and thoughts to see if others could find them. Her inquisitive nature knew no bounds, and she was pure and innocent in her charmed existence.

But it was not to last. Cataclysm loomed on the horizon.

Thanks to the quick thinking and self-sacrifice of the Oovi-Kat elders, Neeko escaped the death of her homeland. She clumsily took the form of a bird, and fled the smoldering destruction, feeling the screams of her people fading into the ethereal gulf between realms.

Days later, desperate and exhausted, Neeko plummeted into the sea. She clung to driftwood, entirely at the mercy of the currents, until an odd silhouette rose into view. She could hear voices carrying over the waves, and so she swam toward the strange structure.

With the last of her strength, she crept aboard what turned out to be a mercantile vessel destined for Harelport. Neeko rested where she could, calling out into the spirit realm for her lost tribe. She felt only scattered, sad echoes in response, and images of towering, dead trees that lay somewhere over a fragile horizon…

When Neeko emerged from the ship into the city, it was a strange and unfamiliar new world. All her senses tingled. Many a creature, even another Oovi-Kat, might be afraid in that situation—but not Neeko. The society bustled with unique personalities, strangers with a vast array of motives and shapes. This was a place of countless stories and experiences, and it entranced her completely.

Before she could get far, she was spotted by a vastayan sailor named Krete. Neeko could not understand all his words, but he demanded to know which tribe she belonged to. Neeko reached out with her sho’ma, mimicking his face and expression to make her peaceful intentions understood, but Krete did not seem to like this at all. Overwhelmed by his darkening thoughts, Neeko fled into the crowd, altering her shape many times until she escaped.

Surrounded by lush, tropical greenery in the hinterlands beyond Harelport, Neeko grappled with her recent experiences. She simply could not understand how anyone might rely solely on words as their singular form of communication. It seemed so… limiting?

Seeking solace, she took on the shape of the sleek jungle cats she encountered among the trees, and tried to run with them. Neeko loved being fast and agile, and their bright, keen eyes reminded her of home—until, quite unexpectedly, the leader transformed into a beautiful, strong, dark-haired woman. After a tense standoff, she introduced herself as Nidalee, and reluctantly accepted Neeko into the group.

Neeko hesitated to entrust the truths of the Oovi-Kat to others, but she felt a deep kinship with Nidalee, because she suspected this bestial huntress might share some forgotten connection with the vastayan race. Their friendship blossomed, and for many months they roamed the wilds together.

But the towns and cities, with all their flaws, still called to Neeko. Her ancestors came to her in dreams, showing her the pale branches of those dead trees, over and over. The trees needed color, to bloom again—of that much, Neeko was certain. She asked her friend to join her on this new journey, but Nidalee could not be persuaded.

Crestfallen, but determined, Neeko set out alone.

Her old life among the Oovi-Kat may be lost forever, but Neeko envisions a magical future—a larger tribe of like-hearted vastaya, yordles, humans, and whatever other creatures might share her dream. As far as she is concerned, everyone has the potential to find a place in her new tribe. She has pledged to seek these souls out, to befriend them, and defend their sho’ma with her life.

To know Neeko is to love Neeko, and to love Neeko is to be Neeko.

Born into an empire long since gone to dust and forgotten, Hecarim was a lieutenant of the Iron Order—a brotherhood sworn to defend their king’s lands.

As Hecarim won victory after victory from the back of his mighty warhorse, the commander of the Iron Order saw in him a potential successor… but also a growing darkness. His obsessive hunger for glory was eroding his honor, and over time the knight-commander came to realize this young lieutenant must never lead them.

When he was told this, Hecarim was furious. Even so, he bit back his anger, and continued in his duties.

When they next rode to war, the commander found himself surrounded by enemies, and cut off from his fellow knights. Hecarim, seeing his chance, turned away and left him to die. At battle’s end, the Iron Order, oblivious to what Hecarim had done, knelt on the bloody ground and swore allegiance to him.

Hecarim rode to the capital to take his formal oaths, and met with Kalista, the king’s most trusted general. She recognized his prowess and leadership, and when the queen was wounded by an assassin’s poisoned blade, Kalista was comforted to know the Iron Order would remain with the king while she sought a cure.

Gripped by paranoia, and seeing new threats in every shadow, the king raged at those he believed were trying to separate him from his dying wife, and dispatched Hecarim to quell dissent throughout the kingdom. The Iron Order earned a dreadful reputation as ruthless enforcers of the king’s will. Towns and villages burned. Hundreds were put to the sword.

With grim inevitability, when the queen died, Hecarim chose to sour the king’s grief into hatred, seeking sanction to lead the Iron Order into foreign lands. He would avenge her death, while earning yet more dark renown for himself.

But before they could ride out, Kalista returned. She had found what she sought upon the distant Blessed Isles—and yet it was now too late. The king would not believe this, and had Kalista imprisoned as a traitor. Intrigued by what he had heard, Hecarim visited her cell, and they spoke of the pale mists that protected the islands from all invaders… and also of the inhabitants’ immense wealth, including the legendary Waters of Life.

Knowing only Kalista could lead them there, Hecarim eventually persuaded her to guide the king’s fleet through the veil that concealed the Blessed Isles from mortal sight.

They landed at the city of Helia with the queen’s body in solemn procession. The Iron Order led the way, only to be met by the city’s masters, who now refused to help. Enraged, the king ordered Kalista to kill them, but she refused, and Hecarim smiled as he made the decision that would damn him for eternity. He drove a spear through Kalista’s back, and ordered his knights to ransack the city, looting its vaults of arcane treasures.

Amid the chaos, a lowly custodian agreed to grant the king access to the Waters of Life—but not even this could distract Hecarim from the revelry of bloodshed, and so it was that the Ruination of the Blessed Isles would take him almost completely by surprise.

A blastwave of magical force tore across Helia, shattering every last building and leaving the fragments suspended in searing un-light. In its wake came the Black Mist, a billowing hurricane that dragged every living creature it touched into its shrieking, roiling embrace. Hecarim tried to rally the Iron Order, hoping to make it back to their ships, but the mist claimed them one by one as they fled.

Alone, and defiant to the end, the knight-commander was taken by the shadows. He and his mighty steed were fused into a monstrous, spectral abomination that reflected the darkness in Hecarim’s heart—a brazen creature of fury and spite, at one with the Black Mist and yet utterly enslaved by it.

Bound forevermore to these Shadow Isles, Hecarim has spent centuries in a sinister mockery of his former life, cursed to patrol the nightmarish lands he once intended to conquer. Whenever the Black Mist reaches out beyond their shores, he and the otherworldly host of the Iron Order ride out to slaughter the living, in memory of glories long passed.

Legends of the popular folk hero Kled can be traced back to the founding of Noxus, and perhaps even further still. He is an icon revered by the common soldiery, which is increasingly a cause of concern to their commanders—for there are some among the warhosts who claim to have literally served beside him.

