N.B. Hello, readers! As we're rounding the bend in the story to begin Part IV, there are a few things I'd like to say. The first is always "thank you."

This will be the last time I address you until the Author's Note at the end.

A True Champion is intended to be a five-part story, hopefully ending around December 31st, 2013. If it doesn't end up this way – the story always dictates me, and not the other way around – well, I hope you enjoy the ride nonetheless.

I'd like to remind you that, even if a story does get incredibly dark, there's always hope.

Also, Part IV will be rather graphic and possibly disturbing. The use of slurs or other explicit language does not reflect my personal views.

Additionally, given the Skelgarn's various effects on human nature, it is safe to say that any changes in feelings towards fellow characters are impermanent.

And I have a favor to ask you. Yes, I know. "I'm already reading this long story; what else can you possibly want?" If you enjoy the story, and if you wish to, can you please leave a review? It would be greatly appreciated.

Finally, this chapter – the longest ever - was composed in one sitting in eight hours. It was handwritten first, so if it's a little rusty, I apologize.

Thanks again.

Now, to the beginning War.

Lux was jolted awake to a shriek. The cry seemed to go on and on, rising skyward towards the moon, then ending in a wet cough.

The Lady of Luminosity instinctively clutched her stomach. It was only a few seconds later that she realized she had been the one crying out. Another scream was building in her throat.

She slammed her fist to her mouth to muffle it, even as the muscles in her legs began to knot and twist. She felt her lips open again, sputtering. Trying to sit up only made the cramping worse.

She heard a brief scuffle outside of her door. Then Taric appeared, holding a lantern. The gleam in his green eyes was resolute. "Lux? What's wrong?"

She tried to say something – or she thought she did. The words were lost somewhere in the space behind her eyes and her vocal cords. Two harsh voices seemed to shout into opposite ears.

Your time is up, Lightbringer! The wheel comes to a halt! Freeze!

The other voice was the cry Ezreal made when he fired a Trueshot Barrage.

Lux doubled over. Her whimpers grew to sobs as she felt stickiness between her thighs, accompanied by the sharp smell of copper.

She couldn't suppress the pain any longer – it hurt worse even than torture at the hands of the Noxians. Scalding tears rained down her cheeks.

She wasn't aware of Taric peeling the blanket away from her thighs and swearing when he saw the ivory sheets spattered with blood.

She dimly heard him shouting for Nami, for Karma. For a brief moment, she was able to hear Taric's thoughts, which was strange given her lack of Empath power.

Neither one of them will be enough, Taric thought. Curse Zandred for sending the best healer and his teacher north. My arts are inferior.

The thoughts, like her words, collapsed into static. Her womb was filling with molten metal punctuated by needles to her sides.

The healers – a tired looking Nami and terrified Karma – appeared at her side seconds later.

Karma's fearful eyes sought Taric's. "Is it too late? Is it gone?"

"I don't know. Hurry."

As the last eerie notes of the barbarians' celebration faded into the velvety night, Ryland's aura suddenly flared a neon white and began to blaze brighter. The men around him leapt away, covering their eyes and shouting rough curses in their native dialect.

Oblivious to the chaos, Ryland looked towards the sky. Ezreal reached for him.

Oh gods, what now? Angel's Crossing is so close – we've endured so much –

"Don't Storm. You're fine."

Ryland blinked. "Of course I'm fine. I found Kat."

It took Ezreal a moment to reassign the word to the person. Her name sounded like the barbarian word for tree.

"Oh. And the others," Ryland added, seeing the look of relief competing with unease on the Explorer's face.

He turned to the Aitah. The tribe's leader was staring intently at their auras.

Ryland felt a touch of nervousness brush his temples. He didn't have Ezreal's knowledge of tribal customs or etiquette.

"Honorable Aitah," he said carefully. "You asked why Aven and I have graced your presence..."

"Aye. I did." The Aitah gently gestured to his men to quiet them. "But we would not pry. Now, speak your piece."

