N.B. Hello, dear readers. I apologize for the rather long updates, but I hope you're enjoying them as much as I'm enjoying writing them.

The contingent broke out of the forest and into another rolling plain of waving, sweet-smelling grass just as the sun began to descend towards the horizon. Eager to leave the woods behind, everyone seemed cheerful as they broke pitched tents and built a giant bonfire.

The smoky smell settled into the air as they cooked spits of meat, and the barbarians broke into a war song, recounting their feats in battle.

Tryndamere's voice, while gravelly, was surprisingly tuneful. Erinae blushed and shook her head when Varadi gestured for her to sing.

In Demacia, it was custom instead to sing of failures in battle. Ryland recounted his fight with Zed:

"The master of shadows

Threatened all I held dear

And with my quick senses

I blocked his blades.

But none were prepared

To counter his strikes -

None were prepared

For his multiple shades."

Jarvan waited for the song to pass to him, then added a verse in Demacian dialect:

"The dragon's den was stony and sere

Awash with dark gray flame

And though unafraid I came

I left that cave and ran in fear."

The barbarians glanced at each other. The Demacian prince rarely admitted any weakness, especially not in public. Jarvan's smile was small and wistful as he recounted the tale of the dragon chasing him away.

Despite the gaiety, Ezreal felt his stomach drop lower and lower with each hour that passed. He knew darkness was coming – that it would fall over the earth like a cresting tide, leaving the moon and stars scattered across the sky in its wake like shells on a shore.

The knowledge didn't stop the sensation of terror from creeping into his skin.

Every time he caught sight of Kat, he got more and more nervous. His sweaty hands kneaded his clothes. He shivered if she got too close.

Lux will probably forgive one time, but two? She'll wonder why I didn't prevent it.

He stared blankly at the sky, watching the colors shift from molten red, to topaz, to a silky gray.

Rain was rolling in. He could feel it in the electric prickles running across his skin.

Is it my fault?

He didn't know if he meant the abuse or the coming storm. It could be either.

He thought he may be releasing Pulsefire energy into the air. Maybe the storm was feeding off of him, gathering his power into the dusky folds of its clouds.

After all, certain Pulsefire sorcerers had been banned from Runeterra for spawning tornadoes and hurricanes.

As for the abuse…

If only I looked more manly and not so weak. No one would molest me if I looked like Graves. Or Jarvan.

The first frigid drops of rain brushed his face. He set up his tent with numb hands, still unsure of what to do. He couldn't very well tell someone he thought Kat was crazy – not when he was always on the verge of Overflow himself.

No, there was nothing to do but wait.

While the cheerful members of their merry band said their goodnights to one another, Ezreal crawled into his tent, still fully clothed. He covered up the transparent roof – the huge, black dome of the sky made him feel helpless and exposed.

After a few moments, he noticed his fingernails glowing the same cool blue as the Voxstone, their light as dim and secretive as will o' the wisps. His breath caught.

The stone had absorbed as much energy as it could hold.

Pulsefire, he thought. What would that Overflow even do? I don't want to find out.

He pulled the plates and cables of his Overflow suit from his pack, but hesitated, holding the breastplate in his hand. If he had a nocturnal visitor, the suit would be just as effective as ropes or cables. He'd be tied down by his own will.

She has me trapped. If I wear the suit, I'll be totally helpless when she shows up. If I don't wear it, I might Overflow and kill us all. I have to let the Voxstone release some of its pent up energy…

A low roll of thunder rumbled across the night sky, like the snore of a vast, ancient sea-dragon. He clutched anxiously at the Voxstone and snatched his fingers back with a hiss of pain. The stone was burning hot.

I have to take it off. If this one explodes, the shards are going straight through my heart.

Moving carefully, he plucked the pendant from his neck and picked it up with the very tips of his fingertips. As he did, the rain sped up, coursing over the fragile tent like a waterfall.

He recalled a reading from one of his textbooks: "The instant an artifact breaks contact with its user, it dispels its charges freely into the air."

He eyed the gem, glittering cheerfully on the floor of the tent. I shouldn't have worn it for so long. It's so overcharged that it's dangerous now. No wonder Ryland and Soraka think I need babysat. I keep doing stupid stuff like creating weapons.

His thoughts were interrupted by lance of lightning, followed by a whip-crack of thunder. In the tiny tent, the sound was almost deafening.

His hearing grew more sensitive as the lips of his tent rustled, then opened. Ezreal backed away slowly.

Katarina's hair was soaked against the sides of her throat. Her wet black t-shirt clung to her breasts and belly. Ezreal shivered when she looked at him, tracing his body with her eyes.

"Geez. It's a freakin' monsoon out there."

"Yeah…I guess it is." His eyes never left her as she wrung her hair out onto one of his towels. Her gaze fell idly on the Voxstone.