Tall tales such as “The Great Hussar’s Victory”, “The Return of the High General Marshal-Sergeant”, and “The Mountain Admiral” abound, which strongly imply Kled has fought in every campaign ever waged, acquired every military title, and never once backed down from a fight. Though the details are often outlandish and contradictory, the essence of the tale remains: charging into battle on his un-trusty steed, Skaarl, Kled fights to protect what’s his… and takes whatever else he can get.

In truth, the Cantankerous Cavalier hails from another land entirely—Bandle City. As a yordle, he made his home among the proud Noxii tribes in the wake of the Rune Wars, and has never looked back.

The earliest mention of Kled in historical records was at the First Battle of Drugne. In the dusty hills of those badlands, the warhost of General Zaavan was on the run from barbarian foes. Having lost the previous two engagements, morale was low. The supply train had been abandoned in the rout, and they were a week’s march from the nearest outpost. Zaavan, in his spotless armor, seemed more concerned with how this would appear back home than the welfare of his soldiers, and ordered a defensive circle formation to buy himself time to think.

Then, as the morning sun rose, the lone figure of Kled appeared on the hilltop, mounted upon a desert drakalops. This warrior’s weapon was rusted, his armor worn, his clothes tattered—but contempt and anger burned in his one good eye.

He bellowed an ultimatum to the barbarian horde, demanding that they leave his lands or be destroyed. However, he did not wait for any response, spurring his steed and screaming the charge. Desperate, starving, and furious with their general, the Noxian warhost’s anger ignited at the sight of this act of bravado. They rushed after Kled as he tore into the enemy.

What followed was one of the bloodiest melees ever fought on the northern steppes. The initial momentum of the counterattack was crushed beneath a hail of barbarian arrows from higher ground, but Kled fought on even after he was thrown from his saddle and his drakalops fled. He always seemed to be at the heart of the battle, chopping down foes, kicking out teeth, and biting faces. The bodies piled up around him, and his clothes were soaked with blood. He screamed louder challenges and cruder insults. Clearly, this great warrior was willing to die before ever backing down.

Cowardice can be infectious, but so too can courage. Where the Noxians might have given up and fled for their lives, instead they were inspired to make one last stand.

Even Kled’s drakalops returned, and crashed into the barbarians’ rearguard, snarling and clawing as it dived in to free its master. With his mount again beneath him, Kled became a veritable whirlwind of death, and it was the barbarians who broke and ran.

Though too few of the Noxian soldiers survived that day for it to be considered a victory, Drugne was contested long enough that word reached the Immortal Bastion, and reinforcements were sent. The war ground on for at least another decade, until the barbarian leaders sued for peace—their strength was added to Noxus, and Drugne became a foothold for continued campaigns across Dalamor and the north for many centuries to come.

The body of General Zaavan—and his fine armor—was never found.

In time, countless other warhosts of the empire acquired similar stories of Kled. It has long been said that he rides wherever Noxians march, claiming the spoils of war for himself. Indeed, in their wake, good-humored signs can often be found proclaiming each new territory “Property of Kled”.

Over a century past, the brutal warlord Sion rose to prominence, slaughtering all who dared stand in his way. Greatly feared by friend and foe alike, he was the last of a proud warrior culture that had been part of Noxus since its founding. Sion had sworn oaths to his ancestors to never take a backward step in battle, and to die a proud warrior’s death when his time came.

While not noted for his subtlety or strategic acumen, Sion’s methods were ruthlessly effective, and he won many vicious triumphs for Noxus. The empire’s might was at a peak not seen for hundreds of years, and so it took the generals of high command by surprise when a nation from the west first resisted, then began pushing back their steady advance. These Demacians drove the Noxian warbands eastward, harrying them back behind the walls of Hvardis. Sion, who had been campaigning in the Argent Mountains, now turned south, filled with fury.

He arrived at the city to find the Demacians on the horizon. They had no intention of besieging Hvardis—having driven the Noxians from the lands neighboring their own, they were preparing to return home. Sion readied his troops, determined to punish these upstarts for their impudence. The Noxian commander at Hvardis, however, had already suffered several defeats to the enemy, and was content to hide behind the city walls and let them leave unscathed.

It had been Sion and his warriors who had paid the claim to the land now lost in blood; outraged, he hurled the commander from the city walls, and ordered the attack.

Sion tore straight through the Demacian lines, seeking out their leader—King Jarvan the First. But while his own warband charged with him, fearless of death, those who had been cowering in Hvardis were weak. Their spirit broke, and they retreated back to the city, leaving Sion and his trusted few surrounded. One by one, they fell, but Sion ploughed on.

Alone, pierced by a dozen swords and a score of crossbow bolts, he finally reached Jarvan. The fight was brutal, and it was the Demacian who delivered the killing blow. Sion dropped his axe and, with a final burst of strength, tore the king’s crown from his head with one hand, clamping the other around his throat. Jarvan’s guards stabbed Sion again and again, but his grip did not loosen.

Only when the enemy king was slain did Sion allow death to claim him.

His body was recovered—along with the Demacian king’s crown, still in his grip—and borne back to the Immortal Bastion in honor. Noxus mourned Sion’s passing, and his corpse was interred within a towering monument constructed to honor him for all time.

Half a century passed before Sion’s tomb was reopened.

Noxian dominance had waned in the years since Sion’s death, and the ruling Grand General of the empire, Boram Darkwill, was willing to pay almost any price to restore its lost glory. Darkwill’s allies, a mysterious cabal known as the Black Rose, reanimated the long-dead hero using forbidden magics, and presented him to the Grand General.

He could not refuse this gift, and so Sion returned to life, driven by unnatural bloodlust and utterly inured to pain.

He hurled himself like a living battering ram against the enemies of Noxus, destroying all he faced. More so than before his death, the victories Sion brought were costly. He was uncontrollable, killing friend and foe without remorse, and those forced to fight alongside him began to desert. Finally, Darkwill ordered Sion reinterred.

Hundreds of warriors died trying to restrain him before he was finally bound in chains and dragged back to the Immortal Bastion. Without slaughter, the blood magic that sustained him quickly engulfed his mind in an all-consuming rage. His roars finally fell silent as he was sealed in beneath his giant statue.

There he languished for many years, neither alive nor truly dead. When his tomb opened once more, it was to a very different empire. Darkwill was gone, overthrown by the general Jericho Swain—but Sion cared little, roaring and pulling against his bindings in a frenzy that could only be sated in battle.

Chained within an iron cage, he returned to Hvardis, which had broken away from Noxian rule under Darkwill’s reign; Sion was the new Grand General’s punishment for their rebellion.

He butchered the defenders of Hvardis and leveled the city, laughing as he ripped its towers apart with his bare hands. Other regions that had abandoned Noxus soon bent the knee, fearing the undead juggernaut would be unleashed upon them next.

When harsh daylight floods his opening tomb, Sion now welcomes it… for with it comes the chance to shed his chains and sate his hunger for bloodshed, to briefly silence the screaming madness drowning out all thought of rest.

