The gondola lift swayed gently as it made its way toward Stillwater Prison, the thick cables creaking under the weight of the transport. The cold night air bit at Caitlyn's exposed skin, but she barely noticed. Her focus was entirely on her rifle as she inspected it with practiced precision, making sure every adjustment was perfect.

The dim light inside the gondola glinted off the polished barrel as she adjusted the sights, ensuring they were aligned. The mechanism was smooth, well-maintained—as expected. Still, she went through the motions anyway. In the field, even the smallest error could be fatal.

Around her, the other Enforcers in the cabin shifted in their seats, some adjusting their gear, others whispering amongst themselves. Despite the quiet hum of conversation, the air was thick with tension. Caitlyn didn't need to look up to know why.

Stillwater wasn't just any posting. It was where the worst of the worst were locked up. If something had happened there—if nearly all available Enforcers were being called in—then it had to be serious.

"Any updates?" She finally asked, breaking the uneasy silence.

One of the Enforcers, a burly man named Grayson, glanced up from his own sidearm and exhaled sharply. "Not much. Just the usual cryptic orders. We get in, contain the situation, and secure the prisoners. Beyond that? Your guess is as good as mine."

"I heard something shook the whole damn place," Another Enforcer muttered, tightening the straps on his chest plate. "Like, really shook it. Could've been a riot, maybe even an explosion."

"An explosion wouldn't call for all available Enforcers," Caitlyn pointed out, loading a fresh round into her rifle. "And it wouldn't have the officers on patrol in the city getting called in, either."

That was the part that worried her the most. It wasn't just the guards stationed at Stillwater handling this—Enforcers from Piltover itself had been deployed. It meant the situation was much worse than they were being told.

The gondola jolted slightly as it hit another checkpoint along the cable, making some of the Enforcers glance at each other uneasily.

"Could be connected to that damned Library that showed up out of nowhere." Someone muttered from nearby.

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. That was a possibility, though there hadn't been any official statements linking the two. Piltover's Council were still debating on how to handle the Library's sudden appearance—whether it was a threat, an anomaly, or something else entirely. But if its arrival had somehow caused this...

She tightened her grip on her rifle.

Whatever awaited them at Stillwater, she hoped it wouldn't be any worse than some Zaunite raiders or rebels, but her gut told her otherwise

Caitlyn leaned back slightly against the wall behind her, her rifle now secured at her side, though her fingers still rested near it out of habit. The conversation had settled into quiet murmurs, most of the Enforcers focused on the dimly lit skies above, or making last-minute checks on their gear. Beside her, Maddie let out a quiet sigh. The perimeter was secured for now, and as far as they knew, whatever they were called to deal with was still in Stillwater, so their task had been a success so far. That was one thing to be optimistic about, no?

"First big assignment, huh?" Maddie said, nudging Caitlyn's shoulder lightly.

Caitlyn exhaled, giving a small nod. "You could say that. Most of my work has been in the city, handling cases with precision. Riot suppression isn't exactly my specialty."

Maddie let out a small, if nervous, giggle. "Well, get used to it. When they call in everyone, it means we're the ones expected to do the grunt work. Secure perimeters, make sure no one runs, get bossed around by senior officers while they handle the real business."

Caitlyn arched a brow. "That sounds… reassuring."

"Oh, don't worry. If you don't screw up too badly, they might actually let you shoot something."

A third voice chimed in, smooth and unhurried. "Unfortunately, this is the case. It seems that many in positions of authority keep the recruits far from the frontlines, though whether that's for the recruits' sake, or for the authorities' sake, no one can truly tell."

Caitlyn froze. That voice—she knew that voice.

Her head snapped in the direction of the speaker, and her breath caught itself at who she saw.

Binah sat calmly at the far end of the gondola, perched on a crate as if she had been there the entire time. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, her expression unreadable, as always.

The other Enforcers had noticed her presence now too. A murmur of confusion rippled through the cabin as a few of them shifted uneasily, hands instinctively moving toward their weapons.

