Little bit of a different approach here – this is more of the proper end to the last chapter than a collection of side stories, though there are a couple of those here. The stories follow these characters;

Riven – Riven interviews members of the theatre troupe

Ekko – Ekko's perspective from the theatre

Irelia – Surrounding a training session from the year prior

Jayce – Jayce hears about one of the upcoming visitors.

Among the stories I would say that the Irelia one is the only proper 'Side' story.

Riven

Riven stared at the chalk lines on the stone – a ghost of a person, reduced to nothing but four vague outline that approximated death. One body, four evenly spaced sections. White.

She tore her gaze away to the report she'd been given.

'Male, thirty-two, seventy-five kg. Married, no children,' Riven said mechanically. She found it easier to dissect the information when nothing remained but chalk. She continued; 'Cause of death: bullet through the heart, instant. Further altercations to the body occurred post-mortum. Ammo type matches the other vics, and further matches the type found in thirty-six previous cases over the last three years.'

She stopped, forcing herself to look back at the chalk. It was drawn half against the wall – the upper body – and half on the gravely ground – the lower body. Further were lines indicating the separation of the two legs. Separating the sections were clean, parallel lines, and a final straight section connecting the two. A lone, vaguely square outline represented the head, placed isolated in the middle. A tiny, dried blot of now-black liquid shimmered under the sun. Riven didn't scowl.

A hand placed itself on her shoulder, grip firm but comforting. 'It gets easier, Rook.'

Riven nodded and stood. She turned to the man who addressed her, a balding officer in his late forties who had a hard face and an even harder body. 'Sir.'

He waved his hand. 'At ease. It's good to get you some experience, but this wasn't supposed to be the type of thing you'd have to see on your first assignment.'

Riven relaxed, keeping her gaze away from the lines. 'All due respect, I've seen my share of gore.'

The officer, Tam, grunted. 'There's gore, then there's whatever the Golden Demon leaves behind.' He huffed, muscles relaxing under the clean lines of his uniform. 'I want you off this for the day. Go and interview a few witnesses at the theatre, they're convinced someone tried to pull something last night.

Riven frowned, but nodded. She still didn't look at the chalk. 'Are we sure this was the Golden Demon? He usually leaves vics in sets of four.'

'I saw the state of the bodies, Rook. Mangled, twisted.' He shuddered, and Riven felt a chill. Anything that could make Tam nervous was bad news. 'This was our guy, no doubts in my mind.'

'Still, three...' Riven said. 'The Demon hasn't broken his MO before.'

'No, he hasn't,' Tam said. 'But this time there were only three people to kill. Three guards set up along the path. Maybe he couldn't be bothered to find another target. Maybe he was limited on time, or any other possible reason.'

A reasonable enough line of thinking, but Riven wasn't fully convinced. Regardless, she nodded and excused herself towards the town, where she'd make good on her orders to interview the theatre troupe.

As she made her way, she idly brought out her phone, unlocked it, and promptly began staring at her screen. Returning that gaze was an empty chat log titled Drunkard. She flexed her finger above the keyboard, wondering what to say. Hey, good to chat the other day, fun night as well.

Said fun night had been undercut by her boss calling for her immediately after the play, but still. She typed it out and stared at it.

Then she grumbled and deleted it, forcing the phone back into her pocket with far more force than was needed. Whatever. She had a job to do first.

She was quickly admitted to the building, where people were busy taking down props and making final adjustments. She conferred with an officer at the door, who said to her quietly they had two people to interview. He warned her that one of them was a little out of straights, but she assured him that she could handle it.

The interrogation was to take place in one of the rooms set aside for the cast, lightly rectangular and lined with bright lights, multiple mirrors and gaudy posters that Riven rolled her eyes at. Drama was a waste of time – what was the point?

She sat herself down, and caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrors. The first thing she immediately noticed was her scowl – which caused it to deepen, rather than push it away. She tried to wipe it off, but it just wouldn't go. Her hair, despite being tied up in her usual bun, was messier than normal, and she could make out a few pointed circles underneath her eyes. She frowned even deeper.

Pictures of the bodies flashed in her mind, as they'd been preserved by the first contact team, and she held back the retch. It was one thing to hear about the Golden Demon; another entirely to be forced to confront it right in front of you.

The door opened to her side, and she shook the thoughts away. The man who entered was large, square, handsome, and she recognised him vaguely as the main actor from the previous night's show. He carried himself with an unrelenting air of confidence, complete with the shitty grin. But his eyes – those were shaken.

Riven stood, nodding to him. 'I'm officer Riven Konte, second RMP intelligence division. I'm here to ask you a couple of questions.'

The man's grin did the talking, it seemed. He took a seat across from her. God, it was irritating. 'Taij, I'm with Zhyun. Thanks for coming, I was worried our appeal wasn't being taken seriously.'

With that attitude, Riven didn't find it surprising. She didn't say anything though, and instead gave him a formal grunt. 'Can you tell me again what you reported?'

Taij ran a hand through his mane of hair with a nod. Riven resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 'Basically, it comes down to this; there was a loaded weapon on stage, and no one knew. It was an exact replica of the prop we've been using, and none of the prop guys had any ideas.' He grinned. 'Almost got me.'

'Evidently, it didn't,' Riven said, making a quick summary of what he'd said, but phrased it in a way she could actually show her superiors. 'How do you know it was actually a weapon? You're pretty clearly alive.'

'Yeah, that's the thing,' he said, grin wavering. Finally. 'I think it was meant to. It didn't, thank the Salvation herself, but it got close.' The grin disappeared completely. 'Bolt landed right next to my face.'

'And you reported everything to us already?'

He nodded.

'Okay,' Riven said, writing. 'But that still leaves the question – Who would want you dead, and how are you alive?'

'Uh, I don't know. I don't think I've ever pissed someone off enough to want to kill me. But to answer the other question, I think it was that girl. She knew, somehow, and did something. A barrier, I think – but it blocked the arrow.'

'Uh-huh, I saw the lights. I thought it was just part of the show,' Riven said slowly. 'You got a name?'

'Lux.'

Riven scribbled it down with a frown. 'Full name, please?'

Taij shrugged. 'I didn't ask. She's about ye high,' he indicated a level just above his sitting height, 'and red hair. Blue eyes, too, I think.'

Fortunately for Taij, Riven recognised the description from a few days earlier. The girl had been lingering around Yasuo's group when she'd taken them to visit Labrys for the first time. 'She from Durandal?'

Taij nodded. 'The school? Think so.'

'Lucky for you, I think I can track her down,' Riven said. 'Next time, try and be a little more specific.'

'Sure, next time an attempt on my life is made, I'll ask for everyone's three measurements.'

Riven shot him a one-eyed glare from her scribbling, only to find that grin once more. She huffed. This type of man and their 'comedic' deflections. Aggravating. 'Anything else to add? Keep it relevant.'

'Only that if you talk to Lux, you pass on how grateful I am,' Taij said. He paused, then grinned again and added; 'And my number.'

'No and no,' Riven said. She finished up the notes and sighed. 'You're free to go, send in the next one, please.'

With his grin back in full force, Taij rose and left – but of course he found the gall to turn and offer a final wink. Riven didn't groan, but she wanted to. Being professional was not her natural state.

A couple of moments passed before the door opened again, this time revealing a stick of a man in a flowing coat that Riven found somehow more obnoxious than Taij. The man – black-haired and angular faced, with cold-set eyes that glowed a deep green under the room's lights – bowed with exaggerated force before sitting.

