Quinn breathed a deep sigh of relief when supper was served. After all of Shyvana's threats of lamb's blood, it ended up being a simple meal of beef, potatoes, and carrots.

And a distinct lack of seasoning of any sort.

"Do dragons not have a sense of taste?"

"Don't make me punch you in the face again," Shyvana growled in reply.

"I eat it plain in the wild. Most people over-season their food."

Shyvana shrugged and started devouring the meal with her bare hands.

Quinn opened her mouth to comment, but a glance and a fist was directed her way. Deciding her face didn't need any more abuse, she ate in silence. A few times she tried to get conversations going and, every time, Shyvana shot her down.

"I'm done talking," is all she said. The silence was uncomfortable, but much better than a punch to the face, so silence prevailed.

Afterwards, she was escorted back to the Buvelle Estate.

And so, laying on her bed, Quinn found herself thinking out loud about the day's events.

"Forced into an underground crypt, found out the Prince of Demacia has a secret society where they carry out missions, being asked to join said society, having my bodyguard being an actual dragon, and having the dragon punch me in the face and threaten my life. Did I get everything, Val?"

Standing on the foot of the bed, the eagle nodded.

"Hell of a day." A long yawn brought attention back to her cheek, which was still somewhat sore and tender. As much as she would have preferred not to be accosted by a dragon, it would always be a reminder of her words.

"You can make more of a difference alive than you ever could in death."

With the time to think about it, Quinn found it to be a very simplistic statement, but one with merit. When you're dead, you cannot make anything change. In Demacia, death was sometimes the catalyst for great ideas and actions. In history and in stories, the heroic sacrifice was always worth it: the hero was honoured, advances were made in their name, and Demacia was all the better for it. Change was made in their name.

That's when it hit. Quinn wanted to be the one to make a difference, and she was being given the opportunity to do so. Why was she thinking and hesitating? This wasn't the circumstances she was expecting, that's for certain, but it was a chance. Would she get another one?

"Is this fate again? I save Lestara, who petitions to get me into the army, which gets me against an assassin, whom defeating gives me the chance to make change? The wheels of fate turning?"

Valor was looking at her with his head cocked to the side.

"Instead of Valor, maybe I should have called you Fate. If nothing else, you smile upon me."

Valor nodded.

"But I killed a man to get this chance." Her head went into her hands. "You've killed before, Quinn. Why this one kill? Why should it be so different?"

Valor tapped with his wing to grab attention. Gliding over to the chair in the corner of the room, he landed on the back and extended his wings as he walked along it, wavering somewhat before he fell into the chair, playing dead.

"Some kind of balance before I fall?" Quinn guessed.

Valor nodded before he flew over to the desk in the room. His talons grasped a drawer, pulled it open, and grabbed a book within. Bringing it over to the bed, he placed it in her hands before pointing to the cover with his wing. A large skull was painted on the cover.

"You want me to find balance before I die."

Years ago, early in their partnership, they had a terrible encounter with a pack of murk wolves. It didn't get nearly as bloody as some of their later expeditions, but it was one of their first hunts together. It started with hunting two wolves, but when five more joined the fray, the hunt turned into an exercise in distraction, tree climbing, and first aid from an eagle. Quinn had been rusty after not hunting for a year after her brother's fall, and it discouraged her. As she healed the next day, Valor had brought her a book. Where he had gotten it, she never found out, but on the first page he had scratched 'The Death Book.' It was also when she found out he could write, and understood far more than expected.

It took more than a while to communicate the idea of the book. An entire day was spent talking, gesturing, and, occasionally, yelling. Certainly it would have been easier for him to write it down, but in the end, they'd hashed it out. The Death Book would be where they wrote down the mistakes, the injuries, and the failures that could have ended in death but didn't. And they would learn from those experiences.

Three important lessons were learned very early on. One: there would end up being many times where they failed, but ultimately persevered.

Two: that because he didn't write down the book's purpose, they had to figure out communication, which would have been much slower otherwise.

And three: with his talons, Valor constantly ripped pages when he tried to write with any speed, so Quinn was relegated to the writing. Since she enjoyed sketching, ink was a precious commodity in her room, contained in a vial that Valor knocked over several times, spilling and staining various pieces of clothing. She forbade him from writing anymore afterwards, which of course, didn't deter him, but he was more careful with the ink.

