The scroll her brother had so kindly given to her contained directions to go to one of the many portals the League had set up in the Institution. She would pay the guardsman and take a one-way trip to Noxus. This way she could get into the city undetected. Unfortunately, the way back was not so simple. Noxian rules on the teleport pads were far stricter that the Institutions. Logs were kept of all outgoing traffic and the wards were extremely strong. If time wasn't of the essence, she could probably work her way through them without setting off an alarm, but Jarvan had stressed expediency. Lux hurried toward the Institution, wringing her wrist out and cursing her brother's temper. She hoped that she got to Varus in time, it sounded like Swain's plans for the man were quite lethal.
Red eyes glittered with contempt as Swain's fingers moved in complex patterns, positions runes around the Ionian just so. Varus was stretched out on the floor of the wine cellar, now cleared for Swain's convenience. Sitting at the center of a complex magic circle, Varus played the part of a fly caught in Swain's web. Soon the man would be drained dry and Swain would truly be powerful enough to claim Noxus.
"You simple-minded fool, I was not even in a position of command during the Noxian invasion of Ionia, all those years ago. I laid a pretty trail and you were good enough to follow"
Really, the fact that the Ionian hadn't bothered to check facts was almost insulting to Swain. He never would have done anything so overt as attacking Ionia the way his predecessors had.
Varus flushed in shame. His arms and legs were bound with toxic energy, feeling his energy slowly being sapped away. Was this truly how his journey would end?
The Noxian grand general fell silent and went about checking the binding circle. Pallas was starting to thrash, panicked images of a hermit crab being pulled form it's shell flushed through Varus' mind. It took every piece of control he had to stop himself from screaming as his limbs started to unfold into writhing tendrils. He didn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of Varus' pain.
What had passed as bones and muscle now more closed resembled ooze turning in death throws. The slime seemed to be gripping onto Varus as it was pulled, slowly but surely, from his form.
Varus was dimly aware of the sound of a door opening and Swain's angry yelling.
A burst of light corresponded with the bursting of blood vessels, the places where his forearms had been began gushing blood. Pallas' anguished scream was a faint echo in his mind, darkness creeping in along the edges of his vision.
Lux spoke with LeBlanc's voice, telling Swain that he was not to go through with the ritual. The man seemed to believe her illusion, screaming at her in wordless fury as opposed to just attacking her. As he raised a hand to strike her she stunned him with a burst of light, knocking the surprised mage out. Lux was no fool. The victory was extremely shallow. She knew she had only been able to best the man because he had not been expecting LeBlanc to be using light magic.
She had probably given herself away, which meant they had to get out before Swain woke up.
Without Swain sustaining the magic of the separation ritual Pallas snapped back onto Varus. Both man and spirit seemed to gasp in relief as flesh fused together and blood flow became regular again.
"Why?" He groaned as the strange witch pulled him to his feet and started to hurry away from the ritual circle.
It was lucky that Pallas was in the mood to cooperate, the demon limbs supporting their charge where the small woman could not have.
The voice that came out of her lips belonged to someone much younger than LeBlanc, "I'll explain later, we have to go now!"
The night was dark as the pair made their way toward the gate. LeBlanc threw her cloak over the wounded man and abruptly stopped them.
"We must make it appear as if nothing is amiss, do not rush. Stay behind me, let me do the talking" she hissed in his ear before rising to her full height and strutting toward the gate.
Pallas pushed thoughts of stalking shadows and figures lost in a crowd, as if to agree with the sorceress. It was the push Varus needed to move behind her, bowing his head and shambling along. He felt cold all over, doing his best to stave off the shock of losing and regaining his limbs. He gritted his teeth in pain and rose to his full height. If he was to guarantee his revenge he would have to escape and recover. Perhaps the institute would heal him in time to play in his next match. It would certainly be better than a natural recovery.
They were not stopped at the gate, only reverent greetings given to his companion as they passed through. The pair made their way past the teleport pads, LeBlanc giving the confused guards a disdainful glare. The guards quickly looked away, not eager to earn the wrath of the Deceiver.
Any and all feedback is very much appreciated. It's going to be a while between posting chapters, my brain isn't cooperating. However, I'm going to do my best to finish this story.