Riven did roll her eyes this time, she couldn't stop it. But she sat straight, new page in her book and mask of professionalism on. 'Officer Riven Konte, second RMP intelligence division. I'm here to ask you a couple of questions.'

Coat bowed his head in his seat. 'Khada Jhin. Stagehand et-al. Tragic, what happened last night. Truly tragic.'

'From what your friend says, nothing actually happened.'

'Yes, tragic.'

Riven frowned and checked her notes. 'Apparently you disappeared during the show. Can anyone account for your whereabouts?'

Dramatically shaking his head, Jhin sighed. 'Unfortunately, I had other business to attend to, so I had to excuse myself. Tragic, truly.'

'Can anyone verify your whereabouts?'

'I checked in at a supply shop after I left. Zeffira, I believe the name was.'

Riven nodded and noted it down. 'And after?'

'I returned to my lodgings – a small Inn on the west side of town. The Creek. Before retiring to my quarters I struck up a wonderful chat with the receptionist, a one Miss May, I believe her name was.'

'Mhm,' Riven said. 'Can you tell me anything about the prop? The one that almost killed your friend, allegedly.'

'Ah, a beautiful tool – a fine replica of the weapon of the kindred spirits themselves.'

'Right,' Riven said, furrowing her brows. This guy was...off. 'Anything useful to add? Did you see anything abnormal before you left?'

'It is a shame, truly, that the audience reacted in the way they did. I was not present, but from what I heard – the chorus, the cheers – highly curious. Curious indeed.'

Riven sighed. She wasn't going to get anything useful from this guy. She made a few final notes, then made to rise. 'Right, thank you sir, you can leave now -'

'If I might be so bold, Officer Konte, what is your opinion on drama? Are you partial to any particular style?'

'Sir, we're done here -'

'Myself, I prefer the traditional. Patterns. Predictable, expected patterns. There is beauty in them – symmetry, an artistic aesthetic that can never truly be quite contained, but is equally tangible. Yes, I myself admire patterns.

'Say a corner is bitten off a painting. A horrible, crude bite – leaving a gaping hole that eats away at the work you've created. Do you feel the loss? The hunger?'

Riven was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. She stood, and gave Jhin a short bow of the head. 'Thank you for your time, sir.'

Jhin stood too, eyes distant. 'But behind that hole, the stain on your masterpiece, presents something new. Opportunity. I can see it, as clear as I can see myself.' He breathed, returning to the moment. Jhin stared at Riven, eyes intense. 'I understand.'

Riven scowled and opened the door. 'An officer will contact you if we have any further questions.'

Jhin chuckled and began to walk out. 'Yes, I suppose one day they shall. Good day, Officer Konte. Good day.'

He glided around the corner, and out of sight.

Tension physically lifted from Riven's body as he did, and she exhaled. She hadn't realised she'd been holding her breath. She glanced at her notes, realising how little Jhin had actually said.

No. That wasn't quite right.

She swiftly exited the room, making her way out of the theatre. As she emerged into the sunlight, she punched in a number to her phone. Tam picked up after exactly two rings.

'Tam.'

'I need someone to verify an alibi, and I'll need a statement from a kid from Durandal.'

Tam grunted. 'Send over the details. Anything else?'

'No -' she said, but then shook her head. 'Actually, yes. I want records of the Zhyun Theatre Troupe – and anything that specifically documents one person.'

'Mhm. Name?'

'Khada Jhin.'

'Done. Why?'

Riven frowned, shading her eyes from the sun. 'A hunch, sir.'

Tam grunted, and cut the line. Riven brought the phone down, the call screen gone. About to put away her phone, a thought crossed her mind. Shecould probably persuade Tam to let her get the statement from Lux in person – Tam and the other officers were more than capable without her. She could take the initiative.

You should work on that, Riv.

She grunted away the thoughts, aggravating as they were, and opened up the Drunkard chat. Contemplating what to say, she eventually typed out a simple, formal sentence. Simple and businesslike.

Heading to Durandal on work business soon.

She was about to delete it – but stopped herself. Yasuo, through no fault of his own, had been right – she was not good at talking, or maintaining friendships. Or whatever her and Yasuo were.

She hit send.

Ekko

The actor's blood burst – the sound of liquid rushing, fighting, to escape a tiny hole disgustingly clear over the silenced audience. Crimson coated the Lamb's costume, staining the intricate whites with deep reds as the actor stared down, frozen. Their arms shook, and they stumbled backwards into a mumbling heap, weapon clattering to the ground beside them. Ekko stared – his throat dry.

The audience cheered, but Ekko gaped in horror. That red was too real. Too much like before -

To his side, Lux shot up from her seat, face pale and mouth parted in silent shock.

'Wha – He - '

Ekko looked around, audience cheering as the curtain hurriedly dropped on stage. Did they not see?

'Those are excellent effects,' Qiyana said a couple of seats over. Neeko – still wearing Ponytail's face – was staring with narrowed eyes. Rather than impressed or horrified, she just looked confused.

A scream from beyond the now closed curtains undercut the cheers, and Ekko knew he'd been right. Dammit. He usually loved being right.

His hand flew to his side, where the dial to the Z-Drive sat. He'd set up a checkpoint at about the mid-show, just in case something went wrong. If anything was supposed to go wrong, it was Neeko's impersonation. She'd already mostly screwed that up anyway, but Ekko - after pushing past how nervous the rouse made him - had thought the repercussions could be funny. The Lunari girl had clearly been hitting on Ponytail in the days prior, though the idiot's thick-headedness had come through clutch yet again.

None of that mattered now. Reluctantly he pulled his hand away from the Z-Drive and rose, stepping past the suddenly silenced audience and dashing up to the stage. A few people muttered in confusion as he did, but it didn't matter what anyone said now. His mind blocked it out – he'd have to give up this timeline. The red that erupted from the actor's head, flashes of the night in that darkened alley, the mural...

Ekko pushed it all away as he forced his way past flustered stagehands and onto the stage. No one tried to stop him. Or maybe they did. It didn't matter.

The scene was still – the corpse lying spread-eagled, the fountain of blood had slowed to a weak squirt every second or two. To the body's left was the Wolf, a large man who stood, frozen, staring down in silence. His costume, previously gray, was dripping with red.

A bit behind was the Lamb, who had collapsed onto the floor, shaking. Her white costume was smeared with crimson, much moreso than Wolf's, especially the mask. She stared forward, muttering something incomprehensible. The weapon, a curved crossbow, lay abandoned just next to the body.

Forcing back a retch, Ekko stepped up to the body. The arrow had pierced the eye. By now, the blood had slowed to an almost stop. Breathing deeply and ignoring the shouts around him, Ekko turned to the Wolf, who was still staring.

'What happened?' He asked, hoping his voice was calm and commanding enough for the shocked man to hear.

Thankfully, it was. The Wolf lifted his gaze, blankly staring at Ekko. 'We just – the prop, it's just. It's just a prop – I, I don't -'

Ekko nodded and turned towards the Lamb. Someone was yelling something at him from the side, but he ignored it and crouched in front of the collapsed girl. He tried to keep his voice gentle, but he knew he had to sound firm.

'What happened?'

'- same as before, he can't be dead, it was the same as before, I didn't mean to kill him -'

Shock. Ekko frowned and stood. He stopped over the weapon.