Sion remembers only fragments of his life, and less of the times since, but one truth has remained as stark as on the day of his death—now, as then, the world trembles before him.

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? I don’t need a babysitter!”

“You napping in an alley says otherwise.”

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

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

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

“You don’t even know what it’s for!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s always someone else to help.”

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

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

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

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

It’s official. I am the worst.

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

That was all my fault.

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

See? Akali reasoned. I help people!

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

And I just left her there!

“I’m the worst!”

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t look. Don’t—

“Sarah?”

“What?!” she snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you’re right, Xayah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See anything?” Sarah shouted at Lux.

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

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

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

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

“Xayah? Rakan?” Sarah whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not them!”

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

“We have a problem,” Sarah agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s in shock.

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

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

A part of Sarah worried Xayah was right.

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

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

A gun. She had two guns.

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

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

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

“HEY, KID! WAIT!”

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

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

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

What was left of it, anyway.

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

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

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

Akali leaped back. “Don’t touch me!”

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

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

“We didn’t do this, kid!”

“Akali,” she corrected out of pure habit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” Sarah shouted after her.

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

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

And she’d been right.

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

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

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

“Akali! Where the heck are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said put me down!”

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

“—friend!”

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

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

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

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

Akali nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise?!”

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

“I promise,” she said.

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

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

“What took you so long?” Xayah crooned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

gauntlet to knock Xayah’s attack off course.

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

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

me a path?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m coming, Syndra. Just hold on.

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

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

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

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

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

Zoe.

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t say the same,” Sarah replied.

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

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

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

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

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

“Rakan was gone. Neeko was dead!”

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

“ANSWER ME!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I watched you run,” Xayah said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuchsia feathers fell into puddles of black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop ignoring me!” Zoe seethed.

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

Your friends are behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not alone,” Neeko said.

And Zoe lost control.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s gross,” he said.

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

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

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

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

“It doesn’t matter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The ground had started to quake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sarah didn’t think Xayah knew she was crying.

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

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

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

“You could have tried!” Xayah countered.

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

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

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

Xayah glared.

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

Rakan tilted his head, considering.

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

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

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

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

“You were everything to me!”

“Shut up!” Xayah said.

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

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

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

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

“Th-they let you die,” she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhh, why not?”

“Do you really want to find out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—said get to cover, now, Sarah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was... a lot,” Akali said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something’s wrong,” Akali murmured.

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

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

“Corruption,” Sarah whispered.

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

“What are you doing?” Akali demanded.

“She’s hurt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no, no—” Xayah begged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Protect... her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His signal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Akali stilled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xayah was the first to break the silence.

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

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

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

“He’s alive.”

“He could be anywhere,” Ahri added.

“So we look everywhere!” Sarah snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you going too?” Lux asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ezreal grinned, before he and Jinx made their exit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t know for sure that Neeko—”

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

Ahri said nothing.

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

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

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

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

Sarah inhaled, but Ahri wasn’t done.

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

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

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

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

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

Though they are rare creatures now indeed, there exist a handful of places across Runeterra where the great elemental dragons still nest.

Long after the fall of the Shuriman empire, in the chambers beneath a lost volcano, the elder beast known as Yvva guarded her clutch of eggs. Beyond the depredations of rival drakes, dragon eggs were priceless almost beyond a mortal’s comprehension, and so many were daring or foolish enough to try their luck. Yvva feasted upon the charred remains of a score or more would-be thieves over the years… before one succeeded in his attempt.

This upstart mage fled the mountains with the large egg hugged close to his chest, the jungle at his heels set ablaze by Yvva’s fury. Against all odds, he reached the coast and left the dragon to slink back to her lair in defeat. She had lost one egg. She would not lose another.

The mage traveled north to Piltover—but before he could find a buyer, the egg began to hatch. Whether it was the act of removing it from the nest, or the last moon of autumn giving way to winter, something had changed. It was no infant dragon that emerged, but an apparently humanoid baby girl with pale, violet skin, and the mage found he could not bear to abandon her. He raised the child as his own, naming her Shyvana after the dark legend of her brood-mother.

It became clear that Shyvana was no mortal. From an early age, she was able to shift her form into something monstrous, akin to the half-dragons of ancient myth. This made living among the common folk of Valoran difficult, to say the least. One thing was clear: Yvva retained some connection with her lost daughter, and it grew stronger over time. When her other offspring finally took flight, Yvva left her empty nest and soared far over the ocean in search of Shyvana.

The land was wracked by fierce border wars, but armies and villagers alike scattered at the great dragon’s approach. Seeking refuge in a ruined farmhouse, Shyvana saw her adopted father engulfed in flames as Yvva swept low overhead—the young woman dragged him into the nearby forest, but there was nothing more she could do. She buried him in a simple grave beneath a spreading oak, and set off alone.

After many weeks in hiding in the wilds, always on the move, Shyvana picked out the faint scent of blood among the trees. She found a wounded warrior, close to death, and knew this was someone she could save.

Without a thought for the beast that hunted her, she assumed her half-dragon form and carried the unconscious man far away, to an outpost on the borders of Demacia.

There, in the castle at Wrenwall, Shyvana discovered that this warrior was none other than Prince Jarvan—the king’s only son, and heir to the throne. Though the stationed soldiers regarded her violet skin and strange manners with some suspicion, she was made welcome. Demacians, it seemed, always looked out for one another, and her time in the town was the most peaceful she had ever known.

The peace was not to last. Shyvana sensed darkness on the wind. Yvva was coming.

The recovering prince, knowing that he had to marshal Wrenwall’s garrison, brought the terrified locals inside the stronghold in preparation for the coming battle. Even so, Shyvana prepared to make her escape. Jarvan confronted her, and she admitted that the creature in pursuit of her was of her own blood. She could not allow innocent people to die for that.

Jarvan refused to let her go. Shyvana had saved his life, so it was only right that he fight at her side, now. Moved by his offer, she accepted.

As Yvva came into view, Demacian archers loosed volleys of arrows to keep her distracted. In retaliation, she bathed the battlements in flame, tearing at the stonework with her powerful talons and sending armored warriors tumbling from the parapet. It was then that Shyvana leapt forth, transforming in mid-air and bellowing a challenge to her brood-mother. In a sight seldom witnessed in Valoran since the Rune Wars, the two dragons clashed, tooth and claw, in the skies over Wrenwall.

And finally, bleeding from a dozen wounds, Shyvana grappled Yvva to the ground, and broke the creature’s neck upon the flagstones.

The prince himself honored Shyvana’s bravery, and promised that she would always have a place at his side, if she would return with him to his father’s halls. With Yvva’s skull as proof of their triumph, they set out for the Great City of Demacia together.

