"The shipment has arrived on schedule."
It was always difficult to tell when she had actually stopped moving, as hyperspace travel was quite different than experiencing momentum when running or moving in a vehicle. Braking suddenly caused a person to lurch forward in their seat, and although the teleportation medium provided a much higher velocity, there was no actual acceleration because a person's body never moved itself, but was merely being relocated. Only the sound of a man's voice indicating that she was no longer in transit alerted Irelia to the fact that they had reached their destination.
Irelia opened her eyes, having kept them squeezed shut quite tightly during the migration because the high concentration of light particles which would pass through them would surely blind anyone whose receptors absorbed that much energy. When her vision returned to her, she spied the familiar short black ponytail of a certain Demacian champion of few words, clad in an attire quite unorthodox of the seneschal.
Xin Zhao had chosen a very Western business attire more representative of the wealthy aristocrats and nobles of Demacia, as well as the wealthy individual patrons who had made the occasional appearance at the Institute to meet with its high ranking summoners. Never one to stand out, the spear-wielder took a traditional black suit and pants, along with black shades to hide his observant eyes as he sized up the incoming champions. He had seated himself behind a desk with a very complex control panel, which Irelia surmised was operating the transporter on the Demacian end.
"Good to see you, Xin," came her friendly greeting as the seneschal merely nodded in reply. Irelia never did spend much time around the majority of Demacian nobility, especially the crowd around the royal family and the Crownguards, and what little of the prince she saw, she was sure that she noticed his bodyguard even less. Still, she could divine that Xin was a dutiful man, courteous and to the point, which made for valuable traits among men seeking a military career in Ionia.
"Crownguard not here yet?" Jax asked of the seneschal, wasting no time in getting down to business.
"The commander is currently finishing up his rounds patrolling the city with the Dauntless Vanguard," Xin informed them. "Garen should be with us shortly."
Jax seemed surprised - once again, it was impossible for her to tell, but Irelia believed she knew him well enough at that point. "The elite task force of the Demacian crown doing some menial grunt work like law enforcement? Don't you have some other department for that?"
"The reconnaissance is more complicated than that," Xin explained. "That is all I can offer to you on that matter."
"I get it, classified information, yeah yeah, the whole nine yards," Jax said dismissively. "We'll still be able to draw up contingencies without him. Is the prince aware of how much trouble he's about to be in?"
Irelia found it strange that Jax would ask such a thing. I would think that the prince's closest friend would surely inform him of the gravity of the situation, Sona voiced her thoughts in Irelia's head, and the Ionian conveyed as such.
Xin's facial muscles contracted ever so slightly as Irelia realized they had touched upon a sensitive subject. He seemed to hesitate, considering the value of confiding in them before deciding it wouldn't do too much harm. "It is not as simple as that. Prince Jarvan has an obligation to appear as a representative of the state's power. The prince will be the lead spokesman at a state gala in the capital tomorrow evening, and we deemed it best not to inform him of the danger in order for him to maintain an unclouded mind when dealing with the various nobles and distinguished guests who shall be there. At the end of the day, while the prince takes his duties as a champion of the League very seriously, he is first and foremost the heir to the Demacian throne."
Jax nodded. "I see. The rest of the Lightshield retinue would have to be filled in to compensate, then. I'd presume the Half-Dragon would be in on this, the Crownguard girl… anyone else?"
"And the ranger. Quinn is undertaking one of her independent investigations into the affair," Xin added. "It is a meager defense, considering the scale of the attack, but it is all we could do given such short notice."
Irelia decided to cut in. "Okay, Jax, it always seems that you've already been thinking things two steps ahead of me and I'm in the dark. Back in Shurima you said this was going to be the biggest attack yet… so what's going on?"
The grandmaster turned to her, his shoulders dropping as he took a deep breath. "Right. I should probably slow things down for you two. In the early morning today I got a telegram from Garen reporting some abnormalities in the city streets that have been popping up ever since a few days ago. I had already staked out the possibility of the prince being a potential target by the Institute, but until further evidence popped up and other targets were already visited, I didn't think much of it now. Our information, to be fair, is half guesswork right now but it's much better to be safe than sorry."
