New story, new plot. Welcome to the prologue of 'The Legend in the Shadows'.
If you are confused or have any questions regarding the story, please leave a review and I'll get back to you ASAP.
'The time is now 8:43, afternoon. Questioning will commence.'
'Name.'
"Viel."
'Age.'
"Twenty-two the next month."
'Heritage.'
"Ionian."
'Place of current lodging.'
"Ionia."
'Proficiency with weaponry.'
"Three years of blade practice."
'Specify which weapons.'
"Sword and a few knives."
'Proficiency in Magic.'
Silence.
'I repeat: proficiency in Magic.'
A voice, indifferent and neutral, "Very little."
'Specify the branch of Magic.'
"Shadow Step."
A pause.
'Ancestry.'
"Currently unknown."
'Questionnaire complete. The time is now 8:44, afternoon.'
Viel blinked as several lights came on, temporarily blinding him after being in a dark room. High white walls, a single door for entrance, and a single door for exit. The entire room reverberated slightly as Magic dissipated from the walls.
The disembodied voice sounded lightly again, 'Please exit through the door ahead of you.'
Opening the door carefully, Viel stepped through the door. A similar room as the last greeted him, the only difference being a table with his sword on it. Viel gladly retrieved his sword, relieved that security hadn't done anything to it. Spinning the sheath expertly, the sword came to a rest with the hilt resting just over his shoulder(1).
A hidden door in the wall slid open silently and Viel marveled at the wonders of Magic.
Stepping forward, Viel entered the Institute of War.
Sona had never been able to talk. Ever since Lestara Buvelle had taken her in, she had communicated purely through hand motions while her mother talked to her. As she grew older, Sona learned to play the Etwahl, a strange but graceful instrument of music, and developed a deep connection with the instrument.
Time marched on and Sona continued to age.
Her talent for music was soon apparent and Sona could play as if she was born for it. She could influence the emotions of those who listens to her, playing freely across their heartstrings. And yet, all of this beautiful music, all of this talent, was played without a single written note.
Eventually, she was making the headlines, her talent listened to in massive music halls and auditoriums.
Even the infamous Jericho Swain commented on her performance, ''Her melody moves the soul, her silence sunders the body.''
Living in Ionia, Sona was introduced to the honorable way of life. However, Magic was becoming more and more prevalent over Runeterra. When Sona hit her mid-teens, her mother taught Sona her first Magic spell. Not a hard spell, just a simple one to enhance certain moments and sounds of her Etwahl.
Sona mastered it in a few days, using to help express her emotions through her music.
Then, one day, Lestara told her something. 'Sona! I have wonderful news!' Sona, now 19, frowned. She played a questioning tune on her Etwahl. 'I can make you speak again.' The bluenette's eyes widened, and she plucked out an accusing note. Her mother chuckled, 'No, Sona, I'm not teasing or making fun of you. My Magic teacher taught me a spell to help you speak.'
This moment was revolutionary for Sona. Without her Etwahl, Sona's emotions were hard to read, requiring her mother to interpret whenever she went out of the house.
Sona's fingers flew across the strings of the Etwahl, a strong crescendo and increasing tempo telling her mother all she needed to know.
Lestara laughed, 'Now, now, hold your horses child. I can't make you speak, per se.' Sona frowned, confused. 'However, it will enable you to talk with others through their minds.' Sona was shocked. Why would she want that? That was a total invasion of privacy and scandal to use in public.
Seeing Sona's horrified expression, her mother continued hurriedly, 'No, no, you have to gain other's permission to speak with you directly, but other than that, you will have to communicate with your Etwahl.'
Sona's face cleared, relieved that Lestara hadn't been taught an illegal spell on accident. 'Just say the word,' her mother said gently, 'And I'll cast it.'
An blue eyebrow rose, as if to say, Really?
Lestara rolled her eyes, exasperated, 'Right, you can't really say it now, but you know what I mean!' Sona giggled, then nodded.
Naught but 10 minutes later, Sona spoke her first words to her mother.
H-hello?
'Ohhh, wow! Sona, you have a beautiful voice!' Lestara gushed at her.
Sona blushed, embarrassed. I- Thank you, mother.
Her patron just smiled back, 'You're welcome Sona.'
Sona spent the next years in harmony with her new voice, meeting friends and further expanding her vocabulary.
Of course, nothing good comes out of a girl walking out alone at night. And that is exactly what happened to Sona.
3 kidnappers came from the shadows of an alley, with no warning, no sense of foreboding. A bag came down over her head. They were grabbing her everywhere, her arms, legs, shoulders...
