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Chapter Two: The Veiled One

Were it not for the oppressive atmosphere, I would have mistaken the cave for the storage room of a particularly eccentric Summoner. Candles were piled high upon shelves carved directly into the walls, and the wax was allowed to freely drip and flow onto the floor. More the ink-black feathers were scattered on the floor, forming a downy layer upon the hard stone. Bottles filled with unidentifiable liquids lined the walls further in, the cave extending into the pitch-blackness. It would have been effortless to conjure up another orb of light and fling it deeper inside until I saw how deep the cavern went, but all my instincts screamed that it was very, very bad idea.

The figure emerged from the shadows so quietly that I failed to notice it until it had settled down upon a stone perch. Barefoot and covered in a long black veil. I could make out no features save for a pair of purple lights roughly where I'd expect its eyes to be. I gulped and involuntarily stepped back. I had the power to shatter continents and annihilate armies, and yet I felt very small at the moment. I found myself unable to meet the figure's eyes, almost as though I were a child again and my teacher were chastising me for some misbehavior or another.

In the way the fabric shifted, I could sense the figure was tilting their head to the side, wordlessly telling me to say my piece. It took me several seconds to find my voice, and I stepped forward, hands spread out in front of me to show I meant no harm. This "witch in the woods" was proving quite different from the picture painted for me last night. I dispelled the magic around one hand as a show of good faith and slowly reached into the folds of my traveling robes. My hands closed around reassuring metal, and I drew out my Institute of War badge.

"I'm...I'm...uh..." I stuttered then chuckled nervously, running a hand through my hair, "Well, my real name's rather difficult to pronounce, so my friends just call me Johann."

There was a twitch roughly where I pictured the figure's hands were, but no spell was flung at me yet. I took it as a good sign to go on.

"Feel free to call me Johann," I bought the badge up to eye level, taking a few deep breaths to steady my heartbeat, "I'm here on behalf of the Institute of War, and..."

"I know of the Institute of War, and I don't care why they want you here," a youthful voice tempered with a hard edge cut me off, "You're a Summoner, and an Ionian, too. The southern provinces, from your accent. An unusual combination, especially this far from your homeland. Tell me why are you here."

"I...I...I..."

The rational part of my brain was already berating myself. I was a Summoner of the Institute of War! I fought in the Fifth Rune War, annihilated fleets and shattered armies with a thought! And here I was, stuttering like some schoolboy confessing to his crush! I was expecting to be thrown out at any moment, any chances at a contract lost.

"I grew up in the southern provinces. Small port city. One of the few links Ionia had to the outside world. Had a pretty normal childhood, all things considered," I chuckled nervously, mentally kicking myself again for babbling, "When they found I had some magic, they sent me off to the Summoner school at the capital. Peace and balance in all things…you know…standard Ionian fare."

The 'witch in the woods' had far more patience than most other magic users of her caliber. From the way one of the purple orbs expanded, I imagined she was raising an eyebrow under the veil.

"And yet you're here, wearing the badge of an Institute Summoner," the veiled figure interjected, voice much gentler this time, "You fought in the last Rune War, then?"

I froze for a moment. This line of questioning was dredging up memories, and not pleasant ones.

"I remember when Ionia's elders announced their nation's Summoners would not get involved in that conflict even as hostile armies encroached on their borders. Surely you did not seek out a mythical being of judgment just to confess that you defied your elders' wishes?"

I could only shake my head frantically, my voice once again gone.

"It was...it was more than just defiance," I admitted after a long moment, staring down at my feet, "We petitioned that the elders allow us to intervene..."

Images of that day rose unbidden. Dozens of us, dressed up in the robes of our respective Orders, accompanied by members of the Ionian resistance. The elder spoke at length, speaking of cooling heads and looking past the now and instead at the long-term. I remember anger. I remember one of our number simply ripping the badges off his robes and throwing them to the elders' feet, angrily proclaiming that he'd not stand by as Noxians and Demacians slaughtered his fellow Ionians. That he'd fight, with or without the elders' approval. I remember following suit, joining the others as we stormed out of the chambers.

Suddenly, that nervousness was gone. That great weight on my chest vanished. Suddenly, I was just angry.

"The elders talked of peace and balance!" I spat out those words as if they were the foulest of curses, "Lofty ideals as our fellow Ionians were being slaughtered! What did our talk of peace get us? Noxian armies to the south, burning and pillaging all in their path! I stood in the smoldering wreckage of a village, surrounded by corpses…there were rumors that Demacia was about to intervene…Zaun had sold them some new weapon…a gas…the lucky ones died quickly… Just one village of many, and the elders would've had us stand back and do nothing!"

