Thinking of translating game mechanics to 'real life', it's interesting to wonder about the effect of 'silencing' abilities. I like to think that silencing a fighter would seize their muscles, making it impossible for them to swing their sword, pull the trigger, release an arrow, etc. Silencing a mage would similarly keep them from speaking words of power, completing a casting motion, or essentially freeze the flow of mana (if it were like a chakra type of deal).

Also speaking of the 'game,' remember that in my universe, Champions are much more skilled than is allowed in a League match.

In retrospect, I should have split chapter 1 better since this one came out short… er... no excuses for the delay then, I suppose... It works out though cuz there's a lot of new things in this chapter. Oh and I rearranged things a little bit. This first bit of this chapter was the end of chapter 1. You can skip all the bits in italics if you've already read chapter 1.

Déjà Vu

With only a few minutes to spare, the pair slipped into the chamber that was the Institute of War's largest auditorium. Like an oversized classroom, the Grand Lecture Hall was half-circle in shape with rows of seating that descended toward the platform and podium at its heart. A giant white sheet of canvas hung behind the podium which could be used for projections. The floor was the same gold-veined white marble of the Institute's halls, the steps leading down to pulpit a contrasting black stone, and both contributed to the amplified buzz of a hundred conversations. It was well-lit with light from the hundreds of magical orbs that lined the ceiling and those that were nestled into ornate sconces on the walls, but with a simple wave of the hand a summoner could dim them all for presentation. Despite its size, the room was crammed with denizens from all over Valoran, from the most influential who had seats in the front, to the independent Champions, curious summoners, and concerned citizens.

Each nation sat in clusters in the rows closest to the stage, beginning with the Piltoveran statesman, a woman and two summoners who were seated front and center. Their Sheriff, Caitlyn, was in attendance though she was on stage, somehow looking prim on the edge of her seat though her custom-made rifle rested in her lap. Ezreal would enter through the doors behind the stage once the meeting was called to order. And though he normally accompanied Bandle City, the academician Heimerdinger, founder of the Yordle Academy of Science & Progress was among them, sifting through a handful of papers and conversing with the agitated Yordle scientist beside him.

To one side of the room nearest to the wall were the only two denizens of Bilgewater who had officially been chosen as emissaries to the still relatively lawless nation. The heartbreakingly beautiful bounty-huntress Miss Sarah Fortune was cleaning her pistols on the desk that could be pulled from the chair arm, occasionally sharing snide remarks with the man next to her. A rougher-looking sort than anyone else in the room, Gankplank still claimed to be Runeterra's most notorious pirate, though his face was appearing on fewer and fewer posters and he and Miss Fortune disagreed on political matters less and less.

The newly recognized city-state of Mount Targon was there, home to the warrior tribe, the Rakkor, and their spiritual cousin tribe, the Solari. Though they still lived separately, the two factions now worked together for the betterment of their people, evidenced by their equal representation in the Council of Valoran. A woman as vibrant as the dawn itself with her long copper curls and golden eyes, Leona was the spokeswoman for the Solari, accompanied by a new Solari Elder and summoner. At her side was Pantheon, a man who was the epitome of Rakkor spirit. Where Leona was clad head to toe in well-worn armor, his only defense was a simple plate vest and a helmet which cast most his face into shadow. Another summoner, hood draw over his or her face, and a female Rakkor warrior joined him, balancing their group in number as they sat stoically behind the Piltoverans, waiting for the meeting's start.

The Noxian representatives were off to the opposite side of Bilgewater, and would be complete once Katarina took her seat. A spot was being saved for her by the summoner Garen recognized as Niko, a man who had been instrumental in relaying Marcus's plans and Swain's movements to their motley army during the last battle. It seemed strange that Talon wasn't present and staring across the room at his sister, or that Marcus wasn't observing them all with his calculating eyes. No doubt the rest of the room was grateful; it was still difficult for many to accept the more cooperative Noxus that had risen under the DuCouteau's leadership.

