Interlude

For Kayn, his fate had begun to write itself that day.

Expendable is what they had been called, and even Kayn's disposition reflected that up until he reached the battlefield. With no home or family to mourn them, they would be merely nameless corpses when the battle was over. Some of them didn't put up much of a fight, not even making a sound as their lifeless bodies hit the banks of the riverbed.

But Kayn would remember them. Maybe not by name, but as the kind boy who had shared his rations or the loud mouth who had ambitions. And as an enemy eyed him through the reeds after striking one of them down, a new need for survival kicked in.

He had to live. Not only to remember, but to punish those for allowing such heinous acts to occur in the first place.

Kayn felt the blood rush through his veins and his vision focus. The sword in his hands had always been heavy as it was meant for an adult, but only now did he realize that it would not do.

A muddied shimmer caught his eye, and Kayn recklessly flung the sword in the direction of his opponent before swiftly making for the object in question. A discarded but still sharp sickle, it's weight felt good in his hands as he met his attacker with a feral gaze.

He would not die today.

It only took one swing to cleave the man cleanly through the waist, and all of a sudden he felt alive.

But he was not done – He would not rest until he'd cut down every last one of them.

The mud had dried and caked red by the time Kayn was finished, reaping Ionian and Noxian alike. The brothers he would have spared were already dead, leaving Kayn to traverse the sea of corpses alone.

He did not know how much time had passed when his eventual master came upon him. Starvation and fatigue had hit him to the point where he could barely keep a poor stance. But despite this, Zed had seen something in him, and the words that were spoken to him that day would change the course of his future entirely.

"Come, boy. There is still much for you to learn."

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For Irelia, her fate had been stolen from her that day.

She had run as far as her feet could take her, the stained remnants of her family crest held close to her chest.

Her knees gave in as soon as she'd reached the old well, hurriedly fetching water and dipping the first of the pieces into the bucket to cleanse it of impurities. But even as she used the hem of her dress to wipe it as clean as she could, dark red traced the grooves in the metal and the coppery smell of blood would not leave her nose. It was almost as if she could taste it on her tongue, threatening to envelop her with the sins she had just committed.

"I'm sorry," she wept to the lost spirits of her ancestors. She had dirtied the Xan honor by taking those lives, and even if they had taken her father and brothers, that did not make her actions warranted.

"Tell me what I should do," Irelia begged, staring at the handful of blades in her cupped hands. There was no answer, their stillness only reminding her of how much she had lost. Her family was gone. Their sense of peace – their lives – had been shattered, and she could not return to Navori after what she had done, much less protect her homeland like this.

Attempting to clear her head, Irelia continued to shine the pieces, slowing her actions to give each one the attention it deserved. Though they still felt tainted, Irelia formed them into the shape ofher family's crest. She gave one bow of respect, letting the grief flow through her before beginning to dance. The shards followed her movements as the melody and her grandmother's teachings echoed played in her mind.

The remnants were jagged and fragmented, but were still beautiful in their new form. They swayed as she swayed, bent as she bent, and channeled a new resolve within her.

Commanding the blades to encircle her, Irelia realized that her honor had not been broken, but had merely been reformed. And just like her blades, she would become sharpest at the break.

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It would take many years for these once-broken souls to cross paths. As the legends surrounding them began to spread, the Shadow Hunter and Blade Dancer seemed like two sides of the same coin – One bound by oath to the shadows of darkness while the other walked the path of justice and light. One cannot exist without the other, but it would take more than a cycle of the seasons to learn how to depend on one another.

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