Ezreal watched Ryland sink to his knees again and cursed Jarvan with every name he could think of in rapid succession. He called on the worst swears in every dialect he'd studied. There were many.

Kat strode past him, her red hair flying behind her like a banner. Her teeth were clenched, and she was actually hissing with fury.

She hauled Ryland upward. "Get off your knees. Don't let the Demacians ever treat you like that."

Ryland stared at her blankly. "What?"

"When we're at war, you never kneel. You never bow. They bow to you, or you cut their throat."

The Healer backed away from her. "Kat. I'm not a warrior. I'm not hurting anyone."

"With those powers? Ha. We're going to need you."

"I don't want to," he said desperately. "I just want to stay with the Supports."

"Sweetheart, the League is dead. You heard him." Kat pointed the way Jarvan had departed.

"But –"

"The war's back on and you're the son of our Grandmaster General. You bet your ass you're gonna be on the battlefield."

Ryland's face, already pale, turned completely white. "But where will I live?"

"Are you serious, Ryland?" Kat stomped her foot in irritation. "Du Couteau manor. We're moving back."

"I can't."

"Katarina, stop." Soraka moved in and took Ryland's hand. She let herself admire the smoothness of his palm before continuing. "You know Ryland's not a fighter."

"After what happened to the trolls?" Kat retorted, then snapped her mouth shut. Ryland looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

"You killed them," Kat said simply.

Realization slowly broke across Ryland's face. Soraka glared at Kat. "How can you be so insensitive? That's almost as bad as Ezreal!"

"He needs to face the facts. There's no time for him or me to be soft."

"That's the other thing. The thing I couldn't remember," Ryland muttered. "What did I do to them? Was it at least – humane?" He choked on the last word.

Soraka's angry stare grew stronger. Kat ignored her. "No. No it wasn't." She turned to see Ezreal looking at her solemnly and threw her hands up. "You can glare at me all you want, but it doesn't change the fact that Ezreal broke his wrist and that he slaughtered two-thousand trolls!"

Her voice's pitch and volume were steadily rising. The Demacian-Noxus conflict was ingrained in her bone, as much a part of her body as blood and water. Her anger had slumbered for a while, contented with the comforts of the Institute. Now it arose, hungry and restless.

She grabbed Ryland by the front of his shirt. Her emerald eyes narrowed.

"You wanna know what you did?"

"No," he said softly. He was already braced for pain. "But you're going to tell me anyways, just like everyone else does."

That only made her angrier. "You went god mode. You had wolves slaughter them. You burned their entrails, made their skin rot off."

Ryland put his hands over his ears. His aura was dimming and turning a dirtier silver – somehow it was painful to watch. "Stop, Kat. Please."

"They fell apart in front of you. Their hearts melted inside of them."

"Stop!" Ezreal called. He rushed towards her. The spiritual link between him and Ryland was bursting beneath the pulsing, loathsome weight of fear and disgust radiating from the Healer.

I just want to stop him from hurting, Ezreal thought wildly. That's it. I'll protect him.

Katarina shoved him away with a sneer. Her face was alight with Noxian cruelty. She looked like an angel of death. "Step off, prettyboy. He's Noxus' now."

"You're hurting him."

"Me?" Kat laughed. "Tell me about it."

When Ezreal's open hand struck Kat's cheek, it made a dull, flat sound. She didn't flinch, but moved with eerie grace until the cold steel of a blade nipped his neck.

"Oh, so you want to do this again? Forgot already? Just because you can scare a mewling king doesn't mean you can scare me." Her Noxian accent transitioned seamlessly from low Noxian to High, from the voice of a street sweeper to a queen. "True royalty never kneels, no matter the cost."

Ezreal gulped and stood motionless. He couldn't even feel fear through the curtain of black that had descended over his mind.

One of these days, we're all going to destroy each other, he thought. It isn't a matter of if, but when. Too many close calls.

"I'm not going with you," Ryland said softly over Kat's shoulder. "I can't."

Katarina's muscles went rigid, driving the tip of her blade into Ezreal's skin. He felt a bead of blood travel down his neck and stain the collar of his gray shirt an ugly brown.

"What do you mean?" she asked, without turning around.

"I can't fight, Kat. I can't go to Noxus."

Ezreal saw her eyes widen in pain and surprise. The blade quivered.

"You'd leave me?"

After everything I've done for you? She thought but didn't say. She couldn't say it. What else had she done but made Ryland's life a nightmare? Or a nightmare preferable to the others?

"I can't hurt people. I only want to heal."

And that comes before our relationship? She wanted to ask, but she knew the answer. Their relationship had never been important. She remembered him snarling Noxians aren't supposed to care as she left to try and make him jealous. But not even Ezreal could change it. He cared about everyone, except her.

