Welcome back everyone! Took me a while to get over my funk and finally post this (it's been fully written for about 3 weeks now, but my confidence in my writing has taken a beating lately due to work and depression. Hope you all enjoy this, and I hope you are ready for taking our journey away from Ionia!
Karma knocked politely on the temple door that led out to Shen's personal training ground. While he may not fight as often as one would expect, he did, however, keep his skills in perfect shape. She glanced down at the muddy ground, slipping off her sandals so as to not track mud back inside. Her feet ghosted across the ground, and soon she stood in front of Shen. Behind him sat tall, thick trees the size of a Cloud Drinker's wing.
Word had reached the Monasteries rather quickly. After Jhin had escaped a few months ago, with very little evidence left behind, Shen had finally gotten around to patching up the holes in the information network of Ionia. No longer did it take weeks for info to reach them via carrier bird—nor long strenuous runs from Kinkou wards. No, times demanded a severe change.
Karma had taken it upon herself to be that change. With her powers over the lands paired with her ancient knowledge, she managed to create a neural network across most of the villages. Usually one-sided communication—they had mainly been receiving updates on the spiritual unrest in the southwest, along with incidents of Noxian warbands along the southern coast—Karma had received the call from Irelia mere minutes ago. A prison break in the heart of Ionia. To say she was unhappy with the events that had occurred was an understatement.
"Shen, please tell me why I heard that you commanded the outsider to break Riven out of jail? Did we not agree that her death would be necessary?" It had to have been him since everyone else had agreed to the death.
Silence met her inquiry. Karma ground her teeth together as she glared at Shen's peaceful disposition—unbothered and meditating underneath the large Northern Grove Tree that sat in the middle of the training field.
"Shen!" Her voice came out as an echo, her vision tinted as she began to get heated. "I demand an answer, Eye of Twilight."
Shen muttered something to himself, humming when a seed began to sprout from in front of him. The stalk pulsed and fettered out as petals began to bloom from the protruding sprout. Soon, Kiwas began to bloom and drop to the soil, their husks now both a fertilizer and a seed. Fumes began to rise into the air, blown away and diffused by the wind.
"Calm yourself, Darha." He said quietly, opening his eyes and taking in the world for the first time in four hours. His voice was soft; delicate, yet it held a frame of iron that she had grown accustomed to. "Firstly, we did not agree on her death being necessary. That decision had been made without my input between Lady Xan, Govos, and you."
He began to sort out the husks of Kiwas on the ground, his gloved hands rubbing over each of the rough skins. He cast a few of them to the side, their only similarity being particularly rough and closed edges—a sign that the skin hadn't been breached by the internal seed. Poisonous to consume, at that point.
"Secondly, the First Lands call out Riven's name like the beacon of a lighthouse. To shun her words is to spit on ourselves. We have always remained faithful to the Land, and I fear for the reasoning behind your faltering." Shen's eyes glowed as he communed with the earthy soul beneath him. Karma stiffened at the insult to her loyalty to Ionia.
"I am faithful to our Lands, Shen. That is why she must die."
"Listen," He suggested. Karma shook her head, "I've listened before, Shen. I'm not a novice."
"Aren't you?" He replied succinctly, his eyes focused on hers, as they pulled her into the cerulean within. She scoffed, but ceded to his request. As she sat down, she fell into her meditation as quickly as she usually did.
"No. This is a communion, Karma. Not a normal meditation. You must let yourself drift, not enforce your will over it."
Karma frowned, but followed his instructions. She soon found herself in an uncomfortable position; her energy felt foreign to her senses now. This was not how it was supposed to be done. It was the complete opposite of how her predecessor's memories had taught her. The energy stirred and swirled within her, letting the earthy world beneath her push and pull at her soul, but refused to let itself be pushed out entirely. Like the moon held back the tide, so too did her soul hold back Ionia.
"You may be the most powerful and oldest in the land, Karma, but you forget your memories are outdated and not your own." More Kiwas began to grow next to the original stalk, they bloomed and fell and repeated the cycle dozens upon dozens of times.
