When Powder wrote the letter to her family, pretending she was going on a trip, she never imagined she'd end up anywhere other than Zaun or Piltover. Yet, as she stepped off the boat, the salty air and bustling sounds of the port enveloped her from all sides. She owned nothing but the clothes on her back.
She stood frozen on the dock, lost and unable to decide her next move. She could board another ship, but how long would it take her to get anywhere? And where were her sister and Ekko now? Maybe in Piltover, or perhaps on the other side of the world. Was anyone even waiting for her anymore?
A wave of anxiety swept over her, and her eyes filled with swirling colors. She heard laughter, indistinct voices, and felt her eyes pulsing as if they might burst from her skull. She groaned in pain, and after a few moments, the voices faded. She had never experienced anything like it—like something within her was stirring, intent on causing her harm.
Before she could regain her composure, a man bumped into her in the crowd, pushing her a few steps back. Her hood slipped off her head, falling onto her shoulders. Immediately, the crowd stepped away, forming a circle around her as if afraid to come too close. Murmurs rose among them, and one word kept surfacing:"Jinx."
Quickly, she pulled her hood back up and hurried away, weaving through the throng. She wandered aimlessly down streets lined with red wooden houses, keeping her head low and avoiding the gaze of anyone she passed.
'What the hell is going on?' she thought, clutching her cape tighter despite the oppressive heat.
When night fell, Powder had a plan. She was navigating an ocean of uncertainty and chance, feeling lost in an almost overwhelming confusion, but she refused to let herself be discouraged.
She had to return to Piltover. It was her best chance of finding Vi and Ekko in this world—or at least some trace of them, or someone who could guide her.
Taking a boat was too risky. She had managed to stay unnoticed on her way here—whatever"here"actually was—but now, people seemed to recognize her, and not in a good way. It was possible that some might still be searching for her there. So, she decided to try her luck with an airship. As a child, she had always dreamed of flying in one of those balloons. Somehow, they seemed remarkably fast, soaring through the skies at extraordinary speed, aided by a glowing blue portal.
And so, Powder hid inside an empty wine barrel, concealed by the darkness of the night in a metal hangar that sharply contrasted with the serene architecture and pagoda-shaped rooftops surrounding it. Fortunately, a shipment seemed to be preparing for Piltover, as indicated by the signs on the crates. She didn't have the money to board legally, and besides, it wasn't the worst hiding spot she could have found.
She waited for what felt like an eternity before her barrel was finally hoisted onto the airship.
Cold sweat ran down her back as she heard the workers' footsteps approaching. She held her breath when a man grabbed her barrel, but he didn't seem to notice anything unusual and carried it along with the others.
In the darkness of the airship's hold, Powder eventually emerged from her hiding spot. She felt sticky, and the stench of low-quality wine clung to her clothes. Grimacing, she pulled off her cape and hung it on a protruding nail in the wall. Taking a moment, she tied her hair back—it was now much longer than she remembered—before sitting down in a shadowy corner.
She had no idea how long the journey would take, but at least she wouldn't run out of alcohol if she got thirsty.
In the dim light, shadows seemed to shift, whisper, laugh, mocking her. Powder closed her eyes, desperately trying to push away the demons that haunted her.
She woke with a start when the airship's engines rumbled to life beneath her. She didn't know how much time had passed since she'd dozed off, but the faint rays of light filtering through the hatch suggested it was time to prepare. She retrieved her cape, which had dried but still reeked of wine, and fastened it around her shoulders, pulling the hood over her head.
She wasn't entirely sure what to expect. After seeing those balloons dart across the skies at such breathtaking speed, she wondered if hiding aboard had really been a good idea.
But before she could reconsider, she felt it. The shift came before the sound—a subtle change in the air, like stepping from sunlight into shadow. A sudden chill enveloped her, accompanied by a strange pulsing in her ears. Yet she didn't feel pain, nor did it seem like she had moved even an inch.
She remained frozen, crouched in a dusty corner of the room, straining her ears for any sound, any movement. But nothing came, only the deafening silence that followed the airship's engines shutting down.
'Is that it? Have I arrived?' she thought, bewildered.
