: BITE MARKS - League of legends, TEYA

Lux stood in the middle of the room, shadows shifting around her like living ink, twisting and curling as if they were watching. The air felt heavy, clinging to her skin, and faint laughter echoed somewhere in the distance—familiar but warped, like a memory playing on a broken record. She turned slowly, her steps weightless, almost unnatural, as though gravity had let go of her.

Without warning, the scene around her shifted. One moment, she was alone; the next, she was in the middle of a crowded party. The lights pulsed, bathing the room in alternating flashes of neon, the bass vibrating in her chest. Faces drifted past her, blurred and distorted, like watercolors bleeding together—students she recognized but couldn't quite place.

Then she saw them. Caitlyn and Vi. Their figures were painfully sharp in the haze, standing out as if the rest of the world had faded into the background. Caitlyn's face was a storm of anger, her mouth moving, but the words were muffled and garbled, like they were trapped underwater. Beside her, Vi stood rigid, her fists clenched, her expression colder than Lux had ever seen. They were looking at her.

No, through her.

The heaviness of their gaze pressed down on her, and suddenly it was hard to breathe.

"I didn't—" Lux tried to say, her voice trembling, barely audible over the pounding bass. Her words tripping over themselves as she struggled to speak.

"You did this, Lux," a voice hissed, sharp and serpentine.

Lux spun around to see Katarina emerging from the shadows, her smirk razor-sharp, her eyes glinting with something cruel. "All of this? It's your mess," Katarina sneered, her voice dripping with mockery.

"No…" Lux whispered, shaking her head, her chest tightening as panic set in. "No! I didn't mean to—"

The world around her shattered. The room splintered like glass, fragments of light and sound tumbling into darkness. Lux recoiled instinctively, her arms flying up to protect her face as the sound of splintering glass rang in her ears. The laughter grew louder, harsher, biting at her skin like icy wind. Caitlyn and Vi turned their backs on her, their silhouettes receding into the void. Lux reached out, desperate, but her fingers passed through the air like smoke.

"Katarina, wait—" she choked, spinning back toward where Katarina had stood. But she was gone, and the shadows rushed forward, swallowing Lux whole.

And then, through the oppressive darkness, another figure emerged.

"Lux."

The sound of her brother's voice froze her in place. Garen stepped forward, his broad frame illuminated by an unseen light, his face etched with an expression Lux had never seen before—not anger, not fury, but something far worse. Disappointment. Her stomach twisted painfully as he stared at her, his jaw tight, his blue eyes heavy with the weight of his words before he even spoke them.

"Do you realize what you've done?"

"No!" Lux whispered, shaking her head violently. "Garen, I didn't—!"

Mocking laughter echoed around her, growing louder and sharper, until it seemed to come from every direction at once. The sound surrounded her, pressing in on her like a suffocating fog. Lux spun in place, desperate to find the source, but all she saw were shadows—faceless figures shifting and swaying, their distorted shapes leaning closer as their laughter turned into whispers. Invisible hands suddenly closed around her throat. Lux clawed at her neck, gasping for air, but the grip tightened, the unseen force pressing down harder. The whispers morphed into harsher accusations, each word a dagger slicing into her mind.

"You did this."
"This is your fault."
"Everything you touch falls apart."

Lux's vision blurred as she stumbled backward, her hands trembling as she fought against the choking grip. And then, from the shadows, a glint of movement caught her eye. Ginger hair, curling and vivid, emerged from the void…

Lux jolted awake, gasping for air like she'd been dragged from the depths of a dark, endless sea. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, each beat echoing in her ears as her chest rose and fell in uneven, desperate breaths. The dream clung to her, sticky and suffocating, its jagged images flickering behind her eyes every time she blinked—faces twisted in anger, voices distorted with betrayal. She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, her skin damp with sweat. Her mind scrambled to piece together what she'd just seen. How fucking real they felt. Her pulse quickened, her hands curling into the sheets and closed her eyes, but that only made everything felt worse.

"It's just a dream," Lux muttered to herself, though her voice sounded hollow in the quiet of her room. "Just a dream." She repeated it under her breath like a mantra. But it felt ominous. A chill ran down her spine. Something bad is going to happen.