"Do you hear it now?" Karma fell deeper within her core, her energy flow meandered through her limbs and into the dirt. She had been falling deeper and deeper, the dirt becoming both less and more noticeable beneath her thighs. The scent of freshly bloomed fruit had encompassed her lungs. Her breath matched with the world.
A pulse. Quiet. Two pulses soon after. Like a heartbeat that had stuttered, Karma heard it now. The land cried out in fear; agony; hatred. It called out for her help. Faces popped into her head. Yasuo, a fox lady, Yone, a man with a large gun, a dark skinned gun-toting couple flanked by a shirtless man, a young woman with a crossbow, a doll brought to life, and at the center of it all—Perseus. Mist surrounded the scene—suffocating; Madness. She lost herself in the scene.
More images flooded her brain—an island temple exploding, magic returning to Ionia in force, and so much more—but she had long since lost her concentration. Some she had heard of happening, some she hadn't. The onslaught of visions is cut off suddenly as she takes an uneven breath in. Her body sways to the tempo of the wind, even as she comes back to reality. She blinks the spots out of her vision.
"What," she swallowed thickly, the feeling foreign to her, "What was that?" She wiped at the sweat on her brow.
Shen smiled softly underneath his mask, he had asked himself the same thing when he had come across it almost a year ago. "This is what it means to truly listen to the First Lands, Karma. This," he paused, before sweeping his hand across the field—his private altar, "is what balance is."
—
Riven hadn't realized she was out of the cell when she finally came to. She had reached out for the wall that would have sat next to her cot to help her up. She had lost a lot of weight in the cell—despite it only being a few weeks, according to Irelia's last visit—and had to rely on the walls for assistance.
Her hand didn't touch the vibrating walls, and instead found a hard, yet fleshy, surface. Her eyes snapped open only for them to shut once again at the blinding light. She groaned in agony.
"Would you please remove your hand from my abdomen?" A male voice asked her, her hand feeling the vibrations of his voice through his body. She snatched it back quickly, a blush creeping its way into her cheeks as she finally managed to crack open her eyes. A hand came up to shield her eyes from the sun. She pulled herself up into a sitting position, hissing when a stinging feeling shot through her abdomen.
"Careful now. If you move too quickly, you'll break the clot. I've done what I can, but I couldn't finish the process until you were awake." Her eyes found her apparent savior, widening when she realized it was Percy who stared back.
"A-" Her question stopped before it could even begin, a hoarse cough ripping its way from her throat. A slurred groan left her lips at what it did to her abdomen. A hand found her back and something was pressed to her lips. She drank from the flask greedily.
"Slowly, now. If you drink too fast, you'll vomit it back up." The flask was removed from her lips and she finally sat back against the tree she had been propped up against. Percy put the flask inside of a bag that was leaning against his own tree. He pulled some bandages from his sleeves, and began to slather them in some type of gel.
"Where are we?" Riven asked, trying to glance around for any sign of Yasuo. She didn't see him, and started to wonder if she had just dreamed she was being carried by him.
Percy gestured for her to turn a bit to the left, holding up her shirt when she did so. He muttered a quick cantation in a language she couldn't understand, and the gel on the bandages glowed a light green. "This will sting."
He pushed the bandages against the medium sized gash that sat along her ribs. She hissed through her teeth, before sighing as a strange sensation washed over her. She watched as the gash on her ribs began to clot and heal itself within seconds. Her eyes met Percy's and he smirked. "The gel was just to help with the infection. I'm doing the rest. You'll be tender for a few more hours, and you're still starving, but you'll live." He handed a piece of bread to her along with the rest of his own waterskin.
"Percy!" A voice called from behind her. She tried to turn to see who had called him, but couldn't with her current position. "Are we all good?"
"She's awake, Ahri!" Footsteps rushed over. It was a woman. She knew from the voice. They were Vastayan. She knew from the ears and tail.
"So you are the little rascal that has been sending Yasuo into a twist?" Ahri said, a teasing smirk on her face. She got up uncomfortably close to Riven, and she tried to shrink herself into the harsh bark behind her. A hand found her cheek, and glowing orange eyes met her golden ones.
"Now, now. I think we can be great friends despite your…Noxian heritage." Ahri lilted, the hand caressing Riven's cheek. Her cheeks began to redden at the contact and Ahri's eyes flickered purple as she stared into them.