Ryland blushed. No matter how powerful his sorcery was, he could never speak in front of groups of people, unless the voice was of his clarinet. Ezreal sensed his discomfort and stood up.

"We intended to come north with others, Aitah," Ezreal said. "And others in that party included Ashe, Tryndamere and Sejuani."

The Aitah's nostrils flared. No gesture could quiet his men now. They were whispering to each other with their liquid language.

"Ashe and Sejuani? In the same travelling party?"

"We are all one Freljord when winter beats at our door." Ezreal's ice-blue eyes sought the Aitah's. "All of us were trying to stop Lissandra from destroying your home. From what I hear, we're too late. So we come to stop the Skelgarn instead."

He made the Winter's Claw sign of peace. A hand at each shoulder, as if hugging one's self. And indicative of their symbol, too.

"Too long has she threatened the Freljord's people. Too long has her icy grip hidden spring from our own eyes. We united to halt the Ice Witch to destroy her."

The flame of Ezreal's aura waved in the warm breeze. He cupped his hands in front of him – a gesture used in Winter's Claw fertility rituals. "Your queen Sejuani – as well as Ashe and Tryndamere – have been captured to the south of us. Though you shower us with gifts, we must draw even more deeply on your resources."

His blue eyes flickered with gold. "Fight alongside me against the Skelgarn. As my friends – and as my kin. As brothers."

Only the barbarians' ragged breaths could be heard, save for the out-of-season frogs and crickets whirring and chirping in the grass.

At last, the Aitah stirred. "Aven. You wish for us to free your friends, but where does the battle stop?"

"It stops when the Freljord is free." Ezreal lowered his gaze. "When Winter's Claw and Avarosan have reclaimed their home."

The Aitah got to his feet. He towered over Ezreal. His broad shoulders were twice as wide as the Explorer's, his forearm as large as Ezreal's thigh. Still, he bowed. "You have chosen us. We are of one Freljord until her forces are gone. Ta-aikah!" he roared, gripping Ezreal's forearm. It echoed from mountain to mountain.

Ezreal echoed it – "Ta-aikah tante!"

Ryland, speechless, got the dim sense that it meant the wheel turns again.

In front of him, Ezreal's aura flared. The Aitah looked at Ezreal like a fellow warrior, eager to fight. "How soon must we move?"

"How soon can you be truly prepared? Don't rush it."

"An hour, Aven."

"So be it."

Ryland watched Ezreal turn towards him, thinking of everything that everyone saw in him. A knight, a lover, a king, a deity.

As the barbarians rushed to get their things together, Ezreal tugged Ryland into a darker part of the forest where they could talk without distractions. The Explorer was humming with excitement. Finally an end to their long strange journey.

"You got to see through Kat's eyes?"

"Yes, briefly."

"What'd you see?"

"Well, she wants to fuck Jarvan."

"Unsurprising." Grinning wolfishly, Ezreal leaned towards him. "And what – Jarvan couldn't hold them off? Not even with his kingly prowess?"

Ryland blinked. With all that had happened – these endless days together – he'd forgotten how much Ezreal hated Jarvan. And how Katarina abused him. Unease began to build in his stomach.

"Soraka isn't with them. That's all I had time to see."

"Ugh. I almost wonder if we should even go at all."

Ryland rubbed anxiously at his breastbone. "Well, with what they said about Lissandra's machines, we'll need everyone."

Ezreal froze. "You don't get it, do you? You honestly don't."

"No, I guess not."

"They're useless without us."

"I wouldn't call a fully trained assassin useless," Ryland said carefully.

"I hope she tries to rape me now. Or that Graves calls me a girl."

"With Kat, it was just the Skelgarn."

"Excuses." His eyes pleaded with Ryland. "Part of just really wants to stay here."

"With the barbarians? This is news to me."

"I know I'm not a god, but they're nice to me. Even if I'm half their height." Ezreal kicked the tree. "I want to bring Lux up here and raise my child up north. She'd be so happy. I can imagine it – but no. The baby's probably already gone. No chance.

Ezreal reclined against a darkwood pine. A hot breeze tousled his hair.

