Author's Note:

Sigh. What's there to say? I've just not had the inspire to write despite wanting to. Now, I'm going to just attempt to return to writing. This will be basically a restart for me.

For those wondering, this will hopefully be a story of Runeterra without the Institute of War and the League of Legends with events that, for the most part, did not happen. For those who like the new lore and like this, good on you. For those who do not like the new lore and do (not) like this one, good on you. For me, I just want to write again.

"Hmm." He hummed as he watched the scene play out before his eyes.

His two colleagues, one being a tall woman with long, silvery hair, pale white skin, and bright purple eyes and the other one being a shorter male with dark layer of skin, bright eyes that shone through the otherwise pitch darkness, and a high-pitched voice.

There was a third member of their group, but he was not watching so much as waiting for their squabble to end. Out of the four of them, he was the most level-headed, possibly from his many years of life, and yet he often decided to let them… discuss their problems rather than let them build up.

To some, this was a good idea and showed his wisdom. To him, it was an excuse to not mentor to them, which was why the three of them had come to meet the magus.

After several minutes, he began to look around, hopeful of finding something of interest that was at least a little new to him and mildly interesting. Sadly, it was mostly depressing or on edge.

Soldiers in heavy armor and armed with wicked weapons patrolled the streets, some with prisoners, as others pleaded with them to not take their loved ones, testifying that they were innocent, and offering to go in their place. Elsewhere, other soldiers, off duty or on a break, were causing a disturbance inside one of the buildings, an inn or hotel by the look of it. Either they were drunk and gloating, or someone had said something that upset them… when the sound of glass breaking emerged from the building followed by a series of gasps and laughter, it could be either.

Finally, he saw something that wasn't like the rest of the little village, and he found his excuse to walk away from his colleagues.

"Stay out of trouble and be back before sunset." His mentor said.

He waved in response. "Got it." He replied.

"I would rather not have to deal with an incident involving this… 'curfew' business." His mentor added.

There had been a string of murders as of late, both civilians and soldiers, and the guards had issued a curfew until they found the guilty party; who they believed were a radical group for the freedom of the land, the expelling of the foreigners, and the people's rebel.

If they spent a quarter of the time being as diligent and orderly as they preached they were, instead of triumphant and cocky as they were showing themselves to be, they'd know that one of the sober buddies just walked away with the culprit in his arms.

He followed after the pair, his eyes locking with the culprit for a moment. He noticed the smile for him, a promise for something later, but he would rather not wait until that later. After all, there was no telling when he'd be leaving, and this seemed like the kind of person he should at least have as an acquaintance.

One thing his mentor always told them was to seek knowledge, even if that meant dealing with dangerous and untrustworthy people.

As he followed the pair, it didn't take long for them to make a turn into a shady part of the village, namely one of the abandoned houses, either from the residents fleeing or being taken away, and disappeared inside. Of course, he followed them inside… until the guard noticed him.

He turned to him with a confused look, and then a glare. "Beat it, kid! Can't you see I'm-"

His companion silenced him with a finger to his lips and a haunting look. "It'll be okay…" It was the voice that would make even the most resilient of chastened forsake their vows of purity. "And it might even be more fun to someone watch us."

The guard seemed to forget about everything else and only see his companion, as though put into a trance. "If it is what you want, then yes…" He said like a dump-struck simpleton.

His companion looked past him toward their viewer and flashed that same previous and promising smile. "Keep quiet, and I'll let you indulge in my charms next."

He blinked, barely able to believe what he had just seen. The guard had just been reduced to a love-struck idiot to a woman who had, literally, sucked the life out of him and was now sitting on his smiling corpse as she looked at him with a pair of hungry, golden eyes. "So, are you ready to begin?" She asked as she cocked her head to the side with a playful smile.

He took a breath, steeling himself, and shook his head and smiled a small but friendly smile. "Hmm, thanks, but no thanks." He replied.

"Oh come now," she began as her golden orbs watched him step away from the door rather than through it; considering what she thought some would think if they saw her do what he did, this was very interesting to her. "I could turn your world into heaven in just a few moments." She offered with a teasing gleam in her eyes.

Again, he refused. "As tempting as that sounds, and as much as I believe you, I will still have to refuse. Magic-" he gestured to the body she sat next to "-can lead to terrible things." He finished.

She closed her eyes and shrugged as she turned her head to the side, away from the body. "But it can lead to great and wondrous things." She opened her eyes halfway as she looked up at him again. "Will you tell me a secret… mage?" She asked.

He turned his head when he heard something about an event that was to go on today, and, when he looked back, she was standing in front of him without having made a sound.

He did not startle. He did not blink. He was a mage, one born with the gift of magic, but his magic was… something else.