"Ahri, stop teasing the poor girl." Percy grunted, pulling Ahri away from her face–the eyes changing back to their orange at the interruption–a squeal erupting from her. Riven watched the two hold each other by the arms for a second, before she finally cleared her throat and glanced away. The two broke apart swiftly, turning back to fuss over her wound.
"I apologize for her. She's a rabid dog sometimes, I believe." Riven watched as he ignored the slap to the head he got for that comment. "Now, I believe you were getting to the point of thanking us for your rescue. You were to be executed soon, after all."
She wasn't as surprised or as outraged at that as she should have been, she felt. None of that indignation or anger from before bubbled up to the surface. All that came was a stony silence from her gut that told of her acceptance of the fact she would have died.
"Thanks," she muttered at last, as she took a bite out of the bread. It was a bit hard, but she didn't mind. It was better than the slop she was given in her prison. As she nibbled on the food, she took in her savior's visage. She hadn't seen under the mask when she was last with them, and she was surprised to see the amount of burns and scars that covered the skin underneath it.
It was like her grandmother's old quilt that she had refused to throw away after six decades. She would just pick up her needle and thread, sit down in her old rotting wooden chair that rocked back and forth, and sow the damned thing back up. The scars intersected rarely—usually branching off into more scarred tissue and other burn marks-and they weren't all caused by combat either. She knew the difference now. Starkly.
A good portion of the scars that covered his chest and everything on his face was caused by torture. It was difficult to swallow. "Are you…"
Her words faltered as his gaze met her's. She managed to squeak out her question in the end, barely a mutter. She lamely gestured to his face. "Are you still in pain? I don't remember ever seeing those on you before…"
"No. The person who did this to me doesn't have that much power, thankfully. I got these from…I guess you could call them a Paladin? A knight? I don't know. I'm not quite sure what they called themselves, but they thought me to be a demon. Tried to purge me with holy hellfire or something like that. All I suffer is phantom pains." His hand ghosted over the skin.
She had heard that phrase before. Old Noxian veterans, all of whom had been forced out of the military rather than willingly leaving it, had told her of the pains and pin needle sensations of missing skin and limbs. Their brain never quite realized that what they once had was now gone.
"You know, while I may have said it just to distract Irelia and those other guys, I definitely meant what I said about their country." Percy said to Ahri, his eyes not leaving Riven's golden ones. "They are a bunch of assholes."
Ahri snorted, "Why do you think I don't hang around the humans?"
"True. Though it is quite humorous if you ask me. In a morbid way."
"What is going on?" Riven cut in, still quite confused on why exactly she was broken out of jail—execution, she corrected mentally. Sure, Percy seemed okayish to be around, but Yasuo definitely still hated her and Ahri was Ionian. Vastayan, even.
"You have a friend in Master Shen, apparently." Ahri replied lightly.
"No. Not quite that, more like you living is more convenient." Percy cut in, huffing at Ahri's teasing nature.
Riven understood the concept. She was convenient to Noxus, right up until they blew her up. Now she's being hunted down by Noxus—or at least LeBlanc is hunting her down. The woodcarver had notified LeBlanc with her attempt at fixing the blade. Her living is inconvenient now.
"Where will we go? Surely the entire continent is in alarm now? We just broke out of the Placidium."
Percy sighed, "Don't remind me. We could try that one Wuju island? I heard no one goes there after the war."
Riven swallowed thickly; had heard about what had happened there. The entire village had been wiped from the face of Runeterra. No one left behind. Women, children, everyone. Another of Noxus's sins for her to bear at the altar. Another tarnishing mark on her soul—surely the gods find it beyond redemption. How hadn't she seen it before?
"Oh." She whispered lamely. The conversation died as Yasuo came into view. He looked a bit haggard, but with the way he was moving she could tell he could still put up one hell of a fight.
"She's up?" Percy turned to Yasuo.
"Yeah. For now. I think she should get a bit more rest though. The cell's magic still has a bit of its hold on her—we have to wait for it to leave. "
"How long?" Yasuo took out the map. His calloused finger began to trace its way along the southern coast. The map was faded—markings here and there spread out across the land. Percy noticed the Placidium had a star written down next to it. He pushed down the guilt that began to rise up. "A few hours more, I'd say."