Ryland gritted his teeth. We have to go back to the others. They'll all reclaim him. Lux as a lover, Zandred as a champion. There'll be nothing left for me after this trek through the wilderness.

"There will be other children," he murmured.

"Not if Jarvan gets his way."

"Why do you love her so much?" Ryland rubbed his temples. Her laugh drives me crazy. "I don't get that, either. I don't get a lot of things."

Looking into the forest, Ezreal said at last, "You love me, don't you? It feels like that, but for Lux. It's the same."

The laughter escaped Ryland before he had the chance to stop it. Laughter as humid and heavy as the spring air lying on their shoulders. "The same? Oh, really?"

"Yes. Really." Ezreal's look of confusion was rapidly fading to anger.

"So, every day for the past ten years, you've longed for her? Protected her? Put yourself in danger for her? Actually, it was me who did the last two for her." Ryland tapped the side of his head. "In case you don't remember."

And I did it for you. If I were smarter, I would have let her die.

"Ryland!" Ezreal whirled. The wind picked up slightly. "Regardless of what you say, you won't change anything. I can't feel that way about you – I don't know why."

Poor Ryland. Never a thought for himself.

"I don't care how many folk tales there are from homosocial cultures. Being gay isn't normal anymore."

Ryland felt heat rise to his cheeks. His eyes flashed. "You left her at the League. I followed you here. You didn't save her. I don't know why you love a dumb blond like her anyways."

"But I do!"

"Then you love her for sex," Ryland said simply.

"What? How could you say something like that?"

A pause.

"Ryland?"

Ryland was shaking. Images and sounds surged into his mind, enveloping him.

You'll be okay, Lux. She won't be okay. She won't. Pulse abnormal. And blood – so much blood. Pulsing, flowing.

Ezreal, slightly connected to Ryland's mind, staggered backwards. And Ryland severed the connection entirely.

The images were still there. More of them.

Which enchantment, which enchantment? Soraka's stars, guide me! Karma was clawing at her cheeks. Don't think – act! Taric bellowed.

And a long, howling wail. And –

A deep, desperate longing for Ezreal to come home. So she could hold him, love him. Hear his voice. Hear him say I love you and mean it with every part of his fiery being.

For Ezreal did love her. Her, and her alone. She was sure of it.

In the present, Ezreal leaned towards him. "Ryland? What was that?"

Ryland didn't respond.

"Was that Lux?" Ezreal asked slowly. A few sparks danced across the scars in his cheeks.

"Maybe," Ryland breathed. I'll keep it from him. He deserves it. They both do. "Same love as I have, huh? Some love you g-"

He didn't see Ezreal move, only felt his hands crushing his shoulders, his back colliding with the dark pine behind him. Ezreal's hands were beginning to singe his shirt.

His blue eyes darted from side to side. Worry only made them a prettier, colder blue. "What did you see? What was it?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Tell me!" Ezreal shouted. "Come on! Tell me!"

Ryland smiled. He felt Ezreal's faint mental attacks against the ironclad defense of his mind. He struggled against Ezreal's grasp and freed himself, only for Ezreal to seize his wrists and wrestle him to the ground.

His vision burned with the sun, punctuated by two steely blue galaxies. Ezreal's hot breath beat against his face and throat. "Tell me, you fucking faggot!"

For I am always in the light. Luxanna, the Lady of Luminosity.

Ryland chuckled. "You're so cute when you're mad."

Ez panted. He looked down at Ryland, who calmly blinked. Met his eyes. Made sure Ryland was looking. "Noxian," he breathed.

For your parentage is naught but shadows…

Ryland laughed again. "At least my father is alive."

"At least my mother wasn't a whore!"

"You might want to get off of me. Wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea that anything abnormal's going on. You know, besides the glowing."

Ezreal squeezed his wrists tighter. "Is she dead? Tell me!"

"Anything you wish, Ezreal." Ryland sent a brief prayer to the stars before kicking Ezreal squarely in the ribs, sending him flying like a shooting star.