Thinking of the encounters they had survived, and how the book came to be, put a smile on her face. It had bonded them, helped to make them into the partners they were now. The book had their narrow escapes, their grave injuries, their near-death experiences, but not in a negative way. It showed how far they had come, and that they had plenty of chances of giving up but had not yet.

There were still many pages in the book, and they should be filled.

"You're right. We didn't give up then, so let's not start now. I don't like the idea of being rewarded after what I did to that assassin. And I don't like the idea of joining some secret society either. But I trust you. You haven't steered me wrong. I'll see where this goes. We'll give Shyvana the answer in the morning." Picking up the book, she handed it to Valor. "Put this back. When I'm healed, we'll write in it. One step at a time."

As he returned the book to the drawer, Quinn closed her eyes. "Plus, if this society gets me killed, I'm blaming you."

"I'll join," Quinn said.

Savannah looked at her stone-faced. "Good."

"Good? That's all you got?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I tried to arrange a marching band and fireworks to celebrate before I remembered the Council is a damn secret."

"Don't have to be a jerk about it."

"Sometimes, I do."

Jarvan the Fourth, Xin Zhao, and Fiora were sitting in the Council of the Fallen stone chamber when Shyvana walked in and said, "Quinn has agreed to join the Council."

"I thought she would wait until later today," Xin Zhao said.

"We spoke last night," Shyvana answered. "Plus I punched her in the face."

"You did what?"

"You heard me. I punched her in the face."

"You're kidding," Jarvan the Fourth said.

"Hell no. I never lie about punching somebody. Why would I lie about something that feels so great?"

Fiora rolled her eyes. "Such unrefined style. But I do like that you punched that petite fille."

"Not now," Jarvan interrupted. "Please tell me that's all you did."

"I held her throat in my hand, implied I would incinerate her, and threatened her life."

A laugh came from Fiora. "I am going to buy you a drink."

Jarvan shook his head. "Shyvana, you can't just threaten and coerce Quinn into joining."

"This wasn't about her joining. It was about some personal matters."

"Then why mention it?" Jarvan said, clearly flustered.

"I always tell you when I punch somebody. Remember when I told you about the man who tried to tell me to look prettier? He can't walk straight anymore." The dragon lady chuckled. "Good times."

"So Quinn and Valor are joining of their own accord?"

"Yes."

Jarvan relaxed in his chair. "Next time, just tell me she joined, and leave out the physical abuse."

"Not a chance. That's the best part of any story."

Xin Zhao said through a smile, "At least she is honest."

"That's not always a boon."

Instead of a sense of calm from the decision, Quinn found that a fire was lit inside of her, like a part of Shyvana had rubbed off. She felt more energetic, and had a desire to get things done.

Healing started to accelerate, and within a few days, she was able to move around without much trouble. Long walks were still tiring, especially if Savannah picked up the pace and Quinn tried to follow suit, but progress was being made. It did add a sense of (probably false) accomplishment to keep up with a dragon, but it was there.

Other tasks needed to be done, however, aside from healing. A canvas bag was beside the bed, filled with Quinn and Valor's armour. Before they could be put on again, they needed repairs. Time to see the blacksmith Maureen.

"I've heard of her," Savannah said as she carried the armour through Demacia City. Quinn was not so healed as to haul the armour all the way to the shop.

The sound of hammering and the smell of soot was getting thicker in the air, and Quinn enjoyed it. Her hometown of Uwendale was fairly small, and her house was near the blacksmith's, so it was very familiar to her. In a way, it was like being home again, or at least, as close to home as she had been since leaving to join the military.

Eventually Maureen's shop was found, and Savannah handed her the bag, waiting outside as Quinn entered.

The front counter was empty, which was expected with the constant sound of metal meeting metal coming from the back. Quinn removed the armour from the bag, then waited patiently. After a few minutes, with no apparently slowdown of smithing, Quinn flashed a grin. "Hey Val, go walk back there and get her attention."

It only took a few seconds before a voice yelled out, "Who let a bird in here?"

"I did," Quinn yelled back.

Maureen poked her soot-covered face around the corner. "Bird lady!"