'Who let this kid back here?! Someone remove him -'

Ekko ignored the growing chorus of panic around him and inspected the 'prop'. Beyond the discoloring that the red had wrought, the thing looked unassuming enough. Not real at least. Apparently they'd done this show thrice before, in the exact sequence. So someone had swapped out the prop for a replica – and let the unassuming actors act out the actual death of one of their own.

'Someone, tow this kid out of here! Callan, Yaff, do your jobs!'

Someone grabbed his shoulder hard and began pulling him away. They were saying something, but he wasn't listening. Instead, his hand finally found the Z-Drive again, and he breathed in deeply as he twisted it.

Rewinding always sucked. Always.

First, the world stopped. Nothing moved, then it pulsed, Ekko's vision vibrating in ear-splitting fashion. Around him, the world teared – revealing millions of sparks and lines of every colour and every shape against a deep black nothingness.

It stopped, a harsh whirring coming from his pocket, and it happened. Everything imploded, and Ekko gasped as he was flung into the void and everything was flung into him. His body began acting out every action he'd taken in reverse, every sensation, every word, every thought. Like he was watching a silent film where the silence was yelling, and every other feeling was dragging along cut glass.

Ekko gasped as he was slammed into his chair, senses reversed into normalcy. He breathed in and groaned. The longer he went without activating the checkpoint, the worse it got, and in this case – an hour and a bit – the effects were harsh. He checked the tank – indicated by a scuffed addition he'd made to his watch, a blue emblem in shape of a angular hourglass – and grimaced. He'd used a lot of time on that one, he had maybe two and a half hours of time left stored.

'I think the Professor is onto us,' Qiyana said, whispering over Neeko. He took a moment to orient himself – mid-show break, Lux had just excused herself, he was with Qiyana, Neeko and Alune - before turning back to her.

'It's fine. I'm going to go check something,' Ekko said.

Qiyana frowned. 'You are leaving me alone here?'

He shrugged and stood, stretching out his limbs. They always ached after a Chronoshift. 'You'll be fine, and I won't be long. Probably.'

'Probably?'

'Ezreal come with?' Neeko asked, and he shook his head.

Ignoring further protests, he moved off.

He had to come up with a plan. What could he do? Best case he could deal with this quietly, then leave an anonymous tip with the police about the weapon after. No death, no spectacle.

Decided on that, he quietly pushed his way backstage. Around him people were hurried, but the tone was notably lighter than it had been before. Ekko himself stood tense, and he pushed his way past harried streams of people towards what he hoped was the prop department.

It took a few minutes, but he found it eventually. There were a few people watching over the room, but they were deep in discussion. Ekko, quietly, pushed past them and slipped into the room.

Inside was bright, everything laid out in organized clumps, Ekko assumed based on order of need. He followed the line until the end, where he assumed he'd find the crossbow -

It wasn't there. Ekko cursed, the prop had been used in earlier acts, Lamb carried it around. They didn't use it until the final scene, but it had been present.

Plan didn't change, just the execution. He slipped back out of the prop room and past the still lost-in-hushed-discussion group, and hurried down the hall. He tried to walk confidently, as he knew better than anyone pretending you were supposed to be there was often as effective as actually being, but he knew he stood out. Ekko pulled off his blazer and tied it around his waist, then ripped off the Durandal patch on his vest. It wasn't exactly a disguise, but hopefully it would be enough for people to just ignore him.

For the most part, it seemed to work. Most people shot him barely more than a questioning glance before continuing on their way, and Ekko felt himself stand taller as each person passed. His stomach was still in knots, a thread holding back it's contents from spilling over the wooden floor, but he looked calm. Often times, that was enough to trick people.

He eventually spotted his target. Lamb paced to and fro, muttering under her breath. Even before the shock, the woman looked a worrywart. Without the mask, her face was soft, pretty even, with curved features that framed themselves nicely against disheveled bangs of dark hair.

Then his mind flashed the image of her soaked in the blood of her friend and muttering incoherently. The image blurred with reality for a split second, then blinked away. Seeing the convergences made Ekko sick, but it meant the trajectory of the timeline had shifted.

To her side was the prop leaning against the wall. It looked innocent from here, it's patterns and clean white paint a disturbingly innocent contrast from before. Or later – Ekko still didn't know how to approach thought about the linearity of his life. He tried to see if there was a way to access the cartridge that would hold the bolt – but it didn't appear there was a way. So much for disarming it, he would have to remove the whole thing altogether. Then he could find a place to fire it off quietly, then replace it back. No one would ever have to know.

About to move in, Ekko spotted two more still figures to the side. Lux and the actor, the doomed one. They were chatting, standing calm against the flood around them. Again he saw the man's corpse, the arrow, the blood. Then it was gone.

Shaking himself, he pushed on. He just had to hope Lux didn't see him. Ekko moved casually, back straight, right up to where Lamb was pacing. She hadn't noticed him yet, and he carefully positioned himself to the wall. He shot Lux a glance, but she hadn't seemed to notice him either. Carefully, he reached out a hand -

There. He grasped the weapon and quietly began retracting it, all the while turning and beginning to move away. He held his breath, hoping that it was this easy.

One second passed, nothing. Two, and still nothing. Ekko began to breathe -

'Hey, you! Where are you going with that?'

'Shit,' he muttered.

Ekko ran, pretense of stealth gone. He grimaced; now what? Even if he got away, what would he do with the thing? He didn't know, but his first instinct was still to just get the thing away from the stage.

As he ran he checked the bow again – trying to make absolutely sure he couldn't simply remove the bolt. It proved impossible without tools, and Ekko groaned. This was not how he thought the trip would end. He'd already fought a dragon this week - with no rewinds no less – and he was exhausted.

His thoughts were interrupted as he rammed into a block of a man who had stepped into his path. Winded, Ekko bounced off the man's slab of stomach and into a heap, weapon clattering to his side. Stars dancing in his vision, Ekko looked to the weapon, then up at the person who had stopped him – was that a hand reaching out to him?

It was, grabbing Ekko by the collar and lifting him up. The man - who was Ekko's perfect ideal of a stock bodyguard, complete with the slow turning behind the eyes and the greased hair – growled, a hard sound that rattled out from his throat. He had a square nametag affixed to his shirt, reading 'Callan'. Ekko tried to smile.

'Mind letting me down?'

The bouncer's tiny eyes narrowed further, and he dragged Ekko along with him, away from the weapon. Ekko tried to turn, but the grip was firm. He tapped the hand, firmly set in a fist.

'Lovely show, huh?' Ekko said.

No response.

Ekko frowned, looking back again. 'Okay, not the talking type, cool. Pass on a message, will you? Don't use the bow – whatever you do, don't use it.'

The bouncer silently lead Ekko all the way to the lobby, and tossed him outside into the night, drawing looks from the other guests. The bouncer snorted, then moved back inside.

'That didn't work,' Ekko grumbled as he dusted himself off. He looked around, frowning at the eyes on him with questioning gazes. 'What? You never seen a friendly bouncer kick a kid out?'

Most people just rolled their eyes and returned to their conversations. Ekko didn't see anyone he recognized, so there was at least that. Not that it mattered, though.

He hit the Z-Drive again.

Sharp pain ripped through Ekko as the last moments of the Chronoshift pulsed through his body. This was his fourth rewind now, and he was running out of ideas. After the first try, the one where he was thrown out, he had attempted the same thing again, but that time with careful consideration of the bouncer's path. It didn't work, and he had to try again.

