Jarvan gasped and clutched at his chest and gut as he sucked greedy breaths in deeply, clawing at his body. He froze and looked down, only scars and skin where there had been nothing but blood and gore before. He sat up on his elbows as mist swirled around his body. He ran his hands quickly over his body, searching for the deep gashes Katarina had inflicted on him, or even the multitude of lacerations Talon's blades had marked him with. As he took in his apparent new found health, he blinked rapidly, realizing he wasn't in Runeterra anymore. He sat up and rubbed the sleepiness he felt from his eyes, blinking rapidly again as he looked around. In every direction, bright light seemed to emanate from a horizon lost as an endless white sky mixed with an endless white mist. The wispy mist swirled around his body, masking whatever floor he was standing on.
Jarvan tried to brush away the mist with his hand, but whenever he managed to clear it, more of the mist swirled into the gap. Jarvan grew frustrated as he tried to brush it aside, his hands just flailing through the air. He gave up his fruitless efforts and sighed, stretching his tendons and struggling to his feet. His head spun as he did his best to stay upright, the world swimming as he struggled to get his bearings without any discernable horizon. He had difficulties keeping his bearings, as the world around him continued to spin, only an endless sea of white stretching out in every direction. He finally closed his eyes and took several deep, slow breaths, willing the world around him to slow it spin. The queasiness he felt finally died down and he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
As Jarvan looked around, he shivered, the mist swirling around him, the endless sea drawing towards him. He could feel the cool air sticking to his skin, the clamminess crawling along his limbs and tickling his chest. Jarvan brushed his hands along his arms and huffed, suddenly seeing his own breath appear in front of him.
"I wish I had a cloak." Jarvan muttered under his breath. A sudden warmth enveloped him as he found a rough material suddenly covering his skin. Jarvan looked down, his skin now wrapped in a dark gray cloak. Jarvan had to completely stop his thought process for several moments as he blinked slowly and struggled to try and register what had just happened. The prince grasped at the rough spun garment, frowning as he craned his neck, trying to look down at his back.
"So you've figured it out." The voice was a deep bass rumble, but much warmer than the harsh tones of Talon. "It barely took you five minutes to acclimate to your surroundings and begin to bend the world. Impressive." The more words Jarvan heard, the more familiar the voice became. The tones were not so familiar he recognized them immediately, but the realization slowly dawned on the prince: it was a voice he hadn't heard in years. He blinked as the tone clicked and the image of the face appeared in his mind.
"Grandfather?" Jarvan spun and blinked rapidly, an armor and cloak clad figure approaching him with a crooked grin and tired, proud blue eyes. The man stretched his arms out and embraced the prince who still stood dumbfounded as his grandfather clasped him heartily on the back.
"Ah, yes." Jarvan's grandfather mused, his once black hair now shot with streaks of white, grey and silver. He wore it short cropped under his helm, the crown a close replica of the one that Jarvan's father wore. He had a beard that hid the lower half of his face, and though it was short in length, it couldn't hide the twinkle in his eyes that Jarvan remembered so fondly from his youth, and the tug of a smile that always creased his chin. "The prodigal son!" His grandfather chuckled as Jarvan tried not to tear up. "Let me get a good look at you."
"But how can you be here…" Jarvan began to say, as his grandfather held him at arm's length and looked him up and down. He clasped him on the shoulders a few times, getting a feel of the younger man's solid build. A frown slowly wormed his way onto the elder Lightshields face.
"The real question is what in the world are you doing here? Especially before your father has arrived…" Jarvan II murmured, his voice falling away. He shook his head, replacing the contemplative frown with a broad smile, sweeping the young prince under his massive arm. Jarvan's grandfather stood nearly as tall as he did, and it was easy for the older man to sweep Jarvan away under his wing. Jarvan stood a good six inches taller than his grandfather though he knew that once upon a time, his grandfather had been just as tall as he was. The elder Jarvan poked the prince in the shoulder once and spitted him with a bushy eyed glare that was enough to send a shiver down his spine. His father had long ago taught him to fear that gaze, and prince Jarvan could remember where he had learned it. His great-grandfather, Jarvan I of the House Lightshield, had practiced it, perfected it and passed it down. Though Jarvan had never received it before from his grandfather, it had the same chilling effect as his own father's gaze.
"I… what?" Jarvan stammered awkwardly, twisting his head around under his grandfather's heavy arm. He could feel the warmth pouring into him from his grandfather though, and it chased the cold in his body and heart away. He finally pulled away from wherever it was his grandfather was steering him and took a step back, frowning. "Grandfather, where am I?"