Sona screamed.
Not with her Magic voice, but with her own voice. Neighbors came running, some with swords, others with their bare fists. Then her mother was there, vengeance upon her fingertips.
When the 3 criminals had been successfully apprehended, Sona's eyes saw the world again.
Lestara had been in tears, others watching from a respectful distance as the two embraced each other.
So from that day on, Lestara taught her child to fight. Not with her fists, nor with her legs. Sona couldn't get her legs bruised, or, as her mother put it, "keeping those long, milky legs clean for a proper man." Sona had replied, blushing and embarrassed, 'Mother!' in a scandalized voice. Her mother had only grinned cheekily at her and continued to teach Sona.
By combining a bit of Magic and a carefully played note on her Etwahl, Sona learned to slice objects from a distance using the instrument's string vibrations.
But simply learning the art wasn't enough for Sona. She had successfully learned the basics and was eager to master them.
And that's how Sona found information regarding the Institute of War.
At first, her mother refused to send her to the Institute. It was like sending a child off to study abroad. In a way, Sona had to admit, going to the Institute was exactly like studying abroad. But Sona refused to abandon her goal. Both woman spent many nights alone with their thoughts, each steadfast in their approaches to the conflict.
As Sona would put it: The only place worthy of my recital.
Finally, Lestara couldn't take it anymore. 'I'm sorry,' she said, sobbing, 'Please, talk with your mother again.'
Very gently, Sona took her mother's hands and initiated the voice connection, Mother, I am sorry too.
It was too much for the pair and both of them dissolved into tears of joy and compassion. Mother and daughter reunited, Lestara finally let Sona journey to the Institute.
'You make sure you write back to me, okay?' Her mother said sternly, her graying hair in a tight bun. Of course mother, Sona replied with a smile, her long blue hair in two customary ponytails with lush bangs resting on her forehead.
Dressed in jeans, a plain t-shirt, and combat boots (mother had insisted), Sona left the house with a wave. Her bags floated behind her, following her obediently, and her Etwahl strapped to her back. As such was her journey to the Institute.
3 months, 7 letters and 4 postcards later, Sona reached a Magical transport into the Institute(2). With a cheery wave to the outside world of Runeterra, Sona disappeared.
3 years later...
Viel blinked owlishly, pupils contracting to compensate for the brightly lit room. The hidden door slides closed just as quietly as it opened.
He's greeted with a room that looks like a hotel lobby: Several secretaries stand at a long reception desk, comfortable looking couch chairs, and several robed officials milling about. Silence starts to fall as, one by one, each person notices the newcomer.
Warily, Viel's left foot steps back, sword sheath lifting off his right shoulder ever so slightly. His black hair falls down over his eyes, but doesn't obscure his vision. He scans the room carefully for any sign of hostility. The rest of the room is doing the same to him; assessing him, sizing him up to see if he could hold his own.
A man with navy blue robes bursts through the big double doors behind the secretaries' desk. "Alright, what's the trouble now-" he stops abruptly as he sees Viel. His mouth twitches slightly, a ghost of a smile. "Ah, a newcomer."
Viel nods, never breaking eye contact.
A moment goes by and a feeling of mutual respect passes between both men. The man speaks up, "Well, don't just go staring there. You're making him uncomfortable and I'm sure you don't want to embarrass yourselves."
The effect of his words was instantaneous. All the other robed people resumed their previous business.
Viel raised an eyebrow at the blue robed man. No one received that much respect unless it was earned. If Viel had to guess, this man was a high ranking officer and commanded much of the Institutes workings. Anyhow, Viel wasn't looking for trouble anytime soon.
Twirling his sword sheath, Viel knelt on one knee, planting the bottom of his sword sheath on the floor, "I greet you, Master." The room went silent again. 'Really?' Viel thought, annoyed, 'I am simply greeting a superior.'
A voice interrupted his thoughts, gentle and commanding in the same instant, "Rise, student."
Viel rose obediently, twirling his sheath back onto his shoulder. Saluting the man with his free hand, Viel waited patiently for his next order.
"At ease, student," the man smiled easily at Viel. "Thank you, Sir," Viel automatically said, out of habit.
Both of them met in the middle of the room, shaking hands firmly. Spinning around suddenly, the blue robed man glared at the stunned audience, "Now, what did I just say about embarrassing yourselves?"
As one, the robed people went back to their own business. The man turned back to Viel, apologetic, "Sorry, but I'm afraid we don't greet people that way here. A simple 'hello' will suffice next time." Viel nodded, understanding, "I am sorry too, I did not know how things operated around here."