Huddled together in the section of rows between Piltover and Noxus were those Garen knew: Jarvan, now King of Demacia and his sister Luxanna, his Chief Adviser. They were accompanied by Poppy, a yordle who served as a liaison between Demacia and Bandle City. Poppy's constant friend and protector, an animated Gargoyle named Galio, was poised near the entrance of the hall where he could observe all that occurred. A lady summoner and a council member sat in the midst of them carrying on a conversation.

Usually the representatives of Freljord would sit beside Demacia as the two nations were on good terms, but the room was surprisingly devoid of any icy denizens of the North. If what Jarvan had relayed to him about the situation there was true, Freljord was on the cusp of civil war and it would be impossible for Ashe or any of her people to leave the nation even for a moment.

Instead, separated still by a few empty seats, was the longtime mayor of Bandle City, Dennison Jadefellow, a handful of summoners and their most outspoken members of government, and their two premier military personnel, the scout Teemo and commando Tristana. All were perched on top of boosters that raised them to the level of the humans around them. Once the world might have looked down upon Yordles (literally and figuratively), but their commendable efforts in the last war had proven to all that they deserved respect.

Zaun, the one city-state which served as a bastion of resistance to order, was represented by those as chaotic as their city: their long-standing Chief Executive, Chairman Magnus Dunderson, an oily-looking individual who, although he should have been ancient, looked scarcely older than forty though his eyes had a mysterious blue glow; beside him, two members of the Liberal Council of Zaun; and two summoners that represented them in the Institute council of senior summoners. It was scarcely understood what motives Zaun had for their contrary actions, but that had always seemed the nature of the state.

Ionia rounded out the last of the organized groups, represented by two of their senior summoners, their most able-bodied Elder, and the Duchess Karma, all who were dressed in traditional robes and exuded a calming serenity. They were guarded by the Captain of the Ionian Guard, Irelia Lito who herself was flanked by none other than a former Noxian national, Riven.

And, as usual, despite halfhearted requests, there was no one present from the Shadow Isles.

Finally, scattered among the rest of the auditorium were those who weren't mandated to appear but had done so regardless. Summoners of varying skill level were present, drawn by the curiosity of whatever it was the famed Ezreal claimed dare threaten them all. Citizens from around the continent who wanted to stay abreast of world affairs looked out out place in the grandeur of the Institute of War, and they weren't the only ones. Many of the independent Champions, those with no allegiances to the primary city-states of Valoran, looked just as uncomfortable in the grand hall, somewhat excluded from the other Champions.

That was, of course, not enough of a deterrent for the resolute. Nami stubbornly ignored the stares in her direction; it wasn't often that one saw a mermaid on land. But the woman was utterly devoted to the preservation of her sea-dwelling people and learned about anything that could potentially affect them. Nidalee was another such oddity, a feral-looking woman who guarded the natural inhabitants of the Kumungu jungle with a single-minded ferocity. Anything that might threaten her family of cougars concerned her. Skarner was another, though his massive scorpion-shaped frame could only be accommodated by a place in the aisle. Since the last war, another of his kind had awoken from their magical slumber beneath Kalamanda, and the crystalline creatures were determined to ensure the safety of the world before awakening the rest.

Other Champions were simply residents of the Institute of War, those who lived there and perhaps had nothing else to do. Alistar, a minotaur and resident guard, watched silently from the back of the auditorium next to Galio, and an inexplicably sad yordle-sized mummy named Amumu was being given a wide berth. Janna fanned herself with a non-existent breeze and sent rejecting looks at her many admirers, though despite her apparent vanity she was a major participant in the politics of both Piltover and Zaun. The only independents who seemed to fit in were Taric and, surprisingly, Zac, who were chatting amiably with the summoners in the seats in front of them. Given his gracious disposition and gentle manner, it was hard for the Gem Knight to go anywhere and not befriend people. Zac, despite being an amorphous green goo that happened to be humanoid in shape, was incredibly friendly with everyone and a self-proclaimed protector of the innocent.

