"Venerable Summoner, what do we do? We need a plan of action." The naked fear on Zandred's face cut to the very quick of Darrigan's soul.
"Peace, Zandred. Nothing has happened yet."
"Nothing has happened?" Zandred's voice broke. "Venerable Summoner – Darrigan – we have an injured Noxian! We have Talon in custody! And nothing has happened?"
"It was a figure of speech. What I mean is, the walls of the Institute still stand. The Demacians and the Noxians haven't launched firebombs at each other."
"It could happen," Merilyn murmured. She appeared by Darrigan's side, a translucent white nightgown clinging to her body.
"It could. M'lady, I'm afraid I must bear even more bad news."
The other Summoners clustered in Darrigan's living room sat up, attentive.
"What is that, Zandred? What other calamity could possibly affect us now?"
"M'lady – oh, heavens." Zandred closed his eyes. "I need coffee. I'm going to fall out at any moment."
"Spit it out," Darrigan rumbled.
"Your son, Michael, has implicated you in this plot."
Merilyn's eyes widened with shock. "Me? How? Do I look fit enough to be an assassin, Zandred?" She gestured at her body that, trim as it was for a woman of forty, was not nearly muscular enough to fling blades.
"They claim you ordered the strike and that it is Demacian in origin."
"Why would they say such a thing?" Merilyn pressed a hand to her quivering lips. "I would never-"
"My wife would never threaten this institution!" Darrigan pounded the table, his leathery cheeks growing red. "Never! Do you understand me?"
"I agree, sir. But, I must reiterate - we need a plan of action."
Darrigan snorted. "Right. We need messengers, go-betweens for different groups. We also need people to assess what's going on. Find Summoners the champions trust. We're going to open Central Fountain as a shelter for the Summoners who aren't here. Find the cooks and get them to set up dining services. After we gather further information, we'll act."
Zandred shot a desperate glance at Erinae, Jatt and Turley, his assistants. "I trust you three. Erinae, you're the principle message-runner between Demacia and Noxus. Go to the Noxians first."
Erinae bowed her head. Having been promoted from Novice scarcely two days ago, the weight of such an assignment terrified her. She refused to let it show. Her golden eyes burned with determination.
Jatt and Turley grabbed her hands and squeezed them.
"I will not fail you, master."
"Any other orders, Venerable Summoner?" Zandred sighed deeply.
"Tell anyone you see not to panic, Zandred." Darrigan leaned back in his chair, looking old. "Maybe they'll listen."
"Are you sure it's safe to evacuate?" Lux's voice was small and uncertain.
"We must. Whoever did this may be back." Taric scratched his chin. "I'd love to meet up with them…"
Soraka patted his back. The energy they had exerted in healing Katarina left them all with throbbing migraines. Taric's misstep was understandable. Still, Soraka reminded him, "Aggression is not the way of the Supports."
"True. True. Ryland, are you capable of carrying Katarina?"
"I am." He hefted her into his arms as gently as he could. She buried her head into his chest.
"I need you to be alert, Ryland." A note of warning crept into Soraka's voice. "Your night senses are better than ours."
"I'll try my best."
"No distractions," Taric added.
Ryland nodded, black hair covering his eyes. "You'll be safe," he whispered to Katarina.
"Do not worry. We'll flank you." Swain rubbed his eyes, tired. "It's been a long time since we've been on a night mission, eh, Darius?"
"It sure has. Draven?"
The axe-thrower readied his blades. "I dare anyone to mess with Kat. I dare them."
Soraka looked over their diverse company. Beside a mermaid and a Yordle, a Noxian commander. Beside champions, an enigmatic mage, bearing a helpless assassin in his arms.
Surely a truce between these people can't last forever…
She pressed the thought from her mind. "Swain, will your contingent be staying with the Supports tonight?"
"We shall. Tactically, it is the best decision. I've already sent a message to the Demacians. Hopefully they won't open fire."
Ezreal shuddered, reminded of his days scavenging battlegrounds. Lux pulled him closer. "It'll be alright," she murmured into his ear. "I promise."
"We'll see."
Soraka looked over the crowd once more. "Do we have anyone? Where are Talon and LeBlanc?"
"Talon is in custody," Swain announced. "But he is innocent. As for LeBlanc, she's likely wandered off. Her ties to Noxus are not strong."
"Two shadows," Ezreal whispered. "Was it her?"
