Even through the thick veil of snow, Soraka could see Ezreal and Ryland, glowing. Jayce and the little blonde werecat almost fled the High Conference Room, his huge hand cupping her shoulders protectively, her arm hiding her face. Soraka caught a faint trace of guilt from them, but decided not to pursue it farther. There was no time.

But the boys. They were radiant among the white of the snow and gray of the stone. The snowflakes looked like the sparks from the fireworks set off after the Summoner's Cup.

Soraka pulled her shawl closer and walked faster. The Healer's wordless mental summons had an edge of urgency to it. As did everything lately.

She'd watched the fireworks last summer with Ryland by her side, his warm cheek resting against her shoulder as they sipped the lemonade Taric made. The drink was too bitter, but Ryland's smile was sweet. The green lights had twinkled in his eyes.

I can enjoy the beauty of their power, I think. Though it's doubtlessly hurting them.

Their auras held all the colors of the summer fireworks now. Gold, green, blue, silver and -

Soraka stumbled to a halt, skidding on the wet gray pathway.

Ryland? What is that?

His eyes sought her through the snow. And he smiled, as true healers did.

We - we need something, Soraka. A ritual. A chant. A prayer. I don't know what to do.

She shook her head slowly. Her numb hooves carried her closer to the fountains of sparks. She saw that Ryland's feet were bare - his feet were chapped and pink against the snow.

She forced herself to come nearer to them, though every animal, mortal instinct in her was shouting at her to flee. As if they were a storm, or a wildfire.

A breath away, Ezreal's aura glittered a bright, oceanic blue. It wasn't fire or electricity. Almost like - like -

Soraka's breath escaped her in a long, slow sigh. ...Water? Is that what it's like?

Plasma? Ryland suggested. His hand still rested on Ezreal's neck. His own aura was swallowed up, leaving his hand bare against Ezreal's skin. Submerged in that glittering pool. I - I know nothing about it, Soraka. I've reached the limits of my knowledge.

Then my instruction was lacking.

I don't think this has ever happened before. Not even in the Center World.

Soraka considered the brief mental portrait she'd gotten of Aven and tried to picture the rippling blue fire-water around him. She almost laughed at how strange it would've looked - that will o'the wisp of a boy with that kind of power?

She almost flinched when red sparks joined the blue. That red - it was deeper and darker than the unnamed black magic Ryland had once used, before he conquered it with the silver light of Empath.

Ryland's smile wavered. Don't think of Aven.

Why not?

Let's just say we don't want Ezreal to Storm. Not with that.

Soraka shifted. There's something you're not telling me.

There are more things on the Wheel than even I can tell you, mother. He cocked his head. Even with these powers.

Soraka glanced at the Destroyer. He wasn't paying attention to them - his summer-sky eyes were fixed wistfully on the gray clouds. He'd spent a lot of his life in Shurimana, and craved the sun and the heat. It felt so much more natural. The burn on his shoulders and cheeks.

Soraka cupped Ryland's chin with her chilly hand and forced as much authority as she could into her tired golden eyes. She knew it wasn't convincing. Ryland may be her son, but she was no longer his teacher.

Child. Be honest.

The truth wounds. He tried to look away. Soraka, hating herself, tightened her grip on his jaw. And she hated herself more when he froze entirely. Not the slightest tremor. His eyes went dark with the expectation of pain.

From one mother to the next, she thought. The Wheel turns.

He quivered slightly.

She sighed again. Ryland, what do you know that you aren't telling me?

The sadness in his gray-green eyes sent a nasty shock through her. Just watch. Watch the snow around him. The snow that hits his aura.

The Healer bade her, and so she did.

It took a few moments to realize what was happening. The flurries weren't melting, hissing as they changed into steam. Nor were they passing peacefully through. Unlike Ryland and Soraka, Ezreal didn't have a trace of snow on his body. His black shirt and ripped jeans weren't even slightly damp.

Soraka forced her eyes to focus - gods, it was so hard. The boys were so bright.

She watched one flake spiral down and down. And when it lightly brushed Ezreal's aura, it stopped existing.

No, she whispered. That can't be right.

Keep watching. Ryland closed his eyes. You'll believe it's true. You said it yourself so many times - we all eventually believe the truth.

Ryland - that can't be right. They're melting. They're evaporating.

The Healer let the temperature of his aura rise a bit. The snow turned to puffy steam around both of them. I don't think so.

She had to accept it. The fragments vanished, each cheerful flake immediately destroyed by the royal azure-vermillion cloak of power swirling around Ezreal's body. Reduced to nothingness by touching him.