After spotting their respective parties, Garen and Katarina separated and pushed past those milling about in the aisles toward their seats. As they each settled in with greetings and apologies for their tardiness, the lights began to dim and a hush descended on the room. Footsteps echoed about the chamber as a hooded summoner approached the podium and set a small voice amplifying box on it.

"Emissaries, Summoners, Champions, and Citizens of Valoran. Welcome to the Institute of War. On behalf of Piltover, this meeting has been called to order. As with all open-forums, there will be an opportunity at the end of the presentation for questions. Please refrain from all questions until that time." The last bit of his speech was said with an air of exasperation; it almost never occurred that everyone could hold their tongue. Ignoring the whispers that his sentiment drew, the summoner finished, "It is five o'clock so we shall begin. Today's speaker is Ezreal, the Grandmaster Explorer of Piltover."

It was silent again as the summoner moved offstage and Ezreal entered from the door behind him. He was a young man, a popular Champion and proficient at magic though he spent all his free time exploring caves and cataloging the ancient history of Valoran. His face was drawn in seriousness but any professionalism was counteracted by the unruly mop of blonde hair that stuck up at odd angles due to the goggles perched on top his head. Despite the formality of the occasion, it seemed no one had thought it pertinent to remind him not to wear his worn exploring attire. He shuffled his papers and the amulet on his wrist flashed in the few bright lights which remained focused on him.

He cleared his throat to begin and someone called, "Is the big scary butterfly coming to kill us all, then?"

A ripple of laughter coursed throughout the hall. Even Garen couldn't help but chuckle at the comparison of Aatrox to a butterfly; he received a harsh swat on the back of the head from Luxanna.

But Ezreal seemed prepared for the taunts and ignored them in favor of pulling out a tiny cube from his pocket. Without a word, he twisted it and it expanded until it was a flat frame the size of two hands with a glowing screen inside. A few taps and it began to project an image onto the enormous canvas behind him.

The room immediately fell silent.

Ezreal gestured to the canvas and the picture cast on its surface, a painting on a crumbling rock. The painting was of what looked like a hole in the world, purple and black and swirling. From it emerged hundreds of monsters who bore uncanny resemblances to the League's most fearsome Champions.

Even Ezreal couldn't stop the smug look that crossed his face at the room's stunned silence. "No," he finally answered. "But the Void is."

Garen and Katarina were some of the few in the auditorium whose eyes lit with thinly veiled excitement; most others looked on at the image in quiet worry or blatant fear. There were those in the hall to whom the image came as no surprise. Ezreal, though, couldn't help but smirk at the thick blanket of tension that had smothered the auditorium.

"What is it about this image," he questioned, gesturing to the image shining behind him, "that scares you more than the idea of an ancient being that is the very personification of blood lust?" No one dared speak, so he answered the question himself. The explorer tapped a few more times on his screen and the image zoomed in on the creatures depicted in the painting. The monsters pouring from the Void portal looked similar to Cho'Gath, Kog'Maw, and Kha'Zix, but there were hundreds of them accompanied by Void creatures like no one had ever seen.

"Proof," he said. "There is undeniable proof of the Void's existence right here in our own League. Since Cho'Gath was first summoned through whatever barriers separate Runeterra from the Void, the others have come through without warning or reason. Yet we have spared little thought as to why the Voidborn were able to enter Runeterra. We have pushed aside the warnings and threats of a Void invasion as crazy notions, but why? After all, we've had the proof all along."

From the auditorium a Demacian citizen called, "The Voidborn were just created by the summoners of the old Council to scare us!"

Ezreal jabbed a finger out toward the speaker. "Excuses. Most people think it's all a big conspiracy. Though with the corruption that was discovered in the former High Council of Equity, that's not entirely unreasonable." Then his reasonable expression settled into one of haughtiness as he added, "But of course anyone with even one grain of intelligence could see that that's a load of crock."