He dodged the first few Mystic Shots. He didn't notice the thick clouds collecting themselves above the mountaintops. Shifting his feet to move away from an Essence Flux, he hurled a bolt of silver at Ezreal's head.

Four wolves, as gray as the mist surrounding them, leapt from the woodline and lunged at Ezreal.

Ryland had a brief moment of pause – no one had commanded animals for centuries. Then he remembered his namesake. Ryland, Tamer of Void Wolves.

With a roar of fury and surge of gold, Ezreal hurled the wolves away,

One gesture – a flock of Freljord ravens taking wing, bolting past Ryland, all fluttering wings and hearts.

Another gesture – two cougars running. Their canines flashed in the light of his aura. Ezreal's aura became so bright Ryland was blinded.

It didn't matter – he could still see the world around him in his mind, in more vivid colors than before. He could feel every heartbeat, see every feather and claw and tooth.

I'll heal myself later. If I live.

Ezreal dove through a sea of singed fur and caught Ryland in the ribs. He hauled the Healer to his knees by his shirt. Ryland's vision slowly returned – nature was reknitting his eyes.

"Just tell me," Ezreal whispered. "Is she alive?"

"You can't make me. You said they were useless with us, right?" Ryland still managed to smile beneath the sweat and grime plastering his hair to his forehead. He pressed his lips to Ezreal's ear. "You're worthless without me."

Ezreal's grip on his wrists tightened, cinching them. The blue galaxies – his eyes - burned brighter and brighter.

And one of Ryland's wrists broke with a high, sharp click.

Ezreal's eyes widened. He released his hold and scrambled backwards. His chest was heaving.

Ryland didn't make a sound. A bone jutted from the right side of his wrist, shining palely in the moonlight. Blood leaked steadily on the grass beneath him.

But Ryland didn't even whimper.

If you make a peep, we'll try this 'gain. We have to toughen you up for the military somehow. His blonde commander in fatigues watched as the white-hot metal rod descended towards Ryland's arm. So many times he screamed, but eventually he didn't anymore. He watched his skin burn distantly, often thinking of Ezreal's books.

When the soldiers beat him, he didn't make a sound. After they untied him from the staircase in their barracks, Ryland fled to his closet with a flashlight and read about Shurimana's artifacts for the five-hundredth time. He fell asleep with Ezreal's portrait against his cheek.

Merilyn could whip him fifty times. No reaction.

One of the first things Soraka did was heal his scars. Beneath the wounds she saw beauty – his parents had commanded her to.

Slowly sweeping his bare back with a warm sponge, she murmured, "So many scars. So many kinds. Where'd you get these?"

And Ryland – Michael, in those days – smiled crookedly. "Around."

And so he took the injury from the last person he loved and trusted without comment.

His mother would have been proud.

"Why do you love her?" Ryland had asked. Always looking away, not making eye contact. Ezreal's aura was pretty bright after all.

Ez felt a brief pang of annoyance. He felt bad to feel annoyed. "Well, you love me, right?"

Wrong move, apparently.

"It feels the same way."

When Ryland laughed, Ez actually looked around for the joke. Then he realized: it was himself. Someone else laughing at his feelings. Just like the Carries.

"So every day for ten years, she's loved you?"

And Ezreal said something to the tune of "I can't love you because you're a guy."

And Ryland pissed him off. "You only love her for sex."

Then the images. For a brief moment, Ezreal thought Ryland killed her – his silver aura soaring through the night sky and strangling her. Then he realized – the baby. She still had it! But she was –

"Dying," he gasped. He felt Ryland lock his mind tight, but Ezreal knew the Empath was getting information. The betrayal shocked him on some level. But his only conscious thoughts were of Lux.

The rest of the fight disappeared in his memory – black fear, scarlet anger. Animals of all sorts – shadows of them racing towards him.

From normal to hell in a matter of seconds.

He remembered thinking Skelgarn at one point. And the words I have to know kept burning through his mind.

The only clear memory was his face hovering near Ryland's. His greenish eyes were unreadable. "Noxian," Ezreal whispered and watched Ryland's pupils expand with pain.