Shyvana has learned that King Jarvan III’s realm is somewhat divided—with the people’s distrust of mages and magic putting them at odds with the noble ideals upon which it was founded. While she has found a measure of acceptance as one of the prince’s most trusted guardians, she is left to wonder whether that would still be the case if her true nature were more widely known…

Echoing footfalls. Cold stone floors.

A shout from behind. Someone’s caught sight of me. Doors flash by as I sprint down the wide hall. Stone archway ahead—my way out of the barracks. Suddenly blocked as an entire patrol skids into view. Not good.

I turn and dash back the way I came. More soldiers careen towards me. My fingertips itch, but there are too many. I vault through a door, slam it shut, and drop the wooden bar across it.

An assassin’s blades are but one of her weapons, his voice echoes in my head, cemented there by years of training. Know your mark. Know the killing ground. Anything can be a tool to secure the kill.

I run through the room. Some kind of trophy chamber. Well fortified, with a side door leading to a back corridor. Behind me, armor thuds against oak. Iron hinges and strong construction should buy me more than enough time to—

My thought is broken by the sound of splintering wood, as a massive axe chews its way through the frame. Ahead, the other door swings open, and more soldiers pour in.

Too many, too well prepared. They knew I was coming.

These soldiers wear Noxian colors, but bear the sigil of a house in open rebellion against the Trifarix. So assured of their strength, they spent time painting rather than preparing. How cute.

I draw my blades.

Those ahead slow their advance, fanning out, weapons at the ready. Behind, those storming through the broken door do the same. They circle, taking a trained formation. Six in front. Seven behind. Won’t be easy.

It’s more fun when it’s a challenge.

His voice intrudes again. Think fast. Move faster. Plan before you engage, then attack on pure instinct.

I let a blade fly. It glances off the chandelier hanging above, breaking the chain and sending it crashing down onto the soldiers behind me. Two bodies hit the floor as candles bounce and sputter out, casting wild shadows and drawing eyes betrayed by reflex. I spin into the nearest distracted man, and slide my dagger into his side. He gurgles as his lungs fill with blood.

I unsheathe my blade from his body with a satisfying squelch, and fling it at the second chandelier. It also crashes to the floor, the last sources of light flickering out. At the same time, I sidestep the swing of a charging soldier, letting momentum carry him into the two rushing me from behind.

Cries of alarm and confusion echo off the stonework as they struggle in the darkness, suddenly uncertain which silhouette friend, and which is foe.

I don’t have that problem.

Adapt where others cannot. Lead their intuition astray, and their instinct to betray them.

I dash forward, low to the ground, scooping up my first blade where it fell. It finds a throat, then an eye, then a kidney, before a shout cuts through the screams.

“You fools! She’s right there!”

As the remaining soldiers stumble toward me, I close my eyes, sense my second blade where it lies, draw my focus inward, and leap.

They cry out in confusion as I disappear from their sight. I land low behind them, snatching up the dagger and spinning, cutting through ankle tendons. I am rewarded with screeches of pain and surprise as three more fall. That never gets old.

I invert the grip on my daggers and jump, plunging them down in an overhead strike into the shoulders of the man who yelled, then kick off him into a backflip. He falls to the ground as I hurl both blades into the faces of two others.

The butt of a spear smashes into my head. I recoil, slightly dazed. With a flourish, the soldier that caught me off balance brings the spearhead to bear and jabs for my heart. I leap again, appearing in midair, my hand wrapping around one blade and wrenching it from the face I left it in.

I barely pivot my attack into a parry as an axe swings toward my ribs, the clang of metal ringing in my ears as I stumble back. The titan of a man wielding the weapon hefts it again, and I leap once more to my remaining blade. I pull it back just in time as another soldier swings a morningstar at me, and she smashes through her comrade’s face. The weapon’s points graze my arm, drawing blood.

I roll back and reset in a crouch. Four remain standing, scattered before me. Several more are injured but still alive. All of them squint at me in the darkness. Clearly they now know to track my daggers as well as me.

Never take a fair fight. The cornered assassin is a dead assassin. My eyes flit between the exits.

Then she strides into the room.

Through the side door. Flanked by her two personal guards, each wielding a crossbow. She has a torch in one hand, a sword in the other. An arrogant smirk dances on her lips. Even in the darkness, she oozes confidence and charm. All other eyes immediately fly to her.

My mark.

“Well, this is disappointing,” she drawls. “If all the Trifarix has to throw at me is a disgraced assassin, then they must be desperate.”

Her taunt is undercut by footfalls outside the room. Reinforcements, arriving fast. Clearly she underestimated the numbers needed to trap me.

But that will be of little consolation if I end up dead.

If you’ve been made, vanish. Never take your mark head on. Never kill in the presence of witnesses.

I smile and stare into her eyes. “Goodbye, commander.”

I throw my blade straight up in the air. Crossbow bolts fly toward it, predicting my leap. The four standing soldiers charge.

Time seems to slow as the blade spins.

One rotation. Two.

I fling the remaining dagger past the charging soldiers at my target. One of the guards shifts in front of her, and the dagger sticks fast in his breastplate.

Three, four.

I leap to my dagger—my momentum forces the point through the man’s armor, into flesh. I see the white of his eyes, the mixture of shock, pain, and fear. Behind me, I hear the others shout and pivot. Impressively fast. Still not fast enough.

Five, six.

The commander stumbles back and raises her sword. Reaction dulled by surprise. I pull my dagger free and lunge forward. My free hand finds her hair, my edge her throat.

Seven rotations. Thunk.

Another crossbow bolt flies through where I had stood a moment earlier, but I am gone. It pierces the mark’s chest, as I land back at my falling blade, now plunged into the ground. In one hand, I hold a bloody dagger. In the other… the severed head of my mark, her face frozen in surprise.

Her body collapses. Blood sprays over the stone floor. Her soldiers halt, caught in disbelief and horror.

I throw the head down in front of them.

“Grand General Swain sends his greetings.”

More soldiers arrive at the doorway. I revel in their gasps and angered cries.

Never take your mark head on. Never kill in the presence of witnesses. The voice repeats itself in my head. Somehow, it seems quieter than before. I laugh out loud.

I am no longer your assassin, father. I have outgrown your timid little rules.

I flick blood off my blades and stare down the soldiers before me. Fear is as powerful a weapon as any dagger. Let them see. Let the rumors spread. I am far more than a mere instrument of death.

I am the true will of Noxus.

Before me, a soldier lets out a shout and charges. I can’t help but smirk as I again raise my blades.

Not that I mind the killing.

Far, far from the harsh deserts of the Great Sai, over savanna plains and mountain steppes, lie the great jungles on the border of Ixtal and Shurima. Swathed in mystery, they are home to wild, fantastical beasts, and dense forests blooming with life. But while there is overwhelming beauty to be found there, danger and death lurk nearby in equal measure.

No one knows how Nidalee—in the form of a cub—came to be alone in the heart of the jungle, but it was her cries echoing through the trees that captured the attention of the jungle's fiercest cats: the pakaa.