"I have a name."

"I do, too. What are the odds. So, what can I do for you today?"

Quinn gestured at the armour on the counter. "Repairs."

Maureen started inspecting the armour. "Scratches on the front, punctures in the front and back... " She picked up Valor's chestplate. "By the Gods, how did it get dented like that?"

Quinn froze for a moment. They needed their armour fixed, but she didn't think of what to say if Maureen asked what happened. "A hunting accident," she finally responded. Xin Zhao had told her to use that excuse in the hospital, and it was the first thing to pop into her mind.

Luckily, Maureen was still pouring over the armour and didn't notice the hesitation. "Hell of a hunt. What were you tracking, ballistae?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Quinn said, truthfully.

A concerning look came from the blacksmith's face. "You both alright?"

"I'm still recovering. Val's fine. Just embarrassing, that's all."

"You lived, so take that as a win." She looked over the armour a second time. "Most of yours is punctures in the leather. I can remake it or patch it, either or. The scratches on the metal aren't structurally bad, so I could just pour some fresh metal and smooth them back out. Valor's piece will have to be remade. There is no saving that."

An idea entered Quinn's mind. "Can you make it more deflective?"

The plate was turned over several times as the gears worked in Maureen's head. "Well, I can make it sharper in the middle so if anything hits it'll be more likely to deflect instead of absorb. Might be able to make it lighter too, if it doesn't have to absorb as much. But I don't know how it will affect his flight. When I measured him for the armour I was too excited to try anything crazy. Plus, you know, he didn't say no. Too bad we can't ask him to try it out."

Valor nodded and gave a thumbs up with his wing.

Maureen stared at the eagle. "Did he just say yes?"

"Valor can understand English. He can even write somewhat."

"That bird is awesome." The blacksmith's eyes were practically glowing as she looked at the eagle. "So he's okay with the plate being pointed at the middle?"

Valor nodded once more.

"I can do that then. I'll see about making it with lighter metal. What about you? Repair or remake?"

"If repairs will work, does that mean it'll be done quicker than remaking?"

"Absolutely."

"Let's do that then. How much?"

A confused look came from the blacksmith. "All your work is under Miss Buvelle's account. You don't pay me anything."

"Oh. Cool. I thought it was a one-time deal."

"Nope, you're covered. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Do you make crossbow bolts?"

"I do not, but I know somebody that does."

Maureen sent them on their way to a weaponsmith by the name of Joshua, who was quiet and calm – the complete opposite of Maureen. He could make the bolts, and had some hefty daggers for purchase as well. Alongside a new pair of blades, she ordered as many bolts as she could afford, which ended up being twenty-one: less than what she would like, but more than what she had.

"Damn expensive bolts," she muttered out loud.

"Is your crossbow that much better?" Savannah asked.

"It's a matter of opinion. Metal bolts are less prone to breakage than wooden arrows, so you pay more to start with, but less in the long run. I think. Plus, my crossbow can fire in three-bolt bursts. Just a pain in the ass for me and Val to retrieve them after fights."

Savannah nodded. "Then I should have remembered about the bag of gold earlier."

"What bag of gold?"

"Payment for the mission."

"It's been like a week."

"I was given it before your release from the hospital. I kept it for safekeeping and forgot about it. I don't use gold much. Except for bathing."

Quinn gave her an odd look.

"It was a joke. Don't humans think we hoard gold and swim in it?"

"Maybe in some stories," Quinn replied.

They made their way to Savannah's home for the gold, then back to the blacksmith to order another bundle of bolts, before they made their way to the Buvelle Estate. Even with the extra bolts ordered, Quinn had a good pile of gold left, enough for a luxury purchase of some kind. Being the simple person she was, a luxury purchase usually consisted of higher-quality crossbow strings or extra-padded boots. Maybe in the morning, a better idea would surface.

Relaxing on the bed, Quinn was tired, but not as badly as the last few days. She felt like she accomplished something today, unlike many before.

Exhale. Grab and nock an arrow. Raise the bow, close her right eye, and aim. Grip the string and pull it taut.

The bowstring got halfway back before her hand released the arrow. Quinn swore at the failed attempt.