Lux's hands trembled as she dragged them down her face, her fingers brushing against the damp sweat on her cheeks. She sucked in a breath through her nose, willing herself to calm down, but the uneasy weight in her chest refused to lift. The faint vibration of her phone on the nightstand pulled her attention, grounding her back to reality. With a shaky exhale, she reached for it, the bright screen casting an eerie glow in the dim room. Her notifications were a mess—messages, alerts, and HexGram updates flooding her screen. Lux scrolled absently, her mind still clouded by the dream, until her thumb hovered over one message pinned at the top of her inbox.

K: You're going to love this.

Lux's stomach twisted, dread prickling at the back of her neck. Her thumb hesitated before opening the message, the same unease from her dream creeping back into her chest. Katarina's text contained only a single link. HexGram. She clicked it. The app opened in a rush of flashing comments and rapid likes, the video autoplaying without warning. Lux froze as the video finished playing. Her fingers tightened around the phone, her earlier fear morphing into something else—guilt? satisfaction? and a gnawing unease all at once. She closed the app with a sharp flick, throwing the phone onto the bed beside her.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly as the dream's echoes mingled with the stark reality of what she'd just seen. She sat there, motionless, oh fuck me.

-୨ ୧-

: Carousel - Melanie Martinez

The grand party room was a disaster. Empty bottles and crushed cups littered the floor, sticky with spilled drinks that hadn't dried overnight. The air was thick with the stale smell of alcohol and sweat, and a faint bassline still thrummed from a forgotten speaker in the corner. A few students were sprawled on couches or slumped against walls, passed out in various states of disarray. It was chaos, but Caitlyn barely noticed.

She stormed into the room, her flats clicking sharply against the marble floor. Her eyes swept over the scene, scanning for familiar faces amidst the mess. Her jaw clenched as she took in the state of the place. It wasn't just the mess; it was the thought that this entire debacle was tied to her now. The video. The fallout. The embarrassment. She could fucking hear her mother practically cocking a rifle, just to shoot her in the head. Caitlyn had purposefully switched off her phone before coming here—her mother's calls, her insistent secretary Edmund's messages, and the endless stream of emails demanding she come straight home to be locked away in the Kiramman basement were more than she could bear right now.

"Where are they?" she muttered under her breath, her frustration simmering dangerously close to boiling over.

Caitlyn's gaze finally landed on a cluster of bodies sprawled across a pair of oversized sofas. Samantha, Loris, and Seraphine were among them, tangled in a heap of limbs and discarded throw pillows. Samantha's head lolled back, a wine glass still loosely clutched in her hand, while Loris was half-buried under an old quilt, his mouth slightly open as he snored softly. Seraphine had one arm draped dramatically over her face, her pink hair fanned out over the couch cushions like a halo gone wrong. If anyone didn't know any better, anybody might have thought the three had just wrapped up organizing a truly chaotic orgy—and were now utterly spent from their hard work. Caitlyn didn't hesitate. She marched over, grabbed a nearby pillow, and smacked it hard against the armrest of the couch. The thwack echoed through the room, startling Samantha awake.

"What the fuck, Cait?!" Samantha groaned, squinting against the light that spilled in through the massive windows. She rubbed her temple, her voice thick with sleep.

"You need to get up. All of you," Caitlyn said firmly, her hands on her hips.

As if on cue, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Caitlyn barely had time to turn before Vi appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath. Her white spaghetti-strap tank top clung to her, and her loose gray sweatpants hung low on her hips, swaying with each step.

"Cait—wait up—what the hell are you—" Vi froze mid-sentence, her blue eyes widening as she took in the scene.

The room hit her like a gut punch. The overwhelming smell of stale booze. The broken furniture. The students sprawled out like wreckage from a hurricane. "Fuck," Vi muttered, running a hand through her messy hair as she stepped further into the room. "What the hell happened last night?"

"This," Caitlyn snapped, spinning back toward her, "is what I'm trying to figure out."

Vi took a slow, deliberate look at the trio on the couch, her lips twitching into the faintest smirk despite the tension in the air. "Looks like they partied hard. Real hard."

"Vi, I'm serious," Caitlyn said sharply, her voice slicing through the room like a blade.

Vi raised her hands in mock surrender, her expression sobering. "Alright, alright. What's the plan, Cupcake?"

