When I met Miss Kiramman, the weight of my decision hit me all over again. She led me through the corridors, her sharp heels clicking against the stone floor like a countdown to the end of something—everything I knew, everything I cared about. The sound echoed around us, stark and unrelenting, each step a reminder of what I was giving up.
Vi walked a few paces behind me, her presence a storm barely contained. Her fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles shone white under the flickering lamplight, and her jaw was set in a hard line, her teeth grinding audibly. The air between us was tense, filled with unspoken words, her anger simmering just beneath the surface.
The guards flanked us on either side, their boots thudding against the ground in rhythmic unison. Their faces were masks of indifference, their eyes sharp and watchful, making it clear that neither of us had any room to step out of line. One of them glanced at Vi with a subtle sneer, and my stomach churned. If she so much as twitched wrong, they wouldn't hesitate to act.
I tried to focus on my breathing, to quiet the storm raging inside me. But the air felt heavy, thick with the acrid tang of oil and the metallic bite of rust. It clung to my skin, suffocating and oppressive, matching the weight pressing down on my chest.
I stopped and turned toward her, my heart already cracking at the edges. Her gaze flicked to mine, confusion swimming there. "What—" she started, but I didn't let her finish.
I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her tightly against me, not caring if it crushed the breath from both of us. For a second, she didn't react—she never took comfort easily, even when she needed it most. But as I buried my face in her hair, murmuring something incoherent, her body shifted, and she gave in. Her arms came around me, strong and warm, grounding. Home.
But then, something changed.
Her breathing hitched, and her entire body tensed, like the pieces she'd been avoiding were finally clicking into place. Slowly, she stiffened in my arms, and when she pulled back, I didn't let her. Not yet.
"No," she whispered, her voice cracking like glass under pressure. "No, you can't—" Her words broke entirely, and she choked on the sob clawing its way free. "You can't do this."
I loosened my grip just enough to meet her eyes, those familiar blue eyes that had seen so much pain already. They were wide, wild, shimmering with tears she'd refused to shed for years. Now they spilled over, silent and devastating.
"You're wrong," I said softly, my voice trembling. It was almost impossible to force the words out.
Her head shook violently, and her hands twisted in my shirt, fisting the fabric so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "You don't get it," she rasped, her voice cracking with anguish. "You don't get to decide this for me! You don't get to leave me—not like this!"
Her words broke something in me, but I forced myself to hold steady, cupping her face with trembling hands. My thumb brushed her cheek, and the warmth of her skin made my tears spill over.
"Vi," I murmured, my voice breaking like hers. "It's already done. There's no turning back."
Her eyes widened, her pupils blown with panic and pain. Then came the anger. It hit hard and fast, like a lightning strike that left my chest hollow.
"Don't!" she snapped, her voice rising with fury she could barely contain. "You don't have to do this! You don't have to—damn it!" Her fists slammed against my chest, each hit weaker than the last, though her rage never faltered.
"Of course, I do," I whispered, my tears falling freely now. "You're my Vi. My angry, stubborn, impossible Vi. How could I do anything else?"
Her breath caught, and her voice was shredded as she screamed, "Stop saying that! You don't get to be a martyr! Not for me! Not for me!"
Her fists were trembling now, barely making contact as she thumped weakly against me. I caught her hands, holding them steady as she sagged against me, her sobs ripping through the air.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, resting my forehead against hers. "I'm so, so sorry."
Her knees buckled, and I held her up, even as my own legs threatened to give way. "Don't do this to me," she gasped, her voice raw, desperate. "Don't leave me. You said you were with us so stay with us, don't do this for me!"
Her words tore through me, sharper than any blade. "I know," I whispered. "I know I did." My voice broke, and I couldn't go on.
The officers stepped forward, their shadows falling over us like an executioner's axe.
"Vi," I said quietly, even as my heart shattered. "Let them take you. Please. Go back to Zaun."
"No!" she screamed, wrenching away from me as they grabbed her arms. "You don't get to do this! Get off me!"
She fought them with everything she had, kicking and thrashing as they dragged her toward the exit. "You're not doing this! I'll fix it—I'll make it right, I swear! I swear!" Her voice cracked, raw and broken, and I bit back a sob that would have destroyed me completely.
I took a trembling step back, swallowing the grief that threatened to choke me. "Take her," I croaked to the officers. "Just—please. Get her out of here."
Her cries hit me like a tidal wave, her voice shredding every last piece of me as she screamed, "Don't leave me!"
I turned away, unable to face her as they dragged me toward the cold steel of the lab. My wrists burned as the restraints clicked into place, their metallic chill sinking into my skin. I stole one last glance over my shoulder.
She was still fighting, still screaming, her voice hoarse and ragged. But her eyes found mine, blazing with a mixture of fury and heartbreak that would haunt me forever.
