LEGENDS OF THE LEAGUE

Chapter 1: An Encounter in the Sands

Days had passed since Dana had seen another soul. His sandals had been worn by the shattered rocks that lay along his path through the sands, and his walking staff grew shorter by the hour. It would not be long before he met his end in this arid waste.

Dana lifted his canteen from his side and took a small drink. Only a few sparse droplets ebbed into his mouth. He let the container drop as he closed his eyes and let the liquid flow down his throat.

His journey had begun almost a month prior. As one of the few merchants willing to take the journey through the deepest parts of the Sai, the Shuriman desert, he was respected greatly. But this time had been different. Dana's caravan had been first attacked by bandits, where they managed to escape but lost their three guards in the process. A week later, monsters Shurimans called the Xer'Sai took out half of the remaining merchants. And now, Dana was the only one that was still trudging through. His merchandise lost, his brothers abandoned or dead.

The winds whistled over the dunes. As the sun set, possibly the last sunset Dana would ever see, he pulled out a relic, an ancient golden medallion that he had found so long ago.

He began to whisper his final prayers, for his caravan who had died because of his pride, for his family that would never see him again, and for his own soul. As his eyes closed and the darkness began, Dana collapsed in the sand of the Sai.

"Child of Shurima. Fear not, for your spirit is not yet hollow."

The deep, echoing voice was dream-like, almost unreal to Dana's ears. He lifted his head from the ground, and looked up for the source of the words.

There, standing above him, and above the dune itself was a towering man. No, there was no man with a visage as terrifying as that. The figure's eyes glowed in the twilight, a blue-green light that held no emotion or compassion. His bestial features were inhuman, but did not strike raw fear into Dana's heart- but more of an all-encompassing awe.

This being could be none other than Nasus, a legendary being spoken of in Shuriman myths and legends. The only one of the Ascended to still roam Shurima's sands to this day and age. Unlike many other Shuriman myths, Nasus still kept a large following, due to the fact that he was known to appear to travelers and wandering nomads throughout the wastes. And now he was before Dana.

More importantly, Nasus was no friend of humanity. His psychopompic nature was one thing that remained, even though his lore had changed throughout the centuries Shurimans had known of him. A remnant of the ancient Shuriman empires, that feasted on the souls of the living and the dead. Seeing him could only mean death.

Dana gasped out a fearful plea. "Spare my life, O mighty Ascended one. If I am to die, let me die as a whole man. My soul longs to pass into the lands of my ancestors, that live beyond the infinite river."

The great being did not react to Dana's words. Instead, he reached out and lifted the merchant's body- gently, almost tenderly. Although the man trembled, there was a surreal peace Dana began to feel.

"Life is part of a cycle. Yours is at an end." Nasus paused, looking down to face Dana directly.

"I don't understand," croaked the merchant. "My life is not-"

Nasus turned Dana's body around, until he could see the ground he was lifted from. There laid a worn, old and strangely fragile-looking body. Every fiber in Dana's being buzzed with emotion, but not a single tear could be shed. "Ah. I…"

At this time, all of the prayers and thoughts Dana had carried before seemed distant and oddly dim before the rapidly approaching reality. He began to smile, his face that had been cracked and damaged by age and the harsh sunlight feeling lighter than ever before.

"I look old, don't I. I never thought of myself as old before, but…"

And then, the anger came.

"Why… why me… this was just another journey…" Dana shook with emotion, but could not bring it him to raise his voice any louder. The sound of the shifting sands and whispering winds were deafening in his ears.

He looked back up at Nasus. His fear had been replaced with something else, something that he couldn't describe.

"Can you… is there anything you can…"

Nasus did not move. His eyes stayed locked onto Dana's spirit, not with hunger, hatred or sympathy, but without emotion at all.

"I am no god, child. For centuries, I have watched- but I do not choose when a soul doth wither away. And I cannot free you from the chains of oblivion."

Dana wept. Wracking, shaking sobs that normally would have sent the man into a coughing fit. But now freed from his mortal limitations, the spirit shook with the feelings, the dreams and the regrets he had held for over half a century.

The night continued. Somewhere out there, a baby would cry before being lifted back into the arms of its mother. Elujrav'i' would ring their bells, bandits counting their coin and nomads filled their canteens. A child is born, and in the middle of the Sai an old merchant succumbs to the elements.

Dana looked up at the silent being.

"The cycle of life and death."

Nasus said nothing, for nothing needed to be said.

The spirit now looked onto the horizon. In his rapidly fading consciousness it had seemed to be mere minutes, but the faintest colors of dawn were appearing on the Eastern horizon.

"I have a question, O Ascended one." He looked back at the being, now more than ever at peace. Dana was fading. He thought to himself that at the moment, he was less real than the myth Nasus himself. But Nasus was real, and his unsearchable visage gave nothing away.

"What is it like, to live forever? To be free from this cycle us mortals toil in?"

Nasus remained silent for a few seconds.

"Eons pass like days. I have seen many things, known many mortal men. I no longer remember my own mortal life."

Dana's spirit began to break apart as the sun rose once more over the Sai, the deserts he had lived in all his life. He had always feared death, but in the end…

Nasus spoke one last time before Dana could hear no more.

"No dawn comes without darkness. It is neverending."

And with that, Dana's spirit was no more. All that remained under the dune was a body half-covered in sand. Weeks later, another caravan would find his bones and his golden relic in hand. One of their Eljurav'i', their bell ringers would claim the bauble, but the head merchant recognized it and brought it back to Dana's family.

So it remains in their household. The Nomad's Medallion, held as a lucky charm by each traveling member of their family.

You might be wondering, was this story truthful? After all, us Shuriman elders love to tell tales to our students. Does the Curator of the Sands really exist?

I've always said that in every tall tale, there must be a grain of truth. But, truth be told…

"Some things must remain buried."

Authors Note: So it begins. I've got a big list of ideas and already a few chapters slated to emerge soon, so stay tuned. Give some feedback if you'd like, perhaps some suggestions for what you would like to see.

Here's some "fanservice" for what's coming up next- two Freljordian titans talk about their purpose. After that, a Noxian assassin faces one of the few Demacians he cannot assassinate. Thanks for reading the first chapter of my first fic, and hope to see you all next time.