She remembered Ezreal's jugular lie on the other end of her frosty blade. For a moment, she was tempted to drive it home, drive it deep into the secret walls of his flesh, watch his nose and pretty mouth fill with blood – it would spill blackly and uselessly to the ground, instead of continuing the cheerful task of keeping his youthful body running.

And what would Ryland do? He would kill me, then himself.

No. More likely he would look at her in wordless betrayal, comfort Ezreal as life fled his body, then disappear into the forest.

She withdrew the blade. "Damnit. Damnit, damnit."

"I do love you, Kat," Ryland said, closing his eyes. She felt him envelope her with his affection, then his arms. "I just can't go. There was more than one reason why I was kicked from the Demacian military."

Kat scowled, torn. "You make me soft and I hate it. But you're right. It's better if I leave you."

Ryland winced. "You don't have to go, either. We could –" he glanced at Ezreal. "We could all move somewhere together."

"Ryland," Kat began, and sighed. She swiped her blade on her pants, not noticing the tiny drop of Ezreal's blood. "The League is an unnatural construct. That's what your dad called it, anyways. I'm not totally sure what it means, but I agree."

She ran her finger along the edge of her knife. I feel like my fucking heart is breaking. Damnit, Ryland.

"None of us would have met without it. Look – even bitchboy would still be running around alone, eating bugs."

She turned to Ryland. He looked so incredibly wounded that she had to look away. Oh, come on. Don't look at me like that, kid.

"What are you saying?" Ryland's voice was soft and low.

"We aren't supposed to be together. In the real world, I'd kill Ezreal and Soraka where they stood. This is all fake."

"Kat, please," Soraka sighed. "He's already had a horrible day."

Her anger flared. "Yeah, well, he can thank his best friend." She turned to Ezreal and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. She wished it were a blade. "Jarvan lied – the true fall of Demacia began when you fucked the king's girlfriend."

He didn't flinch, either. "Stop harassing Ryland."

"Oh, great. Now you act like you care." Kat rolled her eyes. "Please, spare me."

"I do care!" Ezreal looked like he wanted to slap her again, but thought better of it. He was already ashamed that he'd lashed out in anger again. Thank the gods it wasn't Ryland.

"You don't care enough to keep the League together."

"Excuse me. Hey, guys." Erinae chose that moment to reappear, leading a weary-looking Jayce by the hand. The Piltover inventor looked more disheveled then he probably had in his entire life. His black hair was finger-combed into a dark, impressive mane, and his shirt was spattered with mud. Erinae had the same wild look, and for a moment, they both seemed equally nonhuman.

"Can we not do anything really stupid for five minutes?" the blonde girl demanded.

"We can try," Ezreal muttered.

"Ha. Looks like you aren't off to tell the League." Kat cocked her head.

"It was an act," Erinae sniffed haughtily. "All part of my master plan."

"Oh, really?" Kat rolled her eyes, thankful for the distraction Erinae provided. She couldn't handle looking at Ryland and telling him the only family he'd ever known was about to be torn apart by a black ocean of hatred. Scattered like the bleached bones of a shipwreck.

"Yeah," Erinae said, mirroring Kat's low Noxian accent. "Now King Fuckboy is going to think I'm going, right? So he's going to go slower. And he's hopped off his mind on Skelgarn, right? Or at least I hope so. If not, he's just totally fucking nuts."

"And?" Tryndamere looked troubled, but whether it was by her language or her ideas was unknown.

"He's going to run around in the wilderness for a few days, then die." Erinae grinned broadly. "See? All better. League stays, Ryland marries Katarina, Ezreal marries Lux, and it's a happy ending!"

"We should go find him," Ryland said quietly. The statement earned him looks of shock, even from Soraka.

"Hello? Were you not listening?" Kat's eyebrows rose. "He blamed his shitty leadership skills on you."

"Yes, but I'm a Healer. A guardian." His lips twitched when he met Kat's eyes. "I –"

"Bullshit," Kat snarled. "Stop letting people abuse you."

"I guess he should get rid of you then." Ezreal flinched when she whirled on him.

"Stay out of this!"

"Yo, shut the hell up!" Jayce boomed. He cupped his hands around his mouth and whistled. Erinae smiled. Her speech patterns were rubbing off on him. "Did you not just hear her? The League is not in danger. I repeat, the League is not in danger."

"Yeah, good one! When Jarvo's mysteriously dead, I'm sure I won't get blamed and assassinated. Just great." Kat glared at him. She was glaring a lot, lately. She was looking forward to being able to use her blades.

"The Skelgarn Is affecting you, too," Soraka murmured, twisting the end of her braid anxiously.

"No, I'm pretty sure it's because everyone keeps calling the man I love useless." She stopped. She was panting and hated herself for it. He was the only one she'd loved enough to get angry for.

When Ryland stepped closer and folded her into his arms, she didn't resist. Her skin was flushed and feverish.

