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ðˠɫ
I Cannot Turn Back

The full moon was waning. Diana could see it clearly in her mind's eye, even while the harsh sun sailed across the sky on its burning course from East to West. Her connection to the moon was constant and intense - no matter the time of day, no matter the state of the sky, she could look up and find Her immediately - but it was strongest during the full moon, and as the cycle continued on Diana couldn't help but feel a sharp ache of loss.

The moon was only truly full for a moment - less than a breath, really - and in that moment the lines between the Lunari and her celestial avatar disappeared completely. The Moon saw all, and what She saw, she gave to Diana. Images, voices, thoughts, feelings, emotions: all came pouring into the last of the Lunari in a rush of knowledge during the monthly instant of the full moon.

Which is why, two days after the Filling (as she had dubbed it in her mind) that she had experienced in the garden with Talon's presence echoing in the silence around her, she was many miles east of the Institute of War and had built herself a small camp in the wilderness. She needed neither fire nor blankets: she slept through the day and traveled at night, awakening when dusk blanketed the sky and moving swiftly through the darkness.

It was mid-day, and a disgruntled Diana cracked open her eyes with a hiss of displeasure. For a moment she lay still, listening intently for whatever had awoken her, her eyes narrowed against the unforgiving light and fixed on the bank of trees behind which she was hidden. The noise came again: the crack of a whip, the creaking of wheels, and then a women's harsh laughter.

Diana lay still until the travellers passed by on the road below her, then visibly relaxed, her hand releasing its firm grip on her characteristic crescent blade. She cast her eyes to the sky and let out a sigh of what may have been relief when they lit on the pale, distorted circle that was the waning gibbous. She sees all, she assured herself; then she fell into sleep once more.

Dusk came; Diana moved. For four whole days the routine continued - camp at sunrise, advance at moonrise - and the waning moon lost more and more of its radius each night until she arrived at her final destination with the last quarter moon of the cycle above her.

The city of Noxus was, for all intents and purposes, impenetrable from the outside; built into the side of a mountain of granite and surrounded by a highly-toxic moat, roads into the city were few and far between. There were guards at every gate, demanding paperwork and authorization, and if none was offered (sometimes even if it were offered) they would not hesitate to drive a sword into one's chest or to slide a knife across one's throat. It was foolish - suicidal, perhaps - to attempt a covert entrance.

Unless, of course, one happens to know about the array of secret tunnels through the mountain, beneath the city and moat, built centuries before when Noxus was a mere mining settlement.

The Lunari found her way through the rowdy streets without major incident, staying mostly unseen by moving quietly through the shadows. Those who did see her furtive movements thought nothing of it and drew no attention to her; she was not the only person seeking the safety of darkness. The hooded cloak tugged hard over her head hid her glowing sigil from view and concealed the crescent-shaped weapon at her side. She was silent, sleek, and skillful; with the moon above her, visible despite the sporadic glow of streetlamps staining the night, she was unstoppable.

Something sharp dug into the pale skin of her neck, and she had only a moment to see the knife shining silver in the moonlight before she was dragged backwards into an alley.

ðˠɫ

"Give me a reason not to kill you," Talon growled. He pushed the Lunari face-first into the brick, his body blocking all view of her from passersby. If anyone should happen to glance down this alley, they would only see the hulking shape of a man against the wall. He had held many potential assassins in precisely this position before, right down to the blade pressed tightly to the precious veins in her neck.

"I have done nothing wrong," she replied, her voice frustratingly calm, given her position. He felt her shift beneath him and drove more force into her body, pinning her roughly in place with his own.

"No one is allowed into Noxus without authorization," he said harshly, grabbing her wrist with his free hand as she reached into her cloak. He twisted it until she let out a short grunt of pain. "Did you follow me here from the Institute?" he demanded, twisting harder.

"My business in Noxus is my own," she hissed, teeth gritted against the pain. "It has nothing to do with you, Shadow."

Talon eased his grip slightly but kept hold of her wrist, the knife still digging into her throat as a warning. "I should still kill you," he grumbled, without much rancour. "How did you get into the city?"