"You're dead, you fool." An older man stepped into view from behind Jarvan II and frowned harshly. He had an odd look to him, and there were a few similarities to his appearance that Jarvan could immediately place, but the sudden realization had sudden exploded in his mind.
The memories came flooding back to Jarvan. He froze, his mouth agape as he processed the words, images flying through his mind at a rate that would cause a normal man's mind to ache. He could feel his body burn as scars and cuts began to appear over his body, the pain searing his mind. Blood began to spread under the cloak and it began to drip down his body, staining the pure white mist a dirty, crimson red. Blood spilled down over his face and into his eyes, stinging and nearly blinding him. He dropped to his knees and screamed as Shyvana's screams and sobs echoed through his mind. The sound of the wounded dragon, her pain wracked screams, combined with the pain he felt all over his body cause Jarvan to nearly pass out.
"Get ahold of yourself, boy!" His grandfather said, shaking Jarvan's shoulders violently.
"Give him a tap on the chin." The eldest grunted, gesturing to the youngest with his own chin. The elder Jarvan shot the newcomer and dirty look, to which he only replied with an equally menacing frown. "That'll sort the brat."
Jarvan IV blinked rapidly as suddenly he found himself back with his grandfather and the empty white space that stretched in every direction. He breathed heavily, his eyes dilated, a cold sweat forming over his entire body. He looked up into the eyes of his grandfather, their bright sheen matching Jarvan's own eyes in color. It was like looking into a mirror of an older version of himself. He looked back to his hands, expecting to see them coated in blood, but there was only the scarred hands, rough from the endless practice with sword and lance.
"What… what was that?" Jarvan huffed, still gasping for breath. He pulled himself to his feet with his Grandfather's help. His knees wobbled beneath him, but they held steady.
"This place… It reflects whatever you're thinking." His grandfather said, frowning. "Tis a curious place, indeed."
"So that means…" Jarvan said, his mind suddenly wandering. As he frowned, a cloaked figure stepped out of the distance, the veil of mist dissipated around the distinctly female form. The eldest Jarvan sniffed the air twice and blinked rapidly, sticking his head up over the youngest Jarvan's shoulder, a cheeky smile on his face as his eyes grew wide. The hood was slipped back by pale hands, the flaming red hair and magenta eyes of Shyvana appearing from the shadow, a coy smile on her face. She stepped deftly forwards, her hips rocking from side to side as the cloak slid away to reveal pale, taunt skin stretch over powerful muscles. She dropped to her knees and sauntered forward on all fours, looking up at Prince Jarvan with deep crimson coloring her face and invitation fueling the fire in her eyes. She bit her lip, revealing a long fang as she looked up at him a passionate, longing gaze.
Jarvan gulped as she grabbed at his cloak, almost slithering up his body. She held onto his collar and extended her tongue towards him, just barely tickling his nose with a brush of her tongue. She giggled and ran a hand up his chest. She leaned towards him, twisting around the prince, pulling herself up towards his shoulder. She moved her mouth towards his ear, again her tongue snaking out and brushing his ear.
"Jarvan…" She whispered.
"Yes?" The sound of three voices responding and the collapse of someone caused Jarvan to pause as the image evaporated before him. He grimaced as he peered over his shoulder, his eyebrow twitching as the eldest man busied himself with picking himself up off the ground and wiping away the blood that was still dripping from his nose. Jarvan's grandfather blushed and coughed, turning away to regain his composure.
"Welcome to a land where the women are imaginary and the sex is non-existent." The eldest man said, grinning crookedly as he wiped away the last remnants of blood from his face. Jarvan didn't recognize him, but he could see from his eyes that the man was very much related to him. They were a crystal blue that threatened to shift from their icy color to a deep blue thunderhead as quick as a whip cracked if provoked. There was no malcontent in his voice though, only amusement. "She's a feisty one." He winked.
"Please, father." Jarvan's grandfather spoke with a hint of annoyance in his voice, his eyebrow twitching.
"So that means this horny old man… is my Great-Grandfather?" Jarvan deadpanned, though his eyebrow still twitched slightly. His grandfather nodded with a forlorn sigh. Prince Jarvan paused, his mouth hanging open as his eye twitched ever so slightly. "How in Valoran was he king of Demacia?"
"I'm Jarvan tha' first." The old man said, gesturing to himself with a thumb and a cocky smile.