What sort of abnormalities, I wonder? Sona mused, and Irelia asked them.
"Cracks and small ruptures in our roads. The most significant ones we've managed to pass off as malfunctioned manholes, but the teams of engineers who inspected it are confident it is no structural fault. It was premeditated sabotage, and there is good reason to believe it comes from the Institute," Xin debriefed.
She felt her blades grow restless as they slightly quivered upwards with anticipation. "So the attacker is already here. Shouldn't we be with Prince Jarvan, then?" Irelia asked.
"He will be alright," came a booming voice from the doorway. A muscular, absolute brick wall of a man entered the room, his frame nearly taking up the entire entrance. The Might of Demacia remained where he was standing as he spoke, exchanging short glances with Jax and Xin as he continued talking. Irelia could notice his brow dampened with sweat, the result of some effort making the rounds through the city.
"I entrusted Jarvan to the care of Shyvana," Garen reported. "He is in the middle of receiving a couple of Freljord ambassadors, and the labor of Demacia is never finished when it comes to strengthening ties with our allies. I trust you have filled in our new arrivals as to our situation, Xin."
"Of course," the seneschal replied. "To further answer Captain Lito's question, it would be unwise to take on the position of the prince's protection as of now. He must not act under the impression that he is a target by political enemies, so any meeting between you must be separate from our real business."
"That's correct," Garen affirmed. "You will really only be acquired on the night of the gala, as that is the prince's last public appearance for a while. Should the enemy not make their presence known there, it would be sufficient to reveal your true intentions."
"Keeping it on the down low, got it," Jax agreed. "You'll need us within shouting distance until then, cause the Institute sends their creatures at him any time between now and then, we'll need to be there as soon as we can."
"We have already prepared inconspicuous living quarters for you very close to the palace," Xin assured them. "As for the Maven, it is my understanding that the Buvelle residence already lies within close proximity, so if she wishes to visit home, that will not prove to be a problem."
A harmonious chord played through the air as Sona expressed her satisfaction. It has been a while since I had seen Lestara. I would very much like to visit her, even for a short time, while we are here.
"So you two should be good to go for the rest of today," said Garen. "Feel free to take your pick of any of the establishments within the village just outside the palace if you ever are of want of food. I have given the owners explicit instructions to give you as much as you need on behalf of the crown."
Irelia was taken aback at the commander's generosity. "That's very kind of you, Garen, but I'm more than willing to -"
"The only thing I can't help you two with are finding proper outfits for the gala tomorrow," Garen pressed on. He gave a very skeptical look at Jax's robes. "As much as it is your style, Jax, you can't wear anything like that."
The grandmaster turned on Garen, as if daring him to say otherwise. "You're kidding me."
Irelia tried to hold back a small laugh. "Looks like I'll get to take you out shopping, then?"
A distraught Jax looked to Xin for help as Irelia and Garen exchanged understanding smirks, but the seneschal's expression remained as stoic as ever behind the shades. "I'm keeping the hood," he insisted.
For all its pandering about justice and righteousness, Irelia had to admit that Demacia was no slouch in its commercial sector. There were quite a few department stores which they had walked by, revealing a wide array of goods and clothing which was available to them, but upon a recommendation by Garen ("Go there, and you'll like the way you look. I Garen-tee it," he had joked as Irelia and Jax both painfully cringed), they entered a smaller, low-key tailor's business.
"I've never worn a suit my entire life," Jax told her as he looked out of his element for once. Awkwardly pacing around the perimeter of the store, he looked between the racks of suits resting on hangers attached to the walls and Irelia, looking like a child waiting for instructions from his mother on what to do.
Jax was absolutely flustered. And Irelia loved it.
"How am I supposed to pick one thing to wear out of all of these? They all look too alike for me to determine which one would be the best," he complained.