If Soraka squinted, she could see ripples - almost black, but not quite - where the snowflake had been moments before.

She felt indignation rise in her chest, and knew it was just panic in a different coat. Why isn't he destroying everything, then? We've got to be going mad. That's the only explanation.

Ryland glanced at his hand lying on Ezreal's neck. And smiled.

Ryland. Her eyes widened. No. Please. I will give anything for you - for you to not be the boundary between life and destruction.

I'm sorry, Soraka.

Unable to breathe, Soraka bowed her head. Unlike Ezreal, snow immediately began to accumulate on her shoulders.

You feel how you feel, mother. Ryland's voice was gentle. Go ahead. I can handle it.

I want to tell you to stay away from him, but I know that impulse is a maternal one, and not that of a teacher. Her voice was neutral now. She forced it to be.

He needs me. Ryland looked to her. She lifted her head and pretended the water on her face was melted ice. He always has.

My finest student, nothing more than a blast shield. Soraka turned away, hand clamped tight over her mouth to suppress her sob. My son. You're going to die to him. For him.

Ryland shrugged. Maybe yes. Probably no. You forget I've seen the future. I've seen multiple fates for me.

Really?

Aye. I mean yes. Fuck. He blushed. Sorry.

I think it's alright to swear, at a time like this. She bit back another sob - he was so eager to please. Ryland, it's only been two years since you've stopped breaking - for the most part.

And I'm eternally grateful for it. They were the two best years of my life. With his other hand, he brushed her cheek.

I wanted so much more. You deserve it. You are loved.

Be brave, mother. Ryland's dark hair was plastered to his forehead by snow, his shirt and jeans dampening. She saw the deep woodlands reflected in his gray-green eyes. The same wilderness that was in Ezreal's - that wild light, like the sun glancing off the highest peak of Freljord, like a wolf. It will be over soon. But be brave. For me.

Soraka took a deep breath and addressed the Destroyer. "Ezreal, Ryland and I would like to meet with you tonight. I think the temple to Aven - "

Ryland shook his head rapidly. Ezreal's eyes darkened.

" - the Winter's Claw temple to Skylan should serve wonderfully for our rituals. I actually get to teach you temple worship, Ryland." It's probably the only lesson on it he'll ever get. From me, in this life.

"Good," Ezreal muttered. "I actually like Skylan."

"And what does that mean?" Soraka asked the Destroyer politely.

Ezreal's gaze was laden with lambent fury. "What I said."

Ryland smiled. "Ez and I will be relaxing at the Inn. Ta - aikah, sensatori."

Her Ionian title - "Instructor." Ionian and Freljordian, syllables colliding like the moon crashing into the sun.

"Ta - aikah tante," Soraka murmured.

The Wheel turns. The more she thought about it, the less she liked it.

But there was no time for reflections, feelings or no. She was his teacher. Nothing more.

She shook the snow from her shawl and left to find the town's medicine woman, trying not to think of how near her student was to Ezreal. If the boy Stormed…

But there was no time.


"Ryland, are you afraid of me?" Ezreal looked up at him from beneath his unruly blonde hair and Pulsefire plasma.

Ryland shook his head, sending snow fluttering from his black hair. No. Somehow, no. Not even with that stormy desperation in your eyes.

"I'm afraid for you. Not of you."

"What about when I hurt you?" His voice was hesitant. "Ave - the Lightbr - he's afraid of Skylan."

Wow. He can't even say Aven's name.

"I was afraid of the pain." Ryland stroked his cheek, tracing his scar, waiting politely for the group of gaping academics to pass by them. Their whispers were uncomfortably close to the ones seething in Ezreal's mind. "Not of you. Why do you ask?"

"I'm afraid," Ezreal said quietly. The professors in the dining room of the Inn all quieted when he and Ryland entered. They quickly glanced at them, then at Ezreal's aura, then Ryland's face.

Then away, back to their stacks of wrinkled paper and stained mugs of hot chocolate. They were holding an impromptu conference on the Skelgarn and Freljordian history.

None of them dared to approach them. Not even for the interview of the century.

Ezreal turned away. "See? Like that."

How does he still look so helpless when he's got pure Pulsefire flowing from his body? Ryland wondered, stroking his cheek again. "Like what?"

He undid the lock to Ezreal's room with a quick flourish of Empath - gods knew where the key was now. Maybe not even in this dimension.

Ezreal collapsed on the bed. It was much less comfortable than the one from the luxury suite.