That's how it feels to love Lux and see her marry Jarvan. Just like that.

And Lux's smile was in his mind, this dark, hellish place lit by silver and gold fire.

Ryland's gaze was empty. He cradled the wrist with his other hand. "Well, I guess you did make me. Lux and the baby are alive. Taric stopped the premature birth."

"Ryland –" Ezreal crept closer, trying not to look at the exposed bone. "I'm sorry. I couldn't think."

"Get away from me, please," Ryland said cheerfully. "Never touch me again."

Ezreal licked his lips. They were dry. "Let me help."

"Don't touch me," Ryland said, still sounding cheery.

"What? No. Come here."

"GET BACK!" Ryland's aura snapped like a whip. It tossed Ezreal backwards.

The Explorer landed on his back. His shoulder smashed against a rock even as thunder rumbled through the mountains.

I really fucked up. Gods above and below forgive me. Ryland.

Ezreal reached for his mind and found nothing. Not static or darkness. No anger or sadness. The emptiness of the void.

Nothing.

Ryland wasn't there. His mind had simply…stopped.

Waves of black remorse threatened rose in Ezreal's throat, choking him.

No. No. I have to keep trying.

Ez cautiously approached Ryland, hands held up. The Healer was surrounded by an aura bubble of green-silver. It shimmered like seafoam. Ryland muttered something.

"What'd you say?"

"What did I do wrong?" Ryland was addressing the moon, rocking his cradled wrist. He sounded very calm.

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's my fault."

Ryland ignored him. "Please. Just let me die. Just drown me," he said to the moon. Ezreal held his breath. "Drown me, Aurora. Why? Why me?"

Ezreal heard the group of barbarians come up behind him. Their plates of armor clanked against one another. The Aitah halted them and stood, his eyes beneath his horned helmet glimmering with worry.

"Just let me die," Ryland repeated. A pleading note crept into his voice. "I can't do this anymore."

Ezreal sat paralyzed. He felt helpless.

"This isn't how the tales go," the Aitah whispered hoarsely. Ezreal shook his head to clear it.

If I go, he might kill me. If I don't, he'll kill himself.

He felt the eyes of the barbarians on his back as he got to his feet and staggered towards Ryland. He sat next to him, muscles tense.

Ryland ignored him. Still staring at the moon, he murmured something. An Ionian sacrament for the dead.

Ezreal reached for his broken wrist. Ryland snatched it away with his other hand.

"Ezreal. Please leave me."

His eyes – so blank. Ezreal shuddered. "Don't kill yourself."

"You've already done it for me. It's just my body, now. You're just finishing what everyone else started." Ryland half-smiled.

Ezreal's breath hitched. "That's – that's pretty dark, Ryland."

"Well, I am the child of shadows, apparently. Or a faggot." Ryland turned away.

"I'm sorry."

"Just – go play with your barbarian friends and your girlfriend." Ryland snorted. "Kat won't even know I'm gone."

Ezreal reached for him again, fingers outstretched.

"I said to leave me!" Ryland's eyes glittered desperately. "Stop hurting me!"

Ez recoiled. He felt the air charging around him. All the pain Ezreal had caused him coalescing like a thunderstorm.

Ryland's aura sent hundreds of silver strands streaking across the sky. Ezreal watched in horror as he and Ryland's aura turned to a glistering blue.

"Just let me die."

At the boundary of snow, grass began to sprout. Acorns grew to trees in mere moments. A groaning, creaking sound filled the air as plants reached upward for light.

The snow blossomed with flowers from all of Runeterra. The blooms were of every shape and color – purple tulips, golden trumpets, white daffodils – all pushing winter away with their petals. Pine trees shoved slowly past their coat of snow and needles.

The residents of Angel's Crossing stepped out of their homes and watched as vines and moss melted the snow around them.

Seventy-five miles away, Lissandra gasped. Something was eating part of her homeland. She sent back a wave of frost, halting the growth's invasion.

