Veigar
I'm dying.
I've known for a while.
We yordles, as a race, seek companionship, need companionship. People like to torture us by isolating us, though they think this is simply because we can't handle loneliness, not unlike children and their irrational fear of the 'monster under the bed'.
If only.
No, the yordle race need companionship the same way humans need oxygen. We need it to live. As a race, being alone will cause us to lose our famous child-like boundless energy. Then our immune system, our defences, falter and fail. Our bodies become frail and weak, before we fall prey to a debilitating sickness.
'Solitudo Solitudinis' we call it.
Not pleasant.
At all.
Even then we don't die immediately. Our bodies, though wrecked, still fight off its effects, granting us time. We are a sturdy race after all. Still, many yordles commit suicide by this stage, as it is impossible to prevent death by then, and many prefer a quick death over the slow, excruciatingly painful torture the sickness grants.
It takes about a month for the average yordle to reach this stage.
I was trapped in isolation for five long years in a Noxian prison.
I'm dying.
I know this.
Yet, I still fight, I still hold onto my last scraps of strength to wane off my eventual demise.
Why, you ask?
Because I didn't want others to pass through what I have. So I gathered power, increased my magic until the day I was considered a threat to all of Valoran, all of Runeterra, bringing everyone to their knees under my tyrannical rule.
It's funny. The only way to bring peace to Runeterra seems to be waging war against it. They saw my power, how easily I defeated both Syndra and Xerath, beings of supposedly unlimited power, and joined forces in the hope of defeating me. Sworn enemies of yesterday fought side by side to defeat my forces.
I hope their alliance, their friendship, lasts even after my passing.
Maybe it's just a foolish dream, the insane rambling of my sick, twisted and broken mind.
My body hurts. By now only my magic, only my power is allowing me to keep going. I look up at the sky, gaze at the starlit darkness above me. I can hear their armies approaching.
They have finally reached my fortress. All of Runeterra is outside my front door, allied against the largest evil, the biggest threat.
Maybe, just maybe, my demise will bring the beginning of a new era. An era without fighting. It's my truest wish. My only wish.
I'm dying.
And I couldn't be happier.