"Everyone's always been afraid of me or hated me. I scared so many people at the Institute. Remember? They were gonna kick me out."

"Oh, yeah." Ryland let his shoulders relax. He hadn't realized that gods had to have such a public life. It was exhausting. "Trust me. I remember. I've never argued so hard for anything in my life."

"You did. No one else did. The other professors have been afraid of me since I was a kid, too. Because I was so smart. I -"

He stopped. The solemn sadness on his face was almost like a mask, it was so stiff.

"You what?"

"I tried really hard not to make anyone scared of me. Sometimes I played dumb. I know it was a bad idea."

"Your books? That's your idea of being dumb?" Ryland chuckled. "Well, fuck. I guess I'm just brainless."

There wasn't even a ghost of a smile on the Destroyer's face. "I tried to get people to like me. And I thought they did. I thought they trusted me, but it was really you. They were trusting you to not let me hurt them."

"I'm sorry, Ezreal." Ryland rubbed the boy's chest. He could feel the whispers quieting beneath his healing palm. "I am. Honestly."

"But you're not afraid of me. And you actually like me. Right?" His blue eyes were full of doubt, the need for reassurance. Comfort neither Amahe or Luxanna had been willing or able to give.

Both of his parents had committed suicide - intentionally or no, no one was sure. Save his mentor, Ezreal had been alone for most of his life. So alone.

"Right." Ryland looked out the window, watching the cascading snow. "Can I stay in here? Since Kat broke up with me?"

"Yeah." Ez's smile was small and sad. "I owe you."

Ryland patted the Explorer's head and took a deep breath. "I need to siphon more of your magic."

"Because you want to be more powerful?"

"What?" Ryland cocked his head. "Huh. I didn't even think about that. I just want you to be safe."

Ezreal nodded, wincing and blushing when Ryland pressed his lips to Ez's neck.

Ryland closed his eyes. If you're worried about it, here.

The Explorer closed his eyes, letting Ryland's complete mental state wash over him. No lust. No carnal desire. Just a deep desire to heal, and fervent wish for him to be safe.

You're the Healer to your core. Ez paused. Does that mean I'm -

I don't think our fates are fixed.

Ezreal's pulse fluttered beneath Ryland's mouth. I think they might be.

What happened to you not believing in gods or fate, Ezreal? You were the atheist. Not me.

Something divine had to give me you.

Ryland blushed deeply. The sincerity radiating from the thought was humbling. But because it was Ezreal, Ryland responded the only way he knew he safely could.

That's the worst pickup line I've ever heard. Honestly.

Really? Ezreal grinned. It's worked on a few people.

I liked Kat's the best. "I bet you have a lovely personality, but I don't care."

Ezreal's cheeks reddened. Damn. She's really to the point, isn't she?

Exactly. Ryland was trying to distract him. He'd taken at least ten times as much energy as the past two times. How many people have you slept with, anyways? I never asked you.

Twelve. Twelve-ish.

Holy shit. The whispers weren't getting any quieter. Ryland knew that this - the aura -was going to be bad. The knowledge went deeper than his bones - it was in the earth, the Wheel itself. He absorbed more of it anyways.

Anything to quiet the whispers. Anything to lessen the burning ache.

Yeah. Female academics are - interesting.

But you were fourteen, fifteen. Seriously? I didn't even kiss a girl until I was twenty.

Ez shrugged. Piltover grows 'em young. Besides, I think Kat more than made up for it. Do you - you think she'll take you back?

No idea.

I hope so. So you're happy, I mean. Even though she did break your wrist. He paused.

Ryland felt his body dissolving - it wasn't actually vanishing, but the boundary between his soul and the world was. It felt like his consciousness was slipping out of his skin. Was this what the Aurora felt like, rippling freely in the night sky?

Ryland, why do you let people hurt you so much? And why do you like it?

I don't like it all the time. Ryland had to pull away at last. The whispers were only slightly quieter, and he cursed himself for not being stronger. But I like that people feel better afterwards. Because they always do, even if they don't want to admit it. For the moment, their pain's transferred onto me. So they don't have it, don't have to deal with it. And I've dealt with so much of it that even the worst kind of agony -

Four sharp breaks. Three thin, pale wrists. Warm green eyes meeting cool green-silver ones. "Why aren't we allowed t'love more than one person, d'you think? Why, moon son?"

It's nothing. Or almost nothing.

Ezreal nodded. Makes sense. You just want people to be happy.

There was peace, briefly. For a moment.