Strength was returning, though not as fast as she had hoped. The first arrow flew twenty metres or so, well short of what she could normally do. Frustrated, she drew and nocked a second arrow, only for it to fly less than half of that.

"Archers have no use for rage."

Quinn took a moment to breathe, to survey the surroundings and calm herself. The Buvelle Estate grounds were quite extensive, with more than enough room for an archery range. Several straw dummies were positioned at different distances for practice, with a small hut set up as the shooting point. A pond to the left with a gazebo was in sight, and a forest of some size was to her right. In fact, a few trees looked to be cleared, with a few logs standing vertically in the beginning of some kind of construction.

A few deep breaths later, another arrow was drawn. Quinn focused on the straw dummy fifty metres away. Closing both her eyes, she took another deep breath to focus. Preparing to fire, her left eye opened.

Talon stood in front of her, a malicious smile on his face. He began walking towards her, his daggers dripping with blood.

Quinn froze, her muscles refusing to work as he approached. All she could do was stare as he came closer and closer. Panic set in. Her hands were damp with cold sweat when she could finally move. She stumbled back and let loose the arrow, going well wide.

"Valor, help!" she cried out as she fell. Scrambling to her feet, Quinn reached for another arrow, dropping it before standing up. Another one was retrieved when she was standing, but her hands were so sweaty she couldn't get a grip on her bowstring. Stumbling back, Quinn looked around, not seeing Talon anywhere, but that didn't matter. He could strike at any second.

Her eyes darted to her bow as she couldn't prepare an arrow by feel. It felt like an eternity when she had to wipe her hands on her pants before they were dry enough to grab the bowstring. Even then, it took several attempts with her shaking body before an arrow was prepared. The bow was raised up to aim as Quinn rotated in place, searching for her target.

He was nowhere in sight.

She dropped her bow and sat down on the ground. Her whole body was shaking as her heartbeat was impossibly loud in her ears. Focusing on the ground, taking deep breaths, Quinn worked on slowing everything down.

Valor screeched as he glided down to her side. He drew a circle with a wing, indicating that he patrolled the area, then shook his head to indicate there was nobody else around.

"Okay," Quinn said.

She was still focusing on calming down. Val pointed to his talons, then gently touched her forehead with his wing.

Quinn nodded. Talon was still in her head. After Shyvana's, well, abuse, and the days that followed, there was a feeling of progress, of acceptance about what happened. Everything had felt much better and healing seemed to be speeding up. This was showing, however, that it wouldn't come without difficulty.

Dammit, I thought I was past this. Quinn shook her head. Guess it won't just disappear.

"What happened to you?" Savannah asked as she approached.

Quinn jumped at her voice. She had forgotten Savannah was nearby, so focused she was on archery. "I saw Talon. A hallucination."

"Ah," Savannah said.

"That's all you have to say?"

The dragon lady sighed. "I don't know what you think dragons can do, but we can't get rid of trauma with fire. This is on you. I know it will take time, and that's all I got."

Quinn nodded. Blunt, coarse, but correct.

Another voice was raised up. "Are you okay?" Lestara had come from the mansion and was walking towards her. "You yelled something."

Well, if nothing else, Quinn was getting practice in lying to people. "Yeah, just trying to fire an arrow. Had to check out your training field."

"I did build it to keep sharp," Lestara said as she walked closer. She was at arms-length when a look of concern took over. "You sure you're okay? You look a little pale."

"I think I pushed myself too hard."

Savannah stepped forward. "I am going to take her to her room. Some rest will help."

Lestara's hand stopped them. "Before you do that, I'm going to steal some of your time, if you think you can handle it. Some of my Rangers are here and they want to meet you. Let's go inside."

They had hardly took a step when the doors to the estate were flung open. One man led a group of men and women outside. He pointed at Quinn and Savannah, and proclaimed, "You stand in the presence of a master of the craft!"

There were more than a few moans, groans, and chuckles from the group behind him.

Quinn looked at Lestara. "Is he serious?"

"That would be Peter." Lestara raised her voice. "When he's not being an insufferable douche-"

"I heard that."

"He's being a damn good Ranger. Unfortunately, he thinks he's God's gift to women. And men. And horses."

"Don't forget the goat I rode into battle," he followed with.