I smiled, though it was broken and hollow, a last, desperate attempt to give her something to hold on to. "Take care of them, Vi," I mouthed, the words soundless but real.
Vi
The Enforcers barely flinched as Vi thrashed against their grip, her boots scraping against the slick metal floor of the lift. The dim hum of machinery filled the air as they descended deeper into Zaun, but it did nothing to drown out the fury boiling inside her.
"Get your hands off me!" Vi spat, twisting violently. The sharp, unforgiving grip of the Enforcers only tightened, their gauntlets biting into her arms like iron shackles.
"Calm down, girl," one of them growled, his voice grating and dismissive.
"Calm down?" Vi snarled, her voice laced with venom. Her muscles tensed, her arms jerking to test the limits of their hold. "You think you can just drag me down here like some criminal? Screw you!"
Her words were a roar in the confined space, reverberating off the walls as the lift creaked downward. Each passing second, each jolt closer to Zaun, felt like chains tightening around her chest.
They didn't care. They never did.
Vi's mind raced, a whirlwind of rage and helplessness. The raw memory of Grace's tear-streaked face stabbed at her like a dagger. Grace's voice echoed in her head, soft but unyielding.
The bile rose in her throat. Grace's sacrifice, her decision, felt like poison in Vi's veins.
She wasn't supposed to leave. Not like this.
"You're all cowards!" Vi shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of her anger. She pulled harder, her shoulder straining painfully against the Enforcer's unrelenting grip. "You think locking me down here is gonna change anything? Huh? I'll find her! I'll drag her back!"
The Enforcers didn't respond. Their silence only fueled the fire.
The lift jolted to a stop, and the doors hissed open. A wave of thick, acrid air hit her immediately—Zaun's familiar, suffocating cocktail of oil, smog, and despair. The harsh glow of green and yellow lights illuminated the crumbling buildings and twisting walkways below.
"Welcome home," one Enforcer muttered dryly, shoving her forward.
Vi stumbled but caught herself, spinning around to glare at them. Her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms, leaving crescents that burned like fire. "Don't think for a second this is over," she growled, her voice low and dangerous.
"Move," another barked, stepping toward her.
Vi's jaw tightened, but she obeyed, her legs carrying her down the rickety path toward the Last Drop. Each step was a battle not to turn back and throw herself at the Enforcers, fists swinging, consequences be damned. But she couldn't fight them here. Not yet.
The streets of Zaun were alive, but not in a way that felt comforting. Figures loitered in the shadows, their gazes sharp and predatory. Machinery groaned in the distance, the sound almost drowning out the muffled laughter and curses spilling from the Last Drop's entrance.
Vi stopped short, her eyes fixed on the bar. A lump formed in her throat as memories surged forward unbidden—Grace's wry smile, the warmth of her arm slung casually over Vi's shoulder, the stupid plans they always made in this very place.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
Anger surged again, fresh and hot. She marched toward the door, shoving it open with a force that made it slam against the wall.
Inside, the familiar haze of smoke and neon lights greeted her. Vander was at the bar, his broad shoulders tense as he cleaned a glass. He looked up as she stormed in, his expression hardening the moment he saw the Enforcers trailing behind her.
"Let her go," Vander said, his voice a low rumble that brooked no argument.
The Enforcers hesitated, their grips loosening just enough for Vi to wrench herself free. She staggered forward, her chest heaving, and turned to glare at them, her blue eyes blazing with defiance.
"You better run," she hissed, her voice shaking with fury.
One of them smirked, stepping closer. "You think you're tough, kid? You'll learn soon enough."
Before Vi could lunge at him, Vander was there, his hand a firm, steadying weight on her shoulder. "That's enough," he said, his tone quiet but commanding.
Vi shrugged him off, her breathing ragged, her fists trembling with the need to hit something—anything. She glared at the Enforcers until they finally turned and left, their boots echoing in the silence they left behind.
"You can't keep doing this," Vander said softly, his voice heavy with concern.
Vi didn't answer. She couldn't. Her vision blurred, the weight of everything crashing down on her at once. She stormed past him, heading for the back room, her mind consumed with one thought:
I'll fix this. Somehow.
Grace
I let them lead me through the winding streets, my feet dragging with every step. The cold metal cuffs they locked around my wrists were a constant reminder of the decision I had made.
When we arrived at the labs, they shoved me into a sterile, white-walled room that smelled of chemicals and metal. I couldn't breathe, the air thick with the weight of everything I was about to lose. My whole life had led me here, to this moment where I would be nothing more than a tool—another cog in Piltover's machine. My heart was heavy, but there was a part of me that couldn't help but feel relief. I had fixed it. Vander was alive. Vi wasn't in prison. Powder wasn't Jinx.