The raven-black haired woman's golden yellow eyes met his, a promise and desire for something from him, and draped her arms around him, feeling him through his clothes as she spoke to him. "You wouldn't regret a moment of it." She leaned in to whisper into his ear.

"I promise…" She quietly said.

The mage closed his eyes and smiled, placed his hands on her arms, and… a feeling of cleansing drifted over him, through her even, and he gently pushes her away from.

He opened his eyes. "Fox-girls-" her expression turned to shock and her eyes widened, "-aren't my thing." He finished with an easy smile on his face.

She stepped back, putting distance between them, and continued to back away.

Neither of them said a thing… and then she turned and was gone in a flash of blue.

He blinked his eyes, his smile faded, and he looked toward the body. He looked at the door, wondering to himself if he should hide the body, run out and pretend that he just found it, or use his magic to leave. "None of those ideas sound good." He said as he started to look for a back entrance. "I'm in enough trouble for using magic, and running out would only make the other guards think I had some part in the death." He said to himself.

He managed to find a back entrance, or rather a window he could climb out with the aid of a bar stool, and waited for a patrol of guards to pass before he climbed out. "Actually," he mumbled to himself, "they'll think I'm guilty if they think they saw me walk in."

He decided to make his way back to the front of the village and wait for his mentor and colleagues to come by on the way out; less chance of dealing with guards, of being accused of a crime he didn't commit but did nothing to prevent, or something else.

As he waited, he noticed that there wasn't much traffic into or out of the village, aside from a few guards returning to or from scouting or patrolling assignments. There wasn't much traffic, but there was one person coming in.

This person wasn't a guard from some foreign land or even a resident of the island, or at least not from any part he had ever seen. He wasn't a resident because he had a deep, orange-colored skin tone, and he wasn't from a land he knew of because he was dressed in a mix of clothing styles from two places one would never see mixed together.

The guards on duty watching the village entrance seemed to notice too and rose to meet the newcomer.

As they went to meet him, he decided to take the opportunity to go back into the village. He figured it was best to be accused of a death than to be a witness to one; guards or innocent.

As he walked back to where he remembered his group was, he caught the glimpse of long, raven-black hair in the corner of his eye; the girl from earlier was still around, probably waiting for him to leave.

He didn't mind or care, assuming she didn't make trouble for him, but he hoped she didn't try to tempt him again or go after him. Had he known she was trying to keep her identity secret, he wouldn't have said anything, but there was nothing he could about it now.

When he came across his party again, they were surrounded by guards. "I wonder what happened: 'mortal matters', 'lesser beings', or 'the short joke'." He asked himself as he looked on.

There were only a few onlookers, less than ten actually, watching from the streets or by the houses, and he was the only one getting closer until a guard noticed him and pointed with his battle axe. "You!" The guard called out. "Stop where you are and put your hands in the air!"

He did as the guard ordered, putting his hands into the air and stopping, and watched as the guard, along with a few others, battle hardened soldiers working as guards for the time being by the look of them, and moved toward him.

When they got to him, only the one brandishing his weapon, and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him along. "Keep your hands in the air and walk!" The guard ordered.

He didn't speak, but followed the orders and walked beside and behind the guard who kept him held while the soldiers, hands on their weapons he noticed, walked behind the two of them. He was then thrown into the group of guards and soldiers, all of them with weapons out, and fell to the ground; not even trying to keep his footing.

"Are you ready to leave yet?" He heard his mentor ask.

He looked up and first saw his friend offering a hand to help him up, then his other colleague watching with distaste in her eyes, and finally his mentor with his usual expressionless face. He accepted the help up, it being not much of help but it was the sentiment that mattered, and nodded to his mentor. "I am, yes." He said.

"Good. Now then…" His mentor said before he began to search the group of soldiers. "Where is your commander? I will have words with him and sort this matter out." He said.

The mage put his hands behind his head and looked around with his eyes, ignoring the glares and gleam of weapons, before he knelt down, hands still in the air, and spoke to his friend. "What happened to encourage this?"

"You left, a body was found, and people saw you with us." His friend said.

"Ah, so it's my fault." The mage concluded.

"And you lead us on yet another detour." His other colleague said.

The mage rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me, princess." The response was a force of magic being aimed at him and hitting him in the head.

As he heard the back of his head, rubbing the wound, the soldiers shifted; a warning to the four of them to not use anymore magic.

Thankfully, about the same time, a more veteran-looking soldier stepped forward and directed his attention toward the mentor. "What the hell are you?" He questioned as he looked the mentor up and down.

"I am a magus, and I take it you are the commander?" He asked.

The veteran soldier gave a nod. "I am Captain Mortis, and these are my men." He said as he gestured to the soldiers around him. "Why shouldn't we have you four locked up in our containment camp until we decide whether to kill you or draft you?" He asked.