Irelia had to hold back her amusement as she directed him to a clerk sitting behind a desk at the back of the store. "You don't have to do much. Let the man over there give you your measurements, then you'll get to try out a few things and we'll see how they look on you. It'll be good for you to get out of those baggy old robes for once, anyways."
"It's not just a fashion statement, you know," he countered as he strode over hesitantly to the clerk, who seemed quite off guard at the realization that he was to service a champion of the League, and one who showcased an eccentric taste of fashion like Jax.
Very pleased with herself, she waved to Jax merrily before taking a seat near the front of the tailor's as she waited in anticipation of how he would appear in a more contemporary outfit. She had silently hoped for him to remove his ubiquitous hood while in the change of costume, but his adamant position on leaving the cowl on at all times ended her hopes there. Was he really going to all the trouble of compromising his appearance and looking absolutely ridiculous for the sake of remaining an enigma to everyone, even her?
Irelia was sure he couldn't keep the facade up forever. It was a real person hidden in those folds, as her experience the previous night had made sure. The lips that had connected onto hers were real, the genuine touch of someone who could harbor compassion, not just a killing machine molded by years of constant strife and conflict. And as long as she could lay a claim to it with conviction, it would be her belief to hold.
The moment had been so fleeting, however, that it was easy to doubt its reality. Their connection had only lasted for a couple of seconds, and amidst all the turbulent events happening all around her, it was easy for a seed of disbelief of two to materialize and grow into doubt. But Irelia refused to be disillusioned. She had never felt so fulfilled since the rematch between Ionia and Noxus which finally liberated the occupancy from the southern isles, and she intended to cherish that snapshot in time forever.
He had slowly drawn away from her that night, gently pulling himself away from her clutches. "There's still work that needs to be done. I'll see you in the morning."
Irelia's expression soured. "Work? At a time like this? What business could you possibly have in Shurima at this hour?" She didn't doubt the veracity of his claim, but she would have lied if that meant it didn't bother her. For every little thing he told her, there were always two other missing pieces to the puzzle Jax was holding back.
"I know, I know, my timing is terrible. But in these times, you've got to be flexible to the situation. Duty calls." He remained steadfast in his devotion to righting all the wrongs which had come out of that one night at the bar, the catalyst that sparked it all. Jax was always ready to go on the move, willing to drop one lead to pick up another if the circumstances called for it. Irelia could understand the necessity to make quick decisions, to objectively take the best strategy even though the ending would be messier than ideal. She could even imagine herself as just another path in the infinitely large flowchart constantly filtering through his mind. The thought made her grimace, as that was completely unsatisfactory.
She would find a way to be the only end worthy of his pursuit.
Her contemplations were interrupted as the clerk brought in a very befuddled Jax, who stiffly walked towards her in a grey suit which fit his form much better than his usual attire. Somehow, he had managed to keep that purple hood over his head, looking sorely out of place with the rest of his much more professional outfit.
Irelia's pensive thoughts dissipated as she smiled mischievously. "See, was that really all that bad? You look rather dapper."
Jax coughed. "I can barely move in this," he choked out.
She moved over to him, placing a hand over his chest and noticing another layer of clothing underneath the suit. "It's because you insisted on keeping those stupid robes on underneath the suit, silly."
"There's no other way I can keep the hood with me," he continued stubbornly.
Irelia sighed, realizing there was no way he would budge on the issue. "You don't have to make this so difficult. Tell you what. Instead of you wearing more layers than an Avarosan in a Freljord blizzard, we'll get a custom-made suit for you then, one where we can sew up a hood on the back of the collar for you." She looked to the clerk, who was still standing in stunned silence as if not believing what he was seeing. "That won't be a problem, will it?"
The young man stiffened and shook his head. "Not at all, ma'am. Little modifications are not out of the question when it comes to our service, especially for a distinguished League Champion for whom we had the privilege to serve."
Irelia smiled warmly. "Well, you can't possibly object to that, can you?"
Jax remained impassive. "I could very well."
