He meets her for the second time at Ironspike Pass, saying goodbye to her brother.

He never sees the large man's face, but there's no mistaking who the figure is; only one person in all of Runeterra can stand like Urtistan's ancient pillars of truth and send off their only sister with merely a few gruff words of advice and caution. Garen leaves before his sister's travel companions ever gets close enough to say hello, his brand-new Steel Legion armor shining under the sun; he would return to the Institute of War, to a life of sweat, battle and never-ending patriotic duty, and he would serve Demacia to the very end, never looking back, but never really looking forward, either.

"They're here, all right." Janna remarks, placing a hand above her brow to get a better look as she steers the chariot towards the Demacians. "Garen still looks the same as ever."

"He looks more rugged, I think." It's not like Janna herself ever changes – her grey eyes still twinkled at him when he knocked on her door, but he understands the depth of her, the way she can tear a skyscraper to pieces without blinking an eye. Janna's older than him, older than probably even Jayce and Heimerdinger, but she doesn't show it, just like she doesn't show most things about herself. She bestows peace and grace on those she deems worthy, but everything, in the end, sits at the eye of a storm, only seconds from destruction. "Janna?"

"Yes, Ezreal?"

He fumbles – finds it only as Janna sends a wisp of wind through his backpack to make everything fall into place. He passes the drawing to Janna, his face embarrassed but slightly quizzical as the elfish woman murmurs a word of thanks and starts regarding the drawing fondly. "The place looked completely new. I couldn't stay long, but the children appeared happy and taken care of. Why that specific street in Zaun, though?"

"Once again, beautiful drawing skills, and oh, Ezreal, you must understand… It's where I grew up. I don't have a home to return to anymore, but I can at least build homes for those like me."

"Wow. Janna…"

"Yes?"

"I'm flattered you told me about this, but… why me?"

"Because you care, Ezreal. Although a good number of champions in the league are decent people, you're one of the very few who try to be kind."

Janna's smiling encouragingly; finding himself both touched and unworthy, he turns away, mumbling a word of thanks before shouting Lux's name to get her attention.

As the last rays of daylight start to fade away, they stop by a village next to a small lake, the mountains not yet completely behind them. A wave of dizziness hits him as he tries to get off the chariot, and he falters in surprise, wondering if it was indeed a horrible idea to combine six hours of sleep with four hours of cardio just the day prior. It shouldn't be. I've run this exact same schedule around six times. "I know a place right behind –"

He yelps as he feels himself get gripped by something firm – perhaps too firm for comfort. Several strands of long golden hair sweeps past his vision as the slightly accented voice rings right by his ears, steady and not at all anxious. "Don't fall, Ezreal. We need you for Shurima, remember?"

He only has the time to get back to his feet to regain his dignity. That hurt. It shouldn't have, but it did. I'm probably just spoiled, spending too much time with friends and people who like me. "Sorry, probably just sat still for too long. Janna?"

"Right here." Janna throws a mildly judgmental look in Lux's direction before landing gracefully on the ground. "You said you knew a place –"

"Barliman's, yeah." He flings a bag onto his shoulder, avoiding the faces of both women. "On the 3rd row of houses. He likes draining my purse, but he will give us food and a place to stay, so we'll make do."

"NOT WITH YOUR CREW, PRODIGAL EXPLORER?" Barliman yells from the opposite end of the inn, his voice both too familiar and too loud for the late night hour. "DID YOU NOT PAY THEM ENOUGH? I SWEAR, YOUR BAND OF –"

"Ezreal," Janna tries to yell to make herself heard, "Can we pay him to make him shut up?"

"No," he replies with a full mouthful of sour pork. "I wish. I've tried. He's just ever so greedy. If you give him gold, he'll be quiet for like an hour, and be really loud in the middle of our dreams. We need the sleep; it's going to be a long trip."

Janna frowns. "Just give him a coin or two now, I'll – "

Zolt. Something white and hot flashed right past his cheek, nearly startling him out of his chair; it landed several inches to the right of Barliman, blowing a perfect circular hole in his counter and inn wall. The infuriating voice immediately died; white as a sheet, the villager scrambled back to his feet and ran out of the building, followed by all the other patrons in the room.

Both he and Janna slowly turn their heads incredulously; Lux is still sitting in her chair, perfectly at ease, her baton lightly smoking but still lying flat on the stone table. When she registers the shock on both of their faces, she allows herself a tiny smile, picking up the spoon on the table and placing it against her lips.

"That should shut him up for a while, right? Now while we're at it… I think I'll head into their kitchen and make some soup myself. This gruel is absolutely atrocious."

It's the same dream again. He's older, maybe three to five years older, his goggles cracking and sprawling haphazardly on dirty blond hair, dirt-streaked hands crudely wiping dried blood away from his eyes –

The stench stings through the parchment to render his nostrils raw asthe entire landscape drowns in the haunting autumn colors of death, honey-colored ooze creeping onto burning ruins as sweetly as the blood that splatters with dismembered screams. The sky falls with wide smoking cracks and the earth decays, mud growing limbs and pulling shrieking children away to their doom. He runs and runs and only sprints past a world too terrible to observe, dead eyes from half-decomposed heads staring at his every step. He's lame and bleeding heavily and half-deaf from the shells and the voices thundering but he has to go on, cutting a trail through the dead and turning his head away from the dying; he has to find someone who can still curse, who can still stand, who still has enough fight in them to keep the world living –

I love you, he prays desperately to himself, trying to blink back tears only to find his eyes too worn out to control, I love you and everything we believe and I'll see everything through, I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU –

He shot up straight from bed, panting heavily and covered in cold sweat.