"We can make the port within the next day if we hurry. Then it's an afternoon or maybe a bit longer to get to the island. We can figure out supplies at the port and our next course of action at the island," Yasuo glanced up at Percy, "we can't stay in Ionia much longer. Every prefecture will be coming for our heads. Let's hope we don't run into the Brotherhood." They'd sooner kill them and be done with it than capture them alive.
"I know…you said you needed to go to Bilgewater, Ahri?"
Ahri looked up in surprise, her ears perking up, before smiling widely, "Yes! I was given some information at the Grove about my ancestor. I should find what I need in Bilgewater, apparently. At least, that's what the bartender at the White Cliffs Inn said."
"Well. That settles it. We will go to Bilgewater after a few days on the Island." Yasuo nodded his agreement. It would do him good to get away from Ionia for a bit, anyways. He hoped Yone was okay.
"Now, Riven," Percy turned to her with a gleam in his eye, "how about you explain a little bit about what Irelia asked of you in your interrogations."
—
When they had arrived at the island two days later—it had taken them a long time to find an actual captain willing to sail them there—Percy had to admit: he definitely didn't like this idea anymore. After setting down their packs, and making sure they hadn't left any of their supplies behind on the boat, they set off into the central part of the island. Buildings littered the grounds, some in relatively fine condition, others in complete ruin. All of it was covered in the stench of death and decay.
His skin felt clammy to the touch, the misty substance that whaffed off of the burnt, brown ground clinging to him in its unnaturalness. It grasped at his limbs with a sense of pleading, as if to ask him to put it out of its misery. Percy heard the whispers of wailing; men, women, children. He could hear the explosions of chemical bombs as his head began to throb and pulse. Images and visions and strange cries that echoed through eternity. This land was unnatural.
"Enough," he growled, forcing his will over the substance. It lashed back at him, before slipping off of his body at last. Properly cowed into submission, the mist didn't bother him anymore. This wasn't an island anymore. This was a graveyard of the damned. Ghosts doomed to never reach the afterlife. They would sit here in their agony. Forever.
"I knew it was bad…but this?" Yasuo mumbled, pushing aside a broken plank of wood that was once the overhang of a door. Green ooze stuck to the wood, and when it fell to the ground, the parts that touched the earth sizzled. "This isn't good."
"This island is not safe." Percy muttered, swiping a hand down his arm to rid himself of the goosebumps. "We should move farther inland, hopefully some of the buildings still remain. I saw a temple from the shore—we should make that our first stop."
Yasuo nodded his agreement, stepping away from the ruins that he had been investigating. Riven trailed behind silently
They hadn't been in the village proper for more than a few minutes–soon finding a small path towards what looked like a large temple–when Percy sensed another body among the small batches of trees that surrounded them. He came to a stop, his companions also coming to a halt and glancing towards him.
"Someone is here." Percy told them quietly, glancing towards Ahri and Yasuo. He met their eyes, and they both nodded. Percy sighed.
"I know you are there, mortal. We come in peace." Percy called out towards the trees along the left side of the path. A man soon appeared within the branches.
He was tall, much taller than Percy's companions, but still did not quite reach the same height as Percy. A helmet sat upon his head, and there were nearly a dozen green orbs at the front of it. Like a spider's eyes.
"I am the last swordsman of the Wuju style, Master Yi. Who are you, Trespassers?" His voice sounded young, but held a tone of iron that belied his experience. A survivor. A fighter.
"One lived?" Yasuo asked, surprise etched into his face. "I assume Master Doran is no longer with us, Master Yi?"
The man scowled, pronouncing the little scar that sat right underneath his mouth. "No. He died in the invasion."
Riven shifted uncomfortably behind them, choosing to look at the ground beneath her instead of the burned homes or the scarred man before her. This wasn't war. She swallowed down the bile. This was annihilation.
"We mean you no harm, Master Yi. My name is Perseus, and we only mean to rest our weary bones on this island before we depart across the sea."
The man gazed into Percy's eyes, before glancing off towards Yasuo and Ahri. His eyes finally landed on Riven.
