End of Days
"The land may melt, the sea may swell, the sky may fall… but they will come"
Prologue
It was a day as any other: the sun had risen that morning and it would set that evening; children had been born and elderly had died; pain had been endured and joy had been shared; there had been fighting, there had been peace – there had been a world; it was a day as any other. Deep within the Institute of War a battle raged upon one of the fields of justice. But this had become common place, often now the causes for matches were cared for by very few. Any small argument, any dispute, and a match was organised; it worked like clockwork, as fast and efficient as any good machine. To most of the population of Runeterra, the League of Legends was nothing more than an amusing game.
But it was on this day that something went wrong for the first time in a long time. As a novice summoner prepared to form another wave of minions, carelessly allowing his mind to wander off, everything went black. The air stood still and the light died: some shadow hand snatching the moment and asphyxiating it. Summoner and champion alike froze with confusion and fear, staring into the infinite abyss before their eyes. But as suddenly as it had begun – it came to an end. Sound filled the air once more, the wind whistled through the trees, and the light returned. All seemed normal. It was not until a few moments later that anyone realised: the darkness that had come had brought something with it.
There, in the dead centre of a middle lane, a single minion stood: a hunched and haunting figure standing spectral on the dirt – and as it opened its eyes, both Nexi shattered.
Chapter 1: The Creature From The Middle Lane
As he stepped into the darkness the hairs on his neck stood on end. He had been a summoner all his life, been part of the league from the very beginning; but never, never in all his days had he seen something like this. He had felt the air chill as Istvaan foolishly summoned the harbinger of doom, heard the horrified screams of champions as they ran from the tree that had come to life, even lived through the terror of the night culling – the days the summoners were killed by their dreams. Yet still, this was different, this felt far stranger: far more significant.
The old man took one further step, allowing the light of the dimly glowing bars to aluminate his face. There it sat, contained within a magical prison, the creature whose presence alone had destroyed two Nexi. It sat in a sombre silence, the yellow orbs that were its eyes, lying sunken in its shadowy face. "I told everyone else to leave the room. I wanted to speak with you alone." The summoner knelt down to reach the creature's level as he spoke – trying to feel whether there was evil in this accident.
Slowly it raised its head, small yellow lights, like that of its eyes, dancing around its face to form momentary expressions. "Why?"
"So it is true… you can speak." The summoner rose and messaged his brow. "But what are you?"
"I was about to ask you that… summoner. What am I? Why have you brought me here? What do you want from me?" The creature spoke in a strange tone, one that the summoner recognised; but from where, he could not recall. In a way it was as if the creature had two voices; that some quiet sinister hiss whispered just underneath the words it spoke.
The old man did not reply, instead he just stood there staring at the malformed minion. He pondered what powers had the abomination, whether it was deceiving him, whether it had dark intentions; when suddenly it surprised him. "Fine… then at least tell me your name. Please?"
There was then vulnerability in the creatures voice, like that of a lost child, a lonely isolated creature without a friend in the world. The summoner knelt down once more, his face giving the hint of a smile. "I am Altaarn Bastior, Arch Summoner of the League of Legends, one of the three."
The creature looked down for a moment, "One of… of the three?"
"The three: The High Council of Equity. There is I, Greyhamon Talon and Heyan Relivash. We are the heads of the Institute of War, of the League of Legends." As he spoke of his creation – his home, his friends – he smiled, beaming down warmly upon the being he had imprisoned.
The creature met his smile with one of his own: a small sphere of yellow light shot across his face, faintly painting the shape of a smile. It lasted for only a moment, but its sincerity was felt all the same. However, the feeling behind the smile disappeared as quickly as its light. "I… I would tell you my name now... but I do not have one."
"This is what I do not understand. You speak, you understand, you know I am a summoner, that I have imprisoned you. But you do not know who you are. How is this possible, little one?"
"I know I was brought here… by summoners… onto the field of battle. I know… I do not belong here." The creature spoke with a fear and uncertainty that replaced every ounce of suspicion with sympathy.
"But how do you know?"
It stopped then for a moment, the creature, it paused completely – unmoving as a statue. Slowly it lifted its head, and with its two yellow eyes glowing more intensely than before, it spoke. "It told me."
The darkness in the room, before somehow comforting, quickly became unnerving. Altaarn stared at the creature, somewhat worried at his words. "It?"
"The voice… it speaks… it…" Once again the creature stopped, but this time, as he did, the darkness surrounding him spread; the bars that held him withered, and all over a strange feeling took to the air. Through the darkness, the voice that once whispered under the creature's spoke alone – but now it did not whisper, it bellowed. "You wish the world you know to end! Or you will mortal… you will!"
Altaarn stumbled backwards into the shadow, fear growing within his soul. He stretched out his arm, forming a ball of light in the palm of his hand and shining it onto the barely standing magical cage. He stared down at the creature, whose entire form was now masked in a darkness that his light could not penetrate. "Cho?"
But all that responded was a deep and terrible laughter, one that echoed throughout the room and into the farthest reaches of Altaarn's mind. Slowly it faded and too did the shadow. Within a moment as fleeting as the coming horror, everything returned to how it was. The small creature, now visible, was down on its knees breathing heavily. Slowly it looked up at the summoner, and in a terrified voice whimpered. "It speaks."