Then Ezreal opened his eyes and felt his entire being fill with liquid fire. The red sparks seemed even more brilliant in the dim, gray hotel room. They whirled in front of Ryland's face, a tornado.

It took all his healer's training to not flinch. He wasn't afraid. "Ezreal?"

"You have his powers," the Destroyer hissed, jaw clenched. His aura roared indignantly. The walls turned red. "The weakling's."

"Hmm?" Ryland looked at his hands, trying to ignore the desperation slowly accumulating inside of himself, building up like a snow bank. One normal, happy day. One day with an aura-less Ezreal. With his smile.

Then he realized it at last. His silver fire, like Ezreal's gold one, was gone. The secretive, misty glow that shrouded him was kin to Aven's.

Kin to the aura whose embrace brought the promise of glorious summer, that tasted of spring breezes and fresh grass. It whispered to him of cleansing rain storms - the ones where you could see the sunlight still, see it sparkling off the water droplets, not a cloud in the sky.

The soft colors fading in and out of it were every shade of magic, save red. Unlike Aven's gold, Ryland's was mostly green. Healing. Nature.

Ezreal's chest hitched. "I knew you liked him more."

"There's no way in hell I could've taken your aura. I'm too weak." Ryland swallowed.

It was hard to think with entire forests singing chorales in his head. The trees hummed ancient, primeval hymns to the earth. Green and gold. Among the branches, a sparrow of a boy.

"I would've popped like a firework."

"Really?" Ezreal's eyes were dark. So dark, even when the two of them were bathed in light.

"Are you serious?" Ryland leaned towards him. "You're the only being in the universe - hell, all of them - who could have that. It's too fierce. Too powerful for anyone else to have."

"I don't want it," the Destroyer whispered. "I'm not worthy."

Two glittery blue-red tears dripped onto his faded, ripped jeans.

"What?" Ryland sat next to him on the bed. It creaked beneath him. "You're doing just fine, Ezreal. All things - everything considered. Every other person your age would've died long ago."

"But that's why they're afraid." The Destroyer's lips trembled. "I don't want them to be. I don't want to hurt anyone. I never have."

"Listen. We're going to save them. Save the Freljordians. And if it hasn't gone away by then, I'll find something." Ryland looked at him. It was as if Ezreal were behind shining blue glass, untouchable. Blue glass with loops of magma swirling over it. Even through the glass, Ryland could feel the aching. The burning. "I swear to you. I will fix it. I will make you happy."

Ezreal looked out the window, at the sky. Nothing but gray. "Why are you such a good friend?"

"Because I love you. In that deep, spiritual way. But there's more to it." He saw Ezreal tense up, and a freshet of red sparks fluttered through the blue. "We get to have a whole real friendship thing together. It's not me stalking you, you know? It's not just some weird - I don't fucking know. I really don't. God thing?"

"God thing?" Unbelievably, Ezreal smiled. The whispers quieted slightly.

Ryland coughed. The air around both of them tasted burnt. "Yeah, what the fuck do you call this? We had fucking Overflow. We had godsdamned Storms. And now - I don't even know what kind of fucking magic mine is."

Ezreal snickered. "It's so weird to finally hear you swear. Things really must be bad."

"We're both on fire and you're thinking about me fucking swearing." Ryland met his eyes. "And if you mention Ave - Skylan being married again I'm going to punch you."

"It's not my fault they're weird. Or that that's the first thing you noticed." The boy scoffed.

The aura - it was bluer, the red sparks vanishing back into its shimmering depths.

Ryland reflected that even a hint of blue would've set his heart racing days ago. Before that, a large yellow flame would've scared him. Then a little bit of electricity.

All nothing, compared to this. Destruction incarnate, sprawled on the bed before him, watching him with guarded blue eyes.

Still, the Healer feared nothing. In his own quiet way, he was just as brave as the Guardian.

"You know Skylan wears fuzzy slippers?" Ryland rested his chin on his hand. "I got all of his memories. Then a lot of his husband's, too."

"Skylan in slippers?" Ezreal laughed, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Yeah. I don't know where he gets them. His feet are the size of fucking Valoran."

Somehow, even with the forces of the universe coalesced around them, the tension was thinning. Yes. Even with the auras. We can be friends.

Ryland tried to control his heartrate. "Do you remember watching the After Hours Tournament together? The one the Summoners organized?"

"The one where we were perma-banned, because they got to make their own rules?" Ezreal's eyebrows rose.

