Finding the Darkness: Part II

She sat by a bed, blonde hair like white silk in the moonlight. Empty blue eyes stared ahead, lost in the shadowed creases and quiet stillness of another. Only his head was showing—dusty brown hair, closed, peaceful eyes. It felt as if any second they may open, warm, comforting, strong. It seemed as if in a moment he would rise from under the Demacian gold-winged quilt, and tell her everything would be fine. He had to be breathing. Living. Dreaming. His wounds were bandaged. She did them herself. He was comfortable, tucked in like how he used to for her, when they were kids at home.

The nightmares—every night when they came to her, she would find solace in his room. He would wrap her in his arms and banish the demons, tell her that soon the sun would rise, she just had to believe it would. He said one day, there would be a knight in shining armor. A knight who would be that sun as well.

She always dreamed of that knight. Her brother always told stories, brilliant tales of princes and princesses and happily ever afters. She found them hard to believe though, since her parents never had one. They weren't even parents, really—all they did was talk politics and money, lock them into a word of ice and order. Garen said that her knight, out there hiding, would take her away from their insufferable parents forever.

But that knight never came, instead Garen left. Then, she did too.

It was a hopeless pursuit.

She knew that.

To chase after her brother, and prove she was strong. To salvage some remnants of their more peaceful childhood, to find something familiar, something warm amidst the cold airs she had suffered through in Demacia. They called her country righteous and bright, but in reality, it was built upon callous, strict old beliefs.

When he awoke, perhaps he would see that too. He believed in Demacia with all his heart, devoted his past and future to it; did he refuse to see it, or did he accept it?

He couldn't have accepted it. Not even the most hypocritical of customs in the 'oh so evil organizations' held candle to the hypocrisy of their people. Yet…

Yet she could not bring herself to hate it, simply want to change it, and destroy their customs. While the nobles could knock their heads down a peg or two, the people themselves were kinder than their reputation told. Commonfolk, though partially controlled, were happy and light, though such things came from blindly following a more cruel hand.

It was horrible.

She gripped Garen's large hand. It was on the cold side, so she folded it into the blankets, thinking nothing of the strange scent mingling in the atmosphere. An unbearable dizziness had penetrated her skull since Heimerdinger's news and the bombing, partnered with the terrible anger boiling in her chest. All the thoughts swirling around, crashing into eachother and ripping walls apart made her want to hurl and laugh and cry all at the same time.

However, three things were certain.

Riven would pay for deceiving her.

Riven would pay for aiding the enemy.

And Riven would pay for hurting Garen.

She slouched over his bed, head in her hands, fingers digging into her scalp. A thin line of blood trailed down her chin, from where teeth dug into pale lips. In the kiss of the night she appeared as a ghastly image of an angel, haunted by hell, but beautiful as she was painful to look at. Outside the room Prince Jarvan gazed in, his face more distraught than it had ever been. A dark fatigue shadowed him, wrenching his heart in two seeing his childhood friends. Behind him, the dragon girl wore a similar expression, ears drooping, eyes cast downwards.

"Poor girl," she murmured. "How long will it take…?"

Jarvan forced the words out, shocked he could even speak. "As long as it does."

"Sooner or later she's going to have to accept it."

No reply.

"Sooner or later she's going to have to let him go."

She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "And so will you. I know you meant good but…she's gonna know eventually. Call it dragon sense or call it common sense."

He stared once again at the girl who was like his sister, and the man who was like his brother, before turning heel and walking off. Shyvana watched him go, spared a sorrowful glance to the light mage, and sighed. Her near-hysterics had subsided. Now she was softly sleeping next to what was once her sole true family, now so subdued that the previous form seemed surreal. Girl needed the sleep. It didn't take a beast's instinct to know that she was pushed physically and emotionally past her limits, and probably hadn't slept for quite a bit. Well, she hasn't either but you can't compare a little human girl to a ferocious reptilian creature.

"Sleep tight, kid," she muttered, silently closing the door. "Or are you even a kid anymore?"

The next day Lux awoke with a stiff neck and cold fingers. He throat was rough and constricted, but not as much as her muscles. After brushing away her brother's hair, disappointed that he had yet to stir, she rose from her chair and stretched. She swore every bone in her body cracked, and the experience was the single best thing she'd felt all week. And, in spite of the fact that she had slept in one of the most uncomfortable ways possible, she had also slept the latest she had in years.

No one had the heart to wake her.

