Chapter 1: The Beginning

A/N: Read the chapter. Leave reviews. Repeat.

enjoy.

Vayne

I strode down the dark and narrow alleyway, my crossbow slung casually over my shoulder, as the filthy man in front of me desperately scrambled backwards on his hands. It was a typical night for me, out once again in the slums of Demacia, on my endless search. Search for what? Answers, mainly. Tonight, my mark was particularly talkative. But not in the way I had hoped.

"Please!" the man named Scratch was whimpering, his wild eyes squinting at me in the near-pitch blackness. "I gots a family to take care 'uv! They need me!" I stopped, tilting my head to one side, and I tapped my chin with one finger. "Alright. I believe you." Scratch stopped motionless as well, his annoying reedy voice dying down. Thank God. Through my night vision, I could see the beginnings of hope forming on his face. "S-so you'll lemme go?" Idiot.

"Tell me something first," I started, as I paused, leaning closer for dramatic effect, "If you loved your family so much, then why did you abandon them?" He stiffened as I straightened up, pointing my crossbow at him.
"How do you know about that?" he asked, unease evident in his voice. Huh. He didn't even try to deny it. I tucked my crossbow under one arm, taking out my trusty notepad and flipping to the marked page. Adjusting my glasses, I cleared my throat and began to read.

"Steven 'Scratch' Paisley, aged twenty-nine, born in the north-eastern slums of Demacia," I read aloud, enjoying the expression of shock on his face. I continued. "-born to Liam Paisley and Sarah Martins. One sibling, aged twenty-six, named Simon Paisley. Childhood was uneventful, left home at sixteen to take up pickpocketing and thievery. Was pretty bad at that, so resorted to robbing at knifepoint. Surprisingly, that wasn't too hard, so he kept at it, earning himself a living." I snuck a look at Scratch. I grinned privately to myself as I noticed his right hand drifting towards a broken brick on the ground. Just like an extremely ugly fish, he was taking the bait.

"Eventually, he found a girl and settled down in the stereotypical criminal hideout- an abandoned, run-down warehouse. Continued to rob people. Had a kid. For whatever reason, decided he didn't want to live with a family dragging him down anymore, so he solved his problem the way he always did. He ran away." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him slowly shifting, getting ready to spring. "Additional notes: is extremely stupid and gullible."

Scratch bellowed, launching himself at me. Unfortunately, I was expecting it. Scratch flailed courageously as I stepped aside, his annoying voice screeching as I shoved him hard into the wall with one hand. The other hand nimbly slid out the crossbow, aimed and fired. The bolt pierced his skull, adding momentum to the push, and Scratch broke his head open as it collided with the dull cobbles. Blood slowly seeped onto the ground, staining it a shimmering red. A quick death. More than he deserved.

As I watched Scratch's lifeblood draining out of him, I was once again reminded, as always, of why I was here. I felt the ever-present anger, at Scratch, at myself, at the boy from ten years ago. It was irrational, I know, but… at the same time, it didn't feel irrational. I had the right to be angry. All the world had given me was suffering. It was so damn unfair.

Everything flickered, and I suddenly I was back in my old home.

I was standing in the middle of my parents' bedroom. My father was lying in bed, dead, the sheets glistening red in the moonlight. My mother, naked, was lying twisted on the floor, crumpled in a heap. All this I took in stride. I was quite used to it, you see. Ever since my parents died, every kill I committed afterwards, this happened. I would revisit the scene (as if it wasn't traumatic enough) and just… wander for a little. Everything was frozen; the blood, the boy fleeing the scene in the raindrops outside, I could just pass through it all as if I wasn't there. Which I suppose was true. And yes, I had previously tried to have a peek beneath that purple hood, and it wasn't anything useful. Only two deep brown eyes, staring blankly out of an empty darkness. Creepy. And weird.

I had almost memorized the whole thing. All this I had been expecting.

Only this time it was different.

As soon as the visions took me, I felt something… there. Calling me. In a slight daze, I stumbled over to my father. He still lay where he always had, his blank eyes gazing endlessly at the roof. And then he spoke.

"Shauna."

My heart jumped into my mouth. His mouth hadn't actually moved, but it was definitely him speaking, although his voice was a little… echoey. I checked again- yep, still a gaping hole in his chest. How…?