"That's pretty nifty. Kinda like a solar-charged nightlight."

Goosebumps rippled across his skin. Can't let her get to that.

He took a shuddering breath. "What do you need, Kat?"

"You, of course." She sat down, gripped her knees and sighed. For a moment, her innocent posture almost fooled Ez. He shook himself to remain alert. Katarina tilted her head. "Ryland seems to think you didn't enjoy yourself last night."

Ezreal's thoughts fluttered in a panic. "He'd – he'd be correct."

"That's a shame," she murmured, edging closer to him. "I could make it better. We could try again."

For Ezreal, team seemed to slow as he gazed into her emerald eyes. Sometimes time did this while he was on the Rift, under a lot of stress. His small, latent Empath powers told him that Katarina was, if not possessed, in an altered state of mind. The other parts of his brain were cycling through everything he'd ever read about female temptresses until he hit on a relevant fact – struggling did no good. It was best to give in, then act.

I have to make this believable. It feels like I'm having a heart attack.

Ignoring the tides of energy rising in his body, Ezreal focused on the present.

"Actually, I don't think I'd mind that at all."

He placed his hand on the back of Kat's neck, letting his fingers lightly brush her pulse points, then leaned in. His lips were hesitant, trembling against hers. Then he let the kiss grow slower, deeper. The scent of cinnamon almost overwhelmed him.

He let his hands drift to her breasts, which were still wet with rain. She hadn't even worn a bra. Lifting up the drenched fabric of her shirt, he bent down to them, nuzzling them, gently pinching her nipples.

Lux always liked that. Kat seemed to, too. She arched her back.

His tongue moved delicately across her breasts, nipping the center of them. Sighing with pleasure, she buried her cold fingers in his blond hair.

He flinched as her hands roved over the bruises she'd left the night before. She seemed to be doing it on purpose. Eventually the pain blended into his sweet arousal, like swirls of dark chocolate against white.

She kissed him, cuddling up to his chest for warmth. The feel of her bare skin against his clothed body sent a slow wave of desire pulsing through Ezreal. She was the vulnerable one this time, his for the conquering.

He was so involved that he almost missed the tiny click accompanying the blade at his throat. "Poor child. I know you're feigning. Well, I can put you out of your suffering."

His heart dropped.

Ezreal struggled, but her grasp on the back of his neck was strong. She held him against the tip – it was rapidly sinking into his flesh, a white-hot pain.

The world seemed to become sharp and brilliantly lit. Ezreal recognized it as a stroke of lightning even as he threw himself backwards, aiming his boots squarely at the center of Kat's chest. She flew into the roof of the tent. The tiny structure was rapidly tipping in her direction. Ezreal would be on top of her in a moment.

He felt around for the Voxstone and put it around his neck. It was a living ember, a fiery coal against his chest.

Kat somehow recovered her footing and leapt to him, pinning him beneath her, the dagger pointed at his heart. He grabbed her wrists and struggled to break them. Thunder engulfed them in an ocean of sound.

He couldn't bend her wrists – he was a historian, not an assassin. She had too much training.

As the blade sank closer and closer, the familiar, dizzying feeling of Overflow washed over Ezreal.

The edges of his vision began to flicker with sparkles of gold. His heart slammed against the wall of his chest as his senses heightened. He felt like he could see everything for miles, hear the rustle of crickets miles away.

The sweat froze on his skin, even as time itself came to a halt. He had time to think whatever he wanted. The next white-hot flash of lightning revealed Kat's snarl and the fact that her eyes were entirely black.

I guess I'll die, even if she doesn't kill me, he thought.

Damn.

The tent soundlessly exploded in a golden supernova of light, thousands of times brighter than a stroke of lightning, sending a brilliant shockwave across the camp and through the plains for a mile. Lightning danced through the air more frequently, as if trying to compete with the spectacle on land.

Everyone snapped awake immediately. Ryland shielded his eyes, felt for Katarina on her side of the blanket, and swore loudly when she wasn't there. The barbarians and Jarvan reached sleepily for their weapons. Jayce awoke with a ragged gasp.

Kat was a tiny shadow hurled twenty feet into the air. She let herself go limp, then snapped into a roll when she hit the ground.

Ezreal's tent was blazing in defiance of the cascading rain. In place of red, the flames were a burnished yellow, filled with whirling sparks.

Kat saw him walk out of the destruction.

The Explorer was lit up like a galaxy, his body wreathed in a golden wildfire, accented by the crystal on his chest. Even through the aura, she could see his body - the triangular scars, the white shirt clinging closely to his muscles. The rain wasn't touching him, instead evaporating the instant it touched the Standard energy.

Hate burned her. Hate for his perfection.