She gave a troubled glance to her brother before walking out, feeling physically drained, but not hungry. She felt like she wouldn't have an appetite for a long time. For the millionth time she wished that this was all some illusion which would break any second now, but each passing moment just brought more pain. More of a tingle that this just might be real.

Lux found herself in the Institute's Central Hall—her feet had simply taken here there, and only when she inhaled the musky air and took in the staggering sight had she realized the security of the Demacian Quarters had vanished. What used to be a magnificent gathering place for champions was now deathly still. Not a living thing was present save for herself, and she swore her every breath echoed across the room.

The support beams had fallen onto the floor, making cracks and spreading a film of dust and rubble over every inch of it. No longer did the pretty tiles reflect her image back. Instead there was just the distorted glare of a pale face she didn't recognize but could be none other than hers. The color was sucked from the room, as if someone washed the hues of a painting. A cloud of luridness seemed to drape over, where stains of blood and empty shells and excess gunpowder gathered.

Banners, once bright and ornate with political advertisement lay in tattered heaps. Golden pillars were stained with soot, now black, and ash painted the ceiling.

The pedestal in the center was reduced to a stump, chunks of smooth marble stone collapsed around it. Bullets painted its perimeter, except for one spot near the base. It was smudged with a large stain of red, and that was where the bullets stopped.

It had been bothering her since the chaos of the bombing. Her attention had been drawn to that one little area even as she helped her brother to safety; it was as if her mind was hiding something from her, and she was scared both to find out what it was and to not know.

She approached the spot, the luster of her hair and shine in her eyes growing duller with each step. Her movements were light and wavering, as if she herself was a phantasm to the ruin. Lux crouched down and ran her fingers across the stained stone, gently. It felt as if pressing too hard would make it shatter and fold, forever lost.

In her gut she knew something was here. Something mystical. The equally rational and natural part of her, the part which the magic called to, knew it. Knew it well. For each kind of magic had a very peculiar essence, and to an extent, other mages could sense it too. It was simply being able to know the sensation of energy when it was about. Either who, or whatever caused the magic to be here was reckless, or she had grown more intuitive than she had thought. This was the first time, after all, that she had been in the presence of released energy that was not her own out of matches.

The red chipped off, landing in crimson flakes in her shadow.

It was blood. That was simple enough to comprehend, yet it didn't faze her like she thought it would. The stale copper scent, the slight stickiness even dry, she always used to be so squeamish about it. Such a quality was never favorable among field officers, yet the sight of blood always made her insides flip.

What was different?

She laid her palm over the stain, sighing. Lately the light mage couldn't figure out her own thoughts. They were a mystery now, and she desperately wanted an escape. Emotions hurt. Why have them?

Maybe this helped, this grotesque and bleak room in this grotesque and bleak situation. Maybe it would release her from her turmoil.

Or maybe it won't.

Maybe it would make it worse.

Lux exhaled, slowly sliding her hand away. To her surprise, it both slid and flaked, exposing a thin black residue underneath. The edges began to dissolve into thin air, as if the substance was picking itself apart.

"Lux!" A voice called. She snapped to her feet and whipped around, now bloodied hand falling to her side. Xin Zhao accompanied by Sona stood a distance away, each wearing painfully obvious expressions of worry.

"It's best if we stay in the Demacian Wing for now, Lux," he stated. "It's dangerous here."

He paused.

"Like, really dangerous. You saw everyone yesterday…people were at each other's throats. Literally."

She didn't reply. The warrior went on, and she noticed he was armed with more than his basic arsenal. "It's anarchy. That weird man's words were not lies; there's only comrades to defend comrades should Hell break loose again, and I'll bet that it will."

"There was no one to defend Garen, was there?" She shot back. Xin was more than a little shocked, not because she was bitter or sad, but because she was emotionless. "And like there was no one to defend Quinn," she added.

"We will all be here to defend you," Xin reassured. He spoke slowly, refusing to break eye contact. "And Garen will get his revenge. We have already sent out a team hunting down the Exile—in a matter of time—"

"No!" She shouted, voice crashing through the hall. In a fraction of a second rage possessed her, transfiguring her into the opposite of her former personality. Sona jolted, overwhelmed with the fury in that single word. There was a fierce dissonance, and a tightness about her. "I will be the one to give her what she deserves! For trying to take him away from me!"

The mage had a crazed look about her. Then it was gone. She put her hands over her mouth and stepped back, astonished. Her next words were docile and soft, melodic and minor. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…I don't know why I'm …."

Xin walked forward, still cautious, but with a gentle look in his eyes. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean it."

But I did, she thought to herself. And I do. I just didn't think I…wouldn't be able to conceal it.