"Remember the Rune War that started with the beginning of the rule of House Lightshield?" Jarvan II said with a heavy sigh. A wide smile had spread to the eldest Lightshield's face. Jarvan cast him a wry glance but nodded slowly, he remembered the history lessons well. "That was because this old coot bedded the wrong Noxian's general's wife. He ended up starting a war with his prick that he ended up pay for with his life."
Jarvan snorted as the old man beamed, his son dropping his face to his hand with a heavy sigh, his shoulders drooping.
"Good times." Jarvan senior mused, a fond look on his face.
"You're joking, right?" Prince Jarvan said with a deadpan stare.
"I only wish." His grandfather said, rolling his eyes.
"I'm related to that?" Prince Jarvan said with groan as he gestured to the eldest Jarvan. The eldest Jarvan blinked a few times as he smiled proudly, his thumbs hitched in the corners of his breast plate. The comment finally registered with him though and his face turned red as he turned towards his great grandson and opened his mouth and raised a fist above his head to protest.
"You little..." He snorted. "Welcome to the afterlife, brat." Any further comment was forestalled by the sudden frown that clouded the young prince's face. The eldest Jarvan crossed his arms over his chest and looked forlorn. He knew something dangerous was coming as it flashed in his great-grandson's eyes.
"The afterlife?" Jarvan said, frowning, unable to comprehend the thought. "But wait… what about…" His mind blanked as he thought back to all he had been through. "Wait, but all of my friends… my… Shyvana…."
"They're now in a different place, my boy." His grandfather said, setting a hand heavily on his shoulder, a frown on his face.
"I…" Jarvan suddenly felt a weight on his chest like someone was standing on him. The emptiness he had only recently banished suddenly struck him, his heart almost falling out of his chest. The world around his began to cloud grey, lightning flashing dangerously as the steadily darkening clouds began to spin. They swirled around the three Demacian Royals and the winds began to batter them. A funnel cloud began to form above as Jarvan's grandfather grasped the chest of his cloak and shook him. Jarvan didn't respond, his soul seemingly drained from his body. His eyes were blank and void of life.
"Ah hell." The eldest snarled his voice nearly completely swallowed by the roaring winds, looking upwards at the winds threatened to toss him aside. His long beard whipped against him, standing almost vertical on his face. He stumbled backwards as a gust of wind threatened to topple him over. He reached out and clasped the air, a sword appearing in his hand. He flipped the blade over and drove the blade deep into the ground, struggling to hold on the blade as he dropped to one knee.
"Jarvan!" Jarvan II roared at the prince over the banshee's howl of the storm that was coming down around them. "JARVAN!" He had a conflicted look on his face, but he didn't have a choice as the wind threatened to blow him away. He reared his fist back just as he was lofted, striking his grandson on the jaw. The storm evaporated instantly, dropping all three of them to the ground abruptly.
Prince Jarvan was rocked back to the ground and fell heavily as his grandfather fell in the opposite direction. Silence filled the void before several groans and a heavy sigh filled to void. Prince Jarvan blinked the stars from his vision as he slowly regained his composure, lying there on the ground, the mist swirling over him. His vision seemed eerily empty as he stared out at an empty, colorless void that stretched endlessly in every direction.
"Control your emotions, young one." Jarvan II said, rubbing a lump on the back of his head gingerly. "It's usually quite enough to deal with our own emotions, much less yours."
"What he's saying is keep a lid on your shit, son." The prince's great-grandfather said with a indignant grunt. The eldest Lightshield pulled himself to his feet and sighed, rubbing his back and shaking the discombobulation from his head. He blinked rapidly and then grasped out randomly at the air, as if he was grasping at pixies that danced in his vision. The middle Lightshield sighed, shaking his head disapprovingly at his father's shenanigans.
Prince Jarvan sighed, sitting up slowly with a grunt of exertion. He sat forward heavily and rested his chin on his fist, his arm perched upon his knee. A small storm cloud brewed above him, the dark grey swirling mass of vapor turning an angry black and then beginning to dump sheets of water down on his head. Jarvan sighed heavily, letting his shoulders sink as the water washed over him. He pulled his hood up over his head, assuming a thousand yard stare that was bordering on depression.
"Well that's new." The eldest Jarvan said, sticking his hand into the downpour. He pulled it out and shook it dry, chuckling.
"It's not polite to be laughing at your great-grandson's peril." The middle Jarvan said, looking at the small cloud that stewed above his grandson's head. He reached out to poke it, but drew his hand back as a small lightning bolt jumped out at his hand, hissing and popping at him angrily. "Cute." He smirked. "This is quite the oddity, though."