"It's been so long."
"D-Daddy?" My voice was small, vulnerable. I swallowed, then tried again. "Dad?"
"Ten years, Shauna. Ten long years we have waited. Seen you return here each week. Watched you leave again."
"I-I don't understand. How…?"
"It does not matter right now. There is not much time. Something is coming. Someone."
"Who?"
"I do not know, unfortunately. Go to your mother. She will tell you what you need to do."
"O-okay."
"I love you, Shauna. Do not doubt your courage."
"I love you, too."

I slowly walked over my mother, still naked. Oh boy.

I heard a sigh.

"Shauna?"
"I'm here, Mother."
"Please excuse my current- uh- state, and listen to what I have to say."
"… I'm listening."
"You must travel to Zaun. There are two men there, Fleg and Boggin. Seek them out."
"They sound… dodgy. Why would they help me?"
"Show them the necklace I gave you, and- do you still wear it?"
I felt the delicate chain, hanging around my neck. I remembered the day my mother had given it to me. I hadn't taken it off since. "Yes. I still have it."
"Good. Show them that, and they should help you."
"How- how do you know all this?"
"I- it's complicated. I cannot explain now."
"But why? Why couldn't you have told me before? Why now?"
"Did your father not explain? It has been ten years, Shauna. Ten long years, we have waited here, supressed, unable to reach out. We saw you return, each time a little older than the last. But now, the one holding us here is on the move. His focus is elsewhere, and his grip has weakened. We have been waiting here for about- I don't know, two days? It is hard to tell here."
"Okay. I'll go."
"You must, Shauna. The entire world hangs in the balance. Find the boy."
"The- you mean your killer?"
"Yes. Him."
"I've tried, mother. All these years. I haven't found a trace of him."
"It is different now. You will find him soon. Very soon."
"I will?"
"Yes- it's hard to explain. But your journey ahead- it will be hard. Many lives will be taken." I felt dread growing in me. "Do not give up, ever. We will wait for you."
"I won't fail." I heard a distant laugh.
"Your self-confidence is inspiring. I have high hopes for your success." I felt a smile on my face, despite the grim circumstances.
"Thanks, mother. Is there anything else?"
"I cannot say anything else. Zilean would not be happy if I went around telling the future to everyone."
"Zilean?"
"Never mind. You must go now. Shauna- remember what I told you."
"Of course."
"And remember something else. Your father and I- we are proud of you."
My voice cracked a little. "I- I know."
"Love you, sweetheart."
"I love you too, Mum. Bye."
"Goodbye Shauna." The world began to grow dark as her voice slowly faded.

I came back to myself. I was standing exactly where I had been previously, in the exact same position. No time had passed. The first thing I did was blink. "Well, that was really weird." Then, the reality of the encounter hit me. I tilted my head back, threw my arms out, and yelled, "HOLY SHIT! FINALLY!" I began to laugh. "I HAVE A LEAD!"

I sobered up when I realized I was probably attracting the attention of several different gangs at once. If you haven't been in a gang fight before, pray you never are. It's violent, bloody, and there are absolutely no rules. Other than, you know, don't beat up your own gang. So naturally, with this precious new info swimming around in my brain, I began to stealthily make my way back to my hideout, in Liadel.

First thing about my hideout: it's nothing like the hideouts you see in spy movies. It was completely hewn from rock, down to the last corner. The reason for this was that it was underground. (Cliché? Yep. Totally awesome? Definitely.) I had deduced that it was probably an abandoned shelter; back in the Rune Wars, this was standard for every household.

It was about five metres along each wall, roughly, and the roof was only three metres above the floor. One entirety of one wall was taken up by a large corkboard, various photographs and news clippings pinned to it. These were meticulously connected by red strings, evidence of my search over the years. Below that, a scratched and dusty brown bench stood. (Don't ask how I managed to get it down there. It was extremely painful, I can tell you that.) The whole surface was covered by papers and notes, spread across it messily. Above the bench hung a rickety lamp, dangling from the roof by a short chain. It was always stuffy, as the only source of oxygen came from a small vent hole the size of a brick, hidden away in the corner. But to me, it was home. More or less.

I crawled slowly through the tunnels, thinking about what I had been told. It was common for these shelters to have a maze of tunnels; it was meant to confuse anyone that was trying to kill the residents. As far as I know, it was effective- apart from the fact that the residents often got lost as well. It had been more than once that I had come face-to-face with a small, sad-looking skeleton.