"We'll go back now. Like I said, it really, really isn't safe here."

He extended his hand and continued walking forward. She stepped back, leaning her hands on the devastated pedestal base, shaking her head profusely. "No. I'm sorry Xin, it's just that…I need to be alone for a while."

He frowned. "There's no telling what will happen if you stay here. This was a warzone, which means there will be others coming back to investigate it."

"I can defend myself. I'm not a kid."

The warrior tried a smile. "I know you're not. But if you want to be alone, how about somewhere less dangerous?"

"Girl said she's fine," a new voice snapped. The three Demacians looked to the side to see the Piltover Sheriff and her Enforcer, each fully armed and not unscathed. Caitlyn sported a large bruise on her arm, and bandages all over her hands. By the way she favored one leg significantly over the other and winced when she moved, there was much more covered up. Her ego, however, remained unharmed, head held higher than ever and makeup not a smudge out of place. Even her trademark hat was perfectly clean as if it had never seen the face of battle.

Vi was a different story.

Yes, she still had a kind of powerful superiority about her, but her smirk had fallen to a scowl, and her hair burnt on the edges, more so on one side than the other. A large cut stretched from the corner of one eyebrow down to the same collarbone, and by the way it was still red, it had been bleeding for a while. Thick bandages enchased her shoulder. Little cuts and bruises littered her form, and the precious hextech gauntlets had a very worn look. Soot and gunpowder occupied every crack and corner, and Lux had no doubt it was because of the Loose Cannon.

She remembered it clearly. In fact, she guessed that almost everyone in the room remembered it clearly, for no one could miss the familiar smoke and whistle of a very unique rocket flying through the air. It probably would have killed Vi.

No, it definitely would have.

But someone was paying attention that day.

Fortunately for them both, Sheriff Caitlyn saw, heard, and sensed the rocket before it hit. Just in time Vi raised her shield and pulled Caitlyn behind her—no sooner had the shield risen than the missile collided. The shell itself cracked against density, but the raw power of the explosion was only held off for a few seconds. The shield was shattered, overpowering the gauntlets, and sending them along with several others blasted a distance away. The Enforcer and her gauntlets took the majority of the blow, and at the time, Lux swore the smash into the hard floor killed her.

Until now she assumed she had died. After that rocket, the entire room combusted around them. Energy bombs infused into the walls engulfed the room in a concussive blue fire, more people getting hurt by the flying chunks of wall and ceiling than the explosive device itself. They were only able to escape just in time, but Lux was not able to figure out where Riven had fled.

Coward.

She could hope that the killer had also been a victim of the bombing. Yet, that fact would slightly disappoint her. Getting crushed by a rock or shot would be too quick a death. She deserved much more for rending her brother's body and letting him bleed into his bed.

Lux bit on that thought for a while. Riven attacked Garen. Riven attacked Garen. Riven attacked Garen. It just didn't seem right, but it couldn't be anything but right. She manipulated her, pretended to be a friend, and then showed her true colors.

That was the only solution, for Heimerdinger had never before been wrong.

He was form Piltover, but was often found in Demacia. The genius did many odd jobs for their army, and she knew him as her battle coordinator. Surprisingly, he was just as good a tactician as he was an inventor. So not only did he supply them with strange weapons, but occasionally brewed up hypothesis on enemy plans which won them battles. And never, ever had he supplied a plan that was faulty in any significant manner.

Ever.

Yet it still wouldn't sit right. Her mind ached for revenge, but somehow, she felt—no, she knew—that actually dealing a final blow would also be like dealing a blow on herself. No matter how deceiving, and no matter how much she hated the Exile now, she couldn't banish the more pleasant memories of their kind-of-friendship from her heart.

Because Riven was the closest thing to a friend she had ever had. Not including Garen and Jarvan of course, who were like brothers.

She couldn't say she disliked her comrades. Xin Zhao, Shyvana, even Sona; they were nice, but it always seemed obligatory, and it never went beyond politeness and respect. In Riven there was curiosity, interest, and development….no matter how nominal.

Were those all lies?

"Wake up Blondie!" A rough voice yelled, snapping Lux from her thoughts. Vi had a tempered look, one gauntlet on her hip. "Never knew Demacians just dreamed all day."

Xin shot a pointed glare, to which she smirked. He then chose to ignore her, and turned his glance to the Sheriff. "If you don't mind me asking, what brings you two here?"