A mother, roaming with her cubs, approached Nidalee. Perhaps it was her scent, or a mother’s intuition, that led the great cat to accept this strange kit without hesitation, half-leading, half-dragging her back to their den. 

Nidalee was raised in the company of the pakaa, who treated her as one of their own—a creature of the jungle. She grew up playing alongside the other cubs, learning to hunt with tooth and claw and to stalk the jungles for her prey. She grew into her role as a member of the pack and as a capable huntress.

Even so, at times Nidalee began to lose control of her own body. Without warning, her paws would change to strange hairless hands and feet, her sharp fangs to blunted teeth. Occasionally she would stumble from the den, delirious with fever, her body caught in a state of half-transformation as she followed the hazy silhouettes of two strange figures—they whispered after her, their voices jumbled but sweet. They brought Nidalee a sense of comfort and warmth, even though her feline family had taught her to be wary of outsiders.

And with good cause.

It was at the height of the summer rains when she first encountered the Kiilash. These vastayan hunters ranged into the forests every season in search of prestigious kills and trophies to show their prowess. Nidalee's mother tried to chase them away, but fell, wounded by their blades and spears.

But before the Kiilash could finish the aging wildcat, Nidalee lunged from the undergrowth, howling with grief and rage. As she tore into them with razor sharp claws and fangs, they rounded on her with even stronger weapons. 

But something had changed.

She felt the spirit of another heritage, long forgotten, rise up within her. Transforming from pakaa to something resembling a human, she grabbed a hunter's lunging weapons with cat-like reflexes and nimble fingers and turned it upon her enemies. The Kiilash growled and hissed at this sight, and to her surprise Nidalee found she understood some of their speech.

They cursed her, invoking the name of their Vastayashai'rei ancestors as they retreated from the fight, empty-handed.

Hurling the spear aside, Nidalee held her dying mother close. Her siblings approached, wary of her new form but comforted by her familiar scent. With the passing of their mother they came to accept this shapechanger as their new leader—from that day forth, she vowed to defend her adopted home against any who would seek to plunder it.

Over time, she learned to better control her powers, eventually shifting between both forms with ease. She also became more adept with her new form, learning to take advantage of her surroundings while building traps and weapons unknown to the pakaa, crafting healing salves from honeyfruit, and utilizing seeds and flowers to protect and illuminate her territory. And in the back of her mind, she wondered whether she was the only one of the pakaa who could change their shape.

Perhaps it was a yearning to find others of her kind that led her to the chameleon-like wanderer Neeko, and the two became inseparable for a time. Nidalee delighted in mentoring her inquisitive new companion, and they reveled in exploring the jungle's numerous wonders together, before Neeko eventually departed to follow her own destiny beyond Shurima's shores.

Even now, the dense forests remain the last truly untamed wilderness in the known world, and something of an enigma even to Nidalee. Still, in rare, quiet moments, the huntress finds herself dwelling on her own origins—and her encounter with the Kiilash—and whether she will learn the truth behind any of it…

“Seven times,” said Ysard Tomyri, straining to keep her voice level and face neutral.

Captain Oditz did not answer his first officer immediately, his attention consumed by the maps and reports covering his desk, or at least feigning as much. It was Oditz who had summoned her and, like so much else in their short service together, making her stand at attention in his quarters aboard the Kironya was, above all else, a display of power.

“I request audience with high command,” said Ysard, unwilling to play the captain’s game this time.

“I speak for high command here, Commander Tomyri,” said Oditz, not looking up. “A fact you seem either ignorant of, or unwilling to accept.”

“Seven times,” said Ysard again. “I have requested audience, not to plead or beg, but to promise.”

“Promise?” the Captain looked up from the spread of parchments, finally glancing at Ysard.

“Yes,” she answered. “To promise them the glory that I shall win for them, the lands and peoples I will bring, by word or by blood, into the empire. There are expansions being mobilized, envoys being sent out from our borders to secure new lands for Noxus each day. I can win those for them. All that I require is a command.”

“We have spoken of this before,” Oditz muttered. “Seven times now, as you know. It is high command that decides how to interpret the will of the Trifarix—not their subordinates.”

Ysard stiffened. Frustration frayed her patience. “When Captain Hurad fell to the pirates off the coast of Ruug, it was I who led the Kironya’s crew to victory, not you. It was I who led the boarding action to seize the corsairs’ ship, and when the last of them fell it was my name that was cheered. It felt right. After such a victory I expected—”

“What?” asked Oditz. “Your own command? After beating a rabble of underfed Freljordians back into the sea? You think it is you who should be sitting here, rather than myself. And because it isn’t, you superseded my authority to request audience with high command yourself.”

Calmly, Captain Oditz set down his quill and rose from his chair. He towered over Ysard, the light catching the old scars etched upon his features from a lifetime of war. “I would have seen you stripped of rank and thrown into the Reckoner pits for your lack of respect, Commander Tomyri,” he said stiffly. “But it seems that fate has intervened on your behalf.”

He produced a scroll and extended it to her sharply.

The seal around the scroll had been broken, its contents already read by Oditz or his assistants, as was their right.

“Take it. And get out.”

After an instant of surprised hesitation, Ysard reached for the message. She saluted and hurried to her quarters, unfurling it and quickly reading over its contents.

It was as though a galvanizing stream of molten steel had been poured from a crucible into her heart. Ysard felt providence in the wind, for the first time at her back. Finally, her skills would be given their full range.

She had been ordered to the capital. At last, a command was hers.

The harbor was a bustling throng of activity. Merchants, traders and dockworkers crowded alongside fleet crews embarking and disembarking from ships in a constant stream. Rare beasts let out keening wails from within iron cages, destined for the arenas for sport, or the homes of the elite to join their exotic collections. Shipments of foods from all corners of Runeterra were being offloaded from trading vessels and distributed to feed the countless citizens of Ysard’s barren homeland. It was a breathtaking scene, a living estuary where new goods, cultures, and ideas flowed into the empire, expanding it, enriching it, and making it stronger.

All of this, and the sprawling city beyond, sat in the shadow of the Immortal Bastion. Ysard gazed upon the grandeur of the ancient structure from a harbor road, its immeasurably high walls and towers draped with the banners of the empire. There was no better manifestation of Noxus’ power—the very power that surged within her heart.

Ysard spared a few more moments to take in the vibrant scene around her, before her face set in a curt expression and the efficient mind of a commander took hold of her thoughts.

A grand expedition awaited her, and she moved with haste to where her ship was moored.

The Ardentius appeared to Ysard like a vessel washed up from another, earlier time, and it bore the scars to match. Wounds accumulated across decades of service pockmarked and spread across her hull like spiderwebs, from the battered iron speartip of her prow to the creaking timber of her aftcastle. These smaller frigates served as escorts for larger warships like the Kironya. They were designed to be ground to splinters against enemy pickets, and to soak up fire as interdictors, to be expended to their last ounce of usefulness before being scuttled or left to sink. To Ysard’s eyes, either fate seemed likely for the Ardentius.