Caitlyn ignored the nickname, turning back to Samantha, Loris, and Seraphine, her patience hanging by a thread. "Get up. Now. I need answers, and I need them fast."

-୨ ୧-

Yunarin stood in the bathroom, her damp hair clinging to her neck as the towel around her shoulders soaked up what it could. The towel draped over her shoulders was forgotten in her hands, her slow, absent motions of drying her damp hair almost mechanical. She stared at the foggy mirror, the blurred reflection doing little to jog up her memory about last night's party.

She didn't drink much—she hardly ever did. She knows she is a lightweight, and it didn't take much to tip her into a haze. Last night, it had only been a glass of what, she can't even remember what she drank, maybe three glasses. Five, at most, she thought uneasily, but even that felt like a stretch. So why was everything so fragmented?

She remembered wandering through the house, her pulse thrumming with a heady mix of alcohol and adrenaline. She had been looking for Riven, and when she found her, Riven was standing at a balcony slightly removed from the chaos, leaning against the railing, looking so sombre it stirred something. The way she'd looked at Yuna when their eyes met… it was like she could see straight through her.

And before she could think, before she could stop herself, she'd crossed the distance between them.

The memory hit Yuna like ice water down her spine, her hands stilling mid-motion, the towel sagging against her shoulders. She could taste it again—whiskey, mixed with the heat of Riven's breath and the press of her lips. Her skin prickled at the ghost of Riven's touch, the way her hands had clung to her waist like letting go wasn't an option. But anything after that memory, it was all a blur.

None of it made sense. Were they… drugged? Could it even be possible…?

Yuna shook her head, trying to dispel the spiraling thoughts. She draped the towel over the edge of the sink and grabbed the silk robe she'd discarded earlier, slipping it back on and tying the sash with trembling hands. Steeling herself, Yuna pushed open the bathroom door and stepped back into the room. The morning light still poured softly through the windows, highlighting the rumpled bed and discarded clothing.

"I'm sorry I took so long," she started to say, her voice quiet but steady, but the words caught in her throat when she realized she was speaking to an empty room. Riven was gone.

Yuna blinked, her gaze darting around as if Riven might suddenly reappear from the shadows. The turtleneck was gone, along with her blazer, and the faint indentation on the bed where Riven had sat was already fading. A strange mix of confusion and disappointment settled over her. "Where did she go?" Yuna whispered to herself, the silence of the room offering no answers.

-୨ ୧-

: Cradles - Sub Urban

Samantha groaned again, rolling onto her side as if the weight of Caitlyn's voice alone was enough to crush her. "Alright, alright, I'm up," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the couch cushions. She blinked groggily, shielding her eyes from the unforgiving sunlight streaming through the windows. "What's so important that you're—ugh—yelling at this god-awful hour?"

Caitlyn's jaw tightened. "Because, Samantha," she said through gritted teeth, "your god-awful party might have just destroyed my life. Now, get your ass up and start talking."

At that, Loris stirred, his head popping out from under the quilt like a bleary-eyed mole. "Wait, what? What happened?" His words slurred as he rubbed his face, looking thoroughly confused.

Seraphine groaned from her corner, sitting up slowly with a dramatic stretch. "Can you keep it down, Cait? My head is killing me." She paused, squinting at Caitlyn's furious expression, then at Vi standing awkwardly in the doorway. "What's going on?"

Caitlyn took a deep breath, fighting the urge to scream. "A video from last night's disaster of a party is circulating on HexGram. My face is all over it. Vi's face is all over it. And if you don't start giving me answers right now, it won't just be the hangover you'll have to deal with."

That got their attention.

Samantha sat up straight, her face paling as realization set in. "Wait—what kind of video?"

"The kind that's got Piltover's vultures circling already," Vi said, her jaw tightening. "Cait and I are the headline, and it's spreading faster than we can stop it."

Loris blinked, his brow furrowing as he tried to process. "Doing what?"

"Dancing," Caitlyn snapped. "And not the kind you can brush off as friendly."

Seraphine's eyes widened, and she let out a low whistle. "Oh, shit."

"Yeah, shit," Caitlyn echoed bitterly. "Now, who at this party had access to their phones? Did anyone seem sketchy? Was anyone acting out of place?"