"You are not Ionian. I've seen ilk like you before. Tell me—Are you Noxian, girl?" Percy's heart skipped a beat. He really was getting tired of having to fight off everyone with this girl around. He went to speak before Yasuo cut him off.
"She is our prisoner, Master Yi." Yasuo replied smoothly, "and while we are being candid and honest with each other, she was to be put to death. Master Shen, I'm sure you know of him, told us that the Land does not want her death."
Yi tensed before he muttered to himself a low 'interesting'. "So she knows not of the why, I assume?" Percy shook his head.
"Neither does Sh-Master Shen, to be fair."
"I would work on your pleasantries, outsider. Who are you? The others I know, but you are a mystery." Yi chastised him.
Yasuo put an arm across Percy's chest, stopping him from speaking, "I am sure my companion is tired of telling his story to everyone. I shall fill you in on who he is in exchange for safe passage and temporary lodgings on this island. Do we have a deal, Master Yi?"
He seemed to deliberate with himself, before nodding slowly, "That is acceptable. A fair trade. Rare nowadays, but welcome nonetheless. Though I am wary of accepting the word of someone like you."
Yasuo tensed at the remark before relaxing a bit. It looked like a weight had finally fallen off his shoulders. "So you know of me." It wasn't a question.
Master Yi shook his head, "I've merely heard stories. Lady Xan had come here soon after the invasion ended with what was supposed to be a small strike force. She told me bits and pieces of what has happened across our homeland."
"Yasuo is not responsible for the death of Master Souma. He has been cleared of that crime. Yone still lives, as well." Ahri spoke up for the first time since Yi had accosted them. His eyes turned to her, a curious amusement could be seen in them.
"And what might a Vesani be doing among the mortal races after so long?" He pondered aloud. Percy gripped Riptide a bit harder than he should have—his knuckles cracked around the pen.
"Looking for the history of my people, one that was taken from me by said mortal races." Ahri scoffed, any attention she would have given the man now amounted to zero at his crude remarks.
"I meant no disrespect, my dear. I trained a vastayan in the art of Wuju shortly after the war. I thought your kind was lost to the winds of change."
"My name is Ahri, not dear." Ahri squinted at him, her voice held distaste at his words, "And I was hiding. The mortals up north caged our magic artifacts and temples in some vain attempt to keep a centuries old mage chained down. A ridiculous notion to keep her alive if you ask me. We're lucky Noxus never reached the mage."
"Though she's loose now, so who knows what side she is working for." Percy reminded them, recalling what Irelia had told him when he had first come to the Placidium. While they hadn't spoken for long, he had been able to trade parts of his life stories for information about events that were happening throughout Ionia. She was…a relatively decent host when she was in what he could only assume was a good mood.
His gut twisted as he recalled his words to her. It was a necessary move, but he knew he had let his emotions get the better of him either way.
"I know who you speak of. I had my doubts about whether we would have been able to kill her before she did retaliate, even in her predisposition. I'm both weary and glad that I was proven right."
"Yea. While this is all fine 'n great and all, we still must settle the funeral rites for the bodies we found." Percy said, opening up his dimensional space and carefully setting the dozen or so bodies onto the ground in a neat line.
"By the Heavens above, who did this?" Master Yi whispered, removing his helmet to look upon the gruesome scene with unaffected vision.
"Noxus. We found them buried at the end of the south-western refuge tunnels. We were hoping to perform the rites at the temple."
Yi shook his head, "Of course." He took a shuddered breath as he glanced down at the corpses one last time, "Of course. Follow me, I can set up the pyres."
—
After the flames died down, and night had fallen upon the island, Percy finally let himself relax for the first time since the night before they reached Weh'le. He had been running on fumes since the Placidium, his mood souring rapidly as exhaustion set in.
He really didn't like these lands he was in. They seemed to sap and claw at whatever energy he had left in his body–leaving him far more exhausted than he should be after what was tantamount to only half the Battle of New York. That was with the Curse too. This place was unnatural.
His talk with Ahri and Irelia about it was not as helpful as he had hoped it would be. Talk about interdimensional travel and the spirits of Ionia was much more vague than he wanted. No, he would have to find help elsewhere. He had heard some tales of the scientific wonders–among other things–in a place called Piltover. He only hoped Bilgewater wasn't too far away from there.