His Voxstone-blue eyes were dazed. He obviously couldn't take control of the magic pulsing through him. Even with that power, he was helpless.

She threw herself at him with a shout, knocking him to his knees, shoving the blade against his throat. His aura didn't burn her, but set her body tingling. The fire lapped painlessly against her skin.

The light from his body revealed the rest of the camp standing around them in shock.

She panted, cornered. At least the boy had quit struggling.

"Don't move!" she shouted. The wind snatched her words from her mouth. They heard them nonetheless, only standing there, completely at a loss.

Kat and Ezreal made an otherworldly picture against the bellowing heart of the storm. His aura was engulfing her. They were two shadows standing at the center of an interstellar furnace. Now his energy was beginning to burn her skin.

She had to act quickly. "Farewell, Aven Lightbringer. I knew thee well, but your time is gone."

These words, where were they coming from? No matter. She moved the blade in preparation for the killing strike. Simultaneously, Ezreal wrenched her wrist to fling her forwards. The blade sliced across his chest from shoulder to hip, paring him almost to the bone, sending a flare of pain across his senses. Blood began to pour from him, mixing with the rain.

The last thing he saw was a mixture of blood and rainwater dancing with tiny gold and blue spheres. Then his consciousness disappeared into a whirl of light.

Ryland was torn. Ezreal and Kat are both wounded. Who do I go to first?

He was paralyzed with indecision. Then the rain grew colder and turned to piercing needles of ice. Coughing, he jogged to Kat.

Soraka followed him. She threw herself on top of Kat to suppress her. Ryland fell to his knees, ignoring the rainwater soaking through his pants and beating his bare torso.

Katarina fought their grasps with wild ferocity, squirming and biting. She peeled an inch of skin off of Ryland's knuckle. Frenzied by the taste of blood, she loosed a shriek that clearly wasn't human.

"Hold her down!" Soraka shouted. Thunder roared in reply.

Ryland bent both of Katarina's wrists and fell upon her, suppressing her body with his. He felt the wriggling darkness inside of her – her mind was a mess of corpseworms, or the sound of a thousand Piltover radio channels playing all at once. He gritted his teeth against the terrible sensation.

Beside him, Soraka intoned a long series of words in an unknown language. Kat's movement slowed, then stopped.

Jayce ran to them, carrying a mobile light and coughing heavily. "Here! Can you see?"

Ryland squinted. Dark fragments of matter were flaking off of Katarina. They left no mark – her skin was still the portrait of ivory cream, if a bit pale from the cold and rain.

Soraka smeared her wet hair away from her face, trying to clear her gaze. "That's the first time I've had to use an exorcising incantation in ten years."

Ryland wanted to thank her, but was distracted by Jarvan pointing a sword at Katarina's chest. "Soon she won't be a problem!"

Jarvan's bare chest was marked and crosshatched with dark scars, even as his muscles flowed smoothly over his ribs. A crazy light was gleaming in his blue-gray eyes.

Ryland shoved Jarvan aside. "You can't do that! That's my girlfriend!"

Jarvan snarled, lowering the sword to Ryland's belly and jabbing him with it. "Your girlfriend just tried to kill Piltover's Grandmaster Explorer."

"Oh, now you care about Ezreal. I see how it is. You fucking coward." Ryland spat and flung the edge of the sword away. "All Demacians –"

Soraka cut him off with a sharp gesture. Ryland was surprised to see so much anger in that gentle face. "I'll remind you, my lord, that killing a Noxian outside of the battlefield is a war crime punishable by execution."

Jarvan waited a beat. Sensitive now to the slightest shift of emotion, Ryland felt the struggle within the prince – the hatred for Noxians, the embarrassment at being usurped, anger at himself for being so rash, and something else. Ryland's eyes widened. Fear?

I guess Jarvan's not used to dealing with psychotic people and Overflowing Explorers on a daily basis. Not so brave compared to a healer now, is he?

Jaw clenched, Jarvan withdrew his sword. "I was just trying to act in the best interest of our party."

Soraka, Ryland and Jarvan stood silently for a tense moment. The strength of the wind was ebbing away, lowering it from a howl to a quiet moan. The rain lessened from a waterfall to a slight drizzle.

"Did anyone check on Ezreal?" Soraka asked suddenly. "I honestly thought you were going, Ryland. That's why I came to Kat."

Ryland tore his gaze from Katarina's slumbering body. The Freljordians and Erinae were standing around in their pajamas. Varadi looked just as confused by Jarvan's actions as the giant storm.

Panicking, he ran over to Ezreal. The blaze in Ezreal's tent, like the rain, was dying down.

Ryland fumbled for the Explorer's pulse points, then tore the remains of Ezreal's white shirt from his chest. The Voxstone was quaking with stored energy.