Ryland overheard him. "No, the shadows were tall. I promise."
Swain busied himself organizing the group into a round formation, with Ryland and Katarina at its heart. The Supports formed the inner circle, while the Noxians, plus Lux and Ezreal, formed the outer. Soraka joined Swain at the head of the group.
"Forward, march!" the general called.
His voice rang against the stone. The Institution's streets were empty. Beatrice jetted from his arm and began circling them, wheeling through the dark sky, a barely visible shadow among even more shadows.
Lux tried to stop quivering. Don't embarrass yourself in front of the Noxians, please. The silence of the Institute pressed heavily against her ears. The windows of all the buildings around them were black. All she heard was the shuddering breaths of the people around her and the clinking of the Noxians' armor.
And her heartbeat.
Be brave, Lux. They placed you at the rear of the contingent because they trusted you. You're brave, you're strong, you're –
Her thoughts were cut off by a sharp blade drawing across her neck. Pain filled her, and chilly wetness splattered down the front of her beloved blouse.
She shrieked, high and piercing. The terrible sound echoed from building to building, filling the night with the sound of pain.
The shadow released her and disappeared instantly.
The world dissolved into chaos once more, but she was unaware of it. She slumped to the ground, her eyes closed, her mind filled with soaring whiteness.
When Lux screamed, Ezreal shouted back. "Ryland! Save her! You've got to save her!"
Ryland placed Katarina on the ground, forcing himself to be gentle, then surged through the dark crowd, elbowing Noxians out of the way.
"Did you see it?" Swain called to Darius. "Did you see –"
"Negative, sir!"
Ryland threw up a mental blast-shield to stop the emotions of the others from overwhelming him. Tears, pain, fear, distress, sadness.
At last he found Lux lying on the ground at the rear of the group. Soraka and Ezreal were beside her.
Even Soraka seemed at a loss. She could do nothing but place a hand over Lux's fluttering heart. Ryland heard her begin intoning the burial incantation and felt a jolt of electric-blue fear.
"Give her air!" Ezreal called. The Noxians and other Supports stepped back, instinctively grouping up.
Ryland whimpered. He could hear Lux's breath bubbling and grating. She was almost dead.
Ezreal's wild eyes sought him out. His hands danced with living sparks. In his horror, his power slipped from his control.
"Ryland! Save her! Please oh please oh please –" The Explorer fell to the ground next to Lux with a howl. The illumination from his hands twinkled off of the twin tracks of his tears.
Ryland knelt with him and placed his hand on Lux's throat. This might kill me, he thought distantly. I've never staved off death before.
But Ezreal demanded it. He had no choice.
Ignoring his fatigue, he embraced Lux's mind and sent roots of power into her body.
A vast expanse of icy white. A cloud, perhaps.
Lux, can you hear me?
The little Demacian general can, but can't form words. She feels cold. So cold. And this visitor radiates warmth. She moves closer to him.
Ezreal…?
Not quite. You're, ah, badly hurt, Lux.
She says nothing.
I need you to hold on. Whatever you do – stay with me. Follow me.
She feels powerless, drained of energy. More than that – empty. Empty of love and attachment. I just want to sleep.
No! The visitor shouts. He pulls her to him and kisses her roughly – anything to keep her awake. The warmth of his lips spreads through her body. You can't! You can't leave him! I won't let you!
Lux sees black begin to boil against the edges of the white and cringes into the visitor. I' m scared.
Good. Be scared. Run with me. He snaps his fingers in front of her face. Run, Lux! You have to!
She doesn't. Lux whirls. Against the black stands a tall, white figure holding an enormous sword. His armor shines against the dark.
Garamond? Oh, I've always wanted to meet you. I love you.
Garamond smiles. I know you do. I love you the way a teacher loves their student, Lux. It's time for you to move on. I have much to teach you. There are wars yet to be won. Beside him is a white steed. It raises its head and whinnies.
Lux, run! The visitor pulls on her arm. She can't move; her feet seem frozen, and she feels drawn to Garamond's gentle grin. I'll carry you! The visitor shouts at last. He grabs her around the waist and tries to lift her.
She can't be lifted. She weighs a million pounds. It's as if she is a star condensing towards its death, growing incredibly dense.
The visitor screams against the falling darkness, lifts her up, and carries her away. He has pulled many muscles and one of the bones in his right wrist is broken. Sobbing with pain and terror, he runs with her towards the light.