Her shoulders dropped. She wasn't willing to press the issue on if he was going to continue being difficult, and although she almost completely fed up at this point, Irelia wasn't one to potentially make a mess out of such a small detail. Persuasion and coercion wasn't exactly her type of negotiation. Her thoughts turned to the Nine-Tailed Fox, whose more… charismatic mannerisms would surely have found a sweet-sounding sentence or two to say here that might have tilted the discussion in her favor. But Irelia and Ahri's personalities were very far apart - she never identified her gender as meaning anything significant relating to her personal ability, although tomboy would've been too strong of a label.
"But if it's what you want, I guess I can bear it."
And just as quickly, Irelia beamed. "I won't make you regret it, I promise."
"For both our sakes, I hope so," Jax deadpanned. He headed back to the changing room, the tightness of the outfit finally getting to him as Irelia consulted the clerk for the sewing on of the hood onto the suit they would make for Jax.
I'll make him mine, one small step at a time.
Demacia's intelligence division was a lot less covert than Ionia's, Irelia decided.
Comparing the ranger to the highly disciplined experts of the Kinkou Order was hardly a fair evaluation to begin with, but Irelia had grown accustomed to being startled by one of the Triumvirate at the most inopportune times as they relayed their relevant information without any ceremony and disappearing just as mysteriously. Irelia couldn't remember the last time she had been the one to catch sight of Shen first, and even Akali, whom she had been decently close with for a good part of their adolescent years, had grown distant. The irony was bitterly humorous - the ninjas had probably been the only other people apart from Irelia who had been in her bedroom for quite a long time, yet she felt estranged from them most of all.
Irelia, therefore, felt very much at ease comparatively when Quinn descended gracefully from a rooftop as she and Jax were making their way back to the palace in the evening to get the final rundown of the situation from Garen and Xin. After the initial shock of having a young woman nearly drop on top of her, Irelia quickly recovered her senses. "Quinn. Word from the capital?"
"More or less. There's something strange going on just outside the city walls that I think it'd be important for you two to check out. I personally didn't sense anything, but Val basically just went crazy when he flew over this one spot," the ranger explained.
Going through the mental checklist of all the information she remembered about Quinn, Irelia realized she knew little. Quinn Heathcliffe, 1st Sergeant in the 7th Division of the Royal Demacian Army. She had risen up in the ranks upon the arrest of a prominent Noxian criminal with the help of her eagle, Valor, who fought constantly at her side and was regarded as the same unit as Quinn for all military purposes. A slightly aloof woman who kept to herself, she was still fairly friendly and easy-going from the few times Irelia had spoken to her. Besides those little tidbits, however, nothing.
"Hm," was Jax's only reply, a good three sentences less than Irelia expected him to say. Usually he had an idea of what was going on and would tell them a bit of information before chalking up some rudimentary plan, but the grandmaster was uncharacteristically short on words this time.
"That's all you got?" she jabbed at him.
"This Demacian campaign is probably the most confusing attack we've had to stop so far," Jax answered. "It's the one where I came in knowing almost nothing at all - and all my speculations are just ruined by all these random variables coming up. But it shouldn't be a problem once we get to the place Quinn is talking about. Lead the way."
Half an hour later, after being transported by company car to the nearest city gate, Quinn directed them to a nondescript grassy field on the other side of the walls protecting the capital. A cloudy sky slightly covered up the moon, leaving a faint source of light to shine upon the meter-tall reeds and brush which flanked both sides of a dirt road stretching outwards into the distance before turning a corner into the forest further back. Cicadas served as their only accompaniment, the late hour ensuring that no one else would be out wandering outside of the city at that time.
The blue Demacian eagle residing on Quinn's shoulder immediately began acting up, shifting uncomfortably and making a couple of strained cries as if it was complaining. "What's up, Val?" the ranger asked her bird.
Valor pointed his beak in a direction and lunged his head forward a couple of times while making a few more urgent sounds. "You hear something under us?"