The crew on its deck was little better. A motley assortment of grubby men and women labored together in a disordered rabble, spending more time exchanging insults and threats than loading provisions or cargo. They numbered no more than sixty, nearly a skeleton crew. Ysard’s lips pulled back from her teeth in disgust.

Ysard forced the sneer from her face. The tools she had been given were lowly, but no matter. It would make the conquests she won with them all the greater.

“You there,” she called out to a taskmaster, causing him to turn from the assembled crew he was ordering around. He turned, straightening the collar of his beaten leather storm coat, and approached with an easy, confident grin that set Ysard’s teeth on edge.

“See that the cargo and crew are readied for departure immediately,” said Ysard tersely. “I intend for my ship to be at sail with no further delays.”

“Your ship?” The man’s voice was a gritty baritone. He frowned for an instant, before realization dawned upon him. “Ah, so you’re the Noxian prodigy I’ve been stuck with. You can get your ship running as you like, and if you’ll quit pestering we’ll be off as soon as I have the rest of my things.”

“You dare,” Ysard reddened at his impudence, her hand closing on the hilt of the ornate sword at her hip. “Give me your name.”

“Ordylon,” the man answered, apparently unconcerned. “Friends call me Niander, though.”

“Niander Ordylon,” Ysard repeated the name. She looked at the heavy crates being loaded onto the Ardentius, marked as carrying harnesses, bola nets and cage housings. “The Beastmaster?”

“Ah, so you have heard of me.”

There were few in the capital who hadn’t. Even though she had spent precious little time at the arenas—there was an empire to fight for, after all—Ysard knew the name Ordylon was synonymous with theatrical displays of deadly creatures battling to the roar of the crowd.

What was he doing here?

Ysard recovered her composure. “I was not informed in my orders that you would be coming aboard.”

“Well, here I am.” He handed Ysard a scroll bearing the sigil of Captain Oditz. Ordylon noticed her scowl and flashed her a toothy, conspiratorial grin. “Looks like we’ll be shipmates.”

Ysard stood at the bow of her frigate, scanning the horizon. Upon setting sail, the ship had filed into the queue of vessels seeking passage through the mouth of the river and out into the ocean. Hours of waiting had led to a brusque and thorough inspection by the soldiers manning the fortified installations that secured entry into Noxus by sea, but after they had checked every inch of the Ardentius and pored over Ysard’s orders no fewer than six separate times, she had been given clearance to depart.

Ysard had seen the ocean many times, but never on a ship under her own command. It was always as shocking to her as it was beautiful, a boundless plane of deep blue, separated from the sky by a delicate blur of heat from the midday sun.

And now, somewhere ahead of them, Ysard’s destiny awaited. A new land to explore, conquer, and usher into the Noxian empire.

She had earned a taste of glory, won by the edge of her sword, but it was hardly a feat that would echo throughout eternity. And try as she might to forget it, Ysard always carried a shard of the reclusive street urchin inside, never fully giving herself to the collective, never truly trusting any but herself.

Until Ysard had that, she would know no rest.

She looked back over her shoulder at the sound of heavy bootsteps on the deck. Seeing the Beastmaster approaching, she made a last quick note in a worn leather journal before closing it and placing it in a pocket of her coat.

“Quite the sight, eh?” said Ordylon, leaning his knuckles against the railing.

Ysard bristled. “Why are you here?”

“I needed a ship.”

“This is my ship,” said Ysard. “And my expedition. Remember that and we’ll have no problems.”

Ordylon shrugged. “Play soldier all you like. All that matters to me is that we get there in one piece, and you keep out of my way while I find what I’m looking for.”

Ysard turned to him. “And that is?”

“A monster, my dear.” He smiled. “A spectacular one. Something that will keep me off my deathbed.”

Three weeks on the open ocean brought them at last to the outermost edge of the Serpentine Delta. Dozens of landmasses dotted the area, from tiny patches of sand and scrub barely fit to stand upon, to islands large enough to house villages. The archipelago stood as the gateway to the southern continent of Shurima, and the unexplored regions in its eastern reaches.

The waterways were filled with small boats and rafts, fishermen and local traders seeking to barter. The arrival of a Noxian vessel, even an escort like the Ardentius, was a rare event and cause of much commotion. Few of the people living on the rivers of the archipelago would pass up a chance to barter like this.

Walking from her cabin onto the main deck, Ysard found the hull of her ship was surrounded by the natives. Men and women stood and clamored from their rocking boats, holding up bundles of fish and a myriad different trinkets to tempt the naval soldiery and crew looking down from the railings. Ordylon was down amongst them, chattering away in their native tongue as his trappers bartered and compared the local knowledge with their maps.

“We don’t have time for this,” said Ysard. For a brief moment she allowed the thought of turning the ship’s guns upon the boats and sampans blocking their way to linger in her mind, but dismissed it quickly. It would have been an unnecessary expenditure of the expedition’s already meager resources, and the locals were of more value to her alive.

“Relax,” Ordylon called up to her, inspecting a piece of intricately carved wood before tossing it back to a disappointed trader. “Waters get dangerous past this point. Don’t be so quick to turn away a friendly face.”

Ysard wouldn’t budge. “We take on provisions, fresh water, and a guide. No one goes ashore.”

Ordylon gave an irritatingly sincere salute before continuing his conversation with the locals. Ysard put the Beastmaster from her mind, seeing to the cadre of Noxian naval soldiers aboard and ensuring that they stayed vigilant at points across the ship. As she finished inspecting the ship’s cannons and their gunners she saw Ordylon hauling a man up from a sampan onto the deck.

“Found us a guide,” said Ordylon, leaning down as the man spoke to him in the local tongue. “He says welcome to the Serpentine, and that he can take us upriver.”

“Good,” Ysard said quickly, eager to be underway.

The guide spoke again to Ordylon. “But he asks, why do we go up the river?” said the master trapper. “Why do you seek to go there?”

“Tell him,” said Ysard, “that once we are done, it will belong to Noxus.”

After restocking their provisions with an odd assortment of local fruits and preserved fish, the expedition sailed on past the floating trading post. The archipelago condensed, the labyrinthine paths between the islands shrinking until the only route available to the Ardentius was a wide, dark river leading deeper into the jungle.

Days passed in an uneventful stretch, as true, untouched wilderness confronted them. Ysard’s heart swelled with pride at the thought that she and her crew were the first Noxians ever to see this untamed wilderness. There was beauty here, vibrant plant life that exploded with lush towering trees swathed in dazzling, multicolored blooms.

There was something else here, too.

As their river guide hesitantly led them ever deeper, pointing out landmarks and keeping the ship clear of reefs and shallows, an itch took hold of Ysard—first imagined, then more real and insistent. A gloom permeated every inch around the river, as if it were all drowned in a shadow that could not be seen, only felt.