It's not real, he tells himself. It's not real, and if you really have prophetic dreams, you should be three times as famous by now. It's probably just related to the Fields. Because you didn't get enough sleep. Because you were unhappy about the things that have happened.

He sinks back onto his pillow, covering his face with his hands as he tries to stop shuddering. This is stupid. I'm stronger than that. My life is better than that. Tomorrow we'll hit better roads. The day after we'll hit Mogron Pass. I'll be my happy confident self again once I can roll around in sand and clay, and pyramids don't contain ooze.

…

Who do I even love, anyway?

The candle opposite his bed flickers in the darkness; he stares mindlessly at it for a moment, feeling his breath slow as he finds the gauntlet, taking comfort in its warm glowing light. It's a good thing Janna's a girl. Even better that Lux is one. He doesn't know how they are sharing a room, but they are probably both sleeping better than him. Janna will just get worried about me. God knows Jayce is already worried enough, making her give me all of those completely bullshit supplement pills. At least I know I'll be fine once I get back on site and talk to Nasus… Not everyone has a foolproof happiness button.

Getting up abruptly, he pulls the hoodie over his head and slips out of the room, stealing down the stairs with only a water kiln in his gauntleted hand.

Luxanna Crownguard, flipping through a scroll by the candlelight as quickly as he reads field notebooks, does not seem to register the shock on his face. "Oh, I guess you're having sleep problems too?"

"What kind are you struggling with?" He almost wishes Barliman's the one still up at this godforsaken hour; the innkeeper, at least, never plays mind games. "Anything serious?"

She waves her hand dismissively, although he notices, in his peripheral vision, just how pale and utterly exhausted she looks – almost a completely different person from earlier that night. "I don't know. Food, I suppose. My stomach isn't particularly happy with me today."

"Hmph. Your chicken dish was heavenly." It was; it had smelled like cinnamon, apple, garlic and a thousand things that he was sure Barliman would never have cared enough to stock, and it made him immensely grateful to her, despite his irritation at her brash attitude and air of superiority. "If anything, I'm going to guess motion sickn–"

She sighs, leaning back in her chair and running her fingers through her long hair. "I'm sorry, my Explorer. I've had to test the new armor, attend all the formal occasions, converse with your physicists, keep myself in shape for the League… not everyone can have such a casual relationship with the League, you know."

"I hope you liked the Steel Legion Set. Jayce mentioned that it should increase your laser power output by at least 30%."

"Oh, yeah, we always approve of Piltoverian armor." She turns to peer out of the window, her eyes not meeting his. "When are we getting on site? In another three days?"

"If we keep up the pace, yes. My captains are sorting the spells as we speak. There's a layer we can further explore once we arrive – they have been cautious to leave it alone until my return." It's amazing how just talking about his work has made him feel better; he can barely recall the broken skulls now. "I wanted to get a better picture of what we're dealing with before we continue digging. Why are all the spells concentrated in one place? It could have been an academy. It could have been a temple. Hell, it could be because they chose to bury all of their mages alive a couple thousand years ago, and we wouldn't know."

"Why would any civilization want to bury all of their mages alive?" Lux inquires, her eyes still firmly fixed on the crescent moon. "That sounds like an awfully inefficient thing to do."

"We've had precedent. Sometimes magic gets too powerful and resentment grows within the masses. We're always going to be the minority, no matter how powerful we are; if everyone hates us, they'll get rid of us." He drinks heavily from his kiln, feeling the slightly sweet water wash away the last memories of the nightmare. "We can maybe blast a hundred elite Noxian spearmen away before getting impaled by cold steel?"

"Ezreal, when do you want to take your light magic lessons?" Ignoring his last statement, she turns to look straight at him, her bright eyes expectant and as business-like as anyone at an auction. "Now? Tomorrow? Once we arrive on site? I suggest that you start early, since we will have to start at the very beginning. Since your safety protocol stipulates at least two high-level casters per ancient spell, you'll have to do all of those light spells with me."

Maybe he was wrong and Lux Crownguard does indeed not have a soul or any desire to understand or care about anything beyond her city-state assignments. "I'll do right now, and every night afterwards."

"Good." The candlelight flickers and for a second it erupts into a ball as brilliant as a tiny sun; when he finds himself opening his eyes again, Lux has closed all the windows, and the room is pitch black. "Hey, my gauntlet – "

"– Is confiscated for my classes. Don't worry; I know it'd take me a thousand years to wrench its ownership from you. I'm just sick – "

- And her eyes glow icy blue in the dark, as brilliant as the best sapphires he has ever recovered from the Shuriman ruins –

"– of your endless magical cheating. If you want to learn something from me, you're going to learn it the right way. I'm not going to get my reputation ruined on you, and I'm not going to let you taint the name of light magic. You will be a shining beacon of light to the Piltoverians, and you're going to do it on your own as long as I am alive. Understood?"

He wasn't wrong. He is just going to wish he was wrong for a very, very long time. "Yes, Master Luxanna. Can we begin?"