Soraka eyed them, then stepped forward. "Everyone, rest please. A healthy mind is the best way to combat the Skelgarn's effects. I'll be meditating on other ways to protect us."

"Aye," Tryndamere muttered, and rubbed his chin. "I like not this development."

"Nor I," added Sejuani. "It would be most distasteful for the League to fall the moment Winter's Claw and Avarosan have sworn peace."

"How things always fall, in't it?" Ashe looked at her. "The rain always slants sideways under your roof."

Sejuani nodded. "In my land, it's 'the first frost follows the first fawn.' But aye."

"The fuck are they saying?" Erinae whispered to Jayce. He shrugged.

"I guess that it's…ironic? I have no clue."

Ashe edged closer to Ryland and patted his shoulder. "Skylan, even if there be doubt in Noxus and Demacia both, the Freljord knows you are its true spirit. You too, Aven."

"Thank you. That's very humbling." Ryland pulled Kat closer.

"Agreed." Ezreal tried to smile and couldn't. Ashe nodded in understanding.

Sejuani coughed. "If the League does go belly up, you are welcome among my clan, Aven and Skylan." She touched the tip of Ezreal's nose with her index finger – a sign of companionship among the Winter's Claw, whose body language was one of the most difficult Ezreal had ever learned.

"Ours as well." Tryndamere and Sejuani headed away, but Ashe lingered.

She put her hand on Ezreal's chest and gazed into his blue eyes. Her eyes – so similar to Lux's – made his knees weaken. "Rest well, Aven. Sleep deeply, Skylan. May your dreams bring you closer still to the heart of light. Even if we cannot be together on this earth, at this place and time, there will we meet – within the walls of radiance. The Aurora without ending, forever and ever."

Ezreal was so distracted by her smooth translation of the end of Book VIII of the "Verisin Nox" that he almost forgot to respond. There's that academic coping mechanism again. I guess I got it right when I translated it. "Ta – aikah, Ashe of the Avarosan. Good night."

What did you say that was from? Ryland thought to him, still holding Kat, after the Freljordians had moved away.

Verisin Nox. It's their prayer book. They say that prayer after Aven and Skylan leave the wheel and go back into their slumber.

So they die.

Ezreal closed his eyes. Yes.

Is that how every story ends?

Ryland, I don't know.

Ryland nodded, and closed his eyes as well.

Soraka pressed closer to the campfire.

The shawl the barbarian women had brought her rustled slightly, the wooden beads clicking together in the freshening wind. They were painted bright colors by plant dye – aqua and violet and gold. The kindness with which the shawl had been made warmed Soraka, comforting her.

A bit, at least.

She tried to tell herself that she didn't feel a Noxianesque triumph that Ryland put healing before Katarina. The mortal part of her sang victoriously. She allowed her thoughts space to revel and feast until she heard, That means he loves you more than her, and abruptly shut her mind.

Stars above. Lissandra's influence seems to be growing by the hour.

We're a cleansing force, the Skelgarn whispered. We eat away all those little lies, those fabrications, and leave what's left glistening in the open.

In her mind, Soraka saw a pile of bones, stripped of flesh, shining whitely in the moonlight.

Tucking her chin closer to her chest, Soraka turned her mind from thoughts of Ryland, meditating instead on the Institute. Will Jarvan succeed? I know no Institution lasts forever, even if seems to, but…it was so good for so many people.

She thought of Jatt and Turley, who were orphans from Bilgewater. No one knew their parentless past, thanks to the generosity of the League. Though people poked fun at them, they were happy running menial errands for pats on the head from Zandred.

In her mind's eye, she saw Diana and Leona greet each other – coldly, but they still exchanged words. She saw Nami teaching Lulu how to swim. Karma teaching Taric the basics of yoga, and him echoing her graceful stances with his stocky body.

She saw Twisted Fate patting Graves' shoulder after a match.

The Outlaw turned with a snarl that gradually faded into his beard. "Hell. Guess we did good, after all, Fate. Though it were mostly me. And Raka."

"That it was." Fate tipped his hat. "Look forward to our next match."

"I'll whip your magic ass, Fate."

"We'll see 'bout that, cowboy."

The bitterness was still there, but they were speaking to each other. Graves in particular was no longer entirely consumed by hatred.

She saw Summoners from all regions falling in love with one another, enchanted by their differences instead of disgusted by them. Lux playfully hiding from Katarina. Quinn and Swain having a brief, tense conversation about birding. Anivia resting peacefully atop the Supports' Quarters. Talon teasing Garen about the size of his sword.

Zandred and Erinae. Kassadin and Kog'Maw. Janna and Xin Zhao.

Ryland and Ezreal. She was crying, silently, and didn't know why. Her star-blessed Ryland. She loved him, adored watching the dawn slowly break over his features. He smiled now, could speak without trembling. Her endless prayers to the gods on his behalf worked. He struggled, and would continually, but his soul was breaking free at last. The darkness disappearing in the light of Ezreal's aura.