The three exchanged uncertain glances, their grogginess melting into unease. Samantha was the first to speak. "Cait, there were a lot of people here. Half the campus, probably. We can't exactly vet every single person."

Riven's stood at the entrance of the grand room, hands deep in her pockets, her piercing green eyes scanning the disheveled group, her voice cut through the tense silence. "Do any of you even remember anything after a few drinks last night?" Everyone turned to look at her, their faces ranging from startled to wary. Samantha blinked, sitting up straighter on the couch. Riven's gaze didn't waver. "There's a lot of blanks in my head this morning, and I'm guessing I'm not the only one."

Seraphine frowned, her fingers brushing through her pink hair. "I mean… I had a lot to drink, but that's normal, right? Parties get messy."

Riven arched a brow. "Messy is one thing. Missing chunks of time is another."

Samantha shifted uncomfortably, exchanging a glance with Loris. "I—uh, yeah, I guess I don't really remember much past… what, midnight? Maybe one?"

Caitlyn's sharp gaze flicked between them, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "You're saying this wasn't just alcohol? Are you implying—"

"I'm saying," Riven interrupted, her voice low but firm, "that something about last night doesn't add up. For anyone."

Loris leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What are you getting at?"

Riven tilted her head, her green eyes narrowing slightly. "You're telling me none of you felt off? Like, more out of it than usual? Not just drunk—fuzzy." She glanced around the room, letting the weight of her words settle. "Think hard. What do you actually remember?"

The silence that followed was heavy. Seraphine's brows knitted together as she hugged her knees to her chest. "I mean… now that you mention it, I did feel kind of weird. Like I was floating. But I just thought it was the drinks."

Samantha looked uneasy, biting her lip as her fingers fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "Okay, yeah. Same. I thought I just went too hard too fast."

Caitlyn stiffened, her jaw tightening as her mind raced. "Are you saying someone spiked the drinks?"

Riven shrugged one shoulder, her expression unreadable. "I'm saying it's worth considering." She stepped further into the room, her shoes scuffing lightly against the floor. "Because if that's what happened, then this whole thing—" she gestured vaguely toward Caitlyn, "—isn't just some drunk idiot with a phone. It's deliberate." Her gaze swept over the room, taking in the sprawled bodies and disheveled chaos. "And it's definitely not any of them," she added, nodding toward the mess of drunken students—one even letting out a low moan. "Look at them—half of them can barely hold their heads up, let alone a phone steady. They look more likely to lose their phones in the bathroom than record anything coherent."

Vi pushed off the wall where she'd been leaning, her expression hardening as she stepped forward. "Deliberate?" she echoed, her voice low and tense, cutting through the thick silence in the room. "Someone planned all this? Spiked the drinks, set up the video, and waited for the perfect moment to blow it all up?"

Riven tilted her head, her green eyes reduced to slits as she locked gazes with Vi. "It's not impossible. Think about it. Everyone here has gaps in their memory, and the video just conveniently shows up on HexGram, perfectly edited and timed to make Caitlyn and yourself look bad? I find it hard to believe it was unplanned, don't you agree."

Vi let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through her messy hair, her jaw tightening as she muttered, "Son of a bitch." She turned to Caitlyn, the anger still simmering but giving way to something sharper, more protective. "If that's true, then someone's been gunning for us from the start."

Caitlyn frowned, her brows knitting together as she crossed her arms. "I didn't forget anything," she said, her voice steady, though her eyes carried a hint of uncertainty. She looked directly at Vi. "We left the party early. Remember? We didn't stay long enough for… whatever this is to happen to us."

Vi tilted her head, her expression hardening as she studied Caitlyn. "Yeah, we left early," she said, her voice low with frustration. "But that doesn't mean we're in the clear. Whoever's behind this didn't need us to stick around—they just needed enough to twist things their way." Caitlyn's brow furrowed deeper, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the possibilities. Fragments of the night flickered in her memory, disjointed but insistent, like pieces of a puzzle that didn't quite fit yet. Her lips parted slightly, as if on the verge of saying something, but she stopped herself.