Anyway, morbidities aside, I reached the entrance to my hideout. Squatting, I lifted a stone slab that was perfectly blended with the floor, revealing a steel trapdoor. I reached down, and began to type my ten-digit-passcode into the number keypad. It emitted a small beep, the red light on the side of it turning green. The trapdoor hissed open. If that passcode had been wrong, the person typing would be electrocuted immediately. Necessary precautions, when your hideout contains files on nearly every distinctly important person in Runeterra.

I stepped down the ladder, pulling the slab over the hatch as I went. When I reached the bottom, I jumped up and slapped a hand onto the trapdoor, which then hissed shut. I brushed myself off, then crossed over to the bench. I switched on the lamp, turning off my night vision. I then took out my notepad (still on Scratch's page), a pen, and turned to a fresh page. Then, I began to write.

travel to Zaun
meet fleg/boggin (caution)
show necklace/convince them to help

find killer
avenge
find a way to free my parents from (?)

zilean?

I stopped there. My tired brain couldn't think of any more to write. So, I folded the notepad up, tucking it away into the side of my bodysuit, along with the pen. I removed my crossbow, placing it next to my bedroll, then switched off the lamp. I took off my cloak, tossing it onto the bench. I then lay down on my bedroll, taking off my glasses and placing them beside my crossbow. Within seconds, my eyelids closed, blocking out the shifting shadows.

I opened my eyes. I saw… nothing. It was dark, but not because it was night. There was just… nothing, no light. Like the void of space between the stars, but without any of the celestial bodies. There was no ground, but somehow I was standing. Or maybe I wasn't. I couldn't tell.

Shauna Vayne.

I reached for my crossbow, only to find it wasn't there. "Who's there?" I called. My voice sounded braver than I felt, but it was still nothing compared to the emptiness surrounding me.

It is I. Do you remember me? The voice seemed to be coming from every direction, every surrounding atom emitting the sounds.

"I don't know who the hell you are."

Good. It is not for you to know. Yet.

"Where am I?"

You are nowhere. You are in Runeterra, yet you are also in another dimension. You are many places at the moment.

"I- what did you do to me?"

I simply moved your consciousness to mine.

"Well how- why am I here?"

I wanted to give you a warning.

"Warning? Of what?"

Why, of me obviously. However powerful you may think you are, you are nothing before me. Kings have tried to topple me; great warriors and armies have fallen before my wrath. Stay out of my way, Shauna Vayne.

"Is that all?"

Nobody answered. There was only the emptiness, the sound of my ears ringing in the silence. Then, something began to change. I felt the void around me begin to rise in pressure. It was like I was being pulled apart, but pushed together at the same time. Like I was being deconstructed into the very atoms that gave me form, reconstructed, then it repeated.

do not try to stop me

Suddenly, I heard- or rather felt- a whoosh, like something was rushing towards me. A huge gust of… something struck me, howling as the force of it lifted me up. Then, among the ear-splitting shrieks of the gust, the pain began. It started out milder, like someone was twisting daggers into my eye sockets, then rocketed as I began to scream. It peaked just as it began to feel like my entire brain was turning itself inside out. I felt it in every fibre of my being, as if all of my cells had been ripped violently apart from themselves. The gust stopped suddenly, the howls falling deathly silent, being replaced by laughing. The voice, laughing endlessly as I screamed. I pitched forwards, and suddenly there was no ground, and I kept falling, my screams mixing with the voice's reverberating laughter.

I woke up and immediately realized I had a splitting headache. I squeezed my eyes shut, the pain throbbing behind my eyes. I went to massage my temples, then realized I was pointing my crossbow at my face, my thumb curled around the trigger. Gingerly, I put it down. How did that get there? I thought through the pain. But I had a pretty good idea.

I hadn't even begun my journey, and already people were out to get me. Fun.

I sat up, wincing as my head pounded with the movement. I slipped my glasses on, turning on the night vision in order to see in the pitch darkness. I stood, stretching, and walked over to the bench, snatching up my cloak from where it lay and slipping it on. I glanced one last time at my messy files, spread carelessly across the bench, looking nothing like one would picture ten years of relentless hunting. After a moment's hesitation, I snatched them up, folding them into a neat square, before tucking them into my bodysuit. I don't know why. Just one of my gut feelings, or whatever you want to call it.