I had sacrificed everything, but it was worth it. The world I knew had shifted, and in my own way, I had made things right.
Jayce was waiting for me in the lab, standing stiffly near one of the workbenches. His expression was unreadable at first, but as I stepped further inside, I saw it—the excitement in his eyes, tinged with something quieter, heavier. Guilt.
"I didn't know if you'd actually…" He trailed off, his voice faltering as his gaze flicked to the restraints on my wrists. The dull, cold metal anchored me to this place as much as the decision that brought me here.
"I'm here," I said simply, my tone steady but hollow. "Let's just get to work."
Jayce flinched, his excitement dimming for a moment. "I—I just want to say…" He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I'm sorry it came to this. You didn't deserve—"
"Stop." My voice was calm but firm, cutting through his apology. "This was my choice."
From the shadows near the corner of the room, Viktor spoke, his voice low and edged with unease. "Choice? With cuffs like those?" His sharp gaze flicked to the restraints, his disapproval clear. "This does not look like freedom."
I turned toward him, meeting his questioning eyes. His face was shadowed with concern, his frame more rigid than usual as he leaned on his cane. The glow of the hextech core illuminated the deep lines on his face, making his discontent impossible to ignore.
"This isn't about freedom," I said, my voice quieter now. "It's about her freedom. It's about Vi."
Viktor's lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers tightening on the handle of his cane. "Even so, this arrangement is… distasteful." His accent thickened with his frustration. "Brilliance should not be chained."
Jayce shot him a sharp look. "Viktor—"
"He's right," I interrupted. "But it doesn't matter." My hands curled into fists against the cold steel. "I'm not here because I want to be. I'm here because she needed me to be."
Jayce opened his mouth to argue but faltered, the words caught in his throat. His shoulders sagged, and he let out a heavy sigh. "You shouldn't have had to make that choice," he said quietly. "I hate that it came to this, but… I'm glad you're here. We need you. I need you."
I scoffed softly, shaking my head. "You don't need me, Jayce. You need a tool, and now you've got one. Congratulations."
The bitterness in my voice made him wince, but I didn't care. I wasn't ready to let him off the hook.
A soft whirring sound cut through the tension, and I turned to see Doc, my little drone, hovering toward me. His small frame bobbed slightly in the air, his mechanical arms clutching a crumpled tissue. He beeped softly, a plaintive sound, as he extended the tissue toward me.
I hadn't even realized I was crying.
The first tear hit my wrist, sliding over the cold metal of the restraints. Then another, and another, until I was silently sobbing, the weight of everything crashing down at once.
Doc hovered closer, his small frame tilting as if in sympathy. I took the tissue with a trembling hand, offering him a faint, watery smile. "Thanks, Doc," I murmured.
Jayce took a hesitant step forward, but Viktor held up a hand, stopping him. "Give her a moment," he said firmly, his voice softer now.
The silence stretched, broken only by the low hum of the hextech core and the occasional soft beep from Doc. I wiped my tears, my hands shaking, as I tried to pull myself back together.
"You don't have to stay here like this," Viktor said after a long pause. His tone was gentle but insistent. "There must be another way."
"There isn't," I replied, my voice steadier now. I turned back to the workbench, brushing a hand along its cold surface. "This is how I protect her. This is how I make sure she's free."
Jayce stepped closer, his expression a mix of guilt and determination. "Then I swear, I won't waste this," he said, his voice firm despite the sadness in his eyes. "If you're going to be stuck here because of me—because of this—then I'll make it worth something. I promise."
I gave him a hollow laugh, shaking my head. "Big words, Jayce. Let's see if you can back them up."
Viktor's gaze lingered on the restraints for a moment longer before he turned toward the workbench. "If you insist on being here, then I will not let them treat you like a prisoner," he said, his tone clipped. "We will find a way to make this bearable. Together."
The sincerity in both their voices caught me off guard. For a moment, I simply stood there, staring at the two of them. Then I nodded, my resolve hardening once more.
"This isn't about me," I said softly. "It's about doing what needs to be done." My fingers curled against the edge of the table, the steel grounding me again. "And if it keeps her out of there, then it's worth it."
Neither of them argued. Jayce nodded solemnly, and Viktor looked away, his jaw tight.
The doors behind me closed with a heavy thud, the sound reverberating through the room like a final verdict. This lab, this work—it was my prison now. But it was also my choice. And for Vi, for her freedom, it was a choice I'd make again.
Even as Doc beeped softly beside me, offering another tissue, I stood by it.
Vi
The room froze. Vander, Sevika, Powder, her mom, and even Ekko—all of them stopped whatever they were doing to stare at her.
Vander was the first to speak. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low and steady, though his eyes betrayed the urgency bubbling beneath.