Lestara shook her head, but smiled at the same time. "If it can be ridden, so to speak, he feels it should be."

"All should have the pleasure of being ridden by me." He walked up to Quinn and held out his hand. "How about it? Would you like the pleasure?"

Quinn was pretty sure she could feel Savannah seething beside her, but the eagle was the first to act. Within seconds, Valor landed on Peter's head of thick blonde hair, leaned down and stared him straight in the eye.

"Captain, when did you start raising chickens?"

Valor headbutted Peter before covering the man's face with his wings. "I can stand here all day, chicken. This is a war of attrition, for I shall win. I never-"

The words never escaped his mouth as Valor stuffed his wing in.

When the wing was removed, Peter said, "Well played, but I shall not yield."

Quinn gave Valor a smile and a thumbs up.

Many introductions were given over the next few minutes. Quinn never was much good at remembering people, so most of the dozen or so names just became blurs. At some point during all the talking, Savannah had slipped out of notice to avoid questions. Lucky her. However, if becoming a Ranger was the goal, Quinn should know more people than just Lestara. Or at least try to know more people.

Peter would probably be remembered, if only because he hadn't moved since his grand entrance. Nor had Valor, who was still perched on his head. "I will win, chicken." His loud, boisterous voice would be hard to forget.

Robin seemed a joyous woman; Tyson a quiet but polite man; Terry and Gary were brothers and both interrupted each other often; Nadia was tiny but commanded a great amount of respect for her size.

When Robin rolled up her sleeves to handle Quinn's bow, her tattoo was exposed.

"What's with the bow and dagger?" Quinn asked.

"This tattoo?" Robin said. "It's the mark of the Ranger Elite. We all have them."

"Everybody?"

"Not everybody," Terry said, "but us four do. Lestara handpicks the best of the best-

"And they become her most trusted," interrupted Gary. "They become the Ranger Elite."

"What's the point?" Quinn asked as she admired the tattoo.

Lestara got their attention. "They are the ones that are called upon for the most dangerous of missions. They are the ones sent deep behind enemy lines. If you accept being a Ranger Elite, you are also accepting a great amount of danger."

"We've lost three Ranger Elites in the past four months," Nadia said. "If you become one, you are expected to die. It's just a matter of how long."

Not exactly the best sales pitch. "And how long is it usually?"

"We had one man last seventeen seconds, but that's the extreme. Usually it's a couple years. Robin has been a Ranger Elite going on six now. She knows how to make a difference."

Robin bowed before them. "And speaking of which, we should get back. There are preparations to make. See you around, Quinn. If you last long enough, maybe you'll join my team."

"We'll see what happens," Quinn replied.

They all said their farewells as the Rangers left the estate.

All except one.

Peter still stood defiantly with Valor atop his head. "I won't lose to some chicken."

Quinn sighed as she walked past him. "C'mon Val." He cawed and shook his head. "Yeah, you're my knight in shining feathers. I'm sure he learned his lesson."

"This chicken will not stop me," Peter said. "I will not yield."

Quinn shrugged her shoulders. "Okay. Gouge his eyes out, Val."

"I yield!"

A few moments later, Savannah and Valor made their way to the mansion, but Quinn lagged behind. Her thoughts had returned to Talon. Perhaps talking to someone with a more sympathetic ear than a dragon would help. It couldn't hurt to talk to Sona.

Finding Sona, however, took longer than expected. Quinn found herself opening and closing a great many doors in search of the musician. No luck so far. I'm going to get Lestara to make me a map of this place.

Eventually, Valor heard something that caught his attention, and Quinn followed him down a long corridor where the sounds of string music were coming from. Savannah, ever her escort and bodyguard, rose in excitement as they approached the door the music was coming from. She could turn on a dime from blunt-as-a-hammer to doe-eyed-girl in seconds. Even knowing she was a punch-first dragon, Quinn wasn't sure if the woman wasn't an actual Sona superfan.

"Can you wait outside?" Quinn asked.

Savannah nodded and leaned beside the door.

Quinn reached for the door but didn't open it. If she's practicing, maybe I should just leave her. Don't want to interrupt, right? She shook her head. Why are you being a coward? Just open the door-

And that's when Sona opened the door and looked her straight in the eye.