None of them knew him. He used to hide from the other Supports, even Lulu, who just wanted to play. He flinched when she entered a door. The music from his clarinet stopped if something fell nearby.

There were nights neither of them slept, but watched the heavens complete their strange, crystalline dance through the skylight in the Supports' Atrium. The stars shone in tandem with the red paper lanterns dangling from the myth-tree's branches.

For he was afraid that, if he slept, he'd wake up in Merilyn's house.

The long-lashed lids of his eyes finally slipped closed, sheltering those orbs of forest green and winter gray. His breaths slowly deepened. He rolled over and pressed his face even closer to her neck.

And they call him useless. Why? She thought to the heavens. Anguish flooded her. Why do they torment him, when they should be applauding the fact that he's drawing breath, let alone destroying a troll army? He even wanted to save Jarvan. Gods above. And they call him useless. Why?

She wasn't expecting an answer. A soft, gentle voice, opposite of Lissandra's creeping, sinuous tone, issued from the stars.

Soraka. You have done well, but think.

The Starchild opened her eyes. The brown, featureless tents looked back at her. "Hmm? Speak, if you will."

You as a healer know that the wheel turns forever, through darkness and light. The voice was gently reprimanding. And you have little right to comment on someone else's fate, upon matters you have no power over.

Soraka lowered her head, chastened. I do know, goddess. Pray, tell me if you can – which are you?

Aven's true mother.

Soraka's breath stopped. If this was a trick by Lissandra, it had surpassed mere illusion, and descended into the alteration of reality.

Ah, my gentle sister. The voice of the earth makes you doubt yourself. You, like Aven and Skylan, are quite worthy.

Are they gods, then? Soraka pressed her hand to her lips, shaking.

The wheel is ever connected, the Aurora whispered. I am only here to comfort you. Do not lose hope.

I never shall.

She felt the goddess' warm smile. Fate chose you well to become mortal. Your spirit is unbreakable.

Thank you, goddess.

The two beings rested a moment, simply enjoying each other's company. She felt the Aurora drift through her, pausing every now and again. Her warm embrace was a welcome change from the Skelgarn.

My main purpose is to comfort you about Skylan, she said at last. I believe he is…Ryland, in this part of the wheel?

Yes, sister.

Your love for him is pure. It is love borne of two souls touching. It is only the ice's evil that causes you pain. The Skelgarn has attached itself to Katrina and reflected on to you.

Soraka had a brief urge to correct the Aurora on Katarina's name, but thought better of it. Katarina's name must have dropped an 'a' somewhere on the journey between universes, left the vowel behind like a pebble in the sand.

For what deeper purpose do you speak?

To tell you to love him as much as you can, for I and many other beings cannot.

Soraka's throat tightened. She wanted to beg the Aurora to bestow her blessings on Ryland, but knew that fate had decreed the Aurora could not. Some things were unchangeable. Every healer knew that.

The Aurora sensed her thought and murmured, Fear not. Skylan has my blessing, even if Ryland does not.

What? What are you talking about? Soraka thought blankly before realizing how mortal she sounded. How demanding.

The Aurora responded by tugging her out of her body and hurling her unceremoniously into the atmosphere. She felt mortal cares and thoughts leave her, blown away by the whistling wind. She was free, for a time, from the sluggishly heavy vessel the mortals called a body.

Strands of Pulsefire blue and healing green attached to her, brushing her like multicolored butterflies.

Look, child. Behold.

Soraka's consciousness expanded with the Aurora. She felt the two of them spiral even farther upward.

Look, the Aurora whispered. So Soraka did.

And the wheel turned in front of her, lying on its side. It was a series of worlds connected with bolts of starlight and beams of Pulsefire. The planets glistened like polished jewels, some a glittering aquamarine, some bursting with verdant green life. The stars were suspended within the wheel's spokes. She watched the universes hurtling through space and time, moving in a circle.

Listen to it, bade the Aurora. And she did. There was a vast, whispering hush, the comforting sound of something running smoothly.

Soraka knew she would never understand the science part of it, but she understood that there were more worlds than hers.

So, the tales are true.

Most of them are, you'll find.

Then all is ordered? Soraka thought. Calmness – one of the few mortal feelings spiritual beings experienced – flooded her.

Almost. I am of the center world. The Aurora gestured to the delicate white orb hanging in the middle of the wheel. If this part is damaged, all will fall. Everything you see and know is a reflection of a world gone right. The center.

Then, am I you? Soraka thought. Far away, a star exploded, hurling red jets of superheated gas from its core.

Perhaps, the Aurora said with a laugh. I'd like that. But one thing more, Soraka.

The Aurora encompassed her and pulled her still higher, until the wheel she saw was small. It was surrounded by other wheels, with other centers. Other days, names, seasons, loves, lives, deaths. All of them turned together in harmony, each tiny part a portion of a more expansive whole.

