Here is the continuation of our adventure; I hope you'll enjoy it and I look forward to your feedback!
For the thousandth time that night, Powder turned over in her bed, unable to find sleep. Every time her eyes closed, the white orb and the man — Ekko — in its center haunted her, like an image burned behind her eyelids. The smell of smoke still lingered in her hideout, yet another reminder of what had happened just hours before.
She had struggled to explain to Ekko what had occurred, let alone why he seemed to have forgotten several days of his life. She had wanted to tell him the truth, but something had stopped her. Even now, she didn't know why she had remained silent, simply inviting him to go rest at Benzo's, claiming he needed to be in good shape for the competition the next day.
Once again, she turned in her bed, frustrated, and her gaze was drawn to a faint light she hadn't noticed before. She sat up, wrapped in her blanket, and slowly approached. The light was coming from Violet's altar: a candle was still burning, flickering, on the verge of going out.
She remained frozen, motionless, her gaze fixed on the white smoke rising gently in the tent, contrasting with the painting of her sister.
Her absence had left a void in her heart, a chasm that even the years had not filled. She had told Ekko — that man who had taken her place — that in order to move forward, you had to leave something behind. But in that moment, she would have given anything to never have lost her.
She sat before the altar, the blanket still draped over her shoulders, and rested her head against the table. Her hand ventured into the drawer, pulled out one of the blue stones she had kept carefully hidden, and placed it before her. With her fingertip, she rolled it back and forth, tirelessly.
Thoughts raced through her mind, swirling like a storm. The images of Ekko, the machine, the change. She recalled everything with a sharpness that was almost painful. The stone seemed to heat under her finger, but she continued, unable to stop.
He had taken the place of her friend, then had gone back to where he came from.
A place where everything was different. That dream he had told her about... It wasn't just an invention. It was real.
Then her mind turned to the mural. The painting of Vi he had made.
He hadn't imagined it. Where he came from, Violet was still alive. She had grown, become an adult. And the way he had treated her, Powder had become... Different.
She sprang up suddenly, knocking over ashes and trinkets in a crash. Her hands were trembling, but her decision was made. She had to leave. Find her sister. Find that boy. She had to find that life where she hadn't blown everything apart.
The idea seemed crazy, even impossible. But the flickering glimmer of hope was stronger than the doubt.
Making a plan was far harder than she had imagined. So much data to process, so many unpredictable variables in what they had created together. The night stretched on, dawn already brushing the horizon, and she had barely scratched the surface of what she needed to rebuild.
The time loop, the distortion, the very heart of the machine... Everything had to be redone, piece by piece, and this time, she was alone.
She could have asked for help from her Ekko, but she knew he would refuse categorically. To him, this quest was nothing but pure madness, an obsession that would drag her further into the abyss.
But there was something else. She couldn't risk putting him through the same fate as Heimerdinger, swept away in a temporal anomaly and disappearing without a trace.
Hours passed, sketches multiplied, and fatigue weighed down her movements. But at every moment of weakness, the image of Vi, alive somewhere, gave her the strength to keep going.
Powder promised herself she would succeed.
When the sound of footsteps interrupted her concentration, Powder looked up. A ray of sunlight filtered through the stairs, lightly illuminating the room. She grumbled under her breath: the competition. She had completely forgotten about it.
The energy storage machine had been finished for a while, but they never had the time to perfect it. It remained unstable, relegated to the background in favor of the time machine.
"Powder?" Ekko's voice sounded before she even saw his face. She immediately guessed why he was there: he had come to get her to go to Piltover and participate in the innovation competition.
Quickly, she sat up and pulled the blanket from her knees to cover her work.
"I'm here! Sorry, I didn't wake up... I think I'm sick." She faked a cough, just convincing enough to make him hesitate.
"Seriously? Now?" he said with frustration. "And the competition? I can't believe I was so tired that I didn't even finish the last adjustments on the machine!"
"Oh, you'll manage just fine without me," she replied, faking another coughing fit. "I'm going to go back to bed. You can tell me all about it when you're back, okay? I'm sure your ideas will impress them."