A collection of indignant sounds rolled across the room at his disparaging statement and beside Garen, Luxanna groaned and slapped her palm against her face. "He has no concept of appropriate social standard," she lamented.

Garen smirked. "Are you sure he's not just an asshole?"

"Oh, stop it!" she snapped. "It doesn't matter anyway! People are just mad because it's true!"

Garen's started to say something about pride but was cut short as Ezreal continued to speak over the angry murmurs. "Ultimately it doesn't change the fact that we know very little about the Void and there've been too many excuses made for not expending the effort into researching the Void." He changed the picture to a shot of the ruined city taken from above and despite the anger in the room, the audience was captivated. "I found these ruins during my latest exploration. Tests by the Academy of Science and Progress's geology department dated rocks here to be 3,300 years old. That's 300 years older than the Shurima pyramids which were before the oldest known structure in Valoran.

"At first I thought these ruins, like Urtistan, were destroyed by time and weather." He switched photos again, this time to a photo of the ruins of Urtistan. "Urtistan was founded in 1200BCLE by our estimates. According to Zilean the Chronokeeper, it was destroyed in roughly 700BCLE which from tests and simulations we've run appears to be an accurate estimate. But look at the state of this place."

Ezreal clicked to an aerial shot of Urtistan, mostly reduced to sand and what few structures still stood were crumbling. Only the clock tower remained relatively untouched. "We know that Urtistan was destroyed during the third major rune war by mages, hence the ruins of the city. What the mages didn't destroy time did." He clicked again, this time to a close up shot of a small stone pillar barely poking from the ground. It looked as though once it might have been smooth and bright, but the surface was cracked and pebbly. "This is the state of things that have been sitting around in the desert for roughly 700 years. It stands to reason that one that's 3,300 years old would be little more than dust," Ezreal pointed out. "But compare the exceptional state of preservation of the ruins of this new city to Urtistan's magically preserved clock tower."

Before he could even flip back to the previous picture, the conclusion was clear.

"For those who somehow haven't caught on," the flippant explorer said, "I'll make it clear: This city has been preserved by magic. This destruction wasn't the cause of time and weather. For whatever reason, someone saw that this city's ruins were preserved underground. The question is, what for?"

Unaware that he too had been leaning forward expectantly in his seat, Garen jumped as Luxanna seized his arm with a sharp gasp.

"What!" he hissed, willing his heart to cease its sudden desire to leap from his chest.

But his sister ignored him, muttered under her breath, "I wonder," then without further explanation, grabbed her baton, clambered over him into the aisle, and ran from the auditorium. There was a moment of silence as Ezreal stopped speaking to watch her run up the stairs without a backwards glance, then he snapped back to attention as the door swung shut.

"L-uh, where was I? Right, um, we at the Academy of Science and Progress believe that this has to do with the picture of the wall paintings which I showed at the beginning.

"The first picture I showed you was a portion of a wall which depicts the history of the city and surrounding area. Much of the rest of the wall was standard stuff about its founding up until this picture with the Void. Unfortunately, the rest of the wall was destroyed, so there's no way of knowing what happened afterward, but we can infer this." Ezreal held up fingers with each point he made. "One, this city, or at least a sister city very nearby, survived a Void invasion somehow. There's no way if they hadn't that depictions of it would have made it into their city's history. Ya know, because no one would have lived to make the painting.

"The second point is mostly guesswork," he admited, "but we feel that the evidence lends to its credibility pretty strongly. This city was magically concealed in order to show their descendants what the Void is capable of. Unfortunately since the rest of the wall is destroyed there's really no way of knowing how exactly things turned out, but we imagine it has something to do with exactly how they defeated the Void."

"Well that bit seems pretty obvious," Katarina snarked in the silence, ripples of laughter following.

Ezreal whirled toward her, arms akimbo. "You got something you wanna add?" he questioned hotly.

She raised an eyebrow then flipped her hand nonchalantly. "I just think you're missing the big picture."