Seraphine raised her hand hesitantly from her spot on the couch, her voice soft but piercing through the heavy silence. "I hate to bring this up, but… if someone really spiked the drinks and planned all of this, it's not just about one video." She paused, her wide eyes darting around the room as if searching for reassurance before continuing, her tone quiet but carrying a weight of seriousness. "Think about it—if they went as far as spiking drinks, they weren't just here for a quick laugh or one clip. What if they got more?"

Her fingers fidgeted nervously in her lap, and she bit her lip before adding, her voice trembling slightly, "Or worse—what if some people were so out of it, they don't even remember what they said or did… or who was watching? This might not just be about Caitlyn and Vi. What if—what if whoever's behind this is planning to blackmail all of us?" Her innocent delivery only making the gravity of the suggestion hit harder.

The room fell silent. Samantha, who had been lounging half-heartedly, suddenly shot up, her face a mix of anger and disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she snapped, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Loris flinched at the outburst, but Samantha wasn't done. She paced in front of the couch, her hands gesturing wildly. "Someone spikes the drinks at my party? And then uses it to pull this kind of shit? Are you telling me I invited people into my house and some psycho turns it into their goddamn playground for blackmail?" Her voice rose with every word, her fury spilling out in waves. "No, no, no. This doesn't happen. Not here. Not to us. Whoever did this is going to pay. I don't care if I have to drag every single guest back here one by one and interrogate them myself."

Loris held up his hands as if to calm her. "Samantha, take a breath—"

"Don't you dare tell me to take a breath!" she shouted, whirling on him. "Someone violated my space, our space. They put all of us at risk. And for what? Some twisted game?!"

Meanwhile, Riven moved toward the bar, her eyes scanning the mess of bottles and glasses left abandoned from the night before. She picked up a half-empty whiskey bottle, tilting it under the light. The liquid appeared perfectly clear—no unusual sediment, no strange smell. It was exactly what she expected. Whoever was behind this wasn't going to make amateur mistakes. Setting the bottle back down with a faint clink, Riven straightened and turned her attention to the heated exchange behind her. Samantha's shouting echoed through the room, raw and furious, cutting through the thick tension.

"Samantha," Riven drawled, her tone venomously laced with boredom. "Screaming won't get us anywhere."

Samantha spun toward her, and started scowling. "Oh, and what are you doing? Just standing there with your holier-than-thou attitude, like this doesn't affect you too?"

Riven barely raised an eyebrow, her expression unchanging as she leaned lazily against the bar. "I'm doing the part where I think instead of screeching like a banshee," she replied, her voice flat. "But by all means, keep yelling. It's super helpful." She gestured vaguely to the mess around them. "If someone spiked the drinks, they didn't leave anything obvious behind. That much is clear."

Before Samantha could fire back, Caitlyn cut in, her tone sharp and decisive. "Riven's right about one thing—shouting won't fix this." She turned to Riven, her voice steady but urgent. "Do you know anyone who could check for evidence of drugs in the bottles and glasses? Someone who knows what they're doing?" Her blue eyes swept the room, her expression hardening. "If someone tampered with the drinks, I want to know exactly what we're dealing with. No assumptions."

Riven straightened slightly, her expression composed, though her tone remained cool and measured. "I have a contact who can handle this discreetly," she said evenly. "They specialize in this kind of thing and won't leave any stone unturned." She adjusted her posture, her gaze meeting Caitlyn's with calm seriousness. "I'll reach out to them, but I should warn you—not every trace is easy to find. If whoever did this was careful, we may not get much. That said, it's worth investigating."

Vi, who had been quiet until now, let out a low breath and spoke softly, her voice carrying a note of restrained frustration. "Anything's better than sitting around doing nothing," she muttered, glancing between Caitlyn and Riven. Her jaw tightened as she leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms. "But the real question is… how the hell do we fix the damage from that video?"

Loris shook his head, his jaw tightening as his anger bubbled to the surface. "This is what happens when we let outsiders walk all over Piltover," he snapped, his voice tinged with bitterness. His glare flicked to Vi and then Riven. "I told you. Riven showing up here was a bad omen. And now look what's happened." He straightened, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, as if physically holding himself back from pointing a finger at her outright. His tone grew sharper, dripping with suspicion. "You show up out of nowhere, and suddenly, we've got a viral video loose. Coincidence? I don't think so." Loris's eyes remained fixed on Riven, his distrust as plain as the tension hanging in the air.