Caitlyn's mouth opened, but no words came out. She didn't want to seem awestruck, horrified, worried, or produce any form of expression beyond a vaguely displeased furrow of her brow as she narrowed her eyes, taking the figure of the black-haired so-called Arbiter in. The pale skinned woman was entirely at ease, without the slightest hint of wear or exhaustion on her features, her lips curled in that half-fake, half-wicked facsimile of a smirk that one could barely make out if they paid the utmost attention to her. She'd followed an entire Enforcer patrol silently, unnoticed, unseen, all while said patrol was on the highest alert. How the hell did nobody hear her coming behind them? In fact…

'How long has she been here?'

Before she could demand an answer, a loud voice cut through the air.

"What the hell is this?!"

Markus stormed toward Binah, his heavy boots making the wooden floor creak beneath him. His face was flushed with barely contained outrage.

"How did you get on here?! This gondola is guarded from top to bottom! Who let you in here?!"

Binah did not so much as blink. A slight tilt of her head indicated that she was considering his words carefully before answering. Or at least, she was pretending to listen carefully; for all Caitlyn knew, she could've been wondering about the next drink of tea she was going to have with that constant, unblinking, unfazed expression.

"Ah," She mused outloud. "That is quite the mystery, isn't it?"

Markus' hands clenched into fists. "Enough games! We are on an active deployment! You don't just wander in here like this! We accommodated you long enough as Piltover's guest, but you cannot simply barge into our security operations and…" He paused, thinking of an appropriate offense to qualify the intimidating woman's actions. "And mumble about all this nonsense, subverting our mission with your unnecessary presence!"

Binah remained disturbingly serene. The longer it went on, the more unnerving it became, like she was moments away from transforming into some monster that would devour Marcus whole. "I merely go where I am needed."

Caitlyn saw Markus' jaw tighten. His patience was wearing dangerously thin, but Binah remained utterly unmoved.

"You think this is funny?" Markus snapped. "Do you even understand the kind of situation we're walking into?"

Binah's lips curled ever so slightly. Not quite a smile yet—more like the ghost of one, like what an alien species that never smiles might imagine what a smile is like if you whispered a vague description of a smile in the direction of the wind blowing towards said alien species, and if the alien who heard your whisper was half-deaf. "More than you might expect."

Markus exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. "You're impossible. If you think I'm letting you off this gondola once we reach Stillwater—"

A sudden jolt rocked the gondola, and a mechanical whir signaled their arrival. The prison loomed before them, massive and foreboding against the darkened sky.

Binah, still entirely composed, slowly rose to her feet. "Ah. It seems we've arrived at our destination for this truly black night."

Markus exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to suppress the irritation boiling under his skin. Knowing that losing his temper now wouldn't do any good, he instead turned to face the gathered and expecting Enforcers, his voice clipped and authoritative, though he couldn't help but feel the hairs on his neck rise. 'Our' destination? What was out there that concerned this woman in Stillwater of all places?

…Did he want to know?

"Alright, listen up! We're dealing with an ongoing security breach inside Stillwater. Reports are scattered, but here's what we do know—" He took a step forward, his gaze sweeping over the assembled group. "There was a massive disturbance within the prison, followed by a large-scale power failure. We've lost communication with most of the guards inside. The only message that got through before the blackout was a distress call. Something about an attack—but no details on who or even what we're dealing with."

A murmur ran through the Enforcers. That wasn't exactly reassuring. If the guards within had been entirely incapacitated or rendered out-of-service (in the best case scenario), then the reinforcements would've been fighting on their own. Usually, during riots, there would be besieged units within the facility that they could reach and weapon storages that could potentially ease any uneven battles in terms of manpower. It didn't seem like they had that advantage in this case.

Markus pressed on. "Our objective is to regain control of the situation. We move in formation, secure the interior, and assist any personnel still inside. No unnecessary risks. We do this by the book. Understood?"

A chorus of affirmations followed, boots shifting on the damp ground as everyone prepared to move out.

"Good. Masks on, weapons ready." Markus took a breath, then looked over at Caitlyn. "Except for you."

Caitlyn, adjusting the strap on her rifle, froze. She blinked, certain she must have misheard him. "…Excuse me?"

"You're staying behind," Markus said firmly.

A flicker of genuine disbelief crossed Caitlyn's face. "What?! Why?!"

Markus crossed his arms. "Because, unfortunately, our unexpected guest—" his voice carried an unmistakable note of frustration as he gestured toward Binah, who stood just off to the side, looking as calm and detached as ever as she stared intently at something outside, "—has been assigned to you. That means you're responsible for her."