Next he'd tried a different approach – he'd just called the police in via an anonymous tip. Naturally, they hadn't believed him, and the actor had ended up with a bolt through his head again.

After that, Ekko had tried to call out as the final scene played, hopefully being able to create a big enough scene of his own to distract and mess up the timing of events. He even got Lux in on his plan – she'd pointedly said to him that it was just like the rehearsal – and they'd managed to get the stage's attention. It had worked, in that the actor lived – but Lamb accidentally misfired into the audience, and that had produced an even less desired affect.

So here he was now.

'I think the Professor is onto us,' Qiyana said.

'Be right back,' Ekko said, rising quickly. He had a different idea this time. Lux had been talking to the actor – if they weren't going to listen to him, maybe they'd listen to her.

Backstage was busy, as it was before. This time he didn't care about being sneaky, he just walked through, bumping into running crew, who flung curses back at Ekko. He ignored them – couldn't they see he was trying to save one of them? No, of course they didn't. And they couldn't.

It was hard to keep standing – repeated rewinds at over an hour long each took their toll. His body, bless it, was not built for the abuse. Still he forced himself onwards, trying to find his way back to where he'd seen Lux that first try. It felt like an age ago.

Turns out he didn't have to try – Lux eventually appeared as he pushed himself down the hall. Her eyes widened as they landed on him, and Ekko breathed in relief. Well, one step done. He hurried to her, and tried to make himself sound jovial.

'So this is where you were! Lux, listen, I need you to -'

'Ekko,' she said, concerned blue eyes scanning him once-over. 'What happened to you?'

'Not important,' Ekko tried to keep his voice calm and casual, so he waved it away. He tried to be casual about his next move. 'You need to listen to me very carefully. You know someone backstage here?'

She hesitated, shifting on her weight. 'Well, yeah -'

Good. 'We need to tell them -'

'Ekko, you're scaring me here.'

He pursed his lips, about to retort something witty, but another voice – shrill and rushed – interrupted them. 'Hey, you two! You can't be here, it's almost time! Someone, escort them out!'

Biting back a growl and forcing himself to smile, he rounded on the newcomer. 'Lady, listen -'

Lux grabbed his shoulder firmly. 'Ekko, come on.'

He tried to wriggle out, but the rewinds added up. He grimaced, calm gone. He had to try something, anything. 'The gun! Lady, don't use the gun!'

Lux urged him back further, and he could see the lady wasn't listening. 'The gun? Ekko, what are you even talking about -?'

He groaned as Lux led him out of backstage. Once they were back in the theatre, Lux let go of his arm.

Panic rising, Ekko began pacing. He didn't know if he had the energy - nor the actual time - to do another Chronoshift. He checked his wrist – the hourglass was blinking quietly. He had maybe ten minutes of time – not enough for a full rewind. Maybe he could set up a new checkpoint closer to the actual event. 'Okay, maybe there's another way this time...'

'Okay, you're really worrying me here. Did something happen?' Lux said.

Ekko shook his head with a sigh. 'No, not yet. But the main actor guy? He's going to die.'

Lux stared at him. '...What.'

He didn't have time to explain, so he just resumed his pacing.

'What do you mean? Taij? He looks fine, though.'

Think, Ekko, think. He'd tried quiet, he'd tried loud. Was there any other way? Could he even stop the play maybe?

'If you want me to listen, you have to explain what you mean.'

Wait. During the first fight, all those weeks ago in Durandal, Lux had made a wall of light, right? She'd blocked talons – what if she could block an arrow?

He paused. 'What can your powers do? You can make a barrier, right?'

'Ekko,'

'Blind them? I don't know, work with me here.'

'Ekko!'

He stopped at the desperation in her voice, looking at Lux properly.

'Slow down, please! What are you even talking about?'

Ekko stopped and attempted to calm himself. Then he plastered a smile onto his face. 'Just trust me. Please.'

'Not now, I'll explain later.' He glanced at her. 'That is the first time I promised you that, right? This time at least?'

Lux shook her head with a small frown, eyes returning towards the stage. Ekko grimaced. Problems for later.

'Now get ready,' Ekko said, inching forward towards the two members of crew stationed at the bottom of the stairs. He checked his tank – he had enough for one, small jump. He grimaced and pulled the dial on his Z-Drive, and he felt the cold rush of a checkpoint being set. 'I'll distract them, you have to protect the guy.'

Wasting no more time, Ekko dashed forward. The two stagehands ignored him at first, but as he got close they reluctantly turned off the stage and towards him.

'Sir, this is off-limits, please return to your seat.'

'Yeah, but I need your help,' Ekko said, trying to think of something that would sound marginally convincing. An image of the bouncer's nametag popped into his mind. 'Callan said he found some creep sneaking something backstage.'

One of the stagehands, a shorter boy with round glasses, narrowed his eyes. 'Callan sent you? To us? I swear, that idiot -'

'Hey, I don't make the rules,' Ekko shrugged, he gestured away from the stage. 'Best get moving, guy's a right jackoff when people're late.'

'Don't I know it,' the glasses boy muttered, his eyes hesitantly fluttering between Ekko and the stage. 'But we need to be here, in case something -'

'I'm sure they can handle without you guys for a moment,' Ekko said, trying to hide the sweat from how long this was taking. 'Come on, if you don't hurry it up, Callan'll kick my ass. Again.'

The other stagehand placed a hand on the shorter boy's shoulder, then nodded at Ekko. 'We'll be right back then.'

Ekko nodded. 'Right, I need to go talk to,' he scanned through his rewinds for a name, 'Yaff next. Be quick about it, you two.'

They nodded and left, and Ekko pushed his way backstage. He sighed. It was out of his hands now – and he hated that feeling. If it went wrong, he did have one more try, but he was flat out of ideas. If Lux couldn't do it – it was basically over.

Fighting the blackness that inevitability wrought, Ekko wandered until he came to where the backstage crew was watching the scene unfold. Everyone was gathered, watching, though a few black-clad runners were standing primed for when curtains fell, or in case a prop needed changing. No one noticed, or more aptly, no one cared, at Ekko wading into the group, finding a nice patch of wall to lean on. From here, he had a straight line of sight towards the stage – though seeing it from this angle was a little weird. Taij was about to knock Lamb's hand away, and then the result of this run would be seen.

He slid down against the wall, watching through the legs of the crew. Taij knocked Lamb away, and Wolf knocked him down. Lamb said the words, and aimed the weapon. Ekko tensed. Lamb fired.

Right as the bolt fired, a barrier of light stopped it – a hair's breath from his face. Arrow battled light in a cascade of sparks, gold on red on blue.

Shattering into iridescent infinity, the barrier broke, and the arrow fell – harmlessly – to the side. Taij and his fellow actors stared in confusion. Then, the cheers. The familiar, disgusting cheers.

Ekko let out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and let his head fall back onto the wall. He wasn't thrilled, he wasn't excited, he wasn't even relieved. He was just tired.

He checked his tank – flashing blue, indicating he didn't have the time to make the jump to the checkpoint – and snorted. Only four tries. He usually needed more. He flicked the Z-Drive, relieving the checkpoint, and felt the sharp jolt of ice rush through him. Breathing out, he let his eyes slide shut, rumblings of muffled memories trying to fight his tired mind.

Around him, the crew scrambled to perform their last duties, retrieving props and clearing the stage, orders being barked ad nauseam – and Ekko snored.

