Luxanna V

The Mageseekers had gone mad. News had been hard to come by amidst the chaos and confusion that plagued the past few days but the basics were clear. The King decreed that mages are to be treated as equal citizens of Demacia, the Mageseekers committed regicide and now, Prince Jarvan - King now, I guess -, his dragon friend and my brother are fighting their way through the city to lead the trapped mages to the safety of its outskirts. Normally, I'd be confident in the ability of Demacian steel to throw back any threat to the city itself, but the Mageseekers were an honored order within Demacia before this madness happened. They had a stronghold right in the middle of the city, filled with tomes and artifacts they had confiscated over the centuries. Demacia wasn't prepared to fight a war erupting from within.

And then, there were those who aren't Mageseekers but have lived with the anti-magic rhetoric for so long that they might as well be.

"This is all your fault, witch!"

"You've brought doom to Demacia!"

"House Crownguard should be ashamed to have you in it!"

My lips curled into a dismayed grimace as several of the refugee camp's denizens echoed the sentiment. Teacher told me that magic was a gift to be cultivated and treasured, and that it wasn't something to be ashamed of. Still, fourteen years of living in a place where, in Teacher's words, 'Magic Bad', of living with the knowledge that there was something intrinsically wrong with my very being, of fearing the very thing that was happening right now, where the people I've grown up with hurl threats and abuse at me just for being different, made me want to curl up into a ball and cry.

Conceal, don't feel, Luxanna. You can cry in Teacher's big, scaly arms later.

I knelt down and tried to smile cheerfully at the morose girl in front of me. She was about my age, with long blue hair, smuggled out of the city by her frankly overprotective sister, who then decided that running back into the city with a few martially inclined volunteers to rendezvous with the Prince was a smart idea.

"Hey. She'll be fine. She looks like a," I floundered for an apt way to describe her sister, "dedicated person. She'll be back soon with the Prince and my brother, okay? Besides, Teacher and Galio are with her." I wanted to go with them but Teacher was like, 'noooo, you're Lady Crownguard Elsa, these people need you' before gallivanting off to do what heroic reptiles are oft to do.

I offered the girl a small loaf of bread but she merely shook her head, her fingers skillfully plucking at the strange string instrument she carried everywhere, the sound echoing through the camp and silencing the restless refugees.

The music was somber and mellow, a mournful dirge that brought to mind childhood memories at High Silvermere, of dreams long discarded, of Uncle Theron and his tales of the outside world, the fears and uncertainties that have plagued me since I was a girl slowly dissolving away and I felt my smile become just a bit more sincere and my eyes just a bit more watery.

So lost was I in the melody that I didn't notice the footsteps approaching from behind until the person spoke.

"My name is Shauna Vayne."

I blinked and turned around, a cheerful greeting at my lips.

"Magic killed my parents. Prepare to die."

For a split second, I felt confusion as I looked back at the sharp eyes glaring at me. The people around me were scrambling, a mass of blurs that my watery eyes can barely keep track of. Why is everything so silent? Why is the world spinning? Why is my chest bleeding? Why-

Poppy I

The familiar weight of Orlon's hammer warmed my back as I walked through the camp. The people around me were nervous and afraid for some reason and the thought that I came here at a time of great crisis crossed my mind.

Find the Hero of Demacia, the one who would keep the kingdom whole.

Orlon's last words echoed in my head, a singular purpose that gave me stability and structure as opposed to the more chaotic whimsies of other yordles, and it was that purpose that drove me forward. A Magical Girl who slayed a Dragon in defense of Demacia was obviously the Hero.

It didn't take long to find her.

The brilliant light that shone from within was warm and comforting. I saw it reach out to the other girl, one whose magic sang of creativity and inspiration. I saw the blonde girl offer comfort amidst the anger and disgust sent at her from all sides, a presence that stirred the soul of those who needed her and inspired them to do their part, resulting in the song that calmed hearts and minds. I nodded to myself. A heroic heart, capable of facing down evil and inspiring others to do good. This was the Hero that Orlon spoke of.

Of course, that was when she was struck down by a cowardly blow. The look of confusion, then of pain and fear in her eyes before collapsing was eerily similar to the other Heroes who fell after I gave them Orlon's hammer. In a rare moment of anger, I ducked through the panicking crowd, Orlon's hammer smoothly going from my back into my grip. The scoundrel, noticing my arrival, spun around, her eyes widening as she took in my form.

"Demon." she breathed out. How rude. I glanced at her, then at the collapsed form of the Hero who still had a crossbow bolt lodged in her chest and then at the other girl who seemed to be in shock. There was no time to fight. I had to save the Hero and give her the hammer.

"You should go away. You won't survive this." I held Orlon's hammer aloft, a blatant warning of what would happen if she didn't go away.

"Demon!" She screamed in response. Her crossbow was moving to aim at me, but she was too slow and inexperienced. In a short moment, I was in front of her, my head barely reaching her waist.

"Ha!"

Orlon's hammer swung upwards, catching her in the stomach. The pained gasp of someone who just had the air knocked out of them escaped her lips and she crumpled to the ground, taking heavy, wheezing breaths. My grip on Orlon's hammer tightened, the faces of the past Hero candidates floating through my memory, each death weighing heavily on my mind as proof of my failure. Anger and frustration surged through me and I raised Orlon's hammer to finish the job.

"Please. Don't." The sound was faint, barely a gasp, and suspiciously wet, as though the speaker was choking on their own blood. Without facing away from the crumpled form of my foe, I glanced at the Hero. She was still on the ground, each gasp for air looking more and more labored. The effort to speak must be taking a toll on her, and yet, she would speak up for someone who attacked her unprovoked.

"Please." she gasped out weakly and I nodded.

"Alright, Hero. The villain lives to see another day." I walked up to her and grasped the bolt sticking out of her chest. Shhe stared at me fearfully.

"Lady Bard, can you heal her?" I asked the other girl. She hesitated, her string instrument clutched tightly in her hands, before nodding resolutely. I pulled. The Hero screamed. Soothing music filled the camp. Green light surrounded us.