Ezreal jumped. A thunderous crack echoed through the night – like Ryland's wrist multiplied thousands of times. He watched dumbly as the ice capping the mountains thousands of feet above them crumbled and fell, replaced by a carpet of grass and forest of trees.

The barbarians dropped their weapons.

There were simply no words.

Ryland's aura bubble popped, then returned to its simpler flame form, still Pulsefire blue.

A few breathless moments later, an aurora filled the cloudless sky – the clouds had been destroyed by Ryland's Storm. The light was fueled by the massive discharge of Pulsefire earlier. Green, silver, gold, blue – it painted the sky and drizzled color onto Ryland, Ezreal and the barbarians below.

Ryland slowly opened his eyes. He looked at Ezreal, then back to the aurora. "How am I even alive? Why?"

Ezreal embraced Ryland once more. Both of them were shaking. "You just – I don't even know what happened. You killed winter."

"I don't care." Ryland's lips quivered. "Let go of me. You hurt me. "

"Shh." Ezreal hesitated, then tried to kiss Ryland. The Healer pulled away.

"Gods, I hope the aurora finishes me off soon. This weirdo's trying to make-out with me."

"I thought that's what you wanted!" Ezreal said desperately. Ryland closed his eyes again, and took up the same Ionian chant.

Ezreal grabbed him again. "Fine! I'll ditch Lux. Ditch everyone. We've talked about it before. Let's go. I'll take you – I'll take you to the pyramids of Shurimana. That's where I did most of my research. We can get drunk and sleep under the stars."

"No."

"We'll go camping on the beach. I'll stay awake to make sure you don't drown yourself."

"Not quite," Ryland said. He chuckled. Ez's attempts to show affection amused him. It was at least a start, Ezreal thought.

"You have nice eyes."

Behind them, the barbarians were all turning around in disbelief, staring at the mountains. They had been white for all their life. The greenness was startling to the eye.

Ryland snorted. "We'll probably die before you get anywhere."

"Let me do what I want to you. You're a masochist, aren't you?" Ezreal licked his lips again. Now he knew how the others felt about himself – the Overflow, the Storm. The ticking time bomb.

Ryland looked at his broken wrist and genuinely laughed. "No thanks."

Ezreal gritted his teeth. "Then I'll seduce you."

"I don't want to have sex with you," Ryland said irritably. He and Ezreal were oblivious to the other barbarian factions creeping slowly out of their hiding places, staring intently at the twin blue auras. "You have Lux for that."

The Aurora was growing, stretching past Angel's Crossing and towards the Freljord. Tiny strands of light were beginning to touch upon Ryland. Ezreal didn't believe in folk tales, but he wasn't planning to watch Ryland be dissolved into ions.

He put a hand on each side of Ryland's face. He tried to ignore how hard Ryland flinched backwards, and how his teeth were chattering. His cheekbones beneath Ezreal's thumbs were so delicate. So, so delicate.

By now, hundreds of barbarians were standing around them, watching intently.

"I am useless without you. That's why I am afraid to love you."

Ryland's eyes widened. The blood from his wrist – it had never really been stopped – was spreading across the hem of Ezreal's shirt.

Ezreal coughed. "That's why, consciously, I love Lux more. If she dies, I can live. It will be hard, but I'll live. But if you die – if you kill yourself, after all this time you spent chasing me – I'll die too."

He swallowed. "I've been alone for so many years. Being dependent on someone is scary. But the truth is – I love you as much as you love me. Just in a different way."

The barbarians whispered among themselves in different languages. A few of them were watching intently, mentally recording each thing said. Soon there would be a new folktale.

Ryland kept evading his gaze. Imagining the word Noxian from the lips of his beloved, most likely. But Ezreal held him until their eyes at last met.

"Ryland. You're fine just the way you are."

He hesitated, then pulled Ryland close, driving the faint chill of the spring night from his digits. Their auras slowly faded to gold and silver.

The Healer wouldn't forget. He knew part of himself would remember the seductive curve of Ezreal's lips as they framed the word Noxian, and the bone jutting from his own wrist.

Yet, for a time, all was well between them.

But war was beginning elsewhere.