And beginning to sear Ezreal's flesh. Ryland gritted his teeth and lifted it with his bear fingers, unable to suppress his groan of pain.

He was relieved to see the stone stop shaking, but the storm began to pick up again.

Jayce jogged to the center of the group, juggling a large mechanical box from hand to hand. After lining it up with some hidden factor in the sky, he slapped it. A clear dome appeared overhead, gradually spreading out to envelope the entire group, shielding them from the gushing rain. Their tents except for Ezreal's were inside of it.

"Huh," Jayce said to himself. "I always knew it would pay off to have friends in the Recreational Development Center. They come up with the neatest toys. I'll have to tell Jimmy Eckels that its field test was successful.

Varadi gaped at the dome, slack-jawed. "What sorcery do we have now, my king? First the light, and now this – this –"

"Invisaplasta Dome," Jayce finished. "It's a working title, but that should give you an idea. We're thinking of calling it Rain-B-Gon."

Tryndamere shrugged. "Some fancy shield. Think of it like a tent, brother."

Varadi nodded, mouth still wide. "I swear, every day I see new wonders travelling in your company."

Tryndamere chuckled. "There will be wonders yet."

Ryland scarcely noted the shield, instead caught up in examining Ezreal's body.

Oh, he looks bad this time. Why did you hurt yourself, Ez?

Kat's dagger had torn his skin, splitting it almost to his bones. His chest was painted a grisly red where the Voxstone burned him. The last scraps of his aura flickered and evaporated into the air.

Ryland bit down hard on his panic. Basic, physical first-aid was the first part of his training under Soraka.

If she can remember an exorcising spell in the middle of a thunderstorm, I can remember this.

"Stabilize the pulse first," he muttered to himself. Ezreal's heart beat was strong and steady, if a bit slow.

"Clear obstructions. Listen to breathing."

He pressed an ear to the Explorer's chest. Blood dappled Ryland's cheek, but he ignored it. Ezreal's breaths rattled slowly through his lungs. Something had to be done.

Ryland hesitated. He's going to be so angry at me. But I have to do it.

He pressed his lips against Ezreal's and began the breathe-free routine Soraka had taught him. It would clear obstructions in his chest and throat.

As he did the rhythmic exercises, his mind drifted back to his and Ezreal's first days together.

"I can carry you," Ryland said, only he was called Michael back then. And he was so excited that he and his idol were together at last. "You're hurt."

"Really?" Ezreal shook his head. "If Ashe can walk back, so can I."

"Ashe also didn't play in all twenty matches today. Come here. I'll help you."

Ez stared at Michael's outstretched hand suspiciously, then shook his head. "I can get there. I don't need you to carry me."

In the present, Ryland sighed internally. Well, Ezreal, you were wrong.

When Ezreal took a deep breath without him, Ryland removed his lips and murmured the next part of the routine to himself. "Clean any wounds."

"Ryland, I've got it." Erinae stood behind him, nibbling her knuckles. "Kat's asking for you. Go."

Kat opened her eyes and immediately closed them again. Everything felt ok, except that she couldn't remember what had happened or how she'd gotten into this position.

Oh well. Wouldn't be the first time.

The very last thing she remembered was hunting those goblin creeps with Ezreal, thinking about what a fine Noxian knight he'd be, then - nothing. A long, long stretch of nothing.

She cautiously opened one eye again. She heard a storm, people running around and shouting.

Nope. I have no idea.

Soraka leaned over her. Her wet silver hair brushed Kat's nose. She sneezed.

"Kat? How do you feel?"

"Confused. Where's Ryland?"

Soraka spoke to her little blonde helper – Katarina couldn't quite recall her name.

"Do you remember anything? Anything at all?" Soraka looked very interested in her answer. It made Kat begin to think that the cause of the chaos might very well be her.

She sat up and clutched at her stomach as the world around her revolved drunkenly. "I don't remember shit."

"Well, then. You were corrupted."

"What? Me? How?"

"Not sure how. I just know that you were." Soraka smiled wistfully. The best healers could smile in any situation. "You tried to kill Ezreal."

"Oh." Kat looked around. The entire group was soaked and downtrodden, and every single horse was missing. Sejuani leaned on Varadi, eyes closed. Ashe and Tryndamere had sat down and were pressed against one another, huddling against the cold. Jarvan was staring moodily into the night, and Jayce was talking on some improvisatory phone, babbling about how well "Rain-B-Gon" worked.

What the fuck happened?

"So…how did that go?"

Soraka laughed liltingly, as if they were sharing tea in the Supports Quarters instead of sitting in a foot of icy rain water. The healer flicked filaments of hair from her shoulders with numb fingers. "Not so well."

"I really thought I wouldn't be the first one to get corrupted."

"Well, you were wrong."