I I I
If he could have screamed loud enough to reach all of Runeterra he would have. But terrified cries ringing throughout the Institute of War would have to suffice. So he ran, his feet crashing like boulders upon the floor, his legs a flurry of frantic movement, he ran towards the main hall, crying to all heaven in fear and despair.
"THEY'RE GONE! THEY'VE ESCAPED! THEY'RE GONE!"
The novice summoner finally crashed through the great doors of the main hall, and as he did every head turned to face him. "They're gone!" he shouted one last time before finally collapsing in a heap upon the floor. An old man in long robes approached the young summoner, sighing as would a teacher at a foolish student.
"Get up Garna. What on earth has happened now?" asked the old man as he hauled the novice to his feet.
"They're gone… they're… they've just disappeared." The young man, now seeming more like a small boy, stared at his master with sheer horror painted across his face and embedded deep within his eyes. It was then when the old man realised, that perhaps, something was not quite right.
"Who are, Garna? Tell me who are gone, and from where?"
"The prison cells… Cho'Gath, Nocturne, Brand… they're… they're all gone." The young summoner then grabbed his master by the collar, "and the eastern wing… the sealed chamber… the doors are open… the room is empty."
"Fiddlesticks has moved? And the others…" The old man looked about himself in confusion, how could any of this be? "Are you sure Garna? ARE YOU SURE!"
"Yes master… I'm afraid so."
"Very well." The old man pushed the boy aside and took in a deep breath. "Seal off all exits! Search the grounds! We ne…" But the shouting was suddenly silenced, as one of the smaller doors swung open with a furious speed.
For the second time that afternoon every head in the main hall turned with eager surprise to see what was happening. It was Altaarn and he was not happy. He stepped into the main hall with a look on his face that could have frightened a typhoon. Every pair of eyes in the room watched as he walked silently into the centre of the room, and patiently they awaited his word. But it did not come.
Instead someone brave enough to do so stepped out of the crowd and spoke. A great knight covered in crystal: Taric. "Arch Summoner, did you not hear, Cho…"
"I heard very well, thank you Taric."
"But aren't you…"
"I am." The Arch Summoner raised his hand, and with one monumental snap clicked his fingers. As he did, every door in the Institute of war swung open – a great gust of wind soaring throughout the mighty building. "MALZAHAR!" Altaarn bellowed with such a volume that the ground beneath him almost shook. So it was not long before a small purple figure began to grow larger in one of the distant corridors.
Slowly floating through the air, two wretched and hideous beasts at his sides, came the demented prophet that was Malzahar. He moved into the centre of the great room and there he took to the floor, patting the larger and more fearsome of the two creatures upon the head. "You called?"
"You must have heard of what has happened, or perhaps you even saw it coming, I for one don't care, but I know you know. This has your stink about it Malzahar: you and that disgusting pet of yours." Save for the Arch Summoner's words the room was enthralled into a deathly stillness. Nothing moved, no one spoke, all there was, was this confrontation.
"Don't be so cruel to Kog'Maw, you'll hurt his feelings. And what would make you think that I had any involvement in this?" The half glowing figure smirked as he spoke, his deep purple eyes lighting up, revelling in the situation.
"The creature that spawned today, the mutated minion, he says he hears voices, voices of a strange land that speak of a coming tide, that weave horrific and indescribable images. He told me this, right after he spoke in the voice of a friend of yours. And now four of the most dangerous creatures the institute of war has ever kept as prisoners have miraculously escaped."
"I hardly think…"
"Where were you the day Arch Summoner Talon fell ill? Don't you play the fool with me! You all too well he is sick! Caught by some half magical fever which causes him to have terrible hallucinations. This, all of this, it all wreaks of…"
But the summoner was not allowed to speak. Now, it would seem, it was the mage-prophet's turn. "So Cho'Gath has left. Why are you so surprised? Was it not you who said this would happen? Woe betide the day Cho'Gath grows weary of the league."
Altaarn huffed in anger, disgusted by Malzahar's insolence. "That was a long time ago, before we knew we could hold him!"
"Perhaps you could never hold him."
"Perhaps you freed him!"
"And how would I do that?" As the strange mage shouted his terrible pets began to growl. "You stand here hurling accusations at me with nothing! No proof what so ever! Have I not always been a loyal champion of the league?"
"You snivelling wretch! You did have something to do with this, didn't you?" All of a sudden, as before, Taric stepped in.
"And what would you do if I did, Taric? Is this some kind of delusional righteous challenge?"By this point Kog'Maw had begun barking, snapping his maw wildly in defence of his master. "You are a fool. But this is well known. You however, you came to this conclusion so quickly. But not quick enough. You are wiser than I thought you were Altaarn, I shall give you that. But now I must leave: the second sight ordains it." And in a wavy haze of distortion the mad prophet was gone.
"What does he think he's doing! That imbecile, he's going to start some kind of war like this!"
"Sir…" began Taric attempting to help, but he could not.
"Be quiet will you? Garna!"
"Yes master!" Replied the young man who was now even more shaken than when he had run into the main hall.
"Send a message to Zaun, that Arch Summoner Relivash must return as soon as possible, that it is an emergency." Altaarn then turned to the older man standing next to the novice. "Feramere, gather the most senior of the summoners and mages and join me in war room."
"Yes master." The old man, now almost as bumbling as his apprentice. "When?"
"NOW!"