Ekko furrowed his brow, his gaze shifting between concern and doubt.
"Are you sure you're okay? You don't look well."
She shrugged, forcing a tired smile. "Just a bad cold, nothing more."
He hesitated, clearly troubled, but eventually sighed and nodded. "Alright. But get some rest, okay? We've still got work to do after the competition. I'll tell you everything in detail."
"Good luck," she murmured, her gaze fixed on him as he disappeared up the stairs.
He was exactly the same as before. His gentle, familiar look, that mix of trust and warmth that reminded her of so many memories. It was Ekko, her Ekko. The one she'd known forever, the one who had always been there, despite everything.
She watched him walk away, and her heart tightened. She knew what she was about to do would be difficult. She knew leaving, leaving him behind, meant so much more than just an absence. But the thought of seeing her sister again, of finding that life she had lost or perhaps never had, was stronger than anything.
When he disappeared into the stairs, she felt a sharp pain, like an invisible blade sinking into her chest. It was like a goodbye she couldn't say aloud.
She clenched her fists, holding onto the determination that burned in her soul. "I'm sorry, Ekko," she whispered to herself, her gaze lost in the shadows of the room. "But I have to do this."
It took Powder several days to finish the machine. She had used the materials salvaged from the explosion, as well as the plans left by Heimerdinger. She couldn't afford to make a mistake. She couldn't fail.
Before leaving, she left a note for her family. She knew they would be looking for her, so she tried to reassure them, pretending she had suddenly felt the urge to travel and promising to keep in touch.
With a heavy heart and trembling hands, she stood at the center of the machine, a rope tightly gripped in her palm. It was time. When she felt ready, she pulled on it. The same white sphere, the one in which the man had disappeared, formed around her.
A tearing pain took her breath away, and she screamed, her voice muffled, then... nothing.
And thus, Powder disappeared.
For long seconds, she felt herself being pulled into a pristine vortex, torn apart and then reassembled. Then, suddenly, her lungs opened up, and she fell forward. She landed flat on a brown floor, the smell of salty water and fish immediately hitting her nose. The sun, high in the sky, cast an overwhelming heat.
Pushing herself up with her hands, the first thing she noticed was a missing finger on her left hand. She screamed and quickly stood up, before a violent wave of nausea struck her, forcing her to vomit the contents of her stomach. The men around her seemed unconcerned, continuing their activities, although some threw suspicious glances her way.
Before her eyes, a long violet strand of hair where the regrowth had reached halfway down. She leaned on her legs and stood up, grabbing a nearby barrel to steady herself. Despite the oppressive heat, she was covered in a yellowish cloak that protected her from head to toe, and her boots reached up to her calves.
She took a few steps, but another wave of dizziness overwhelmed her, causing her to stumble. When she opened her eyes again, she saw her reflection in a puddle of water: two violet eyes stared back at her. The face reflected was hers, but she didn't recognize it. These weren't her eyes. She appeared to be the same age, but a deep fatigue marked her features.
It was her... without being her.
"I had a dream... where things were different... You were different in my dream,"he had told her.
She raised a hand and gently stroked her face, examining it carefully. Details she had never noticed before jumped out at her: the tattoos running along her arm in blue cloud patterns, and the fine scars marking her cheeks.
She wondered: what life had she lived here?
"Hey, little lady," a male voice called, breaking her thoughts. She didn't recognize the tone, but seeing a pair of worn boots stop in front of her, she realized it was directed at her.
"We'll be dropping anchor soon. Are you ready?"
Powder looked up and saw a man she didn't know. His large build reminded her of Vander, but his white hair and deep wrinkles betrayed his older age.
"Where exactly?" she asked, a bit hesitant.
"How do you mean, 'where'? We're arriving in Ionia," he replied with a slightly puzzled look.
'Ionia'? The name echoed in her mind. An island, distant, isolated, lost in the vastness of the ocean, far from Zaun.
"Oh shit," she whispered.