It's beautiful, Soraka whispered, looking out into the glassy black ocean, punctuated with twinkling stars and glowing spheres. She sounded like a mortal and embraced it.

The Aurora didn't mind. Soraka felt the ethereal equivalent of a kiss. Goodbye, Star Child.

Soraka nodded. Thank you. I am honored.

I am as well. The Aurora's light brightened, blinding her. She felt her soul drop, tracing the path of the wheel like a shooting star.

Ta – Aikah, the Aurora whispered. Those words were the same, in all parts of the wheel. This wheel, at least. Her home.

Ta – Aikah tante.

Soraka's body clenched as her soul met with it once more. She felt her heart begin to beat, sluggishly at first, then with more gusto as it welcomed her back. She looked up to see a final blue-green wisp of light wink out of existence.

"Goodbye."

"Ezreal?"

The Explorer heard the flaps of his tent rustle, and was immediately awake.

Not this time, Kat, he thought dazedly. Not ever again.

But it was Ryland. His friend looked surprisingly…alright. If one considered a pale face, darkened eyes and a silver fiery aura alright. Which Ezreal did.

"What's up?"

"Can I stay in here?" he asked sheepishly. "Kat's pissed."

Ez thought back to sleeping in Ryland's room after his fight with Lux, and nodded. The Healer settled next to him with a sigh. He waited a beat. "Can I have a hug?"

Ezreal smiled. "Yeah, you need one. Come here."

For a long time, Ezreal had seen no problem touching Ryland. His favorite memory was awakening snuggled between Ryland and Lux and realizing all was well, after the Zed scare was finally over.

Sometimes, after he had a minor tiff with the Lady of Luminosity, he daydreamed about exploring the world with Ryland by his side. Things were always so uncomplicated.

He hadn't even thought about their physical affection until Lux confronted him with it four months into their relationship. He'd hugged Ryland after a formal dinner at Summoners' Retreat. He was in full view of the Summoners and Champions, but hadn't thought about it. He wasn't interested in the way people perceived him at the Institute. Only in academia.

When they got back to their room in the Supports' Quarters, he knew something was wrong. Lux wouldn't look at him.

"Did I do something dumb?" He checked to make sure his shoes were on the right feet.

"No, it's just…Ryland." Lux grimaced. "Gods, I never thought I'd be that girl."

"What girl?"

"The one who drives the male best friends apart."

He slowly began to take off his suit, loosening the collar of his white shirt and tossing his blue tie away. He saw Lux shift uncomfortably. She wanted to be turned on, but was still upset.

"So what are you talking about?" he asked. He ran a wet comb through his unruly blonde locks.

"You touch him too much! You're too affectionate with him in public." Lux huffed. "There, I said it."

"What? We're just – you know –" Ezreal gestured with the comb. Of course, it was then that he realized the depth of uncertainty concerning him and Ryland. If it had gotten clear to Lux, it must've been pretty bad.

"You're just what?"

"Friends. Oh, come on. You hug Katarina all the time."

She had flushed, though Ezreal didn't know why until later, when he learned that they'd been lovers. "Yeah, but –"

"Yes?"

"It's weird," she muttered. She kicked off her navy blue high heels and looked at him. "You always wonder why the other Marksmen don't think you're manly."

"And?"

"Ryland. That's why."

"He's my main Support." Ezreal shrugged, unbuttoning his dress shirt. He was getting pretty upset, mostly because Lux was right, though neither he nor Ryland had thought about it. "It's just how I was brought up, Lux. Don't tell me – don't tell me you're actually worried." She didn't say anything, only looked up at the ceiling with those lake-blue eyes. "Seriously?"

"He's Noxian."

"So is Kat! It's the same exact thing. You use her as a pillow sometimes, but you don't see me worrying. She grabbed your boobs the other day. And I didn't say anything because I didn't care."

Lux gritted her teeth. "He's in love with you."

"He loves me. There is a difference."

"Yeah, okay." She looked surprisingly hurt. Ezreal wanted to comfort her, but stopped himself. "Sure there is, Ez."

"Lux – be real with me. Are you jealous?"

"Should I be?" she retorted.

"So you're on the Marksmen's side of things, huh?" He sighed. "That's fantastic. The person I've slept with isn't confident in my sexuality."

"You wouldn't be getting so upset if you didn't think it was wrong." She glowered at him. "You're acting guilty."

"Of having a friend after years of wandering around in the desert alone? Maybe I'm making up for not seeing anyone for most of my life. I mean, I'm pretty affectionate with you too." He paused and felt his heart sink a little when he saw how mad she was. "Yes?"

"Not as much."

Ezreal shook his head and walked away. It was best to leave Lux when she was in moods like these.