"Are you actually telling us you understand what that bird is trying to say?" Jax asked, very skeptical of Quinn's interpretations.
"You wouldn't understand," Quinn claimed defensively. "Sure, you can't translate Val like you can translate ancient Shuriman or anything, but when you've been around someone so long, even the smallest hints from them mean a lot."
Any witty reply Jax could have made was interrupted by a strong tremor coming from under their feet as the earth shook, unbalancing their position and forcing Valor to take off to the air immediately as he hovered around in circles above them. Irelia's blades were going haywire as well, constantly circling around looking for an enemy, but there was nothing to be found. Jax had instinctively drawn close to her, trusty lamppost in hand as they stood back-to-back, trying to find the source of the disturbance.
"Earthquakes don't happen very often in Demacia, do they?" Jax called out over the subterranean rumbling.
"They've never happened as long as our history books can remember!" Quinn responded, her crossbow raised as well.
Irelia suddenly felt her legs give out under her and the gut-wrenching feeling of falling took effect. Looking at her feet, she witnessed the ground rapidly crumbling away as the three of them plummeted deep into a menacing darkness. Her limbs flailed wildly as she tried to stabilize, barely managing to keep control of her blades as they spun aimlessly in circles before she pulled them back to her. Jax was a few feet away, the folds of his robes blown back into his body due to their increasing downward velocity. He reached out with a gloved hand, which Irelia took as she latched onto the only thing she knew she had for sure as they continued to fall into the abyss.
Nothing terrified him more now than the sound of his own footsteps.
Captivity was the lowest form of existence for Zed, as a person who was unable to exert their will was nothing more than a slave, vulnerable to every whim and fancy the world could dream up. His time in the maze was not the typical enshacklement of bondage and chains which one would normally associate with slavery - rather, it was a whole different level of terrifying. Forever doomed to wander an endless labyrinth with a myriad of choices to make tormented the mind, the concept of infinity much too great for a limited psyche to comprehend. Zed had always dreamed big, aimed high, but never had he felt the implications and consequences of such ambition backfire on him as he did now. The scope of such immense possibilities, coupled with the danger of not knowing what lurked behind every twist and turn of the maze, whittled him down from the inside little by little, going for every scrap of his humanity.
To make things worse, she would never shut up.
Normally, whenever Evelynn got too close to another champion on the Fields of Justice, they would be able to see her as her powers had been toned down a little to encourage equal footing for all the champions. In an unconstrained environment, however, the horror of true stealth and invisibility finally came through. He was able to hear the sound of her heels clicking against the concrete floor, but it seemed that she only let him hear when she wanted him to. Evelynn would whisper some ominous warning in his ear, seem to walk away behind him… and then make her presence known in his other ear even as he swore the footsteps faded away in the distance. Soon enough, Zed had trouble deciphering what was real or not, and the dim lighting throughout the maze didn't help.
His eyes would be one of the last things to trust. A few times he believed he caught sight of a blue hand or foot flash around a corner or in the periphery of his sight, but whether that was attributed to his paranoia or Evelynn's natural knack of messing with him,, he could never be sure. All Zed had left was to keep walking on with nothing to hold onto but the faith that somewhere out there an exit, a solution, would present itself.
"Getting tired, Zed?"
He never answered her. The choice to give a response or not was the only thing left to him now, and he intended to keep his silence as long as he could. It didn't seem to deter Evelynn, however, as she seemed perfectly content with her monologue.
"It might be better for you to drop some of that unnecessary baggage," she suggested slyly. "Ninjas don't carry a lot around, though, do they?"
One step forward. One foot in front of the other.
"Maybe if you let go of your pride, you'd feel a lot more… free."
Zed's pacing slackened, if only for a second. She was really trying to get under his skin, and although he had undergone much worse in his time spent studying the shadows, simply enduring her venomous words was by no means an innocuous task. He was sure that the antagonistic dravel she was stirring up was trying to goad him into a response fueled by emotion, and he was not going to grant Evelynn the satisfaction of seeing him riled up.