Riven didn't so much as flinch at the insult, her face remaining impassive. She shifted her weight, leaning a little more casually against the bar as she side-eyed Loris with the faintest hint of disdain. She didn't need to dignify his outburst with a response—especially not when it was so clearly rooted in his own insecurities.

"That's enough," Caitlyn snapped, her blue eyes locked onto Loris. "We're all trying to figure out what happened. Pointing fingers doesn't help anyone."

Before the tension could fully dissipate, Samantha chimed in, her arms crossed and a deep scowl etched on her face. "I mean, Loris isn't entirely wrong. Riven shows up, and suddenly everything goes to hell? Seems like more than just bad timing."

Caitlyn turned to Samantha, her eyes narrowing. "Not you too, Sam."

"She's a Noxian, Cait," Samantha spat, her tone dripping with venom. "What did you expect? Bad luck follows them like a plague—it's practically in their blood."

Seraphine stepped between them, raising her hands again in a calming gesture. "Guys, please, can we not argue? We're all on the same team, right? Let's figure out what really happened instead of pointing fingers. Pretty please?" She clasps her hands together, her big, hopeful eyes darting between them.

Riven remained still, arms crossed tightly over her chest, one hand lifted slightly with her thumb resting against her lips in a thoughtful pinch. Her brows furrowed in intense concentration as her gaze stayed fixed on the bar, completely unfocused with the white noise. Katarina. The pieces weren't fitting together, but the gnawing, dreadful feeling in her gut that is telling her that Kat is somehow involved just wouldn't go away. If someone had orchestrated this—if the drinks were spiked—anyone who knows Katarina would have pointed the finger at her immediately. She did alluded to the debt she owed Lux... Luxanna. This is all you, isn't it. The thought sent a cold shiver crawling up her spine, but she kept her face impassive. I believe I need to make a call. Riven's gaze flicked briefly to Vi, who had been watching the escalating argument with a growing look of frustration. Make that two.

Finally, Vi had enough. "Alright, just… shut up. All of you."

The room went quiet, and Vi turned her sharp gaze on Loris. "Riven can't be behind this if she's having memory lapses just like you, genius. How would she pull something like this off if she can't even remember her own night?"

Loris shifted uncomfortably, his glare faltering under the weight of Vi's words. "Oh, please," Samantha sneered, her tone dripping with disdain. "And who's going to vouch for her? You? Were you with her the entire night to know she didn't do it?"

"Violet's right." All heads turned as Yunarin stepped into the room. She wore the same burgundy knitted dress from the day before, the fabric clinging gracefully to her form. Yunarin's dark eyes swept across the room, meeting everyone's gaze one by one. There was a quiet determination in her expression, a subtle intensity that made even Samantha hesitate mid-retort. Finally, her gaze landed on Riven, and for a short moment, the world seemed to pause. "Riven was with me the entire night. She couldn't have spiked the drinks."

Riven's breath hitched, caught off guard by the certainty in Yuna's voice and the weight of her gaze. For a second, she forgot the chaos of the room, her focus narrowing entirely to Yunarin. There was something definitely charged in the way she looked at her—something that made Riven's slightly cold heart beating again.

-୨ ୧-

: push go - poppy

Garen was out on his morning run, weaving through the vast expanse of the Crownsguard estate. The air carried the crisp, fresh scent of morning dew, cool and earthy, with faint hints of damp grass and the soft, sweet undertone of blooming flowers awakening to the first light. The estate itself was a testament to the family's old Demacian wealthy influence—everything about it screamed porcelain white, pristine perfection. The wide cobblestone pathways were edged with neatly trimmed hedges that framed the grounds like brushstrokes on a canvas. Marble statues stood sentinel at intervals, their surfaces gleaming white even in the dim morning light, as if untouched by time or grime. The castle-like manor loomed in the distance, its pale stone façade catching the first hints of sunlight, the reflection so bright it almost looked like the building glowed. Around the estate, the whiteness of everything—the freshly cleaned stone walls, the frost-tipped grass, even the gravel paths—lent the place an almost ethereal stillness.