"What is?" The eldest Jarvan asked, finally looking away from a book he had materialized. The book vanished from sight as he tossed it over his shoulder, becoming a wisp of vapor as he moved towards the small cloud.
"This cloud." The middle Lightshield said, pulling a stick from thin air and reaching out towards the cloud. The small cloud popped and hissed with electricity as the stick grew closer to it, but Jarvan II was never able to make the two connect. He poked at it for a few minutes before he finally grew bored with his vague fascination of the vapor wisp. "All joking aside," He said, coughing discreetly as he discarded the stick into thin air and his father snickered, "I've never seen emotions manifest quite this pronounced or abruptly."
"What are you thinking?" The elder asked. Suddenly the aloof attitude and carefree manner were gone, replaced with a curious and inquisitive glare. In a split second he had transformed from an aging goof to a serious minded martial officer. Even his stance was martial and formal, the lazy and easy going manner in which he carried himself now that of a hardened and well prepared veteran. He had become every ounce the soldier and leader of legend that had shaped modern Demacia.
"I'm wondering if the extraordinary reactions can be attributed to a disturbance on the mortal plain." Jarvan II stroked his beard as he considered the cloud.
"You're thinking he's not actually dead?" Jarvan I suggested, a frown still hidden under his beard. Jarvan's ear perked up at the news.
"Quite possibly." The middle Lightshield murmured, nodding slowly.
"Wait so this cloud means I might not be dead?" Jarvan said, getting to his feet, a hopeful look on his face.
"Tis only a theory, but this may be just a figment of your imagination." The eldest Jarvan said with a cheeky grin. "The unconscious mind is a fickle thing from what I've heard." Prince Jarvan stared daggers at his great grandfather, his eyebrow again twitching in irritation.
"My father was a legendary prankster." The middle Jarvan said, nodding sagely. "He was enough of a bloody minded fool that it wouldn't be hard to think it could carry over into the next life."
"Yup!" Jarvan I wore a proud smile, ignoring the insult and taking pride even in his infamy through death. "Twas truly the accomplishment to not be seen as a fool. Only think I've ever regretted was losing my crown to that monster of a Noxian general. Sion, I think his name was…"
"Indeed father." The younger Jarvan said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "He sent you here prematurely, though it was old age that brought me here. I would have thought that you would have passed on long ago. Perhaps you have unfinished business…"
"I can't think of any fine tail I hadn't enjoyed, no…" The eldest Jarvan murmured thoughtfully, earning another exasperated sigh from his son.
"But if this isn't the afterlife, then how are you both here?" Jarvan asked, reaching out an arm towards his grandfather. The prince's hand struck the armored plate quite solidly, the slow impact hardly enough to do more than tell him that the person he had been conversing with was very much real. Jarvan turned to his great-grandfather and began to stick his hand out. He paused, thinking it better to not try and poke the ornery old king. The elder warrior looked at him with scorn, but he had a tough time keeping a straight face. He cracked a smile.
"Here, of course." Jarvan II said with a grin, tapping Jarvan on the left side of his chest, just above heart. "We've always been here."
"Did you ever wonder why the Lightshields rose to power?" Jarvan I proclaimed with a hint of a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"I swear, if this is another story about you chasing tail, I'll... I'll..." Jarvan clasped his mouth shut and frowned. He didn't think that there was anything he could truly do to make the old man pay for his transgressions.
"Oh, just listen." His great-grandfather snapped, rolling his eyes. "The Lightshields have always been legendary warriors and commanders. When I married your great-grandmother, her father accepted me as his new heir-apparent, and when he died fending off a Noxian incursion, I was thrust upon the throne during a very turbulent time. The great Rune Wars and been ravaging the lands for hundreds of years and from little news I gained from my own son, they had yet to subside fully when he passed on from the mortal realm." Jarvan's grandfather nodded quietly, gesturing for his father to continue. "When I came to power, I had to fight to keep my position, many people didn't appreciate that a noble and a seemingly illegitimate heir had inherited the throne. It wasn't an easy process, but Demacia was slowly losing a war that would have doomed her and her people. I tried to extend an olive branch to the Noxian's before we were destroyed, but they were unwilling to accept peace with conditions. They wanted to be the sole power on the continent. I engaged in talks with a Noxian General that had camped outside the walls of the capital. It hadn't progressed very far when he caught his wife gazing upon me with interest and decided I was inciting her and trying to take his wife for my own."