Though they patched things up an hour later in the shower, the damage had already been done. After that, Ezreal began to worry endlessly over whether or not he was manly enough. He'd taken to given Lux flowers and jewelry, holding doors open for her.

But that was far away, now, and had been for a while.

Ryland rested his head on Ezreal's shoulder and put an arm behind his back. And Ezreal knew as soon as their auras shifted to blue that something was wrong.

With the oceanic waves of light undulating above them, Ezreal asked, "Ryland? You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You sure? I mean, your girlfriend almost broke up with you, Jarvan blamed you for his kingdom –"

Ryland smiled. "He's just dumb. Everything's fine. I'm probably going to split off from the group and look for Jarvan tomorrow, though. He doesn't deserve to die out there alone."

Ezreal felt a small glimmer of something flicker through he and Ryland's mental link. He frowned. Yeah, no. Ryland could try all he wanted, but the Explorer could've guessed this one even without their mental bond.

He focused just a little bit and heard the undercurrent of Ryland's thoughts, roaring faintly like a faraway ocean. It'll finally be over, I'm just ready for it now, I don't care anymore. I do care, but I don't want to hurt them. As soon as he falls asleep, I'm going. I don't care what he says. I'm going.

"…Are you sure?"

"Yes," Ryland huffed. "Good gods. Didn't realize I was best friends with a bunch of questions."

I will go because I want to do right in this world, and I am no longer able, Ryland's mind whispered.

Ezreal could feel Ryland's certainty, the utter surety that this was the course he was going to take. He would confront Jarvan and let the king kill him. And if it didn't work, he would cut his own throat with the king's blade.

What scared Ezreal more than the thought process was Ryland's determination. He was as set on it as he was on joining the League – passionate about it, convinced it was entirely correct. There was no way to talk him out of it.

Ezreal sighed internally. He was going to hate himself even more – if that was at all possible – for what he had to do.

"Do you still do whatever I say?"

"Hmm?"

"You know, follow my commands."

"Save Lux!" Ezreal shouted. "Ryland, please!" Ezreal had no regard for Ryland's life, but Ryland did it anyways. He always did.

"Yes," Ryland said cautiously.

"It's a part of the Aven and Skylan story too, by the way. You doing what I say." He rolled over and looked up at Ryland.

His face was unreadable. "Really? I didn't catch it."

"If you read the folktale in the original language, when Aven tells Skylan to chase him, the verb is 'sante' in Avarosan and 't'sant' in Winter's Claw. It's an order you give when the person has no other options. I wrote a paper on why – uh – hmmm."

"On what?"

"Why the relationship between Aven and Skylan isn't entirely reciprocal."

"No kidding. So, it's like when I told Jarvan to kneel," Ryland muttered. His low voice vibrated Ezreal's face, which was resting on Ryland's collarbone.

"Yeah, I'm a nerd."

"Mhm. Kinda."

"What I'm getting at is –"

"I'm your slave?" Ryland snorted. "The rumors are true."

Ezreal flicked his jaw. "No."

"I know. It's just funny to me."

"Oh. That's – I'm glad you can laugh at it."

"I mean, the League's fucked because you aren't gay, right?"

Ezreal froze. Ryland never swore. "Yeah, alright, Mike." Ryland's nickname from Ezreal's early days at the Institute. "You're totally okay. Really believable."

"I am," Ryland said softly. "I'm sorry."

"I mean, you're allowed to be mad at me."

"I know. Anyways – commands?"

"Oh, yeah." Ezreal sat up. "You're not going to find Jarvan."

It wasn't a question or even a suggestion – it was issued with the flat authority of a god. Ezreal hated to do it, but he knew Ryland needed him to.

I don't care what he says. I'm going, Ryland thought. In his mind he had already found the crazy, muttering king wandering through the woods. He turned to Ryland with wolfish, yellow eyes. His blade was crushing through Ryland's heart, tearing his spine.

Then – peace and darkness and silence. Tranquility. Rest among the trees of the forest.

Ryland took a deep breath. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not going to let you kill yourself."

The Healer winced. "Was it that obvious? I really am unfit for Noxus."

"Why would even do that now, Ryland? Why?" Ezreal shook his head. "Your life is just getting good."

Ryland looked at him and laughed until he choked. "This? This is the good part?"

"Yes!" Ezreal forgot himself and grabbed Ryland's hand. "You're grown up, you're a god, a healer, some weird wolf magician –"

"Ezreal, you don't understand. You really can't."

Ezreal felt his jaw clench. Ryland was probably right.

"I understand that everyone's a giant jerk to you, myself included." Ezreal lay back on Ryland's unhurt arm. "Gods, sometimes I just want to put you in a room by yourself, like a Noxian bunker, and just – just make people stop hurting you."

"You mean prison?"

"Comfier."

"Oh." Ryland was silent. Ezreal hesitated, then kissed his forehead. Ryland didn't respond save for a raise of his eyebrows.