As Lux watches Garamond, he crumbles away, surrounded by night. No! I have to save him! I wasn't old enough to the first time!
You can't leave him. You can't leave Ezreal! The visitor shouts as she cries I can't leave Garamond!
Garamond, she calls, but her voice echoes, fading against the expanse of black.
Lux's eyes snapped open. Her vision filled with black. "What happened?" she tried to say, but her voice didn't work. The only thing that issued from her mouth was a tiny whisper of air.
She slowly became aware of Ezreal sitting next to her. He leaned in and brushed her lips with his. "Don't talk. You're hurt."
"How?" she tried to ask. Another whisper.
"Another attack," Ezreal whispered back. "You and Kat – you're going to be sickbed-mates for a while, it seems." He tried to give her a comforting smile, but it was weakened by his lingering tears. One of them fell on her chest, mingling with the liquid already there.
"I – "
"Shhh." Ezreal brushed a lock of blonde hair from her forehead. "Don't talk. You'll hurt yourself more."
"Michael?" Soraka shook him, hard. "Michael? Ryland! Answer me!" Ryland slumped over, his eyes wide and blank. "Swain, we need light. I can't see anything at all."
"Get the rest of the people to the Supports Quarters," Swain ordered. "Darius, Draven, stay. The rest of you, lock all the doors and windows. Stay together. Please, for the love of Noxus." He turned towards Soraka as the entourage hurried away. "I have no light."
"Here." Ezreal lit a spark on the edge of his gauntlet. Though tiny, it threw the world around them into high relief.
Soraka frantically slid her hands over Ryland's body. Taric jogged over to them. "Is there a pulse?"
"It's weak. Very weak." Soraka's golden eyes closed with grief. "Now we have three hurt instead of two."
"Better than one hurt, one dead. The hurt can be fixed. We've always fixed it." Taric muttered. He, too, placed his hand on Ryland's chest, feeling for his vibration that indicated he was alive.
"Physical pain we can fix. Ryland – I'm not sure we can help him," Soraka said fearfully.
"We have to try." Taric lowered his head. Together, he and Soraka began chanting. The words flew into the night. The area of Ryland's chest beneath their hands began to glow a cool, firefly green., but his face remained slack. His eyes had glazed over, like a corpse's.
"His pulse is stable," Soraka whispered. "But everything else –"
"Don't." Taric pulled her close, rubbing her back. Soraka's lips trembled. "Don't. We did what we could."
"We were supposed to take care of him –" Soraka whimpered. "It's my fault."
"Don't." Taric hugged her tighter. "We've done what we could. That's all anyone can ask."
Lux blinked. "What – " Pain in her throat stopped her. She tried to roll over as Swain brought Katarina over, laying her next to Lux.
Kat was awake. "What's wrong with Ryland?" She shifted to eye Lux and saw the dark blood staining her shirt. "What's wrong with Lux?"
"There's been another attack," Swain muttered. "I'm unsurprised."
"Are you serious?" Katarina's eyes blazed with fury. "Again? I'm going to kill those sons of bitches!"
"Not with that arm," Swain said drily. "We're waiting for Taric and Soraka to do what they can for Ryland, and then we will follow the rest of the contingent to the Supports' Quarters."
"We're leaving?" Katarina snarled. "Coward!"
Swain rolled his eyes, oblivious to Taric and Soraka's grief. "Is there anything we can knock her out with?"
Soraka got to her feet with a trembling sigh. "I – I have some of the healing water left. Give her just a drop."
Swain took the vial and dribbled it on Katarina's lips. She fell asleep in the middle of a rant about Swain's family.
Ezreal scratched his head. "Sir – Swain. What are we going to do? We have no one to carry Ryland."
Swain eyed the recumbent mage, weariness creeping into his face. "Darius?"
"Sir."
"Carry your son. We have to get out of here. Ezreal, can you carry Lux?"
"On the Rift, maybe."
Swain snorted. "Get Taric to help you. The sooner we're out of open air, the better. Draven, get Katarina."
Darius gathered Ryland's limp body in his arms. An inscrutable expression passed over his face. "This is the first time I've ever carried him. I never held him, even as a child."
Swain blinked. "That's very nice. Can we move now?"
Darius' face hardened. "Yes, sir."
"Ezreal, keep that light burning." Swain sighed. "We have a long night ahead of us."