"I knew that the story wasn't true." Prince Jarvan said, the frown disappearing from his face briefly, the smile tugging at his mouth only barely able to not break through the grimace.
"With time, stories always grow larger than life, young one." Jarvan I said with a grin. "Alas, the narrow minded Noxian twit decided that it was time that I left or be beheaded and so I retreated to our keep and prepared my troops."
"What happened?" Jarvan asked. He felt at home listening to stories from his fore-bearers; it was something that he had sorely missed after is grandfather had departed the mortal plane. His Great-grandfather grinned devilishly.
"We struck first in the dead of night. They didn't even see it coming. We drove our attack deep into the heart of the enemy formations and drove them back. Ever sense then, we've been fighting to reclaim our lost lands and been doing so slowly. We finally arrived in Noxus and laid siege to their castle, but unfortunately, they were waiting for us and I ended up paying the prince." He sighed heavily, as if suddenly the weight of the world had fallen upon his shoulders.
"The fighting has stopped, at least for now." Prince Jarvan said, understanding the pain and weight that had rested upon his shoulders long ago.
"I suppose that is good news." His grandfather said with a grimace. "But the look upon your face says otherwise."
"The fighting is contained, not so much over." Jarvan said, rubbing his head. "There is news of a League of Legendary warriors where champions fight for power and favor of the nations they represent. All manner of beasts and otherworldly creatures have already been recruited into the fold, and many city-states have sent representatives. With the last news that I heard, Demacia had yet to send a representative, but it has been a long time sense I have gotten accurate news from home."
"I assume this journey of yours has something to do with that young woman we saw before?" Jarvan II proposed, wearing a knowing smile. The prince deflated slightly and frowned.
"Not entirely." Jarvan replied, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "It's a bit difficult to explain..." He frowned. "You see..."
Jarvan I simply smiled and put a reassuring hand on his great-grandson's shoulder. "My boy, there are few things as magnificent as the relationship a man and a woman share." He wore a knowing grin and a smile on his face, a twinkle in his eye. "If she means as much to you as the look in your eye suggests, then I'm sure she's an amazing young woman. Treat her right, and she'll stay with you till the end." Jarvan opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't form the words. His heart ached but at the same time, he wouldn't have given up a moment of the short amount of time he had spent with the young dragoness for anything in the world. He sighed heavily, a sad smile on his face. His grandfather put a hand on his other shoulder.
"This is an interesting place."
Jarvan looked up from where he sat on the ground, his arms twisted across his chest, trying to bottle up the pain inside of his heart. He didn't want to bring any pain to his family again, and he needed to deal with his own problems. He struggled to his feet and spun around, looking for a face to match the voice. It was female, but not one he could recognize. It was soft but firm, with a regal sound to it that had a commanding presence, but lacked any vanity that characterized the many nobles he had known.
"Do you wish to return to the mortal realm?"
The voice came again, still soft, but now the tone had lost the sense of interest and replaced with curiosity with an air of deadly seriousness. Jarvan frowned and looked about again, trying to find the source of the voice.
"Who are you? Show yourself!" Jarvan shouted as the mist swirled around his feet.
"What has gotten into you now?" His grandfather asked, his brow raised and his eyes narrowed.
"Did you not hear it?" Jarvan said gesturing vaguely upwards. He did not know from which direction the voice had come from and even in his own eyes the gesture seemed futile.
"Hear what?" His great-grandfather asked, a frown crossing his face. He glowered at the show that the youngest Jarvan was putting on, unimpressed.
"I..." Jarvan paused and frowned. "It's nothing." He sat back down to weird glances from his forefathers, but he paid them no head and closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to remember the meditations that Xin Zhao had taught him so many years ago as a hot-headed child. He slowed his breathing and let the world around his almost fall away, until he found himself amid an ocean of mist, the silence now surrounding him.
"Good, you learn fast."
The voice was closer this time, resounding around him like an echo from all sides. He took a deep breath and held if for a few seconds. As he released the breath, he replied to the being that was inside his mind.
"Who are you? How did you find me?" Jarvan formed the words in his mind.
"That is not important right now." The voice was polite but dismissive, as if it knew something he didn't. "What you need to know is that a great calamity is approaching, and it is up to you to prevent it."
"Wha-..." Jarvan caught himself speaking aloud. He breathed in and out slowly again, and then thought to himself. "What calamity?"
"The dragon you drove from the badlands, the ancient dragon known as Kampf, seeks to ignite war again in Runeterra."