Muted noises reached her ears—voices and the clinking of mechanical tools. Perhaps she really had arrived. Heart pounding, she hastily climbed back into her barrel and waited, the seconds dragging into what felt like an eternity. Finally, a creaking noise broke the stillness.
Someone had entered and was busy unloading the cargo from the hold. Soon enough, she felt her hiding place being lifted, carried toward the outside.
Piltover was no longer anything but a shadow of what it had been in her own world. The streets were still as noble and rich, and towering spires still proudly rose into the sky, but she could feel, even without stepping inside, that this Piltover was not hers. The passersby, the way their disdainful gazes slid over her despite her cloak, everything felt foreign and hostile.
She quickly crossed the bridge connecting the two cities and was struck head-on by the reality: Zaun was not the Zaun she knew. Different, yes, but nowhere near as terrifying as the one she had left behind.
And then, she saw him.
At first, she saw his back, gleaming in the morning sun. Her heart raced, her legs froze.
'No... it can't be...', she thought, paralyzed by what she was about to discover. Yet, it was really him. Vander.
A memorial.
Her knees trembled before giving way beneath her. Tears welled up, uncontrollable.'He's not dead, he's not dead, he's not dead.'
She sobbed, crumpled before the monument. Had she broken her family again? Had she traded her sister's death for her father's?
The building was in ruins, a long-abandoned shell. Almost nothing was left of the Last Drop. She stood there, motionless in front of the debris, her heart tightening further in the face of this desolation.
Eventually, she made her way through the rubble, searching for an explanation. Even though little remained, she could tell that the place had been managed by others after Vander.
"Well, looks like you've come back from the dead," a hoarse voice broke the silence. Powder turned abruptly. Babette. The old woman was almost identical to the one she had known, but more worn by time. A cigarette hung from her lips, releasing a purple smoke with a sharp scent.
"Babette? What... what happened here?" Powder asked, her voice trembling. The old woman squinted.
"Funny question. I think you're the one who blew up that bar. Silco's, at least. It's been about three years now."
"Me?" Powder was speechless. The information seemed so absurd she didn't know how to process it.
Babette raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing here, Jinx?"
Jinx. That name again.
"Powder," she corrected.
Babette's eyes widened for a moment before narrowing, suspicious. She turned her head, as if trying to examine her more closely.
"I'm Powder. Not Jinx. And I'm looking for my sister. Where is she?"
Babette grabbed her hand without answering and led her along. The old woman moved slowly, each step marked by a certain difficulty, but Powder said nothing and simply followed her.
As they crossed the bridge toward Piltover, a thought crossed Powder's mind: was Babette going to turn her in to the police? But that idea seemed absurd. Babette wasn't that kind of person. They had known each other forever. Babette had seen her grow up, face the trials that had shaped her into the person she was. No, she had a reason for taking her where they were going.
When they arrived in front of a majestic golden gate, it took Powder a few seconds to understand where she was.
"The councilor Kiramman? Wait... I think you've misunderstood. I'm looking for my sister—" Babette cut her off, her tone firm but kind.
"Your answers are here. Greet her for me, my child. It's good to see you again."
With those words, she turned on her heels and walked away, limping on her tired legs, gradually disappearing into the daylight.
Powder stood there, hesitating, mentally counting the seconds. Exactly 2 minutes and 31 seconds later, the door opened.
A young woman stood in the doorway. Her long, deep blue hair framed a face marked by an eye patch covering her left socket. Powder recognized her immediately: Caitlyn Kiramman, the councilor's daughter.
"Uh... hello... I'm looking for someone. I was... advised to come here..." Powder stammered, uncomfortable.
This was the first time she had met Caitlyn, but the young woman's expression made it feel the opposite. Caitlyn was staring at her with unsettling intensity, as if she already knew her... or rather, knew another version of her.
"Oh, shit," Caitlyn whispered, breaking the silence.
A crash echoed in the room, making both women jump.
Vi stood in the center of the room, a pile of books scattered at her feet.
"Jinx?" she murmured hesitantly, as if the name had burned her lips.
Oh here we go agaaaaaaaaain ! My addiction doesn't have an end. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I look forward to your feedback!