I was shouting now, and I simply didn't care.

"The Noxians ripped through us…the provincial armies were used to fighting bandits and Vastayan raiding parties, not professional soldiers! We'd not fought a war in generations! When a Demacian fleet sailed through the Ice Sea to land on our western shores, King Jarvan talked of 'guaranteeing our freedom' and 'liberating our land from the Noxian aggressors'," I put on my best impression of the Demacian monarch's voice, "All lies! All they wanted were Ionia's ports, so they could challenge the Noxian fleet in the Guardian's Sea! Not once did the Demacian army fight Noxus. They just marched towards our capital, looting whatever they needed to keep moving and burning what they couldn't take with them! But the great and noble Demacia couldn't be seen destroying innocent villages, so conveniently everyone old enough to carry a sword became an 'armed Ionian guerrilla'!"

I remembered the day I stood upon the beaches staring down the disembarking reinforcements. At great cost, the Ionian resistance finally managed to stall the eastward advance, allowing the Demacian army to overextend before cutting their supply lines. Even that hard-won victory was snatched away from us as another fleet laden with fresh troops appeared over the horizon. We had hastily set up, allowing the first wave to land and engage a paltry force of sand golems. We allowed them to begin their advance inland before we struck. Fire rained from the skies, burning hundreds alive. The sands ran red with blood. We didn't stop there, conjuring up great storms and gale-force winds to swamp the ships further out to sea. I remembered Demacian soldiers spilling off the decks, flailing in the water as their heavy armor weighed them down. We could have helped them, but we simply turned our backs to them. They had shown the Ionian people no mercy, so we returned the favor.

"And balance?! You can see the results of our dedication to that right above the skies of Ionia! In our nation's darkest hour, when we could least afford it: an entire monastery destroyed, and a citadel of dark magic raised into the sky! We should count ourselves lucky we didn't create a third power wanting Ionian blood!"

The Institute had provided the young but powerful mage with proper instruction in the end. Yet it would not bring back the lives lost when the monastery collapsed, or those lost when forces that should have been delaying the invaders were instead sent to investigate the rubble and later lost in a failed attempt to subdue the Dark Sovereign. Yet another failing I heaped at the feet of peace and balance.

My throat ached, my heart pounded, and my head buzzed. All my fire had vanished, and I was just tired. The veiled figure before me hadn't moved throughout my entire rant, and I suddenly found myself staring back at my feet self-consciously. Whatever minuscule chance I had before was certainly gone now.

"I remember the Rune Wars. All of them," the figure announced after a long while, "You defied your elders and took up your sword in defense of innocents. There is no sin in that. No, your sin is the lack of judgement. Your elders preached restraint because they saw what you would unleash. In a matter of months, you shattered the Demacian expeditionary force and bogged Noxus' invasion down in a grinding war of attrition. The two nations grew desperate, seeking whatever advantage they could, and the involvement of Ionian Summoners had opened floodgates that could never be closed again."

The ethereal chains crept up on me, and I noticed them only too late. They shot towards me, wrapping themselves around my limbs. In a better state of mind, I could have easily shattered them. Now, I could only stare at them in shock. The veiled figure slowly stood up and stepped towards me.

"And in that desperation, they made the same mistakes they made so many times before. On that last day, the skies rained fire and the rivers boiled. The earth itself shattered. The very veil of reality tore open and innumerable ravenous horrors flooded through. Whatever Summoners they had were unleashed with a single order: destroy the enemy, or be destroyed. And once those first spells were cast, much less than nothing holding the other nations back, they were forced to respond to the escalation, lest they appear vulnerable."

I found myself struggling weakly against the chains as the figured placed a hand on my chest.

"You are not the first of the Institute to approach me. Nor, I suspect, shall you be the last. If you wish that I become your Champion, you shall pay the same price I have demanded of any other. You must fully understand the folly of your actions, the futility of the Rune Wars, the full breadth of suffering caused."

A burning sensation slowly crept up the chains, starting at the merely scalding and quickly growing to become unbearably hot. Yet, I remained rooted in place. The feathers beneath my feet burned with dark arcane flame that lapped at my shins.

"Should you endure this lesson," the veiled figure hissed, "My power is yours."

Those two purple orbs seemed to glow brighter as they narrowed into an angry expression.

"Prepare yourself, for you too shall be judged!"

I heard screaming. It took minutes before I realized it was my own.