"You know, I'm beginning to see why you took a liking to those little shadows," the temptress continued. "They don't weigh anything, after all." The last sentence made Zed shiver, an ominous chill shooting down his spine as he suddenly became aware of the shadow attempting to break free from him. When it was at rest, it acted like a very faint membrane, a thin shroud over him which he could cast off at will to become the shadow clone which was trademark of him. When under the magical confines of the Fields of Justice, the shadow's independent conscience was neutered, and Zed could fight without the looming threat of the shadow taking over. However, now that he was off on his own, it was liable to cause complications. Oddly enough it hadn't announced any of its urges yet, but when Evelynn mentioned it, Zed could feel it stir up within him.
The shadow never communicated with words - at least, not directly. It carried out its messages using emotions of intense degree just as a painter conveyed their feelings to their audiences with their art. Usually there were the typical passing urges of murder, the want to spill blood. Zed could easily repress those, and after hundreds of times pinning the shadow down its encouragement had become weak, almost half-heartedly. However, in this strange new world, this different dimension, it had taken up a new mantra.
Eradicate.
His most ultimate goal had been to eliminate all oppositional teaching to the Order of the Shadow. Zed had worked endless hours in making his own brotherhood strong enough to one day take down the Kinkou, and his focus against Shen was calculated and unrelenting. Yet he never wished to go so far as to completely obliterate their existence. The Kinkou had valuable knowledge, information he would, of course, modify and adapt to his own benefit, but not go to the point of completely obsolete it. The dark desire now swimming in his head, however, wanted more finality to it.
There was no doubt that Evelynn had done something to him, whether she had used the powers of the maze or not, and although Zed was willing to take physical and mental abuse to protect what he held most important, tampering with the shadow was nothing more than the folly of the wicked.
Evelynn once again reappeared in front of him, her visual unclear, but enough to where he could see the patronizing smile on her face.
"Well," she began, "did I strike a nerve? Zed, the Master of Shadows, breaking down and ready to kneel at my feet like a common servant."
It was enough. "Never."
Two of his shadow copies burst forth from him, coming at Evelynn's outline from two different angles while Zed materialized behind her, a black and red X marking her over her head. While champions usually began to either turn tail or fight him once they had seen the Death mark, Evelynn merely stood there and continued smiling. Furious at her apathy, Zed attempted to unleash a plethora of strikes at her neck, inner arms and stomach - all designed to incapacitate her quickly - but it was as if he was slicing through a hologram. Expecting a retaliation, he prepared to go back to the shadow left at his original position.
Except he couldn't. Some invisible bindings had held him in place while Evelynn continued to sneer at him, casually examining one of her scarlet nails. "You think the shadows are your ally, Zed? Humans like you are nothing to the power of the Shadow Isles. You merely adopted the shadows…" she postured dangerously as she disappeared once more.
Zed turned his head, catching a glimpse of his shadow behind him, struggling in the same position he was in before it went out in a puff of black smoke.
"I was born in it."
One clean slice, and Zed crumpled.
The ground felt the same. The pain did not.
There was no time for weakness, however. Zed never saw any point to gather his senses, as once he was able to act, it was likely there was a great need to. He tested his limbs one by one, however, making sure they were all functional lest he cause unnecessary injury to his body. The right arm hurt. A lot. So it had to be.
"Get up," a ghostly voice echoed. "It is not the time for weakness."
Zed knew the voice, but he had no time to dwell upon its origins as he heeded its command and carefully picked himself off the ground to a kneeling position, his one good arm stabilizing him as he looked around for the source of the voice.
"We have traced the dogs of the wicked to the den of their iniquity," the voice continued. "None can evade us."
The voice was off to his side, but between the long corridor's acoustics and the natural echoing of the voice, it may as well had been everywhere. Zed finally found its owner, a green and black spectre clad in the armor of the Shadow Isles. She held a blazing spear in her hand, the sting of which Zed had felt many times take his life on the Fields of Justice.