Garen's breath puffed out in steady clouds as his sneakers crunched against the frosted gravel. He passed the central fountain, where white marble lions spit streams of water into a basin so clear you could see the pennies sitting at the bottom. Beyond it, the tennis courts lay empty, their nets stretched taut, while the stables on the far side of the grounds stood still except for the occasional huff of a waking horse. Garen's pace began to slow as he approached the second fountain, a grander version of the first. This one was tucked into the heart of the estate, marking the entrance to the private wing of the manor reserved for family gatherings and official business. He came to a stop, his breath steadying as he leaned against the cold, smooth stone of the fountain's base. The sound of trickling water filled the stillness, accompanied only by the faint rustle of the trees that lined this secluded part of the estate. Garen pulled out his earpieces, the loud bass of his workout playlist spilling into the air before he turned it off with a quick tap on his watch.

Garen frowned, his thumb hovering over the screen. Normally, a party sounded like a decent distraction—a chance to unwind, have a laugh, maybe let off some steam. But lately, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Lux had been pulling away from people again, slipping into her own little world when she thought no one was looking. He'd caught her at it last week. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he scrolled through, already feeling the weight of the day creeping in.

Garen's watch buzzed suddenly, jolting him from his thoughts. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the name flashing on the screen: Katarina. He stared at it for a moment, his thumb frozen mid-air. Why is she calling me? This early? She never calls. Their conversations were usually brief, short meet-ups at the cafe over a cuppa, but, more often than not, they were short, drunk, and laced with a tension Garen couldn't quite shake. Katarina had a way of throwing out comments that teetered on the edge of flirtation, and he never knew if she meant them or if she just enjoyed watching him squirm. Now, staring at her name flashing on his screen, he felt his pulse quicken. This wasn't like their usual half-sober, sexually charged back-and-forth at some party. This was… something else. Was it serious?

He sat up straighter, brushing a hand through his hair as if she could somehow see him through the call. The absurdity of the gesture hit him immediately, and he scoffed at himself under his breath. What the fuck bro? His mind raced. Don't overthink it, stupid. Just pick up. But his pulse quickened anyway, a familiar mix of nerves and curiosity creeping in. Why did she always have this effect on him? He cleared his throat, tapped to answer, and tried to sound casual but it came off slighly NPC with his too wide for casual smile. "Katarina. Heyyy. What's up?"

As soon as he heard her voice, Garen's stomach did a flip. "Hey," Katarina purred, her voice sultry and smooth. He could practically hear the smile in her words, sharp and full of teeth, knock the bravado out of a seasoned debater and leave them questioning their life choices. Well, she's in a good mood this morning, Garen thought, his grip tightening slightly on the edge of the fountain. Garen swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, and tried to steady his thoughts. Play it cool, you've got this Crownsguard. But god damn, it is hard to focus when she sounded like that.

Katarina didn't miss a beat, her voice rolling smoothly through the speaker like velvet. "So, Garen," she began, drawing his name out just enough to make his pulse skip, "how about dinner later? My treat. I'll pick the place and send you the address."

Garen blinked, the words taking a second longer to process than they should have. Dinner? With Katarina? His mouth fell slightly agape, words failing him as the heat crept up the back of his neck. If Katarina could see him now, he knew he would be at the negative aura category. "Oh!" he managed too quickly, his voice coming out a little pitchier than he expected. "Yeah, sure. That sounds great."

Katarina let out a low chuckle, the sound both teasing and entirely too confident. "Good. Seven o'clock. Don't keep me waiting, Crownsguard." And just like that, the line clicked off, leaving Garen staring at his watch, his heart pounding harder than it had during his entire run.

Katarina ended the call with a smooth flick of her finger, the sultry ease in her voice vanishing the moment the line clicked off. Her expression hardened, and she turned to Holloran and Maddie with a sharp scowl, her emerald eyes narrowing like twin daggers. Maddie, perched on the arm of the couch, was smiling so widely that her eyes were barely open, her amusement practically radiating off her in waves. Across the room, Holloran sat behind his desk, his hands steepled together like some plotting villain, a sinister smirk curling at the edges of his mouth as he watched Katarina with quiet amusement.

"Well?" Katarina snapped, her sharp tone slicing through their unspoken commentary. "Done enjoying the show, or should I give you an encore?"