The following morning, the students of the Battle and Sorcery Clubs waited on the platform for their train home. Ekko stood with Ponytail who, despite apparently considering his foray the previous night a success, wasn't saying much. That was fine with Ekko – he hadn't gotten much actual rest. His sleep had been rife with images and memories of an erased past that he'd never be able to forget.

The whistle eventually sounded, and the students were allowed to file onto the train. Ekko sorted out his luggage and settled down to...he wasn't sure. He didn't really want to close his eyes at the moment.

Neeko had joined them in the carriage, disguised as a random passer-by they'd seen on the way to the station. Apparently, Ponytail had managed to talk the Neeko issue over with the professors, and Braum had arranged something, so she was coming back with the school. It was really relieving to hear – Ekko had no idea what they were going to do with her otherwise. Sneak her back themselves? He had a feeling Qiyana wouldn't be particularly thrilled about the idea.

Speaking of, for some reason, she was lounging in a booth just across from Ekko's own, quietly slumped into a chair asleep. Qiyana had a dark-coloured travel-neck-pillow-things that Ekko didn't really like – they were too stiff – and a sleepmask with closed stylized eyes. She wasn't wearing her uniform, either, instead just an oversized sweater that looked too comfortable. Her face looked peaceful. Ekko frowned. Lucky her, being able to sleep.

As the train started moving, the door to their compartment slid open, and Lux stepped in. For once, Ponytail didn't jump at the sight of her, and he just kept staring out the window. Lux's eyes lingered on him for a moment, then nodded at Ekko to follow. He sighed, but rose. They left, standing just outside the sliding door.

'Y'know, I could just tell Ponytail you're here and save us both the trouble -'

'Explain. Now.'

Lux stood straight and cross-armed, and Ekko tried to smile disarmingly – but Lux's brows only furrowed.

'...I guess I did say I would, didn't I?'

Lux nodded.

Ekko grimaced, looking around – the stairs were clear from here, and no one in the Battle Club's compartment was following. He bit his lip – he had no out.

'I...' He began, but shook his head. 'Before I say anything, I need to you promise me this stays between us.'

'Just tell me how and what that was.'

'Promise me, please.'

'Okay, I promise,' Lux said. 'But I'm really just asking how your powers work, it should be public knowledge -'

'I don't have any,' Ekko said flatly.

' - and in the school's database of – wait, what?'

Ekko breathed in. 'Powers. Don't have any. None.'

Lux stared, confused. 'What?'

With a nod, Ekko reached into his pocket and brought out a small disc, a metal ring with blue neon blazing along it's side. 'A few years ago, I stumbled on something. I didn't think much of it at the time – y'know, a cool party trick. A disc that would always fly back.'

'A boomerang?'

'That's what I thought. But,' he flicked a notch on the disc's side and flung it down the hall. It flew, pulsed, then froze. It buzzed blue for a second – then burst back towards Ekko's outstretched hand. 'But then I tried it on me.'

Lux nodded slowly. 'And...'

'I broke time.'

'….You broke time.'

Ekko nodded, relieved. 'Yep. Cool, good chat, I'll just head back inside -'

'You are not leaving on that!' Lux said, moving to intercept his retreat. 'What do you even mean?! "Broke" time? That's not something you just do,Ekko!'

Ekko grimaced, putting a finger to his lips and hissing. 'Keep it down! I don't need anyone more hearing that! I'll be kicked out of school if they find out I'm powerless.'

'How did you even get in then?!'

'Oh, that was easy,' he shrugged, 'They didn't let me in at first - so I just kept trying until I did.'

'And how many times was that?'

'A good few, I'd say. Dunno, didn't count.'

Lux stared incredulously. 'You cheated the God-weapon.'

'No, not cheat. I'm just stubborn.'

Lux huffed, then blinked away her questions. 'And Taij?'

A red fountain flashed in his mind. He cleared his throat, and shrugged. 'He, ah, didn't make it originally. I went back and you saved him, so good job and all that.' He nervously looked past her. 'Look, I really wanna get some sleep -'

'How many times?'

Ekko narrowed his eyes. 'What?

'How many times,' Lux said. 'How many – resets? - have there been? This opens up so many questions – are the old timelines still there? Are they separated instances, or are they wiped and coalesced into one? Are there -'

'I saw him die, Lux.'

She stopped, the quieted tone of Ekko's voice striking her harder than his yells. And it was just as well, he didn't want to talk much further. He sighed, running his hand through his hair before forcing himself straight. 'Don't mention this to anyone, please. My powers are listed as "Miscellaneous" or something. Anyway, there you are, an explanation. Can I go now?'

Lux hugged him.

He practically jumped – but Lux just squeezed. 'Hey, what are you -'

'You're a hero.'

Ekko blanked. 'Uhh...'

Then she let go, a warm smile on her lips. 'Thank you for telling me. I can't imagine having to deal with that myself.'

'I...' He cleared his throat. 'Thanks. I'm, uh, going to have a nap now.'

Lux nodded, shooting a look into the compartment, aimed at Ponytail. She shook her head. 'I guess that can wait.' She patted Ekko on the shoulder, and excused herself downstairs.

The doors admitted Ekko, and he stepped towards his seat. As he passed Qiyana though, she spoke up, quietly; 'I overheard.'

Ekko frowned, glancing down. She hadn't moved, her sleeping gear still fully equipped, but she spoke. Great. 'Do you get off on eavesdropping or something?'

A smirk tugged on her face. 'It was coincidence, I assure you.'

'Wonderful,' he sighed. 'How much did you hear?'

'Enough.'

'Then do me a favour and hold the comments, please. It's too early for your attitude.'

Qiyana shrugged, and repositioned herself to be more comfortable. 'No comments. I simply wanted to offer the assurance that I will remain quiet about your situation. No need to thank me.'

Ekko rolled his eyes. 'I won't then.'

He heard her chuckle, and he grumbled as he began to move away. A hand reached out and tapped him as he retreated, and he stopped. 'Wait,' Qiyana said.

He turned, and she pulled up her mask. She yawned, then rummaged through a bag on one of the seats and pulled out a neck-pillow-thing, this one a brighter colour. She held it out to him, eyes clearly expecting him to take it.

He raised an eyebrow. 'You have two of these things?'

'Yes?' She seemed genuinely confused by the question. 'I need to have one of each colour so I may match with my situation.' She looked him up and down, rolled her eyes, then urged the thing towards him. 'It will do, for you.'

'Thought you said no comments,' he said, but he took the pillow thing.

'You make it very difficult,' she said, leaning back. 'Do with it as you will.'

And with that, she slid the mask back over her eyes, and made a pointed exhale before falling quiet again.

Ekko stared down at her with the beginnings of a smirk – then felt at the pillow. It was pretty soft. He shrugged and slid back down into his seat opposite Ponytail – with whom Ekko exchanged grunts of greeting – and tentatively slid the thing around his neck. It felt a little weird, but he tried to close his eyes. A bit of red flashed, mixed with a feather of yellow.

After a minute, he decided it wasn't comfortable. He opened his eyes, took the thing off and stared at it. Stupid rich people. He flopped it down onto the table, and collapsed his head onto it. As his mind drifted off, images and sounds swirled together – the mural, a face, cries, now the theatre, mutterings of shock...

Ekko snored.

Irelia

a year ago

Irelia didn't understand love.