Ysard found that her hand would stray to the blade at her hip without thinking. She would draw her hand away before deliberately crossing her arms over her chest and forcing her mind to focus.

But the silent horror remained, saturating everything she could see.

Ysard saw to her command to remain sharp, consulting with the ship’s navigator as he worked to chart the course of the river, followed by an inspection of the ship’s stores. She climbed back up to the main deck, picking a rat-weevil out of her ration of Bloodcliffs hardtack, when she heard shouting.

“What is it?” she demanded as she climbed onto the main deck.

Ordylon listened to the guide. “He says he will go no further.”

Ysard frowned. “Why here?” She looked around, the river and jungle no different than anywhere else in the past days. Yet the riverman was panicking, as though they had broken some invisible boundary they were never meant to cross.

The little man gestured frantically to the crew around him. He pointed to the patches of red, weeping flesh on their bodies. Ysard had noticed the affliction spreading amongst the crew, despite her efforts to divine its source. She even found signs of it on herself.

“It is the jungle,” Ordylon translated as the guide ranted. “He says it is punishing us. It will not let us in.”

Cowardly little thing, thought Ysard.

She looked at Ordylon. “So be it. Get him off my ship now, throw him overboard if you have to. We aren’t turning back now.”

The Ardentius sailed on, now more than a week’s travel into the interior. The past days had seen no wind to fill her sails, not even a slight breeze to carry her forward. On Ysard’s command, teams of the crew had disembarked, wading to their shoulders as they strained to haul the frigate on with ropes and heavy chains. The effort was enormous, and with the treachery of the river’s shifting banks, the crew continued on after finding the current with nine fewer souls than it had started with.

Mist shrouded the river, obscuring it from view. The primordial treeline swelled, branching over the water to link the opposite banks in an ever-deepening canopy that closed in and stole away all but the barest trace of light. Ysard had the distinct sensation that the ship was moving downward, not forward, into the dark heart of this unexplored land.

The jungle was swallowing them.

Rain had come without warning, and carried on for days, somehow piercing the impenetrable canopy of the jungle to soak the Ardentius and her crew to the bone. It was as though this place was actively seeking to unravel them, punishing intruders for daring to cross into its domain. The crew believed as much.

The departure of their river guide hung over the crew with the oppression of a stormcloud. The most superstitious of them muttered, seeing dark omens in every tree and in the shape of each ripple the frigate’s hull cast across the dark water of the river. Even the most cynical of the naval soldiers were on edge, only able to hear such ramblings for so long before they began to see patterns themselves.

Ysard knew in her heart it would not be long before the tension cracked some of them, and examples would have to be made. Sooner than she had thought, and hoped, she was proven right.

“Turn the ship around!” came a panicked cry. “Now!”

“Easy now, Kross,” said Ordylon, straining to keep his voice calm.

“This is a death ship. A cursed ship.” The trapper hurried toward Ordylon, seizing him by the lapels of his storm coat. “You all heard the riverman—nothing ever comes back from this jungle. Nothing!”

Ordylon flicked his gaze over the surrounding crew, heavy beads of condensation dripping from the wide frayed brim of his hat. He saw it in their eyes, Kross’ words reflected in each of them.

“No more of that,” he snapped, shoving Kross back. “We’ll have no talk of curses here. Get yourself together.”

“We have to turn back,” the crazed trapper begged, eyes wild as he repeated the plea again and again. “We have to—”

Kross never finished his sentence. He gasped, hard, as a sword’s tip emerged from between his ribs. Then he toppled to the deck.

Ysard cleaned her blade. Sometimes, being right was a heavy burden to bear.

“I’ve hunted beside that man longer than you’ve been alive,” Ordylon snarled. “What gives you the right—”

“We don’t stop,” said Ysard coldly. “Not for anything, or anyone.”

A grinding crash threw Ysard from her bunk. She scrambled to her feet, buckling on her weapons and sprinting out onto the deck.

The end of the river had come abruptly. The inlet looked as though the tangles of vines and slick trees had engulfed the water, fed by a fan of streams that trickled out of the jungle, or flowed up from beneath the muddy ground.

“The river has choked out,” said Ordylon, gesturing to the wall of trees confronting the ship. “We’ll have to turn around. Find another branch.”

Ysard raised her spyglass, scanning ahead. Hauling the Ardentius around to find another route would take time she didn’t have. Looking at her collected soldiers and senior crew, Ysard doubted the weary and shaken survivors would be capable of moving the ship in such a way.

Ten had died in the past days—another one by execution for refusing to man his post, and six to the strange, infectious disease afflicting them. Three had simply vanished in the night, those taking their shifts finding no trace when dawn arrived.

“We keep a skeleton crew aboard and strike out from here,” said Ysard to the assembled ranks. “We will either find something of worth to claim for the empire, or establish an outpost to launch further expeditions inland. Armsman Starm, distribute blades to the shore party.”

Starm hesitated. “Commander… No crossbows? No powder bombs?”

Ysard drew her sword and addressed the entire party. “Such weapons will be useless in the undergrowth. We do this the old way.” She glanced at Ordylon, who had gathered his hunting party around him. “This is what you came for, is it not, Beastmaster?”

The master trapper was somehow still his confident, boisterous self, even after the ordeal of the river passage. “We’re after a big one, boys,” he said. “Bring everything we need to bag one and keep it, spread the load amongst us all, and be ready to move when the commander’s lads step off. We stick with them.”

His men dispersing, Ysard approached Ordylon. “I’m surprised to see us in accord for once.”

The jungle was brutal. No other word came to Ysard’s mind. For all the river’s trials, it had been paradise compared to this.

They had to fight through it, hacking and cutting into the solid mass of vines and thick vegetation. There was no air to breathe—only a thick, humid fog that stung the throat and eyes. It wasn’t long before exhaustion set in.

Ysard had a dreadful sense of being watched, from both everywhere and nowhere at once, and one by one men began to disappear from the rearguard and flanks. Most vanished in silence, but a few were torn into the undergrowth with a scream, crying out for help.

Within hours, Ysard’s force of thirty naval soldiers and trappers had been whittled down by half.

“Stay together!” she shouted, cuffing the pouring sweat from her eyes. She struggled to focus, her head buzzing and her flesh burning from the red patches that now covered her torso and limbs. She couldn’t stop now. She wouldn’t stop now. They had to keep moving.

A call rang out from the forward scout, and Ysard trudged to the head of the column. There was a small break in the jungle ahead, with a shallow pool of black, turgid water at its center. It was cramped, but still blessedly open compared to their trek thus far.

“Don’t touch that water,” Ysard ordered her soldiers, in spite of her own thirst. “We rest for now. But be ready to move.”

Sitting down, Ysard looked up to see Ordylon, holding out a battered tin flask to her. After a moment, she grudgingly took it as he sank down beside her. Ysard glanced at him, seeing the poise that he had held throughout their voyage beginning to fray.