"Why death by Jarvan?"

Ryland grimaced. "I was thinking of what Jarvan said."

"Don't listen to him. My heart broke when you agreed with him."

That made the furious currents of Ryland's mind pause for a moment. "Really?"

"Yes."

"But he's right, Ez." Ryland scrubbed his face with his hand. "I make both sides uncomfortable. My death will trouble Demacia and Noxus both. Maybe get some peace talks going."

Ez bit his lip. He didn't want to tell Ryland that nothing could stop the escalating tides of bloodshed. Then his mind replayed what Ryland had said.

"Your death will? No. You're not going." He let his face resettle into the Aven look.

Ryland sighed and patted the Explorer's head, ignoring his fierceness. "You can't stop me. You already know that."

"Oh. You think I'm scared of your dogs, huh?" Because I kind of am, actually. "I could slaughter all of those mutts and not give a second's thought."

"Ezreal, I'm going, alright? Just make your peace with me. Though if you'd prefer to insult me, that's fine too." He lifted his shoulders in a tired shrug. "In a few more hours, it won't matter."

Why doesn't he sound sad? It's his own life. He was more upset about the trolls.

Ezreal summoned up all the authority he could. "I don't think you want to fight again, Skylan."

"Why would you fight me?" Ryland's brow furrowed. "I don't really understand what you're getting at."

"Because you're not leaving this tent."

"Just let me do what's right." To his horror, Ezreal felt Ryland's Empath flooding his mind – whispering and murmuring and convincing him, flowing past him like a bubbling creek – and fought against it.

"Your death isn't going to fix anything! Listen to me."

The Healer shook his head. "You'll understand eventually. Someday."

That was it. Ryland was set on it. Ezreal groaned internally. I hope there's some karmic way I can make up for this later, or else I'm totally fucked in the afterlife.

"Don't make me hurt you."

Ryland became completely still, save for the quick cold streak that flashed down his spine. No. I'm going. I have to.

"You know I will, too. You –" Ez stuttered. "It'll be worse than last time. Way worse." His cheeks flushed a brilliant, shameful scarlet. "I'll beat you."

He can say whatever he wants. I'm going, Ryland thought. Ezreal's fists clenched. He wasn't getting through to him.

"Do you want scars again, Ryland? Do I really have to burn you?"

The Healer shook his head, eyes wide. "No."

"Then do what I say," Ezreal said desperately. How in hell did Merilyn manage to do this for eighteen years? I feel horrible.

"But why? Why would you hurt me?" Ryland blushed. "What have I done? Was it the trolls? I'm really sorry."

Ezreal felt his breath catch. "It's not what you've done – it's what you're planning to do."

"But –"

"Don't question me, Ryland." Oh my gods if he doesn't break again it'll be amazing.

But no. Ryland wasn't breaking. There wasn't any doubt in his eyes that Ezreal would follow through, either. Ezreal reached for him, and he rested his cheek against the Explorer's palm. Ezreal stroked his face with his thumb. His posture was totally different now, the Explorer noted distantly. Submissive.

"You're not going," he said a final time. The stream of desperate thoughts had stopped at last.

"I won't, Ezreal." He swallowed and closed his eyes. "But at least break my other wrist so I can't hurt anyone."

"Are you serious? No."

"Please?"

Ezreal remembered belatedly Ryland's masochistic tendencies and paused. Oh man. What do I do now?

He summoned up a final surge of authority. "I said no. Lay down."

Ryland sighed and lay back on Ezreal's pillow obediently. He buried his face in it. "It was just a fantasy anyways," he said, his voice muffled. "That I'd be good for something."

"You're good for me," Ezreal said fiercely. Rumors be damned. I'll save him. "Ryland, look at me."

Ryland did, then immediately looked away, blushing. Ezreal realized it was a bit too reminiscent of their fight.

He lay back so that they were on even ground, faces inches apart.

"You're a good person."

"Tell that to the ashes of the trolls."

"I'll tell it to you until you believe it. And if you don't, I'll say it anyways."

Ryland almost smiled. Ezreal felt a vague blossom of unease resting on his chest. I just – damnit, Ryland.

People thought that all the time, when they realized the Healer had brought out the worst in them. Damnit, Ryland.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"Are you just being nice now so I don't Storm and kill Lux?"

You consider me threatening to hurt you being nice? Godsdamnit, Ryland, Ezreal thought. Then he realized it was nicer than what Jarvan and Kat had said and wanted to tear his hair out. The fantasies of exploration were beginning to seem more and more tempting. The fewer people Ryland was around, the better.

"I didn't even think of her," he said at last. Which was true. Lux was beginning to seem like the ghost princess of an Ionian folktale – beckoning, beckoning, then drifting out of a window and floating away into the starry sky. So near, but as untouchable as the air. "I love you."