Growing up, the concept eluded her. Her mother, before she'd been taken, had always said; 'love is found in everything, and love can be born from anything. The smallest bud of affection can grow into a blossoming tree of wonder, even the iron walls of the most impregnable fortress can be cracked, broken down with crevices of adoration that expand and spread like nothing else. It comes in all shapes, and is malleable to nearly every being on the planet'.

That was a load of drivel.

Irelia's own form of love, she discovered quite early on, was not exactly the same as those around her. She found herself lost in talks about boys, not understanding her friend's growing affections for the boys in their class whom she found irritating. She didn't relate when her best friends confronted her about a difficult choice with a boy, and she likewise failed to - in her mind - grasp the concept of love as it had so clearly taken hold of everyone around her.

She went through her early middle school life in confusion, and ended it in simple apathy. Why bother trying to feel what she just didn't understand? She began to think that she was just beyond the magical treasure that love was perceived to be, and went into her first year at Durandal God-weapon Academy with romance about as far off the mind as possible. She locked it away, hiding her failure to understand from everyone. It was an unknown.

Placed in the Battle Club with the particularly rambunctious Zoe, Irelia fell into a sort of new rhythm, practicing her dance alongside the development of her almost sisterly relationship to the young prodigy, even if she was insufferable. She found a comfort in the sibling role, especially as she had left her six brothers back in Ionia to study in the most prolific school in Valoran.

Sometimes, the spark that ignites a massive change is tiny. For Irelia, that spark was as small as they come – something so tiny that most people would consider it everyday, and the rest would barely see it as anything more than a footnote in the massive catalogue of their lives. It happened during a joint training exercise between the Battle and Sorcery clubs, where Irelia found herself duelling a Vastayan second year. The two had a hard fought battle, Irelia ducking in and out between blasts of scathing energy balls that bent to the girl's will. Eventually, Irelia fell to the older girl, falling to the floor in exhaustion as a final point of energy ripped into the fabric of her newly bought uniform.

The two bowed, and before separating, the senior girl offered a hand to shake, and with a smile, offered words of courtesy encouragement.

'You're pretty good. Let's spar again sometime.'

Irelia found that these simple words - which she had heard before in many, many variations - had a lasting impact on her. She stood there stunned, but managed to shake her hand, before falling back into the Battle clubs' admittedly pitiable ranks. Something about how she said them, or when, or what was behind those words, lit something in her that she had long felt dormant.

Ahri, as she would later find out was the senior's name, was a Vastayan student from Ionia, just like her, and appeared to be a typical popular girl. She had the looks - possessing a wicked smile amid her angular face and deep dark hair, piercing green eyes that twinkled with playfulness, and curves in all the right places – that gave people the impression that she was nothing more but a pretty face coaxing by. But Irelia, after their duel, found more in those eyes; a deep desire for strength, a hunger, but more than that a deep level of respect towards the girl she had just beaten. It was those eyes, Irelia concluded, that had flipped the switch inside her head and opened herself to something completely alien to her.

For months, she couldn't put a finger on the feeling. Why did she feel so skittish when she saw her in the hallway, or exchanged a polite greeting when their paths occasionally crossed? She felt like a child cowering at a parent. She grew ever frustrated, as she found herself nodding absentmindedly at one of Zoe's rather routine rambles.

'And like, so, then I went all vroooosh, and then all like; ba-dooooom!' The smaller girl, whose pastel pink hair was longer than the length of her entire body, acted out each sound in earnest; explosive animations that almost – very almost – made sense. Almost.

Irelia nodded absently, pen twirling between her fingers. 'Then what did you do?'

'This is where it gets really cool,' Zoe said with one of those grins of hers. 'I went all gaBAAM on it, and the Professor freaked!' She pouted. 'I've got two weeks of detention now.'

'Serves you right, honestly,' Irelia said. She scribbled over a line of numbers that hadn't produced the desired result. The fall midterms were a pain, and despite Irelia's near-religious revision schedule, the summer break hadn't been nearly enough to get a firm grasp on the material.

Zoe mumbled something and stepped over to Irelia's side of the table, taking a peek over her shoulder. She hummed, then pointed to the equation Irelia had just scribbled out. 'You're using the wrong thingamajig here. You wanna make this loser here go dadoom, then you can slot it in here and really kill it.'

Irelia sighed and handed Zoe the pen, who took it and happily scrawled out what she meant in large, flowy print. It looked incredibly childish – all the more jarring as the solution Zoe produced was lazily accurate. She handed the pen back to Irelia, who stared down at the numbers on her page. They were accompanied by a few quick smileys and what Irelia assumed was supposed to be a bear. 'Thanks. Don't suppose you can explain this in a way us mortals can understand?'

Zoe tilted her head. 'It made perfect sense.'

'To you, sure.'

'But it's just so obvious,' Zoe said, without any trace of mirth. 'It makes sense to me. You just go here, then here, then kill him here, then attack here, then BAM!' Her hand followed each movement with an appropriate gesture. When she finished, she retracted herself with a grin. 'You can't see it?'

Irelia shook her head. 'It just doesn't work like that for the rest of us.'

'Welp,' Zoe said, practically crashing back into her chair. They were seated at one of the study desks on the first floor of the Dorms – out of the way, with the fireplace crackling it's emulated flame just a few paces off. 'I don't think you're trying to see it hard enough. Maybe you're just not letting my way through your thick skull. Seriously, that thing is hard, like -'

'Zoe.'

'Oh, but I don't mean in it in a bad way! I like hard heads. You remind me of one of my tutors, back home. She was a real stiffer. Never really liked her.'

'Zoe,' Irelia said again, a little more forcefully.

'Hmn?'

'How about you get us some snacks? I'm feeling a little hungry.'

'Ooooh! Good idea, Ire! Be right back, I'll get something extra-special for your grumpiness! Are you getting more grumpy recently? I can't tell -'

'Zoe.'

'Oh, right, yeah, going now!' She skipped away, happily humming. Irelia watched her disappear down the stairs with a smile.

That smile immediately faded as she looked back down at her revision sheet. Intently staring at Zoe's easily produced workings did not, in fact, provide any help. So she sighed, leaning back into her chair. Maybe she was approaching the question wrong.

She knew from her experience with dance that repetition and practice were key tenants of mastery. Practice something long enough, and you could do it consistently. Repeat said practice enough times, and that consistency became little more than muscle memory, burned into your body through hours of gruelling work.

Talent was a different thing entirely. Sometimes, no matter how much practice or heart you put into something, someone would come along who just was. Talent was latent – you had it or you didn't. No use trying to force something that you simply didn't have. She supposed in that way, Zoe was right; Irelia was hard-headed. Understanding someone with talent was most oft a waste of time.

Thoughts of Zoe caused her mind to drift. How were her brothers doing without her? She hoped they weren't getting on each other's nerves too much – she'd often had to act as mediator between Zelos and Ru. She smiled at the thought.

In a way, Zoe was just another sibling. A sister for a change, sure, but at the core it was a familiar relationship. Something she understood.

Back to the exam prep. Said exams were more than a month away, yes, but Irelia liked to be prepared. More than that, any less studying would leave her anxious. She hated not knowing something.

A few days passed, and Irelia practiced her rhythms.

The Battle Club's room was small, but it was becoming increasingly familiar. She liked familiar. The motions flowed through her naturally, one to the next, and she lost herself to the momentum of dance.

This was what she knew. No ifs, no buts – it just was.

Peace.