Maddie responded with a slow, exaggerated clap, her grin widening with every deliberate slap of her hands. "Well done, Kat," she said, her voice dripping with mock affection. "Truly, a performance for the ages. Even I might swoon with a voice like that." She pushed herself off the arm of the couch with theatrical flair and gave a deep, overly dramatic bow, one hand sweeping in front of her like she was on stage. Holloran's smirk widened, his fingers tapping together rhythmically as he leaned back in his chair, the picture of casual menace. His dark eyes gleamed with a manic sort of delight, as if Katarina's frustration was his personal entertainment.

"An encore?" he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery and barely-contained chaos. "Oh, Kat, you wound me. Watching you play house with Crownsguard is the highlight of my day. Such a fascinating little game you're playing—dinner dates and doe-eyed glances." He tilted his head, his smile stretching into something unsettling. "Tell me, are you planning to seduce him, destroy him, or both? Because, frankly, I'm rooting for option three: cataclysmic devastation. The kind that breaks him."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and unhinged, as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "You know, if it were me, I'd skip the dinner and go straight to the part where the Crownsguard name burns. But hey, that's just me. You've always been a fan of the slow play, haven't you?" His eyes sparkled with malicious glee as he gestured vaguely toward Maddie. "What do you think, Maddie? Should we send her flowers for this grand performance? Or maybe a sympathy card for poor Garen, who has no idea what's coming his way?"

Maddie opened her mouth, her grin widening in anticipation of another jab, but Katarina didn't respond. She simply stared at them, her emerald eyes cold and calculating, betraying nothing of the turmoil simmering beneath the surface. Instead of snapping back, she let the tension in the room settle around her like a suffocating fog, turning her focus inward. This wasn't the plan, she thought, her fingers curling into her palms. Garen wasn't supposed to be dragged into this—he was just supposed to be behaving like a good twin brother to Lux and protect her from the petty drama that she conjoured for herself. And yet here she was, standing in a room with Maddie, who couldn't resist stirring the pot, and Alton Holloran, the very definition of chaos incarnate. Of course she had to involve him. The fucking lunatic.

Her gaze flicked to Holloran for a brief moment, watching him revel in his own deranged sense of humor. He didn't care about strategic planning to bring down anything in a civilised way—he thrived on destruction, the more catastrophic, the better. If she let him off the leash, Garen and his family wouldn't just suffer; they'd be obliterated. And Lux? Katarina's jaw tightened. She's no angel herself. We both know that. But that doesn't mean her family deserves to bear the brunt of this. Garen least of all. She would minimize the damage, even if it meant shouldering the weight of it herself. Because when this was over, the last thing she wanted was Garen standing amidst the ashes of his family's legacy, looking at her like she was the one who burned it all down.

-୨ ୧-

"Cassiopeia."

The voice on the other end was smooth as silk, dripping with a familiarity that bordered on dangerous. "Ah, darling," Cassiopeia purred, her Shuriman accent curling around the words like a serpent coiled and ready to strike. "I wondered when you'd be calling me again. And this early…? Do you need some company desperately? Or shall I guess what's brought you to me this time?"

Riven kept her tone cold, refusing to let Cassiopeia's charm sink under her skin. "Would you be able to handle something for me? It's a pressing matter, and I'd appreciate it if this can be handled discreetly." Her words were clipped, professional, leaving no room for playful banter.

There was a pause, followed by a soft, amused chuckle. "So business it is. How very Konte noble of you," Cassiopeia said, the faintest edge of teasing in her voice. "Discreet and pressing, you say? I can handle a great many things, darling, but you'll have to give me more than that. What exactly are we dealing with?"

"I will fill you in. Could you come to the address I sent you? I need you here immediately. And bring your inventory with you."

Cassiopeia's laughter spilled softly through the line, low and melodic. Her lips curled into a slow, knowing smile, and her eyes glinted with excitement, as if the very idea of Riven's urgency was a delightful, exciting game she's had in a long while. "Of course, darling," she purred, the twinkle in her gaze brightening like stars against the night. "Anything for you. I'll bring what you need—and perhaps a few extras, just in case."

And how very Riven Konte—the call ended with a sharp click.

END OF CHAPTER SIXTEEN