I walked over to the ladder, the rungs well-worn from use. I took a deep breath, then began to climb.

Liadel. It was a small, sleepy town, far away from any sort of highway or city. Not much happened here- it was why I had chosen to settle here.

The residents all know one another in Liadel. (Apart from me, of course. The less they know, the better). In the mornings, the air is filled with cheery calls of "Good morning!" as they greet their neighbours. To the (rare) newcomer, it seems like the typical country town- albeit on a smaller scale. But if you stay long enough, if you dig a little deeper, you can peek behind the façade. You'll see that behind all the smiles, the greetings, everyone is weary. That Liadel is a dying town. The ghost of a town.

The morning air bit at my exposed skin as I sipped at my coffee. My cape was dangling over the back of my chair, fluttering gently in the breeze as I gazed across the street at nothing. My mind was ticking over the events of my dream as I sat outside the café. Could that have been him? The one my parents were talking about? Because if he is… I shook my head. This is going to be tricky.

I tilted my head back, draining the rest, then set the cup back on the glass table. Around me, a low buzz of chatter filled the crisp air.

"Would you like anything else?" I looked up to see the waiter, his pen hovering above his notepad. I shook my head.

"No, thanks." I stood, having already paid for the meagre breakfast, and left. I could have bought something more fulfilling, but I just prefer a cup of coffee to start my day. I find it more convenient. Anyways, I was strolling along Livet Street, making my way towards the market. There weren't many people wandering the streets; after all, the sun had risen scarcely an hour ago.

I reached the market, and headed straight towards a familiar store front. The sign hanging above the door read: THE ROAMER'S REST- EVERYTHING FOR THE TRAVELER! The store front itself was old and decrepit, the wooden boards rotting and the bars over the broken windows rusted. However, I knew that despite its appearance, it was still the best place around for a five-mile radius, at the very least.

I pushed open the door, the hinges squeaking loudly as I entered. The smell of age hit me, a musty, old-person smell, and there was a film of dust covering every surface. It was a small shop, the shelves (stacked with goods) close together. Straight ahead was the counter, where an elderly yordle sat, his bushy grey beard obscuring his face. I walked over, being extra-careful not to knock anything over. I knew just how much the old geezer loved his shop.

He looked up as I reached him, grinning toothlessly at me as he placed down the trinket he had been tinkering with. "Vayne! I was wandering when you'd visit again. You had me worried!"

I cracked a smile. "Grant, I visited you two days ago." He smiled, tapping the side of his head.
"I don't seem to recall." The smile faded. "Vayne… does this mean… am I getting old?"
I blinked, caught off-guard by the question. "What do you mean? You're already, like, a hundred years old, aren't you?"

He sighed. "I know, but I'm beginning to feel it now. My bones ache, my joints are stiff, and my brain feels foggy sometimes. I have trouble keeping my store in the pristine condition it usually is. Nobody visits anymore. Nobody to liven up the dull shelves. No children to wander the aisles, to be inspired." His gaze wandered aimlessly across the ceiling as he leant back in his chair. "Maybe it's time for me to retire."

I lifted an eyebrow in amusement and attempted to make him feel better with a sarcastic remark. "A hundred years old and you want to retire? You don't say…" He chuckled.
"Of course I say, it's true isn't it?" he retorted. "My body isn't what it used to be."
"Your tongue, on the other hand, is sharp as ever." He beamed, the smile returning.
"Why, thank you." He rubbed his hands together in mock eagerness, his previous despair all but forgotten. "Now, what can I get you?"

I thought for a moment before replying. "Uh… I'm planning to go to Zaun. Could you recommend anything for me…?" His eyes lit up almost immediately.
"Could I?" he exclaimed. "Why, you know that I know that you know the answer to that! Come this way!" He clambered over the counter with surprising agility, hobbled over a few aisles, then disappeared down one. I followed.

"Here is the finest collection of spoons you could ever hope for!" he exclaimed once I had joined him, gesturing to them with gusto. "Every spoon in the land is-"
"Uh, Grant?" He trailed off, sounding slightly annoyed at the interruption.
"What? What is it?"
"I didn't ask for a spoon." His brow furrowed.
"Didn't you? I distinctly remember someone asking about spoons."
"Zaun, Grant. Zaun."
"Ah- yes, yes, just this way," he said, turning again. "My memory is quite faulty all of a sudden." He said it lightly, but I could tell it meant more to him than he let on.

