ONE FELL SWOOP - CHAPTER 1
Genres: Drama, Fantasy, Romance, Action
Author's Note: Hey Readers! So I've finally finished the first chapter, and again, I want to emphasize that this story/fanfic is still mostly in the planning process so the plot-line is still subject to very tentative changes. At this point, I'm still in the experimental process, which is why the update intervals for the next chapter or two will remain relatively long. However, feedback and comments help speed up the process as I DO take into consideration the suggestions and critique of my readers so please, don't be afraid to say something about the story, even if it's negative.
As I stated in the Prologue's note, Riot has made massive lore changes so anyone confused with my use of League terminology, just search up "dev blog Exploring Runeterra" on Google and it'll help clear things up. If there are any questions about the AU material, then feel free to PM me and I will try my best to explain things without spoiling the story ;).
Otherwise, Enjoy the Chapter!
CHAPTER 1: The Calling
POV START:
The Grand Hall was quite peaceful when Mages, Champions, Spectators and Match Moderators weren't rushing about. Its ceiling soared a hundred metres above the swirling marble floor covering the entirety of the place. Warm rays of sunlight shone through the glass windows that stretched just as tall as the ceiling and lit up the Hall with a beautiful glow reciprocating off every surface it touched. It was here that I, along with my two accomplices were sitting at a large mahogany desk, across from a man so bored he looked as if he would be willing to jump off the top of the Grand Hall just to add more spice into his life.
"Just choose a name, it's not that difficult of a task." A girl's voice rang to my left. That was probably Rosalyn, whom we usually call Rose. See—I had my eyes closed for the past 15 minutes trying to think of a name that would suit me, and my accomplices were getting impatient.
"Rose, stop distracting me, I'm trying to think right now," I replied, slightly irritated.
"To be fair, you've been trying to think for the past 35 minutes," said a boy's voice to my right. That was probably Ekko.
"The past 35 minutes?" I said, letting a little surprise slip into my voice. "I thought it had only been fifteen. And hey, I'm not a person who just enters his real name into registrations like this."
Rosalyn chimed in. "For a guy who's mentor could manipulate time itself, you're terrible at keeping track of time. The clock's ticking, little guy. We still have to register for our provisional matches."
Ouch. Little guy stung a bit. I tried to think of a cheeky retort.
"Well—ehm—I'm not my mentor. I have my own set of skills. Oh and not to forget the fact that I once—"
"Kaleb, just choose a fuc—" Ekko shook his hands in the air an exasperated manner.
I couldn't help but smile. "Woah, woah, woah. Mind your language my friend we have a lady in the group. Sheesh Ekko, I did not know you had that in you." I gestured to my left hand side.
"You little piece of scummy—"
"Alright, alright!" said Rose quickly. "Ekko, we don't have to—"
I stood up abruptly, knocking over my chair which crashed onto the marble floor with a loud bang, scaring both Rose and Ekko half to death, and indeed, putting a bit of spice into our registration consultant's life.
"Kaleb, have you gone insane—" Ekko started, but I cut him off.
"I got it! I know what my name as a Champion is going to be."
The man sitting across from us leaned forward and tilted his head. "And that's going to be, young man?"
I exhaled deeply, confirming with my deepest desires. In the end, this was the only name that I felt fit me best.
"Yes. From this day forth, you will know me as Kassadin."
POV END
. . .
Four years ago…
The Lunar Festival. Considered by many as an outdated Ionian cultural antiquity, yet still, the village centre was packed with people. The moon shone quite brightly overhead and lit up the village with an abundance of natural light. Strangely, though the moon shone coldly, the night was warm. Some villagers were behind their carts, as if still selling fruit and produce after working hours. Others were simply meandering around the beautiful fountain that was built around the village's Mother Tree. With all the conversations, the inhabitants of this Ionian village formed quite a choir of sounds.
Terrible sounds.
Suddenly, the conversations were no longer conversations. Simply indiscernible, obscure sounds.
They were screaming.
Cries of agony filled the night with an orchestra of pain.
This was no Lunar Festival. It was all wrong. It was a bad omen.
It was a Blood Moon.
A crackling followed, as the flames that licked at the toes of the dead rose and burned at flesh, burning at fabric, burning at wood—burning at everything in sight. If the village were a vibrant, living being, the fire ate it alive. Soon, the village centre was packed with even more bodies—dead bodies.
The flames grew higher and higher, creating a colossal bonfire of death and destruction. This was not a fire of renewal. It was a fire of spite, madness, and evil. Nothing would be reborn of this village. Nothing would be salvaged from it.
This tragedy was the work of Antoine Milano, the leader of a murderous band of thieves and bandits, all insane and villainous to the core. Their wicked hearts beat with giddy happiness at the sight of suffering and their thoughts, nothing short of sadistic. Sometimes, they wouldn't even steal anything from their victims, for to them, suffering was a much more valuable and priceless product than an entire treasury.
At the epicenter of all this evil, terror, and destruction, witnessing it all was a young girl, no older than fifteen years of age. She was reduced to a shell of emptiness, for the shock had taken away her voice, the pain had taken away her thoughts, and the loss had taken away her heart. She collapsed to her knees, next to the Mother tree, as everything around her burnt, but miraculously, she was untouched, as if a circle of life determinedly surrounded her in a loving grip. The wall of flames around her hid her from the band of thieves.
"You must live on!"
Startled, the girl glanced around with fear in her eyes, but as she could not locate the source of the voice, she reverted back to her state of emptiness.
"You must not give up, my dear."
The voice was distinctly feminine and familiar. Very, very familiar. As her emotions briefly returned to her, tears streamed from her eyes.
"M-mother? Are you there? Speak to me—please!"