"Oh, sorry, did I interrupt?"

Sona shook her head and pointed to her ear.

"Oh, I didn't think you would hear me."

A smile was shown as Quinn and Valor were waved in. Instantly, Quinn was at ease; Sona always radiated calm and beauty.

The room they entered was easily as large as Quinn's childhood home, and had more instruments in it then she had ever touched in her life. Granted, that only took two instruments, as Quinn was never the musical type – pulling a bow string and plucking a harp string were two very different skills – but she was still in awe. A grand piano, a couple golden harps, several guitars, and even a drum set was visible among the many instruments.

Sona's etwahl was in the centre of the room on a stand, but there was also another one sitting in the corner that demanded attention. The one at centre-stage was golden, and even by itself looked graceful with the three strings on a long v-neck body. However, the one in the corner was black as the night, had a skull front and centre, and as Quinn approached it, she realized the strings were barbed wire. Quinn had to give Sona a curious look.

Sona threw up the devil horns and headbanged.

"Huh," Quinn said. "Never took you as one to rock out."

A full smile was returned as she took a seat, and gestured for her guest to do the same.

"Before I really get busy again, I wanted to thank you for your help. With the nightmares and helping calm me down."

Sona nodded.

"That nightmare I had... I saw the man in it today. Did I mention a man in it?"

Sona shook her head, looking worried.

"I thought I saw him today, so it's not done with." Quinn was getting nervous. She wasn't one to ask for help, and it made her feel vulnerable. "Do you mind if I come talk to you from time to time about it?"

With no hesitation, Sona smiled and nodded.

"If you don't have the time, don't worry, we can talk some other time. If you have the time." Quinn sighed. "Okay, I'll stop saying time."

Sona giggled, though no sound came out. Then she held up her index finger.

"On one condition?"

The blue-haired beauty gestured to the instruments around the room, making plucking motions with her fingers.

"You want me to listen."

Another nod.

"Do you do requests?"

Sona raised an eyebrow.

"Can you play the barb wire one first? I'm not even sure how you don't cut your fingers-"

The door flew open and Savannah jumped in yelling, "Can I watch?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

A groan escaped Quinn's lips.

"Can I? Can I? Can I?"

Sona smiled and glided over to her 'metal' etwahl.

Savannah let forth a gleeful scream that pierced everybody's ears.

The music session started out rocking (even Valor was headbanging), moved into some beautiful acoustic pieces, and even had a melancholy piano ballad that damn near made Quinn shed tears. The session went on for so long, supper was brought to them all, and the sun had set. It wasn't all spent listening, however: Quinn had actually plucked a few strings, and Sona taught her a couple basic chords. Even Valor got in on the music, though it only took one pluck to snap a string. They decided the piano was his new instrument of choice.

Then there was Savannah. She giggled like a schoolgirl whenever she touched an instrument and looked like she lost control of her body with excitement on basically any action of Sona's. Quinn was relatively certain she sniffed most of the instruments, and couldn't recall at any point that the dragon lady blinked while she stared at Sona. It was one of the most disturbing things she had seen.

When they were wrapping up, and trying to leave the room, Savannah was fangirling all over the Maven of the Strings. After a minute of Savannah excitedly waving, and Quinn dragging her towards the door, they finally exited the room. Even then, it was not the end, for the dragon lady ranted and raved all the way to the bedroom. At that point, she was just noise, and Quinn had stopped listening.

She had to be grateful to both Savannah and Sona, though. The long music break wasn't what Quinn had planned, but her thoughts were no longer on Talon, and she felt more at ease. The distraction worked.

"She's amazing on any instrument," Savannah said when they were in the room.

"I can't tell if you're acting or not."

Savannah actually giggled. "Sona is awesome. Even your eagle enjoyed the music."

Valor nodded as he fell over backwards on the foot of the bed, relaxing. It said something for the size of the bed that he could spread his wings and still not take any sleeping space from Quinn.

"I'm talking about your giggling. And general creepiness."

"I will punch you in the face," Savannah said as she raised her fist.

"Aren't you here to help me heal?"

"I was ordered to help you not injure yourself. I was never told not to injure you."

Quinn sighed. "Your charity knows no bounds."

"Punches to the face are always free. Now get some sleep."