A red flush crept up his neck and he made a flustered motion at the screen. "Then what's the big picture?"

Her eyebrow shot up further as if to ask, 'You don't see it?' and she chuckled, "I'm just saying, if I had an enemy who knew my weaknesses, I'd bury the bastard so no one ever found out. Ah, hypothetically, of course. That city wasn't buried as some warning. It wasn't meant to be found."

Ezreal stared.

The room held its breath as hedealt with the confrontation to his previously held ideas. Garen, for one, was doing all he could to contain his laughter at Katarina's "hypothetical." She had tried to bury him a hundred times before, after all, and it was a general part of her job as an assassin.

"I… yes," the explorer finally ground out, "That does… make quite a bit of sense. And explains the missing wall." Heimerdinger and the other yordle scientist were whispering furiously as they scribbled in their notes. "Admittedly our presentation today was rather rushed and, ah, it could be that we missed some of the more, er, noticeable aspects."

Before the volume in the room could rise above him, Ezreal interjected, "H-however! This just further emphasizes the point I came to make today! We need to know how the Void operates and how it could possibly be defeated should the event arise. My proposal today is that the united Valoran city-states mount an expedition for the one place which should have the most knowledge of the Void: The city of Icathia!"

The room did not take his proclamation well. Howls of outrage went up and several citizens got to their feet to make for the door.

"Icathia isn't real!"

"-Malzahar and his crazy followers-"

"People, please," Ezreal shouted into the amplifier. "If you'll just listen-"

Ezreal never finished his statement. Near him the lights dimmed, desaturated. A burst of violet energy exploded on stage, ripping a hole into the fabric of existence, a gaping maw into the unknown which sealed in a glimmer of purple particles as a figure emerged and stepped onto the hardwood platform.

He was humanoid in shape but hardly what could be considered human. The bare skin of his arms and chest held a sickly blue hue and rippled with an undercurrent of thick muscle. A metal mask covered his entire head, leaving slots only for the burning yellow eyes which peered out from beneath. The mask, it seemed, was a respirator as evidenced by the tubes which curved over his shoulders and under his arms to the tank on his back.

Barely two seconds had passed since Kassadin's emergence but already Caitlyn was on her feet with the barrel of her rifle inches from his face. Champions and summoners were poised to move and citizens to flee, but no one budged, all anticipating the next move but no one willing to make it.

Kassadin casually inclined his head toward the Sheriff and the surprised Explorer beside her, then glanced down to the glowing amulet on Ezreal's wrist. It now sported the limbs of a crossbow made entirely of magical energy which had materialized on either side of the amulet. "To think, it has been here all along," he said, so quietly that only Ezreal and Caitlyn could hear him.

"What are you doing here, Kassadin?" Caitlyn demanded, her tone clipped, business-like, and loud enough for the room to hear through the voice amplifier.

The intruder snapped his yellow eyes to her and, with the undertones of something resembling mirth, replied, "This meeting is an open forum, is it not?"

She wasn't swayed. "There's a door. Why didn't you use it?"

Katarina suppressed a shiver of déjà vu that ran down her spine. The door…

"I mean you no harm, if that's what you're concerned about and as a Champion of the League I am protected by the laws of the Institute as well." Then his eyes narrowed and he added, "But you must listen to me."

There was the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked which implied, 'I don't listen to anyone,' but Ezreal threw out a hand, signaling for Caitlyn to wait. "Is it about the Void?" he asked, lowering his hand and causing the sights of the magical crossbow to dissipate.

"You cannot go to Icathia," the masked man commanded. "If you go, the amulet must remain."

The explorer smirked, "Sorry, this thing has seen me through life and death situations. Give me a really good reason why."

Kassadin shook his head. "I cannot. Not here. But you must believe me. If you refuse to yield then I will have no choice but to ensure that you heed me."

"Fine let's talk," Ezreal replied. "Name the time and place."

"I need your word first that you will not seek Icathia."

"See, we're just going in circles 'cause I can't guarantee that until I know," Ezreal pointed out.