After a brief silence and another moment of crackling from the flames, the voice answered.
"I'm sorry my dear, your mother's gone—gone to a better place. She has moved on from life."
This only caused the girl to weep more intensely. Her sobs shook her shoulders and she choked, convulsing violently.
"My dear, you must listen to me," The voice said kindly. "My name, or rather, what I am, is Anima. The Guardian of Souls."
A brilliant, golden light burst forth from the roots of the Mother tree, then the rays of light bent together in impossible ways until they took the combined form of a humanoid figure of light. Then, reading the girl's thoughts, she spoke again.
"Unfortunately, my abilities cannot bring your mother back to life. But what I can do, is to give you a new life. I pray you will make great leaps in this new life. Forgive the past but do not forget it."
Anima pointed up at the dark night sky.
"Look, my child, someone has come for you."
Something—no, someone was falling from the sky at an incredible speed. An aura of dark violet emanated around him. As he got closer to the ground, he spread his arms and the black cloak that trailed him immediately expanded, slowing his fall. The young man landed gracefully before the girl. As he strode towards he girl, the cloak that concealed his entire body shrunk behind him and through some strange, dark magic, morphed into a cape that dropped down to his heels. The transformation revealed that he was dressed in all black formal wear, a black suit, black dress shirt, black tie, black dress-pants. He even wore black gloves.
However, his face remained concealed by what appeared to be a white porcelain mask, with eye-like black markings where his eyes should have been. His long black hair was tied back in a bun.
"Good evening milady." The young man offered his hand to the girl. "How may I be of service to you?'
Up close, the girl could see, the cape was not made of fabric but large jet-black feathers—a crow's feathers.
Anima interrupted him before the girl could think of an answer.
"Zachariah, thank you for coming at once. I'm sure it may have been . . . difficult to respond so quickly. You must take care of this girl until she is old enough to fight for herself. Make sure either of you do not do anything foolish."
"It is my duty to protect you with my life," the young man told the girl in reassurance.
"Y-you. You're scary. Who are you?" The words could barely escape her lips.
Anima scolded the young man gently. "Zachariah, my dear, you're frightening her."
Zachariah bowed apologetically. "I'm sorry, milady."
He slowly, carefully, removed his mask, revealing a warm, handsome, smiling face. The girl relaxed slightly. He crouched down beside her and put his arms around her.
"Don't worry, young one. I'll take care of you from now on."
The girl, with her family dead, her village massacred, and still in a state of incredulous shock could only search for comfort, and she found it—in this young man's warm, reassuring embrace. Under these traumatic circumstances, she found immediate trust in this stranger and the glowing, angelic figure known as Anima.
"I have faith in you Zachariah. Just as you once put your faith in me." Anima's voice grew softer. "My time has come. I am no longer needed in this world, until the Calling summons me again to preserve a great cause."
The angelic figure turned to look the girl in the eye. "This time, the Calling summoned me to protect you, my dear. You hold . . . a particularly special destiny. As such, it is not your time to die yet."
With this, she slowly dissolved into golden specks of dust and faded into the wind. Zachariah's words brought the girl's attention to reality.
"Little one. I have something for you."
He reached behind him and pulled a dark cloak from within his cape. It was identical to the one he was wearing—almost. It was smaller, fitting for the girl, and its feathers were smoother, more beautifully intricate.
"This is made from a raven's feathers," Zachariah explained. "My cloak is that of a crow's. Those who know of my existence call me the Crow Prince."
The girls' eyes widened. "You—you're a prince?"
Zachariah laughed heartily. "You could say so. I once was, but not anymore. You can just call me Zach."
"Zachi. Zaki." Said the girl. Zachariah grinned and nodded.
"Come along now, let us fly."
As the girl looked on in awe, Zachariah's cape split cleanly into two halves and morphed into giant, black wings.
"I'll carry you so hug me tightly, I don't want to drop you."
She complied and he hoisted her up so he could get a firm grip around her waist. She in turn, wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her head onto his shoulder. She didn't realize how tired she was from crying until this very moment and let out a sigh of fatigue. The girl had no more tears in her.
Even as Zachariah embraced her and patted her back with sympathy, only one thought took place in her head.
"I hate them. I hate them all. I hate all of you humans," For she could do nothing now but hate, and in her blind spite, she unconsciously made a few exceptions who were exempt from her hatred. Her new protector, Zachariah, was the first of them.
. . .
"Miss? Excuse me, ma'am?"
The man's curt voice brought her back from her episode of pondering.
"I'm sorry, what?" she replied dumbly.
"Ma'am, your name. Have you chosen a name yet?" The man repeated.
As she blinked and looked around her, she saw Kaleb and Ekko staring back at her, with their classic, playfully taunting grins.
"Uhhh, my Mage name. Right." Rosalyn scratched the back of her head, searching for a meaningful name.
Damnit. I had a list of names prepared before I came here. How can I not remember any of them. She thought harder.
Phoenix? No.
Lynx? Lame.
ProHunter? Disgustingly Cheesy.
Nightwing? Cliché.
Ugh. I had a really good one befo—
"Rayven." She said suddenly. "My name will be Rayven."
From the glint in Kaleb's eyes and the approving smile from Ekko, she could tell the name suited her. Well of course it would, afterall—
"Thank-you. We will have you fully registered within the next hour. Welcome to the League of Legends." The man smiled at bowed his head.
"It's time." Kaleb said as he grinned from ear to ear.
It was time to show the world, who the three of them really were.
Hope you readers are enjoying the story so far! If you have any thoughts or suggestions about the Story-in-progress, let me know in the Comments/Review section below. If you liked the chapter, follow the story! If you LOVED it, Favorite it!
Peace!
~Nightrous