Vi didn't answer right away. She couldn't. Her jaw clenched so tight it felt like her teeth might crack. She paced to the center of the room, her fists curling and uncurling. When she finally stopped, her gaze swept over all of them, wild and broken. Her voice cracked as she said, "They took her."
The room went dead silent, the weight of her words suffocating.
Her mom stepped forward, her hand clutching her chest. "Who?" she whispered, though her voice trembled as if she already knew.
"Grace." Vi spat the name like it burned her tongue. Her knees wobbled, but she stayed standing, the weight of her words pressing down on her. "She... she gave herself up."
Powder flinched like she'd been struck. Sevika swore under her breath, and Vander's expression hardened, his jaw tightening.
"What?" Sevika's voice was sharp, a razor slicing through the tension in the room. "What the hell do you mean, gave herself up?"
Vi's chest hitched, her breath escaping in ragged gasps as tears welled in her eyes. "The Enforcers had me," she began, her voice hoarse. "After Milo and Claggor… after they…" Her voice broke, and she pressed a fist against her mouth, struggling to continue. "I didn't care anymore. I was ready to let them take me. But Grace—" Her voice cracked, and she looked down, tears slipping free. "She came with that fancy woman. She walked me out, and when she hugged me, I… I knew."
"How?" Vander asked, his voice unnervingly calm, but his fists were clenched at his sides.
Vi's head snapped up, her red-rimmed eyes locking onto him. "She made a deal," she said, her voice shaking. "She traded herself for me."
Powder let out a strangled sob, her small frame trembling as she curled into herself on the chair. "No," she whimpered, shaking her head. "She wouldn't… She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't just—"
"She did!" Vi shouted, her voice raw with anguish. "She did! She made sure they'd let me go, and they took her instead!"
Her mom staggered back, her hands covering her mouth as tears spilled down her face. "My baby… my baby girl…" she choked, her knees buckling. Vander caught her before she fell, his own face stricken.
Sevika slammed her fist onto the bar, the loud crack making Powder jump. "That's insane!" she snarled. "Why the hell would she—"
"Because she thought I was worth saving!" Vi roared, her voice breaking. She gestured wildly to herself, her chest heaving. "She thought I could do more good here than rotting in Stillwater. But she was wrong!" Her voice dropped to a whisper, thick with self-loathing. "She was so wrong."
"Don't say that," Vander said firmly, his voice cutting through her despair as he stepped forward. "This isn't on you, Vi."
"Yes, it is!" Vi snapped, her eyes blazing as tears poured down her cheeks. "If I hadn't been so stupid—if I'd just listened to you, or Grace, or anyone—Milo and Claggor wouldn't be dead! Grace wouldn't have to…" She trailed off, her voice dissolving into a broken sob as she crumpled to her knees.
Powder wailed from the corner, her cries high-pitched and heart-wrenching as she buried her face in her hands. "Why didn't she stay?" she cried, rocking back and forth. "Why didn't she stay with us?"
Vi, still on her knees, looked up with hollow eyes. "Because she knew they wouldn't let me go," she whispered. "She made sure they had no reason to keep me."
Ekko's voice broke through the sobs and silence, soft but heavy with emotion. "Grace always said we were family," he said, his young face streaked with tears. "She… she did what she thought family was supposed to do."
"But she's gone!" Powder shrieked, her small fists pounding against her knees. "She's gone, and we can't get her back!"
Sevika growled low, her rage barely contained. "We can't just leave her there," she said, her voice shaking with anger. "We have to do something."
"And what do you suggest?" Vander asked, his voice heavy with sorrow but edged with warning. "Storm Piltover? Fight our way into their damn labs?"
"Maybe," Sevika snapped, her voice rising. "Better than sitting here doing nothing!"
"Enough!" Vi's shout cut through the chaos. She staggered to her feet, her entire body trembling. "I'll fix this. I'll bring her back."
Her mom stepped toward her, her face pale and soaked with tears. She reached out, cupping Vi's face with trembling hands. "You're all I have left," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I've already lost Grace. I can't lose you too."
Vi's lips trembled, her resolve wavering under her mother's touch. But she pulled back, her jaw hardening. "I can't just sit here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She turned to Vander, her eyes filled with a desperate fire. "We have to plan. If there's even a chance we can—"
"There's always a chance," Vander interrupted, his voice low and certain.
The room fell silent again, the weight of Grace's absence pressing down on them all like a suffocating fog.
Vi wiped at her tear-streaked face, her voice trembling as she made her vow. "I'll bring her home. I swear it."
No one doubted her, but the question lingered in the air, unspoken but heavy: Would Grace still be Grace by the time they got to her?
(Hello all, I hope I did this chapter justice, and I hope it was tearfully good, thank you all again for your support, and im looking forward to share the rest.)