As he stared at the sky—noting once again that the Huntress was not among the stars—Percy felt the unease settle in. It had sat in the back of his mind most of the time—scuttling and squirming around in its ambiguous malevolence—as it waited for its time to strike when he let his guard down. His skin prickled and his hairs stood on end at the sensation.
He still didn't know exactly what he was here for. Usually he managed to find out rather quickly what was threatening a world or universe, the Fates weren't entirely cruel at least, and he'd fix it. Some evil corporation or a tyrannical godling playing at supreme ruler. These were the usual suspects.
But this world was rife with conflict—it almost seemed like the entire world was at odds with itself—and impossible to pin down a specific cause for why he was here.
Noxus was having a shadow war with itself. Shady, delicate politics and invisible missions handed out by LeBlanc and the Du Couteau's meeting the war-hardened and iron-clad hands of men like Darius and Swain. A colossal time bomb that threatened to tear the world asunder with its impact. Noxus's reach was far—much farther than Percy had believed it to be.
Demacia was apparently midway through a culling of half its population. Mages, Riven called them. He had met mages before—both in his own world and others—and he knew the fears of the Demacians intimately. Mages were dangerous people, typically. Their thirst for power and knowledge only served to threaten the world from his experience. Hecate was a perfect example, after all.
Ionia was in spiritual turmoil from the wounds inflicted upon it. The Frejlord was apparently facing off against enemies long thought dealt with. Whispers of creatures from a place called the "Void". Things called the "Watchers" coming back—or at least that is what Riven had said she was told.
LeBlanc had an unusual interest in Shurima lately, too. So along with everything that he did know, there were probably a dozen things he didn't know about. But if there was one thing he knew: LeBlanc was a threat to everything.
Tch. Sorcerers. Always ruining everything for him. Syndra. LeBlanc. Whatever is happening in Demacia.
"No matter." He muttered, shaking the thoughts from his head as his eyes fluttered shut. He tucked himself into the long branch he claimed as his own as the last embers of the pyre joined the earth below. There was nothing he could do for now.
"Fate, guide my path." Sleep came quickly. He would have to thank the gods for small mercies.
—
"Kayn." Akali muttered in greeting, watching the shirtless man sit down next to her at the bar. It was a discrete little hole in the wall found at the edge of the district. A place where the bar stunk as badly as the patrons. Thieves, murderers, and all other sorts of no good miscreants made this part of town a hellhole. She'd gotten her first tattoo here. The little numbers that sat on her ankle—a memento of her father's death date.
"Lovely. How fortunate I am to find you here." He drawled, a frown present on his face. Akali raised her brow.
"You've been following me. Why?" He asked.
"Curiosity. Something about the retrieval of Jhin seemed off. Especially with Zed." She paused, taking a sip of her drink. The alcohol went down with ease. "Imagine my surprise when I overhear a little birdie telling me that Shen's father is alive."
Kayn stiffened, his voice dropping an octave as Rhaast stirred within him, "Careful darling." It came out as a low rumble in his chest. It sounded not unlike a cat purring.
Akali smirked, "Oh? And what might happen if I'm not?" Her fingers twitched reflexively for her bag of kunai.
"You don't know anything, little assassin." He slammed his hands on the table, leaning into her as Rhaast's voice began to seep through harder—Kayn was seething. Akali shivered. "Shen's father no longer works for the betterment of Ionia."
Akali paused, another sip. Huh.
"Then how about a trade? Make life a bit easier for our old masters? I go tell Zed to piss off, and I kill Shen's father. You spill the secrets to Shen—and while you're at it try to figure out what his plan is with the outsiders. Then we try to stop them all from killing each other." She stared into his insanity-infected eyes, "Together. Like a…team."
The word came out feeling like slime. She didn't do…politeness…much less teamwork. The last time had been against that beast called Sion.
But, she also owed Shen a lot. And she didn't like having unpaid debts. ""How's that sound?" She said, trying to break the awkward silence.
"I'd tell you I'm intrigued by how you think, partner." Their matching smirks made sure the bartender kept the drinks coming for the rest of the night.