His mentor did not flinch. "I have already spoken with your Grand General in the past, and we have been granted rights to come and go here as we wish." He said, and then turned to his 'teacher's pet' type student. "Syndra, show him the note." He said.

Syndra, his other, less helpful colleague, nodded and produced an official note from the inside of her clothing and handed it to Captain Mortis.

The soldier looked over the note before handing it back. "Give my regards to the Grand General the next time you see him." He said, and then signaled for his men to part and make way for him. "Capture them." He said.

His mentor turned to his shorter colleague. "Veigar." He said simply.

White teeth showed out from night black fur when Veigar smiled, and then the area around the four erupted into darkness as five walls appeared and pushed the soldiers away from him, pushing some into a building, before they bent outward, spun with the ones they captured, and threw them away before vanishing.

The soldiers who weren't grabbed were unphased, and so they shouted war cries as they charged toward the four. The other three did not act as Veigar worked his magic.

The skirmish did not last long as he raised his arms out to his sides and emitted a force of magic, throwing the soldiers back several meters away before looking to the captain and making a grabbing motion toward him.

A second later, Mortis, his drawn sword trapped at his side by the black magic hand that grasped him, was pulled back to the group. "How dare you! You are making an enemy of Noxus! You will regret this!" He threatened.

The mentor moved forward. "No, we won't, or at least not any more than we already are as I'm sure you've read." He said. "Now then, we are going to leave, and, as we do, anyone following us will be killed and left where they drop." He added.

He then began to move away, with the mage, Syndra, and Veigar following.

As they did, the mage tapped Veigar on the shoulder and waited for him to turn his head and look up at him. "Are you going to let him go?" He asked, gesturing to the captain with a tilt of his head.

Veigar looked back at the captain, and then forward before making a backwards throwing motion with his hand.

The mage didn't even look back as he heard a startled cry, and then the sound of someone crashing into something. Veigar, more often than not, did not try to make friends or go easy on people.

It was a little bit of a surprise that the captain wasn't crushed by the magical hand of doom, but he didn't bother to look and see where he had landed.

The mage stretched his arms and placed his hands behind his head before he looked to his mentor. "So, where are we going now that Syndra's had a chance to revel in the downfall of her people?" He asked with a bored tone. He didn't care for or like the woman's attitude toward those she disliked, her desire to see first-hand their downfall, or her mockery of those she thought beneath her in one or more ways.

"I would prefer to stay and watch the executions take place today, but you had to go and kill one of the soldiers here." Syndra replied with an annoyed tone.

He decided not to continue the conversation. He was likely in enough trouble already, and it was probably best if he didn't have to worry about being thrown out of his bed in the middle of the night.

As they walked down the path, Syndra smiling to herself at the sights of soldiers bullying the citizens and Veigar keeping an eye out for trouble, the mage noticed the orange-skin toned man approaching. He guessed that the guards let him pass without trouble.

As the mage and man passed one another, the man spoke. "Bla nishva gsh hold."

The mage stopped in his tracks, leaving the other three to walk forward without him and the man to walk past him; only he broke his stride, and for good reason.

Those words felt like they had scratched at his very mind, making his head heard and causing him to just stop and stare forward. It was like nothing he had ever heard or felt before, and that wasn't the only thing…

"Goau? You're going to leave you."

The voice snapped him out of his thoughts with a start and he took a step back, and then looked around as though he had no idea how he had gotten where he was now.

After a moment, and when he got his breathing under control, he looked back at the three. "Wh-what? Did… did you three not hear that other guy we just passed?" He asked.

The three looked at one another, and then back to him and Veigar spoke to him. "We saw the guy, the one with orange skin?" He asked, and Goau nodded. "What did he say?" He asked.

Goau looked at the three; Syndra appeared disinterested, Veigar looked to be as concerned as a friend would be, and his mentor seemed to be in thought. "Well… he said 'Bla nishva gsh hold'." He answered, the words feeling alien and bizarre as he spoke them.

His mentor pushed Veigar and Syndra out of the way to approach him, his eyes narrowing. "Is that what he said? Those exact words?" He demanded.

Goau nodded his head. "Do you know the language?" He asked.

His mentor turned around then. "That language is ancient Shurimian…" He spoke as though gazing back at the past; one he had left buried.

"What do they mean?" Goau asked.

"Those words… they mean 'you missed the show', but only myself and a very few others should know even a handful of that language." His mentor said.

As they left the village, Goau paused to look around. When he did, he noticed something very out of the ordinary. "Xerath." He said, calling his mentor by name.

The magus looked back at him questioningly. "What is it now?" He asked.

"That man we passed… there were twenty Noxian soldiers here before, and now they're gone." Goau said as he continued to look around, and then, when he couldn't find anything, walked onto the road and began to search the ground for any signs of a disturbance. "I think he killed and disposed of them without a sound."