To them, that represented the peak of their friendship. The tournament happened six months into knowing each other. It was a week and a half of late nights and snacks. Ryland had the Piltover viewscreen tuned to the announcers - who wore pajamas - but used his own scrying magic to give them a personal view of the mid-lane.

Alexey, Chaponya, Soren, Hansen - Ezreal had a fondness for the mage Summoners, probably because they tended to be fans of his work. The Marksmen Summoners were often a bit more down to earth.

Not to mention the games Ezreal played mid were some of the most intense of his life. It was so different - no one to rely on, nowhere to run. He told Ryland this and more while they watched Katarina and LeBlanc fight again and again, blades and sigils flying.

And every night, Ezreal had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Home at last.

In the present, Ryland nodded. "Hang on."

Stay your living course, Aven. Hang on, Ezreal.

I'll save you both. I swear it.

"If you hang on, we'll get to watch another one together. When this is all over. I'll force Taric to cook for us. Brownies. Alright?"

Ezreal nodded back. "Alright. I'll hang on."

"You promise?"

"Yeah." He smiled uncertainly.

Ryland reached to embrace him, relief flooding him.

They both fell away from each other, hissing and gasping in pain. The ocean and fire enshrouding Ezreal clashed against Ryland's dawning mist, snarling, popping, searing. Healing and Destruction tore at one another, trying to rend each other apart.

Ezreal looked at his hands in horror. Red was bursting in the blue liquid around his fingers like fireworks, swollen and sore. "What? Now I don't even get to hug you?"

The pain made the edges of Ryland's vision go dark. It felt like Merilyn dousing his feet with boiling water.

"Ryland?" Ezreal's voice had a note of panic in it.

"I - I guess not." Oh gods, Ryland's internal voice moaned. How in hell am I going to save him now? This wasn't already difficult enough?

Keep trying, Ryland, his aura whispered. You have to. It's not over yet. Not by far.

Ezreal was hugging his knees, eyes blank. The plasma shifting around him was eerily silent.

Ryland shivered. "Ezreal? You alright?"

The Explorer-Destroyer murmured something.

"What?"

"I'm afraid. Afraid of myself."

Ryland's fists clenched. "You've just got to hang on."

And as the Healer spoke these words, the hotel room and plasma-covered boy vanished, replaced by the galaxy. No. There were many of them. Many galaxies.

Ryland watched them numbly - saw them implode one by one in glorious blasts of light, silent brilliance consuming the planets, explosions whispering through the deep black.

The light was immediately devoured by the darkness.

Fireworks.

Come, sun child. Child of All Suns, forever and ever. The Wheel burns.

No. There were no words for the despair Ryland felt. Not him. Someone else.

He is the Destroyer.

Ryland pressed his fingers to his lips. Ezreal reappeared - a god, sitting on a hotel bed. His eyes were filling with tears.

"Ryland?" he asked huskily. "What was that?"

Tell me! An Ezreal from the past roared, gold with fury. But this one was more powerful and more helpless.

"I don't. Ezreal, I really -"

"How do I die?" he whispered.

Ryland's breath caught. "I'm still not sure. I didn't actually see it."

"What'd you see?"

"Lots of explosions. A Demacian hero comic, essentially. Must be like what happened the last time I got a new aura." Ryland trembled. He wasn't afraid of Ezreal. Still. But gods, the fear for his safety threatened to swallow Ryland whole, the way the fire ripped through the hearts of the planets.

You saw the truth. Death whispered. Ezreal cocked his head, listening. You said you looked like the moon, and he looked like the sun. You said it felt like fate. So it was, and so it shall be.

The Healer and the Destroyer regarded one another. The Destroyer's eyes were dark, dark with sadness.

"I don't want to hurt you. I just want you to be my friend."

The boy stood in the middle of a furnace of red and gold, the earth Ryland had tried so hard to protect turning to ashes around his feet. Ryland saw that the boy was weeping, the tears turning to liquid fire as they, too, touched his skin.

The Destroyer's eyes, brimming with blue, red and gold, met the Healer's. "That's all I want. For you to be my friend."

And Ezreal the Son of the Sun said, 'How can you love me? I'll destroy you, too, even if I don't intend to. T'sant. Sante. Flee, Ryland. You have no choice.'

Though the Aurora and Death hadn't fixed the actions of the moon children, their fates, like everyone else's, had a set number of paths. Threads to follow. Spokes of the Wheel.

The star-colored spoke of fate Ryland had created was nearing the outer edge of the Wheel, as his and Ezreal's life was fated to come to an end. This was the dark fate, the dark fate of the north, that the Aurora was desperately trying to unmake - undo with her troublesome multicolored threads of light.