Caitlyn thought for a moment, eyes analyzing the three in calculation. "Our own little investigation, that's what. This may not be Piltover, but I'm not about to sit by as a terrorist does what she pleases. The setting was moved, but now is the perfect time to go after the Loose Cannon."

"That, and she tried to kill us!" Vi roared, "So I plan on killing her back." She slammed her fists together to punctuate the sentence, static forming where they made contact.

"Kill you, more like," Caitlyn corrected. "It felt like her target was you, and I was just a bonus."

"Hey!"

"No. Really. She had always aimed for you, Vi. Now is just another opportunity."

The Enforced snarled something in comprehensible, but guaranteed to be on the colorful side.

Lux's face lit up. "Well, they don't look like they're going to kill me, and I'm certainly not going to kill them."

Xin Zhao scowled. "Seriously? It's not any safer here with the Enforcer than here alone. No offense, Sheriff."

She shrugged. "None taken." Vi was too busy muttering to herself to notice the comment.

"Besides, I think the two are pretty busy as it is."

Now it was her turn to scowl. "It's not like they're babysitting me! You wanted ensurance, there's ensurance. I can take care of myself, if they happen to be here too than great, I won't bother them!"

"What's so important that you have to hang around here anyway? Can't you do your thinking-thing somewhere less compromising?"

"I'm not doing any 'thinking-thing'!"

"Fine then, mourning-thing!" As soon as he said that, his eyes widened. "Fuck…Lux I didn't mean that. I know you need time alone, but no one wants you to get hurt. Especially not after that."

Her mouth was in a tight line. He was sure she'd run off, or get angry, but no. She didn't. "There's nothing to mourn about," she replied coolly. "Garen isn't dead."

This time he didn't know what to say. Vi was stunned into silence during the whole conversation, Caitlyn moving them to the side to give them space. She was slightly interested at the whole situation…she and the Piltover crew had heard something happened, but she didn't think Garen was dead. Or was he? Lux sure didn't think so, but Xin most certainly implied it. Usually the light mage carried a sense of rationality, but at the moment it seemed gone.

"We're going to head back, then," Xin supplied at last after a strange glance from Sona. Most likely they conversed, but of what, who knew. "I'm going to have to let Jarvan know, though. And I'll come by again to check up on you."

Her face was stone. Taking no reply as appositive reply, he forced a slight smile and walked off. Sona paused for a bit, and stared at them. Her face was, as per normal, kind in one word. The very tips of her fingers ran over her Etwahl, such soft vibrations sounding through the air…so quiet Lux didn't know if she actually heard them, but in such harmony they had to be heard. Then Sona too hovered off, the ends of her dress gliding in the wind that wasn't there.

When she was gone, Vi wanted to ask about them. What happened? Did Garen get hurt? Did Garen die?

What were they hiding?

She furrowed her brow. Heimerdinger. He was definitely hiding something. He knew about the Demacian's problem, judging how he had been stuck in his room since, and only left to go to their hall. He had always been involved in their matters, but now he was more serious than ever. It bothered her, not that she cared for the little runt at all, but because if he was so nervous about something being up and won't tell them, then what's up is really, really fucked up.

And then there was Caitlyn. She was always stuck in her room, too, but for obviously different reasons. She could practically smell the Dickhead of Tomorrow's disgusting scent on her, and if that wasn't enough, well there was also the hickeys at the back of her neck which she thought no one could see.

Just the thought made her blood boil.

And the image made her want to crush his sneering head into a bloody puddle. It wasn't that she was protective of the Sheriff, it was just that she hated her man whore with a burning passion.

Okay, okay. She was protective too.

Maybe a little overprotective.

But what did Jayce have that she didn't? Well, other than an inch long dick and an oversized ego? He was weaker than her. He was dumber than her. And she guaranteed he has much less stamina. Then again, she did once hear them go at it for, like, six hours.

Vi fought the urge to hurl.

So to distract herself from the memory of the noises they made all night, she moved on to her second thought; that once they found Jinx, she'd skin her alive and throw her to Kog-Maw…he was pretty much a good little dog, with ten times more drool and a hundred times more humping.

Whilst she thought to herself, feeding her rage to move away from the disgust, Lux fell against the pedestal's base, sighing. A headache had come on, and she couldn't even recall her thoughts before Xin interrupted her. But in the corners of the warzone, two sets of eyes glowed in the dark.


Bah, sorry for the boring, slow, most likely typo filled chapter D: Next chapter's cast; if all goes according to plan, either more Katarina, Cass, Fiora and the previous cast, and maybe some Quinn! R n' R never gets old people... 3 oh and Happy Valentines Day!