She finished the routine, holding the pose for a final few moments, before forcing herself to return to the present. Her eyes slid open, dull colours of the clubroom staring back. Morning's first light had begun to peer through the window, dividing the room in distinctly light and dark partitions. She stood in the centre, still mostly in shadow. She checked her phone – she should get a watch - and grimaced. She'd gone on a little longer than usual.

Quickly gathering her things and making sure she locked the door, Irelia hurried back towards the Dorm. By the time she reached the building, the sun had made itself mostly visible, smiling down into the valley with it's emotionless warmth.

She quickly stopped by her room, noting Zoe sprawled across her aggressively pink bed, and dumped her belongings off. She grabbed her bag of toiletries, then uniform, and harried herself off to the showers.

After that, another quick stop to replace the bag and her workout clothes, then to the kitchens. Cooking was another relaxing outlet for her – you followed steps, and you produced a desired result. Expected. Consistent.

She made her breakfast and sat down in the hall as people began to trickle in. Zoe eventually joined her with one of the free breakfast offers. Irelia saw the appeal in the idea, but not in the food itself. In her eyes, it was both easier and much more nourishing to make your own.

This was her morning routine. Since the start of the year in April she'd held it, unchanging, except to cut a few corners of fat and optimise. Zoe began prattling away, and Irelia smiled and nodded along at the increasingly nonsensical things her roommate said.

Yasuo, a second year from club, suddenly planted himself at their table, which was situated nicely in the middle of the room. Zoe smiled and waved a bright 'Heyo Yacchi!', but Irelia simply nodded a greeting. This wasn't part of the routine.

'What's good, squirt? And Irelia.' He grinned. Irelia had heard whispers from her classmates about him, about how good he looked with his messy hair, or how the scar across his nose made him feel dangerous. She didn't share those sentiments. In fact, she found the guy decidedly intolerable.

'Nothin much, but the food here sucks!' Zoe chirped.

'Ain't that the truth,' Yasuo responded with an equally jovial tone. He glanced down at Zoe's food and nodded. 'Yeah, C Set. Unlucky. Get A, that one's pretty good in my experience.'

'Boooo, I just wanna eat a plate of chocolate.'

'Don't do that, Zoe, it's not enough for a balanced diet,' Irelia said.

Zoe stuck her tongue out.

'Much as I love the early morning banter,' Yasuo said, focusing his attention on Irelia. 'Prez told me to tell you that we've got a sparring match today with Sorcery. Be there, he said.' Yasuo shrugged. 'Or don't, it's whatever.'

'Prezzers said that?' Zoe said through tiny bites.

'Nah, that one's all me.'

'Sorcery? We haven't gone there in ages,' Irelia said, feeling a churning in her stomach. Why? She squashed the feeling.

'Dunno,' Yasuo said. Then he shrugged. 'Well, I do know, and you do too. Prez isn't too thrilled at our results in the last tournament, wants to whip us into shape.'

Irelia nodded and returned to her food. 'Understood.'

'"Understood"?' Yasuo raised an eyebrow. 'I'm not your commander, Irelia.'

She shrugged. 'You're our senior, it only seems -'

Her thought trailed off as she caught sight of a fluffy white tail entering the room, then by extension the person attached to it. Ahri walked into the hall with a stretch and deep yawn, then lazily approached the line waiting for food.

Yasuo followed her line of vision, then hummed. 'Yeah, you'll probably have to fight her again. Don't let it get to you; Ahri beats everyone. She's always been pretty good.'

Irelia snapped back to Yasuo, blinking. She felt a little disconnected – her head a little lighter. But Yasuo spoke with familiarity.

So against her better judgment, she found herself speaking to the scruffy boy. 'You know her?'

He nodded, staring after her. 'Yeah, friends with her growing up. Real diva, that one.'

Zoe raised her hand. 'I wanna be a Diva!'

'Oh, ambitious there!' Yasuo said with a smirk. 'I'll ask if she does coaching.'

Zoe grinned at that, and Irelia rolled her eyes – which, again, landed on Ahri. The way she walked, even languid as she seemed, captivated Irelia.

'Stare harder, why don't you,' Yasuo said. Him and Zoe shared a snigger, which finally brought Irelia the state of mind to tear her eyes away, now being used to glare at the pair of them.

'I'm just trying to think of strategy,' Irelia said. And she meant it. She thought she did, at least.

Yasuo scoffed. 'Yeah, lotta good staring down her breakfast habits're going to do you. You wanna know how she takes her coffee too? It's with full milk by the way, with exactly three pinches of sugar, two of cinnamon, one shot of chocolate, and cream on top. Don't ask why I know that, it's traumatizing.'

Irelia, for whatever reason, nodded intently. She made a mental note. 'And? Anything else?'

'Uhh,' Yasuo said, brows furrowing, clearly confused his joke was not being taken seriously. Or that it had missed. He cleared his throat, then scratched his chin. 'I guess she's pretty lax? She barely trains, far as I know. She's in class...three? Two maybe? Not sure.'

'And?'

'Yeah, you're weird,' Yasuo said. 'I guess she has that new boyfriend. That's probably the most recent thing with her.'

Irelia's vision suddenly narrowed, sides flashing with edges of red. Then, immediately, it was gone, replaced with a feeling of...emptiness? 'What? Who?'

Yasuo shrugged. 'Some second year from Luminary, I think. Talked to him once, forgot his name. I really don't see how this helps you plan against her, but -'

'Tut, tut, tut, Yacchi,' Zoe said, waggling her fingers and face twisted into an expression of wisdom. 'You wouldn't understand the intricacies at play here. Alas, the deeper machinations of battle elude you.'

Yasuo flicked her forehead.

'Ow!'

'I win.'

'WHAT? No fair! Re-do!'

'Nope.'

'Yuh-huh!'

Irelia zoned out of the conversation, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore. She scowled at her food – confused as to why the taste seemed less.

The second duel with Ahri ended the same way, with Ahri beating Irelia with a well placed orb. As the proctor called the duel to it's close, Irelia bowed to her opponent, who responded with a small smile and shake of her hand.

The fight itself was different from last time. Ahri didn't have the same focus, the same tenacity – despite being clearly distracted, she'd won regardless. But it didn't matter to Irelia, it actually made her feel a little happier, for whatever reason. It shouldn't have; she hated losing.

They joined their respective clubmates as the next two fighters stepped down into the arena – Zoe and a buff guy – before the pulsing blue boundary rose, encapsulating the grounds.

Yasuo stared down at the fight, not really paying attention. This was one Zoe was likely to win, and no-one in the Battle Club was particularly worried. As Irelia slumped onto the railing next to him, Yasuo grunted.

'Guess knowing her coffee preferences didn't help, eh?'

Irelia flushed a little – as the day had went on, she'd recognized how utterly absurd she'd acted. She pointedly ignored the comment, staring down at Zoe's fight - which to no-one's surprise, she was winning.

'She seemed distracted,' Irelia said. 'And she still won.'

'Like I said, she's pretty good. Don't let it get to you.'

Irelia glanced at Yasuo, then back down. Zoe was performing a move that had to amount to nothing more than a taunt. 'Sounds like you're speaking from experience.'

He snorted. 'As if. I'd kick her ass any day.'

About to retort, Irelia's eyes caught a flash of white movement towards the doors. Ahri's tails lingered as the girl exited the building. Yasuo, in his ever-present awareness, didn't seem to have noticed.