"Kalista," he managed. Hearing his own voice speak normally was slightly surprising - he didn't realize how weak he had become after such a long time wandering. Zed was unsure whether how much time had progressed, whether he had lost hours or days, but it may as well have been an eternity. The prospect of dealing with the Spear of Vengeance did not give much cause to hope, either. If she had marked him as a betrayer, it would be his unconditional end there and then. With the shadows unable to assist him, it would only be a matter of time.
She didn't seem to want to waste any time either, readying the spear as she threw it. Instead of his neck, however, it lay at a forty-five degree angle in front of him.
"We have heard your plea," she stated.
Zed had never specifically called out to her, or anyone, for that matter, regarding the matter of betrayal. There was no one he had made connections to outside of the order, and even within his inner circles, the bonds between them were rather thin. Still, the archaic sense of the spear-maiden was never faulty, and she would pursue the paths of all betrayers like an immortal bloodhound.
"What is your purpose with me?" he demanded. Now that he knew that she was here to negotiate with him rather than end his life, he felt a little more relieved to have an audience with Kalista, however off-putting the idea sounded.
"I can offer you the vengeance you seek," she promised, her gaze never wavering from his eyes. "All the bonds of trust you had were shattered. I cannot repair them… but I will gladly equalize your suffering."
The only thing she could have meant was the Institute's betrayal of its champions, the unnecessary slaughter of many innocent summoners that night at Gragas' bar. He recalled the last time he laid eyes on Syndra, the Dark Sovereign's sleeping form lying in a hospital bed as she recovered from the wounds to her magic the Dreamweaver had inflicted onto her. Wanting to make sure they were on the same page, Zed posed the question. "Your enemy is the Institute?"
"Every entity who has set you on this path towards oblivion," she explained, gesturing to the corridor which tunneled into the darkness further on. "You would have met certain destruction were you to carry on this accursed road."
He remembered the Delta Syndicate's members coming for Jax, Janna, and him in the wind mage's apartment, how he had sacrificed his well-being for them so the two could escape. If he hadn't been the one to buy time for them, he could have easily fled the scene, as he was a much more effective recluse than Jax, and harder to track with the aid of the shadows. The very ones which had been separated from him, he remembered as the flashback of the shadow dissipating in front of his eyes blinked in his memory.
A well of anger was building up within Zed, and Kalista could sense it. "Your desire for retribution burns wildly within you," she observed. "There is no need to disguise your intention."
Zed wanted to repress it, but his will couldn't last long enough for his impulses to kick in. "I will accept your offer, then, specter."
The smallest of smiles formed upon the Spear of Vengeance's face as she began the ritual. Zed suddenly felt a weight pierce through his chest as he grasped at the invisible spear stuck in him, struggling to keep himself on his knees. Kalista stood over him, a stony face paying no attention to his struggle as he continued to writhe. Finally, she wrenched it out of him as he fell once more, face striking the floor.
"The oath has been taken."
A/N: I'm not dead I swear. I just picked up playing League a bunch recently so I was doing that and not this, but at least I got a bit more inspiration to write this and I quite like what came of it. Maybe it's the fact that I switched scenes constantly, so there seemed to be a lot more action.
Zed/Kalista (not a pairing, but just the two teaming up and slaughtering everything) seems like it'd be really cool to be written out. I don't endorse Zed support in your adventures on the Rift, though.
I do really wish I could play Irelia, though, so many games on her and I'm not doing as well as I could be. At least with me spamming Irelia/Janna/J4 in soloq I'll be well versed for the upcoming chapters, especially the next Irelia chapter where Jarvan finally comes into the story :^)
This is almost a narrative representation to the nerf of Death Mark, which is a much more meaningful nerf to Zed over the attack speed decrease from a few months back, even though I had this Zed segment well developed before the ultimate nerf. I guess that works out in the end.
P.S: THE EVE/BANE REFERENCE I DIDN'T EVEN PLAN FOR IT TO HAPPEN IT JUST POPPED UP LIKE THAT