He had seen her in the streets from the window of his room in the Du Couteau mansion nearly an hour before. How he had noticed her, he couldn't say - his eyes had simply been drawn to her shape in the shadows, and the way she crept through the night had struck a chord of familiarity within him. Minutes later he'd been tracking her, following her footsteps with ease. The streets of Noxus were his home, his stomping ground; to be out in them again, tracking unsuspecting prey in the night, felt habitual and comforting after weeks of travel with Katarina.

He had to admit, she moved well: had he not been trained by life-or-death circumstance, he may have lost her several times during her sojourn into the dank and desolate Noxian night-scape. She had nearly slipped away several times before reaching this alley - a location with which Talon was extremely well-acquainted from his time on the street - and so he had been forced to make his move early, rather than risk being left behind if he attempted to track her all the way to her destination.

Diana had the gall to laugh. "The Moon sees all, Shadow," she said cryptically, drawing a growl of displeasure from Talon's lips. The woman was at his mercy, and she had the gall to be perplexing? He spun her around, wrapping one hand around her throat and pinning her to the wall again. The sigil on her forehead glowed faintly beneath her hood, and her lips twisted into a clear smirk. "Have I angered you?"

Talon kept his annoyance in check, raising his knife to press against her armour. The thin blade slotted perfectly into the gap between her chest plate and the neck guard below it. "Why are you here?" he asked, rather pleased with how calm and measured he was able to make his tone.

"I have already told you: my business is my own." She met his eyes and for a moment he was thrown by their intensity. "I have no intention to cause pain, suffering, or unrest to any citizen within these walls. I swear it, Shadow," she added, clearly reading his expression of distrust.

"Why do you call me that?" The question was drawn from his lips without conscious thought, spurred on by the natural way the word fell from hers. Her expression changed - so slightly that he couldn't be sure he hadn't imagined the widening of the eyes, the softening of the lips.

"Because it is your name," she stated simply. His hand still held her throat, but she made no move to escape.

"It's the name they gave me," he growled. "The League." Diana's head jerked in a half-shake.

"No. The Blade's Shadow is what the League calls you, just as they call me The Scorn of the Moon." A slight grimace; one that he mimicked in shared distaste. "Shadow is the name you were given here, on the streets. Before you were Talon. Before you were a Du Couteau." Talon felt his stomach twist as she spoke. "You were a boy, and you were alone, and you were Shadow. That is the first name you enjoyed, and so that is the name I intend to call you."

Talon dropped his hand. "You shouldn't know that," he said quietly, confusion colouring his words and thoughts. It was true: before General Du Couteau had taken him in, before he'd become Talon, the low-lives and guttersnipes of the Noxian slums had called him Shadow. The thief in the night. The blade in the dark. He had carved a name for himself out of the wretched, rotten underbelly of this great city just as he had carved out his life.

And somehow this woman knew it.

"The Moon sees all, Shadow," Diana repeated, almost soothingly. "And She knows all."

He couldn't stop himself. He looked up, his eyes locking on the half-moon above them. The light filled his eyes, filled his mind, and for a moment he was a blank slate as he must have been at birth. It was a strange feeling - unsettling, but not unpleasant.

When he returned his gaze to Diana, his eyes found nothing but brick.

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A.N

Please forgive this update for coming late; writer's block is a pain in the eh ess ess.

Also forgive the shortness of my updates, and that my Diana segments tend to be longer than my Talon segments. I tried to rectify that in this chapter.

The Diana section in this chapter was originally intended to be much, much longer, but I opted to cut it into two and put the Talon interaction in the middle. Expect the next chapter to arrive in a much more timely manner with much more Diana depth.

On a positive note, I think I may have more than a general idea of how I want this story to work!

The concept of the Filling came to me while I was researching moon phases. Upon discovering that the moon is only truly 'full' for a second, my imagination went into overdrive. I quite like what I've done with it.

Thank you for the reviews! I'm terrible at responding to them, but know that I read and love each and every one.

As always, remember to review! ↘