"He is but one dragon, how could he wage war on all of Runeterra?" Jarvan frowned. The thought of reigniting the wars that had lasted centuries upon centuries and the idea that decades of peace talks could all be undone due to his meddling was a sobering thought.
"I do not know if his intentions are his own as I do not possess that power of divination, however, I know that he seeks not to wage his own war, but it start a war between Demacia and Noxus once more." The voice spoke reverently of the wars, as if she was afraid of the consequences it could bring. "The wars of old had wide reaching effects, even into my own realm, and I was charged with keeping the peace of this realm to preserve my own."
"You seek to further your own goals for reasons that you could not possibly prove." Jarvan thought, trying to hold the anger behind an invisible wall, though it threatened to spill over and into his mind.
"Trust in my visions." She said softly. "In time, you will come to understand."
Jarvan sighed, but breathed deeply, trying to do his best to hold the meditation. "Why should I trust you?"
"You have no choice if you wish to return to her." Jarvan felt ice form in his stomach as nausea bubbled in his throat, the painful thoughts of never being able to see Shyvana again almost overwhelming him.
"What must I do?" Jarvan said after a long pause.
"You must face and conquer your fears, young one." The voice paused for a moment. "You must prove to me that you have the conviction to go forward."
"That doesn't sound so hard." Jarvan said trying not to chuckle or breathe a sigh of relief.
"Take head." She said, her voice suddenly stern and cold. "Your emotions can empower you, but they can also betray you. It is not just me that you have to prove your conviction to, but yourself as well."
"I fear nothing…" Jarvan spoke softly but confidently.
"Do not be so sure…" There was a hint of amusement in the voice that cause a trickle of doubt to form in Jarvan's throat. She paused as Jarvan berated himself for allowing himself to immediately make an assumption about his task. "Let your faith and steel remain unbroken, for us to rebuild, we must first destroy."
Jarvan felt a draft sweep across his body, cutting deep into his body, dragging a chill through him. Jarvan prepared himself and took a long slow deep breath, exhaling. He opened his eyes. Before him stood a massive set of heavy stone doors. They were dressed stone, carved and embedded with dull gems and ornate designs, well-worn wooden handles protruding just above waist level. Jarvan's eyes followed the intricate spirals that wound along the surface of the door, but they were hard to follow and he couldn't follow them but for so long before his vision seemed to blur and his head began to ache. He blinked the pain away as he rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked back to the door. It had a mesmerizing affect that seemed to draw him inward.
Jarvan rose to his feet and looked at the door handles, hardening his heart and preparing himself for whatever could be inside.
"Your time has come for your Judgment, Champion. Approach the door when you are ready." Jarvan nodded and breathed deeply. He imagined his armor back upon his body and heard his cloak flutter and felt the comforting snugness of his armor upon his body. The weight upon his chest and shoulders was familiar, and it put him at ease. He looked down over himself and smiled, the plate and body suit were just as they had been before his fight with Kampf. There were fewer burns and holes in the armor, the colors a bit brighter than they should have been. Jarvan took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he approached the door.
"Leaving so soon?" Jarvan II approached with a sad smile.
"I have people who need me." Jarvan with a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. It had been nice to reunite with his grandfather and to finally meet his great grandfather, but he had more important matter to attend to now.
"Another one of life's small pleasures." His great grandfather said, approaching his great grandson. He reached out and clasped Jarvan by the shoulders. "Remember to lead your men well and treat your women with respect." He added a wink at the implication.
"And remember, that no matter where you go, you'll always have us beside you." Jarvan the II said reassuringly as he set his hand on Jarvan's shoulder and use the back of his free hand to rap his knuckle over the prince's heart. Jarvan nodded and smiled proudly. His grandfather nodded approvingly and let his hand fall to his side, a grin on his face. "You'll never truly be alone as long as you remember that."
Jarvan steeled his nerves as he stepped towards the doorway. It cracked open and tendrils of pure blackness spilled out, staining the white that had surrounded him. Jarvan felt the tendrils embrace him and run over his skin, sending chills up and down his spine. They slithered up under his armor and along his bare skin. They felt cold and greasy, but he ignored the sensation as he stepped forward unto the breach. He stepped into the darkness as it spilled out to embrace him, drawing him in and swallowing him like some great demon. He heard the shudder of the doors closing behind him, leaving him trapped in the realm of pure darkness.
"You shall be judged."
The voice faded away, the proclamation ominous and foreboding.
"PITIFUL PRINCE!"
The screech sent ice through Jarvan's veins.