It wouldn't change a damn thing. Jarvan, his mother, Kat, the army. But it worked.

Ryland was lost in peaceful sleep before he could even respond.

In a different tent, Jayce let Erinae's minute hands wander across his massive, furry chest. It felt like he was being groped by an air spirit, her touch was so light.

"Quick thinking, with the plan thing. I think they bought it."

"Thanks, big boy."

"And sorry again about earlier," Jayce said, trying his luck. Maybe she'd accept his apology this time.

"Shut up." Her hand paused in its rotation.

He impulsively tried to take a different route. "No, I really am sorry. You're a beautiful person. You're amazing."

He waited for her to respond. It was predictably unpredictable. "Do you think Ryland and Ezreal talk to each other like that?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely."

"Like what else, though?" Jayce realized she was stealthily fishing for more compliments.

"Oh, I dunno. Probably 'you complete the sky for me,' or something. I'm not poetic. Sorry kiddo."

"Try again," she urged softly. Jayce sighed.

"Oh, Ezreal. Your hair shines like the gold in a hobo's teeth."

He was unsurprised when she punched him in the jaw. "Be serious."

"Erinae –"

"Please?" she asked plaintively.

He sighed even more heavily. "Your neck reminds me of a swan on a wintry lake." Dear gods, I'm horrible. But she's really into it. In the dim light of his portable, prototypical lamp,she gestured for him to continue. "Your hair is – uh – the trees in autumn."

"Leafy?"

"No. Gold and red and gorgeous. And your eyes are the lanterns of Ionia, calling back the ghosts of their fallen warriors during their Sunset Festival. Just like they call my soul."

"Oh, Ryland."

Wait, Jayce had time to think. What?

She kissed him hard, pushing him down onto the floor of the tent. Her lips were sweet and minty. He pulled away. "Um, kid? I think you forgot my name. I'm not Ryland."

"No, get it? I'm Ezreal. No?" She sighed, tugging on his chest hair. "Adults are stupid."

He suddenly realized what she was talking about. "Let me finish! You're Ryland, not me."

"What? What the fuck does that mean?"

Words fled Jayce – the strange, homoerotic musings of adolescent females had never made sense to him. "Uh, you're the girly one."

"Let's be real here." Her eyes flashed as she imitated his voice, pitching it low. "Of the two, I'm totally Ezreal."

"Nah. Ryland."

"I'm not a bitch," Erinae huffed.

Jayce couldn't hold it in any longer – a summer's gale worth of laughter burst out of him. The kid's mom killed herself, his dad is Darius, and his girlfriend's a psycho. And Erinae thinks he's a bitch? Oh my gods.

Erinae was peering at him angrily. "Are you making fun of me being upset earlier?"

"No, no."

"Then shut up." She kissed him again. He felt his lips begin to tickle, then burn pleasantly, then go numb. After a while, he felt her nimble fingers reaching towards his dick.

"Erinae."

"Yeah?"

"Stop it." He moved her hand, opening his eyes.

She pouted. "Why? Just let me." Her hand moved slowly over his shaft, squeezing. He felt a small gasp of pleasure escape his lips.

He had a moment of weakness – just a tiny, temporary flaw in his moral structure for this little werecat who had been begging for him for weeks. Then she muttered, "It's all guys want anyways. Maybe you'll stay."

That hit Jayce like a punch to the chest. It was followed by the most intense blue balls he'd ever had. Somehow the throbbing pain surpassed the time he slow-danced with Cait at the Academy's Winter Ball. As the song ended, he limped to the school bathrooms and threw up.

His mind thought distantly, That's what you get for letting a 15-year-old touch your dick. Karma's a bitch, baby. Well, not the Support. The concept.

"I'm sorry," Erinae whispered. She looked horrified. "I won't talk anymore."

When he could unclench his jaw, he gasped, "I thought you said you were fifteen. How do you know what guys want, anyways?" When Erinae didn't respond, he looked up at her. "Kiddo?"

She fixed him with a frosty glare. "Fifteen doesn't matter to men in Noxus. Neither does twelve. Nor ten."

Jayce blinked. "What? Gods, that's all I can say around you. What are you talking about?"

"Child. Prostitute." She spat. Her eyes flickered. "There. Bet you really want me now, huh? Gross, isn't it?"

Jayce looked at her. "That must have been terrible."

She rolled her eyes. "Wow, really?"

"Come here."

"No," she growled.

"Please?"

She hesitated. He relaxed when she snuggled blissfully into his neck. He wouldn't have known anything was wrong, if he hadn't felt the tiny drops of water drip from her eyelashes onto his neck.

"I'm really proud of you."

"For fucking a bunch of dudes?" She sounded honestly confused.

"For making it out of there."

She didn't say anything. When Jayce checked, she had fallen asleep.

And of course, the wheel, powered by love or perhaps not, turned, and the sun rose again.