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In which Voodoo is haunted by black magic...

Shauna Vayne's continental map of Runeterra showed a serious concentration of dark magic. It showed up as scabs coloring the region with crusty brown and black on the tan canvas. She chipped at it with her nail until it cut her, refusing to peel off. Her map was only supposed to pick up evidence of arcane magic. The kind of magic that summoned demons. Dark rituals. This scab blacked out the Voodoo Lands. This was evidence of no small-time hag. This was bigger than any warlock. This was no hell-summoning. This was a whole city.

She didn't know what the scab meant. She only knew it was bad and it wasn't being stopped. It crawled over the entire region.

She assembled her hunting equipment and hurried for Voodoo mentally preparing for what she'd find. In reading, she learned that six years ago, the first Voodoo settlers emigrated from a larger city-state north of the lands. It being so recently, the travelers – or rather, exiles – would still be there. She needed to investigate the man and woman who had led their people to Voodoo. She put a black X beside their names to remind herself to immediately find the man and woman.

If they were not involved, then what? The Hasturs were Voodoo's city governors. They had to notice if something was going wrong in their city. Dark magic fed off of sacrifice. It gave one thing in expense for another as payment. Vayne had to then identify what was being sacrificed. Rituals required certain energies before the magic completed. Life energies were the most likely ones. They included blood – energy of the heart. Emotion – energy of the mind. Spirit – energy of the body. Sun – energy of the earth. Something terribly wrong was happening in Voodoo depending on which energy the ritual used. She imagined hundreds of livestock being led to a slaughter. Teenaged lovers having sex over a symbol. Gray faced children with no playful joy. Decaying trees with branches thinner than brittle bone. Each scenario sickened her. The ritual fed on something. She didn't know what. If the Hasturs were paying attention to their city, they might know. And if they were responsible, they surely knew.

From her home, she faced a four-day stallion-ride to Voodoo. She lived on the west coast. Voodoo almost bordered the eastern seas. She needed to cross the entire continent as swiftly as possible or she was too late. She didn't want to think of what she might find if that were so, so she needed to hasten her trip using any means necessary.

She went a few hours south to the Great Barrier. This mountain range went all the way from one sea to the other. Along the way she needed to find the Morgon Pass to get on the southern hemisphere. She wasn't about to scale thousands of meters into the sky up some of the most treacherous slopes and peaks. She didn't trust her climbing abilities up those mountains. The Pass was the safest route between North and South Runeterra. It was the halfway point of her journey.

To get there, she wanted to find the fastest raptors on the continent. She wanted to fly.

A scarlet-feathered breed nested along the lower peaks a few hundred meters above sea level. They used these altitudes to spy on prey close to the ground. At their fastest, these birds zoomed faster than the wind around them. They speared through the air. These speedy eagles were the ticket to get cross-country. The only problem was finding one large enough to support her weight.

Near the sloped rocky feet of the Great Barrier, sparse trees sprouted up as tall as one-floor houses. A few here, a few there. Thin. Bald. Their naked branches craned upward dying for water. The trees needed soil and nutrients that the Great Barrier didn't have. They jutted out from between crevices so far down, their roots embedded deeper than the mountains. One of Runeterra's gods speckled a few seeds across the side here like a baker tossed herbs on top of a roll letting them fall where ever they wanted. They were sparse. There was no place to hide.

Vayne crouched at the roots of three trunks barely thicker than her arms. They covered some of her body, but sharp-eyed eagles like the ones she hunted would have spotted her already. She leaned forward between two trunks. She found two raptors in the sky who matched what she was looking for. They circled each other. Their agitated wingbeats and rapid cawing sounded like they hadn't eaten yet. Since most animals reared their heads in the morning and went outside as soon as they woke up, the raptors were alert for these small sleepy animals.

They revolved round and round each other. Using this side-by-side tactic, nothing escaped their sight.

She loaded a silver bolt into her crossbow. She pulled tightly the chamber until it clicked in place. She cradled her crossbow and pulled its handle across her cheek. The sights on the tip of her bow pointed her gaze. She locked aim on one of the raptors. She nudged her aim upward. From this distance there was no way she'd hit them but she'd come close.

Her pointer finger nestled over the trigger.