'I'm going to get something from the clubroom,' Irelia said, pushing off the railings.

Yasuo nodded absently. 'Sure. Your fights for the day are done anyway, so feel free to go home after, if you want. I'll let Prez know.'

She nodded, then exited. As she slid past the door to outside, she heard the ref calling the match; Zoe had won, to minimal surprise.

Outside, Irelia felt a stab of guilt. Why did she leave? She promised Zoe she'd watch her matches. For what? To chase after someone who'd just beaten her?

Yeah. She nodded, resolved. She wanted to get feedback from the battle. So she could beat the other girl next time.

She rounded a corner, and found Ahri sitting at a bench, scowling down at a phone.

Ahri looked up, noticing her. Irelia froze. She hadn't thought this far. No, wait, she had – ask about the duel.

Apparently this deliberation took an awkward minute, because Ahri eventually cleared her throat, fluffy ears standing up straight. 'You're Battle Club, right?'

Recovering herself, Irelia nodded. 'Yes, Irelia Xan, first year. That was a good match, thank you very much!'

Ahri blinked, then nodded slowly. 'Right, er, yeah. Nice to meet you?' She scratched her head. 'It's kinda weird, someone being so formal.'

Irelia looked up, eyes wide. Had she just been called weird? Oh no -

Ahri was smiling. 'Good match though. You're really good, I'd wanted to have another go at you since the last time.'

Irelia found herself grinning. 'Same here. I wanted to ask for some feedback, so I can beat you in the future.'

'Diligent, unlike that other Battle Club lout,' Ahri said. She smiled, then her eyes flitted to her phone. She sighed. 'Ah, sorry, I don't think I could give you much actually helpful feedback. I was a little...distracted. Sorry.' She eyed Irelia. 'Also, you just going to stand there? There's space here for two.'

Stifling a little yelp, Irelia hurried over to the seat. She settled down, and sat straight. Ahri eyed her, then chuckled. 'Relax, I'm not going to bite just because I'm your senior.'

Irelia tried to relax herself, but found it wasn't easy. 'Sorry.' She glanced at Ahri's phone, still on her lap. 'Is, uh, everything okay?'

Ahri snorted, waving her phone in the air in a dismissive gesture. 'Men - you know how it goes.'

She didn't, but Irelia nodded anyway. 'They, uh, suck.'

'Puh-reach. Prick couldn't even be bothered to do it in person.' She sighed, then shrugged. 'A month down the drain. Waste of my time.'

Ah. Irelia could piece together what had happened – and it made her feel a little lighter. She wasn't happy, though. That would be bad. Break-ups were painful, remembering herself having to listen to her friend's experiences in middle school. She coughed, then decided to take a risk. Or maybe it wasn't. She felt daring for doing it.

'It's his loss.'

Ahri nodded once, with great force. 'Don't I know it! Jackass couldn't do half as good as me if he tried!' Then she relaxed. Ahri fixed Irelia with a grin. 'Thanks. I feel a ton better already.'

Irelia nodded, then averted her gaze. 'You're, ah, welcome. I don't think I did much.'

Ahri scoffed. '"Not much" is better than nothing, if you ask me. You got plans for dinner?'

Irelia suddenly felt panicked. 'I, uh, have to fetch Zoe, and then I was going to cook -'

'You cook?' Ahri said, jaw dropping.

Irelia furrowed her brow. 'Well, yeah. Don't you?'

'Lord no,' Ahri said with a snort. 'None of my friends do. And it should be straight illegal for me to go into a kitchen.'

It was true – Irelia very rarely saw anyone else occupying the kitchens. She shook her head. 'But it's healthy, and it's not that hard -'

'Yeah, sure, not so hard, my ass. I burned water once. Water.'

Irelia stared at her, eyes narrowed. 'You... How?'

Ahri grinned. 'Long story.' She stood up, grabbing her bag and patting down her tails. 'Don't be surprised at my incompetence, Miss Xan. I'm somewhat of a unique talent in that field.'

'Water though?' She stood too.

'Yeah, okay, might've been a little bit of an exaggeration, but like -'

Irelia and Ahri began the trek back to the dorms, and Irelia found the last vestiges of the day's colours just a little move vivid than usual.

Jayce

Tinkering with tech calmed Jayce. As he worked, sounds and senses dulled around him – zeroing in on the work in front of him. Hyper-awareness of each groove, of each piece of work became a part of him. An extension of his mind.

A gently placed hand on his shoulder interrupted his flow.

'Jayce, can we talk?'

Sighing, but nodding, Jayce brought himself out of his trance. He slid the goggles off his face and faced the newcomer, Garen. A friend, but also a bit unaware at times. Sometimes, Jayce could swear people interrupted him because they thought he was working too hard. He wasn't.

'Sure, was going to take a break anyway,' Jayce lied. He stood, wiping grease off onto a stained towel. He grinned at Garen. 'What'ya need?'

Garen grunted. 'Professor Taric wants the report of the Practical, and then a list of eligible entrants for the tournament.'

'Didn't we already give that in? I coulda sworn -'

'Yes, Amaranthine mentioned. I told the Professor already, but he wanted you to do it in person.'

Jayce huffed. 'Man's a stickler for procedure.'

'Procedure saves lives,' Garen said. Jayce cocked an eyebrow.

'A little dramatic, but sure, point taken. I'll go and "formally present" to him in an hour or so then.'

His burly friend nodded, but didn't leave Jayce's side. Instead, Garen led Jayce away into one of the break rooms with a straight back and blank face. Usually, that meant he needed something, so Jayce just grinned. Best be out with it quickly, he had work to do.

'Right, so what did you really want?'

Garen's lips almost betrayed a small smile. He sighed, leaning against the wall next to the water cooler. 'Straight to the point?'

'Straight to the point.'

'Fine,' Garen sighed and stood straighter. 'I wanted to make sure you weren't surprised, tell you before they got here.'

'They?'

Garen nodded. 'Babylon. You know how they're sending a few students for the upcoming Tournament?'

'Yeah, but they do that every year. More students means more visitors in the club, so I don't mind. Plus, I don't usually bother with the tournaments – I have other stuff to do.'

Garen breathed in, slowly. 'It's not about the students. They, hm, have someone else with them, I heard.'

Jayce narrowed his eyes. What was he trying to get at? 'Out with it, Garen.'

'This is a rumour, keep in mind,' Garen said, hesitation in his voice. 'Whatever you think, please promise me you'll stay calm.'

'I'm always calm.'

'They have a new Advisor, I've heard.'

'Okay, and?'

'His name is Viktor.'

Jayce's blood ran cold. 'You're...sure?'

Nod. Garen pushed himself off the wall, and placed a hand on Jayce's shoulder. 'I know the history you two have, and I want you to know I'm on your side. But please,' Garen locked eyes with Jayce, who stared blankly back. 'Please don't do anything that could get you kicked out.'

Jayce nodded absently.

Satisfied, Garen patted him once more, offering a reassuring smile. Jayce, weakly, returned it, and they make their way back to the workbench. After a few assurances that the news wasn't a big deal, Jayce finally got Garen to leave him be. Then, he exhaled.

After all these years, and the man came to him. Justice hadn't prevailed last time, but this time –

No. He shook his head, trying to will away thoughts of the past. Those never, and Jayce meant never, amounted to anything but pain. He picked up his tools, feeling the cold metals between his fingers.

The calm that usually washed over him became a focus, and he let himself get lost in the spark of creation.