The man waved off his apology, "Don't worry about the small things. Now," he said, looking Viel in the eyes, "I believe we have to get you registered."
Viel cocked his head slightly, "What do I have to do?" The man pointed at the receptionist desk, "Just talk to one of the secretaries and they'll have you set up."
Bowing slightly, Viel said, "Thank you, Sir." He suddenly frowned, "Also, how did you know what my native greeting was?" The man chuckled lightly, "You are not the first one from... ah, Shadow-Step Village to attend this Institute."
Viel froze, a smile plastered on his face, "I see. Thank you again, Sir. May your stars shine bright." The man smiled back, "As yours will sparkle."
Turning, the man left Viel to his own devices. Viel watched him go with an impassive expression. Smiling slightly, he turned to a secretary and filled out some paperwork.
It seems I have found my target.
Sona watched the newcomer from a distance.
Obviously, she wasn't supposed to be on this side of the Institute (Champions weren't allowed on the Summoner side of the Institute unless granted explicit permission), but she had caught wind of a Summoner from her hometown. A Summoner from Ionia.
This was big news.
Not many students of Ionia became Summoners, preferring the path of an honorable samurai. But, apparently, this black-haired youth was an exception.
Sona recognized the step back, the slight change of stance within the youth's body. Obviously, this newcomer had received extensive instruction (from a teacher or himself, Sona did not know). Therefore, Sona concurred, he must have come for some other reason.
She began to float forward, intending to greet the new Summoner.
"... ah, Shadow-Step village." The words of the General (the blue-robed man) stopped her in mid-float, a surprised expression alighting her features. The youth had a similar expression on his face, frozen in false cheer.
The two finished their introductions and parted ways.
Sona could have sworn the General flashed her a quick smile before exiting behind the receptionists' desk.
It seemed she was given a free pass this time around. Sona turned quickly, floating away before someone else caught her out. Passing through large wood double doors, she floated up the stairs to her quarters, pausing in front of her door.
A couple of soft steps reached her ear and Sona turned, confused that someone was coming to visit her. But, seeing who the person was, she froze.
The newcomer.
Sona took his image in; black hair, dark eyes, a simple sword scabbard resting on his shoulder, an ornate hilt glinting slightly, casual shirt, and jeans.
"Ah, excuse me, but this dropped out of your pocket." He held up a notepad.
His voice was not loud, nor soft. Not rough, nor smooth. Just audible and articulated enough to converse with others.
Sona quickly took the notepad and whipped out a pencil. The youth cocked his head slightly, confused. Scribbling on the first page, she ripped out the paper and offered it to him.
'I can't speak, but will you allow me to converse with you through our minds?'
The youth looked up from the note, and nodded cautiously.
Ah, that's much better, isn't it?
Startled, the youth stepped backward, looking behind him. Realization dawned on him and he looked back at Sona.
"That was you," he said neutrally, but his expression was... impressed? Amused? Surprised? Sona could not tell.
Yes, Sona responded, a bit smug, but she smiled genuinely, Thank you for bringing this back to me.
The youth shook his head, eyes down, "It was nothing." Then his eyes met her's again, frantic, "Ah, forgive my manners! I have not introduced myself. My name is Viel." His hand stuck out, not to far, not to close to her body. It was clear that it was a practiced gesture.
Sona took his hand, smiling warmly, My name is Sona. Then she frowned slightly, My official title is 'The Maven of the Strings', but please just call me by my name. Silently, she counted to 3. Many people recognized her name, proceeding to praise her musical talent and ability.
The rain of praise never came.
Her hand went up, and down. His hand retracted, maintaining as little contact with her as possible. Viel smiled, then bowed formally, "Nice to be of your acquaintance, Lady Sona." Straightening, Viel scratched his head, his expression apologetic, "And, um, could you show me where room 5392 is?"
Sona gaped slightly at him, amazed that he wasn't groveling at her feet (like all the others). Snapping back into consciousness, Sona answered, Oh, of course. Just take that elevator to the top floor and make a right.
Verifying the specific elevator, Viel smiled at her and bowed slightly again, "Thank you, I apologize for disrupting you. Have a good night." With that, Viel turned, sword upon his shoulder, walking toward the elevator in question.
Sona waved slightly, putting her notepad and pencil away, Good Night.
And I'll leave it at that. Probably should have stopped a bit earlier, but I just kept writing... and writing...
Anyway, I'll be back soon with another chapter.
Until next time, IJM.