Kassadin closed his eyes. "Then I'm sorry."

It seemed as if all time stopped with a flick of his wrist.

Caitlyn twitched to pull the trigger but found that she was frozen. Spells died unspoken in the throats of summoners and weapons remained still. The momentary silence was all Kassadin needed to grab Ezreal by the wrist and open another rift to through the Void.

Focused so as not to lose her train of thought, Luxanna Crownguard trotted through the empty archive stacks. Her baton danced between her absentminded fingers sending patterns of light skittering across the spines of ancient books. Ezreal's comment about the city preserved by magic had sparked something in the recesses of her brain, something she'd read once, but the exact topic was maddeningly elusive. If she could just find that book or at least one on a similar subject, she was sure it would come back to her.

So fixated was she on her investigation, Lux did not sense the dark energy coming up on her until it was far too close. She whipped around squeaking an incantation for binding, but the spell whizzed down the narrow path of bookshelves striking nothing before fizzling out at the end of the row. By the time the words had left her lips, the slight weight of five claws were already resting against her throat.

"What a cute little mouse I've caught," a honeyed voice crooned, taspping razor-sharp nails against her skin. "Putting her cute little nose where it shouldn't be while the cat gets closer and closer."

Being caught off guard was frightening; Lux was the one trained to surprise, not the other way around. "Who are you?" she stammered, unable to keep the slight tremor from her tone. She grasped her baton in a white-knuckled grip but knew that her vocal cords would be ripped from her throat if she so much as began a word of power. Useless, useless.

"Not important, seeing as how I'm not the one you should be worried about," the decidedly female voice answered. "But I'm sure you'll figure it out. I'm just the messenger of a warning."

Summoner or Champion if they can sneak so well, Lux calculated. More likely to be a Champion because she relies on a physical threat. Stealth magic... opposite of mine. Darkness. Roster of female Champions who can become invisible... "And what's the message?" she questioned, not feeling as soothed as she hoped she would at coming to the most logical answer.

She could tell her assailant was smiling as she replied, "It's lucky you stepped out. The trap is being sprung without you inside. The other little mice won't be so lucky. Especially the pretty blonde one."

"The other...?" Lux began to ask but the realization of the words registered with a sharp intake of breath.

The other woman let out a breathy laugh. "Maybe you should run along before something happens. Or better yet, wait until it does. You might enjoy the chaos."

"Why warn me at all?" the blonde demanded, earning both another laugh and the painful shock of her skin breaking. She shivered as the very real possibility of her untimely death rushed back to her.

"I do so hate predictability," her attacker chuckled and that was that. The grip on Lux's neck loosened but when she turned, there was nothing, though she hadn't expected any less.

One of her gloved hands went up to her neck and came away bloodied, but seeing it seemed to snap her from her reverie. Bringing her baton to a ready position, Lux manipulated the light around her so that she too was unseen, then tore off through the archives.

From amongst the shelves, Evelynn watched with a smile on her face as she sucked the blood from her nails. In the past it hadn't made much difference whether or not the Shadow Isles were abreast of continental affairs; each denizen of the Isle had a personal agenda with little loyalty to the rest. It wasn't until recently that the mysterious inhabitants of the Isle had begun to coalesce. Not that the rest of the world realized this because it worked well for the islanders to keep the chaff ignorant. So though the Shadow Isles never formally answered the summons of the new Valoran Council that was not an indication that a representative did not attend the meetings.

She knew that Luxanna Crownguard was smart and had probably already figured out that it was she who warned her, but it was unlikely that she would draw the correct conclusions for it. Such an action was certainly not in Evelynn's orders, but Mordekaiser could be so unimaginative sometimes; it would be far more entertaining this way. If her actions just so happened to be such that a high-ranking Demacian diplomat and Champion would now owe her a favor, well, it was just that much sweeter.

With a dark chuckle, the Widowmaker followed in the little blonde girl's footsteps to see through the rest of her task.