We stopped a few aisles along, where assortments of gear hung on delicate little silver hooks. There was armour, weapons, trinkets, and all kinds of other useful things. There was no dust present on any of these items; although Grant took great pride in his shop, the 'travelling section' was by far his favourite. I looked around at the splendour, taking it in appreciatively. "Here we are!" he said jauntily. "This is more like it, yes?"
"It sure is."
"So, how long were you planning to be in Zaun?"
I sucked in a breath through my teeth. "I'm not really sure. Hopefully, I'll be out as soon as possible. But I may as well get extra stuff."
Grant nodded approvingly. "Not a bad idea. I'm assuming, then, you just want the usual stuff? Food, waterskins, spare bolts…?"
I nodded in return. "Yeah. Also, a travelling cloak." I collected all my requested items, Grant making extra little suggestions as he helped me carry a few things, and finally made my way to the counter. Grant vaulted over, back into his chair. I dumped the pile of items onto it, shaking the slight ache out of my arms. "Alright. How much do I owe you?"

Grant slid on a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles, then began to tally up the cost. After nearly a minute of careful counting, at the end of which I was beginning to get impatient, he cleared his throat and announced, "That'll be fourteen gold pieces and thirty-two silvers." I counted out fifteen gold pieces and dropped them on the counter without complaint. The cost was obviously high, but I knew that money was scarce for most honest folk. Not me.

Grant tucked the coins away under the counter. "Anything else?" I looked around, scanning the shelves.
"No, I don't think I need…" My voice trailed off as a glint caught the corner of my eye. I turned towards the source, which was shining from a shadowed corner. Walking over slowly, I squinted at the mysterious shiny object. As I finally caught proper sight of it, I raised my eyebrows momentarily, mildly impressed. "Actually…"

I waved behind me at Grant as I exited the shop, my coin purse (noticeably lighter) tucked securely into my belt. My newly-purchased items were stowed away in a new leather backpack, along with the last-minute purchase I had decided to get. Just in case.

My new (or second-hand, at the least) cloak fluttered lightly in the fresh morning breeze, the hood pulled down to conceal my face from any casual onlookers. I breathed in deeply, savouring the crisp air.

I'm going to miss this. The realization hit me, along with something else. The dingy streets, the buzzing cafés, Grant in his cramped shop. I was really going to remember this place well after I had left.

But wait… I'm not leaving forever… am I? I'm coming back. This… my hideout is here. Liadel. My home. Deep down, I knew I was lying to myself. I had no home. I had lost my home the night my parents had died.

I had travelled away from Demacia, away from Liadel, plenty of times. I had been all over Valoran. I knew many places which I could seek shelter. But every time, I had returned here. Something had kept me here, and it wasn't just my hideout, or that fact that it was isolated. I had grown attached to Liadel, the residents that I had scarcely talked to, their determination to mask their weariness. It was the closest thing I had to a home, the most normal thing I had in my life among the chaos.

Now it was different. Something was calling me, imploring me, to seek it out. Something had changed the night before, in that vision. I felt… different. I felt as if I had been longing for this, all these years, but I had never realized. I felt less bound by my oath.

Closer to freedom.

I'm not lost anymore. I finally know what I've got to do. I hefted my crossbow. I'm going to Zaun. I'm going to find Fleg and Boggin. I'll make them help me. And from there… I raised my face to the cloudless sky, a chilly morning breeze tracing an icy finger across my face. I'll go where the world takes me.

I looked ahead, then stopped walking. In front of me, the path split into several more. A signpost with peeling, once-white paint stood next to the path, a final testament to Liadel's existence. Without realizing it, my legs had carried me to the edge of the town.

"This is it." I spoke aloud, unintentionally. It was stated; there was no hesitation in my voice. I turned, drinking in the small town that had served as hideout and home for the past ten years. The familiar streets, lit by ancient lampposts, their light yellowed and flickering. The buildings, so beaten and weary with age, but still so lovingly tended to. The people, currently bustling around, that would never notice I had left. Except Grant.

Taking one last look at the view with a feeling of finality, I turned back to my path. I began to walk, passing the sign that pointed in the direction I was heading. My mind remained fixed on the town I was leaving, clusters of buildings and people and one old friend in particular. Goodbye everyone. Goodbye Grant.

Goodbye Liadel.