This was Ryland's last chance. The Son of the Sun was wrong - he had a choice.

Here he could break his fate from Ezreal's - leave him. Death and the Aurora were giving him a chance. A chance to leave. Run. Flee.

Ryland took a deep breath.

So Death and the Aurora watched as Ryland slowly, inexorably fell in love with the boy. But there was no way for Ryland to draw near to him – the fire around him was too hungry, always starving for something to devour. Death and the Aurora watched Ryland try to near Ezreal and burn himself repeatedly.

'Please. Cease. We are destined to be apart,' Ezreal called one night. The fire around him illuminated the forests of Fairlight. He wanted Ryland to leave, and for him to stay. He knew not which.

Ryland looked up at him and smiled. 'I will find a way yet. A way for us to be together.'

"I'll be your friend until the end."

"Do you promise?" Ezreal whispered.

But The Aurora, Death and Ezreal all knew there was no way for Ryland to love him, save for when the Sun and Moon approached each other, and cast the whole world into shadow.

"Yes." Ryland smiled, as all true healers did.


The Aurora looked down on the moon child and paused in her weaving. She hadn't entirely been paying attention. Aven's tortured, ragged breaths were loud enough to drown out Ezreal's cries of pain and rage.

Part of her - she hated to admit it - had always loathed Death's gangly, pale creation. The broken Healer to walk beside her son.

Nothing at all like the Guardian. Skylan was the real angel of Demacia. Not Michael. Skylan had brought peace to Demacia, with his own hands.

"I suppose you underestimated Ryland, my dear?" Death looked to her, curious. "I think I did too."

"Wouldn't you want him to have broken?" The Aurora's voice quivered. "You'd have your way."

"I'll have my way regardless." Death's voice was calm. "It's fun to watch the Wheel spin. I'll give you that one."

"Aren't you worried? You seem to have made him a bit strong."

"And still oceans weaker than the Guardian," Death said implacably. "Yes, they're quite strong."

"That's - whose side are you on?" The Aurora glared at him.

Death smiled. "My own."


"Wanna go get lunch? This glowing stuff is wearing me the fuck out."

Ezreal breathed a shuddering sigh. With Ryland's fate decided, the tension had fled the room. They were Ryland and Ezreal again - not gods.

"I really need to teach you to swear."

"I'm honored to take lessons from the very best. You know what? You should call Lux."

"Wait. What?"

"Yeah. There's a radio thing here. If you call the Institute, Zandred'll be happy to find her for you. But I'd shower first if I were you."

Ryland shifted uncomfortably. The weight of Ezreal's gaze rested on his new aura. It wasn't quite Aven's Aurora. Now that it had settled in around his shoulders, the only colors that shone through the hazy mist were green, for healing, and silver, for Empath. No gold or blue. Certainly not red.

"Love you," Ezreal said quietly.

Ryland blushed again. "Love you, too."

"If we die - when we do - I really hope I've made you happy. At least a little bit." Ezreal leaned forward. "You deserve it. To be happy, I mean."

"That means a lot to me. Makes me happy, in itself." He almost squeezed Ezreal's upper arm but stopped himself. "Well, this no touching thing already sucks."

Ez grinned. There were shadows beneath his eyes. "Maybe it'll stop the rumors. I doubt it."

Ryland scoffed, though he felt sick at heart. "Pretty sure the Pulsefire thing already has. Go call Lux."

"Mhm." He could tell Ezreal wanted a hug, if for no other reason than to stop the whispers.

When he left, Ryland closed his eyes and let his aura embrace him fully. So warm, among the snow. Bright as the Freljordian dawn. It was Aven and Ezreal's love combined - Ezreal's fierce ardor to give him powers untold, and Aven's adoration to soothe him.

No, moon son. You don't belong to the dark.

Ryland leaned against the hotel wall and watched the snow fall. Maybe we won't die. Maybe everything will be alright. Maybe Aven and I will get to be together, Ezreal will be my friend, and Skylan will be happy.

Mayhap, the aura murmured. But you know the rest.

Of course I do.

Ryland saw Aven flying across the summer meadow beneath the night sky, Ezreal chasing him, full moon shining above, warm breeze blowing across their faces, both laughing. Both of them were free. Free from the Wheel. From kitair.

This is what he'd wished for on the silver phoenix star - wished for with his entire being.

Sky Child, Son of the Wind, Sun Child, Moon Son. Together.

Ta - aikah. For now.