Everyone Has A Shadow
Ionian legend stretches unfathomably long over history, its tales ranging far and wide. But none are more famous than the tale of the drunken beggar, his beautiful lover, and their acts of valor, ultimately spiraling downward to an unthinkable betrayal.
Each hundredth year, tradition deemed the Ionian elders to pay a visit to his tomb. The tomb of Hai'Ming, the long deceased hermit, known for his legendary prowess in drinking, in what was perhaps Ionia's saddest yet sweetest love story.
There is little known about his lover. It was said upon one of Hai'Ming's drunken stupors, she saw him as the poor beggar that he was, and took him in. Falling in that peculiar way lovers tend to, she discovered the secret to eternal life with him. It was her, who found out that the key ingredient was not gold, but lead. It was her, who could put up with his lunatic ravings, his mood swings, his drunken stupors.
It was her, according to legend who drove a knife through his heart, killing Hai'Ming. She cursed him, to never truly die, to endow the generations to come with his insane ranting. Be it blessing or curse, only one thing was for sure. Each word, each bloodstained letter, spoke nothing but truth. The Rune wars, the Noxian invasion, even the origin of the Shadow Isles were all revealed with an accuracy none would associate with a drunken beggar. These centennial prophecies were always uttered in a cryptic, poetic prose that displayed the madness, the tragedy, mirroring Hai'Ming's life and the inevitability of prophecy.
It was said he died laughing.
It was time.
Time for revelation
The Ionian elders solemnly began the centennial ritual, swore their
Oaths.
Order.
Balance.
Life.
Death.
All precariously rested upon the dead rantings of a mad hermit.
The red mist slowly rose from the coffin, and all eyes uncertainly rose to meet it.
Hssss…Like a venomous adder, the sound was not a comforting one, adding sheer danger and malice to the air.
The Eye of Twilight nodded. It was time.
Shen, please…come to no harm.
The coffin slowly slid open. A weathered scroll, sealed with blood, lay in the weathered corpse's hands. The ghastly, worn, skull came into vision...with the grating sound one associates with nightmares, insanity and fear, it laughed.
I was a horrific sound, a sound of
Madness.
Knowledge.
Love.
Betrayal.
Legend forswore that upon hearing Hai'Ming's laughter, one would be changed forever. Legend failed to mention how.
As the young Eye of Twilight thought about his wife and his son Shen, he tried to relate to this husk of a once great man. A man who was betrayed by the one he loved most, the only he trusted. And he learned two things.
Ionian legend was right. He prayed to every god he knew for Shen's safety.
And he learned that there was no turning back.
Betraying the collective anticipation, tension, and fear, a sigh rose around the ring of elders.
Hai'Ming would speak.
And they would listen.
They bowed their heads in silence.
Only to have it shattered by pounding on the tomb door.
"Help!" "Please" "My son…"
The Elder's stiffened. Despite the clear desperation ringing in the voice, the importance of this ritual overrode all of it.
The voice faded slowly, diminishing in an ominous way.
The ceremony would continue. Hai'Ming's hellish laugh increased in volume, it's devilish cadence chilling even the hardiest man's heart to ice.
A mask of impassivity became increasingly harder to manage as the Eye of Twilight beheld the laughter.
This is what you were meant to do.
Cold sweat broke out beneath his mask.
Think about Shen.
"HELP!" The cries became frantic, pleading, heartrending.
Blood began to bubble forth from Hai'Ming's still cackling maw, and with it the beginning traces of a scroll.
Shen. Ionia. Balance
"PLEASE I'VE COME TO RETURN THE BEGGAR'S FRUIT!" "LET ME IN!"
The circle of elders froze.
Hai'Ming's son, whom he himself did not know of before he died, was part of his requests in his last prophecy. He asked for his son to be returned to his tomb. He asked for Ionian elders to observe this ceremony every 100 years.
"IT'S HIS SON PLEA-"
A flash and ring of steel.
A guttural cry of pain.
All too much for the Eye of Twilight. Eyes narrowed in determination, sweat running freely down his body, he threatened to break the very balance he swore to uphold. He made a decision.
One that would later cost his life and honor.
Hai'Ming's laughter became a piercing shrill, and his bones began to rise, slowly swaying to some unholy rhythm. An entire half of the scroll, Ionia's future and fate, rose out of his oscillating hands.
Dear hermit, I'm sorry.
With a well executed Ki burst, the Eye of Twilight ended centuries of tradition.
The tomb door collapsed, and Ionia's balance with it.