“Don’t get too sentimental.” said the trapper. “With or without you, I’d be here, in this accursed place. I’ve got no choice.”

Ysard frowned at him. Looking to see that his men were out of earshot, Ordylon leaned in close.

“My business is bankrupt,” he whispered. “What little coin I had was spent bringing me here, one last chance to save my name. Either I bring back a beast that packs the arenas and pays off my debts, or I don’t come back at all.”

Ordylon sighed, taking the flask back and taking a short pull.

“So. What brought you here?”

“Duty,” answered Ysard, looking out into the jungle. “When I return from here, having brought this place into Noxus, they will name it after me. The noble name of Tomyri used to mean something… before Grand General Swain, and his purges. My conquest will echo through history, a legacy for all time.”

“They said you were vain,” Ordylon chuckled. “I suppose they reached their fill of it, arranging this fool’s errand. I see what they meant now,” he said with a curious softness. “And for that, I am sorry.”

“Wait,” Ysard frowned as she sought the meaning in his words, before the sound of splashing water broke her respite. “I said stay away from it!” she snapped.

“That isn’t us,” said Ordylon, gazing into the jungle.

Ysard looked at the pool, seeing the trees above shaking in its reflection. Branches snapped loose to crash down to the ground and into the water.

Then she heard it.

A pounding tread, accompanied by the sound of trees cracking, and a low, wet rumble. A shape began to resolve from the jungle, shoving its way through the dense vegetation to rear an enormous, fanged head.

Ysard froze. She had seen basilisks before—as mounts for riders, or beasts of burden. She had seen adults so large they could smash down the walls of besieged cities.

This one was larger.

The creature glared down at them, and loosed a roar loud enough to throw those standing from their feet.

“Yes!”

The triumphant voice jarred Ysard from her shock. She turned to see the Beastmaster, snapping together a harpoon and bola as he grinned up at the monster.

“Come on now, you beautiful thing!” Ordylon bellowed, madness creeping into his voice as he brandished the tools of his trade. “Let’s see who’s bigger, you or me!”

Ysard felt the ground quake beneath her with every step the monster took, strong enough to nearly throw her from her feet. She heard the basilisk’s primal roar, and the screams of men, knowing that the famed Beastmaster’s was among them.

But she didn’t look back to see what happened to him. She was too busy sprinting in the opposite direction.

Ysard finally skidded to a halt at the edge of a clearing in the jungle, placing a hand against a tree for support as she fought to catch her breath. She could no longer hear the commotion of Ordylon and the basilisk, but she could imagine what had happened in the end. She looked up after several deep lungfuls of air, taking stock of what remained of her command.

There were six of them in total, including herself. Ragged, drained and terrified, only three of them still carrying weapons. Ordylon’s trappers had stayed with their employer until the end. Despair struck Ysard like a physical blow, and she fought to keep from sinking to her knees.

“Look!” one of the soldiers called out, pointing with his sword. Ysard peered into the clearing, and saw it. An arching shape, overgrown by vines, but still utterly alien in this stifling environment.

It was stone. A structure. They hurried toward it, creepers and brambles snapping as they crossed the break in the undergrowth.

The building was simple, an austere construction completely overrun by the jungle. Thick vines wound through the crumbling stone, likely the only things keeping it standing. It seemed unnaturally overgrown, as though this place was actively seeking to subsume it, and grind it to dust.

The survivors split up, searching in and around the squat cube of plant-choked stone. Ysard stopped before it, a feeling she could not define welling up in her throat. She ripped away the clinging tangle of vines covering the surface, seeing the script chiselled into the stone—in a language she had known all her life.

“This…” Her tongue went thick and dry as she struggled to form the words. “It… It’s a Noxtoraa.”

Revelations came at Ysard in a queasy tide. They were not the first of the empire to come here. There had been others, and from her own journey and the state of this outpost, their fate was clear. As was hers.

She had been sent here to die.

Given a command she was desperate to undertake, leading her to the edge of the world and a place that none had ever returned from. Ysard had given every fiber of her being to forging a legacy.

Instead, she now stood on the precipice of striking the Tomyri name from the face of history, in this suffocating wilderness.

There was nothing for them in the abandoned outpost. Ysard lead the other survivors back into the jungle, hacking a new path through the dense undergrowth. To their fevered minds, it seemed like fresh roots and creepers were winding back into place even as they passed.

When they happened upon the Ardentius, it was almost by accident. They practically ran into its prow.

Vegetation had consumed the frigate, even filling over the inlet around it. It almost appeared as though the vessel itself had somehow grown out of the jungle. Ysard saw shapes sticking up from the deck like broken pillars.

Her blood went cold.

The crew. They had been devoured and overgrown just as the ship had been. Each man and woman was on their feet, like statues covered in vines.

“The jungle,” she stammered. “It’s taken it.”

Panic began to take hold of the remaining soldiers. “What do we do?” Armsman Starm shouted. “What do we do?”

“We make for the river,” murmured Ysard. “Find our way to the bank. Follow it back to the delta.”

“There’s no way we can make it out of here on foot. You saw what happened to the others, commander. The jungle—”

“Damn the jungle!’ she snapped. “It is trees and vines, insects and beasts. You are a soldier of Noxus. There is nothing here that can defeat you.”

Ysard wasn’t certain she believed the words herself. Something was different about this place. There existed some dark, impossible presence here, something that even the might of the empire was unable to tame.

But she would not yield to despair.

“If you want to die here, alone and unremembered, then so be it.” She gathered the last of her strength. “I will not accept such a fate. Any with the strength to follow me, come. This place will not be the end of Ysard Tomyri.”

The low grumble from his stomach, and thoughts of his family waiting at home in the village, had lashed the boy’s focus to his line as he squatted on the riverbank.

He was rewarded with a firm tug. The boy gave a whoop of relieved triumph as he hauled the fish from the water, wriggling and glistening in the light.

He didn’t notice the shape floating toward him until it was an oar’s length away.

The boy frowned, the fish in his basket forgotten as the object came closer. He waded out into the soft riverbed, taking hold of it and taking it back with him onto the bank. Driftwood had many uses in the village, and could be traded away… if he could drag it back home.

But it wasn’t driftwood. The boy gasped as he saw a face staring up through layers of creepers and moss.

It was a dead person, though the boy could not tell if it was man or woman. It reminded him of the preserved elders the village exposed each year for the ancestor feasts. It was clad in scraps of dark, battered armour, edged in tarnished red, adorned with a rusted symbol that meant nothing to the boy.

Something was clutched in its gnarled, lifeless hands. With a strain of effort he tugged it free.

It was a small book, tightly wrapped in sodden, worn leather.

As the boy turned the journal over in his hands, the corpse burst open, and a snarl of bright green vines slowly slithered out from it. A glittering cloud of spores rose from the cavity, and the boy flinched away, coughing.

Book in hand, the boy ran, scratching at the insistent itch that had started on the back of his neck, all thoughts of fish forgotten as he fled for home.