Caitlyn felt heat rise to her face. "You can't be serious—"

"I am serious," Markus snapped back. "She's your problem now. I don't trust her wandering around on her own, and I'm not about to waste manpower keeping an eye on her when we have an active situation inside. So congratulations, Kiramman. You just got reassigned, unless the situation deteriorates so much that you must be involved, in which case you would be re-reassigned."

Caitlyn clenched her jaw. "That's absurd! I should be going in with the rest of you! I trained for this!"

Markus met her glare evenly. "And I need my people focused on the mission, not babysitting a wild card. You stay here and make sure she doesn't pull anything."

Caitlyn was about to argue further, but the look in Markus' eyes told her it was pointless. The decision had been made.

Behind Markus, the other Enforcers were already forming up. Maddie glanced at Caitlyn as she passed, offering an apologetic half-smile, as if to say, "Yeah, this sucks. Sorry."

And then they were gone—moving as a unit through the entrance of Stillwater, disappearing into the depths of the prison.

Caitlyn let out a frustrated sigh, glaring at the now-empty doorway of the gondola before rounding on Binah.

"Well?" She snapped, her voice dripping with frustration. "Are you happy now?"

Silence.

Caitlyn blinked.

Binah wasn't even standing where she had been.

Her eyes darted around, and she spotted Binah casually strolling along the prison's outer entrance, her steps unhurried as if she were merely taking a leisurely afternoon walk.

"Are you planning to join me, or do you intend to stand there brooding for the rest of the day?" Binah asked without looking back, her tone as casual as if she had been commenting on the weather. "If I recall correctly, your orders were quite clear—you are to watch over me, ensuring nothing... unexpected happens."

Caitlyn let out a noise somewhere between a growl and a groan before scrambling after her, still fuming.

"Zacharias Fonca McRini, do you renounce Satan?"

"I do renounce him."

A collective gasp echoed through the grand council chamber of Piltover as the ruthless and violent murders unfolded on the massive "television screen," masterfully juxtaposed with the serene solemnity of the church ceremony.

It was a testament to the skill of the project's director and writer that even someone as seasoned in political maneuvering as Mel found herself genuinely impressed. Zacharias had played his hand with such quiet precision that no one had suspected a thing—until it was far too late.

'Always beware the silent ones.' The brown-skinned woman mused idly as the body of one of the conspirators against the McRini family tumbled down the staircase, a bullet lodged in his chest. Blood trickled steadily down the steps of the grand building he had been about to enter. 'For it is they who are always watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.'

Honestly, when would people learn to stop mistaking patience for weakness?

"Glad to see you're enjoying the movie so much~."

A voice murmured beside her, smooth and teasing. Without so much as a flinch, Mel turned her hazel eyes toward Chesed. As usual, he was nursing what had to be his third cup of coffee of the meeting—a true addict in the flesh.

"It's true what they say about the classics," he continued with a lazy grin. "You just can't beat them~."

Mel kept her expression perfectly composed, but her mind was racing.

She had spent the better part of the last two hours mentally dissecting the proposal documents Angela and Chesed had provided. At first glance, the terms were shockingly accommodating—too accommodating. The sheer willingness to integrate with Piltover like this, to offer resources and technology without so much as a bargaining war, signified one of two things: either these Librarians were operating from a position of weakness, desperate to gain favor… or they had so much to offer that these initial gestures were nothing more than crumbs from an overflowing table.

And at this point, Mel truly didn't know which answer she preferred.

Her fingers tapped idly against the polished surface of her chair as her hazel eyes flicked back toward the screen—the television, as they called it.

A simple term for something that was anything but simple.

The "film" playing before them, a moving picture somehow captured and recorded for later viewing, was something beyond even the boldest applications of Hextech. The very concept of storing past events, manipulating them for dramatic effect, and replaying them at will—her mind swirled with the implications. Surveillance? Communication? Education? This single invention had applications that could revolutionize Piltover.

And the Librarians had presented it as a mere sample. What they were watching right now was just pure fiction. A fairy tale brought to life by their advanced technology.

How far ahead was the City they hailed from? How much did they still have tucked away, waiting to be revealed?

"Thinking hard over there, Councilor~?"

Mel blinked, pulling herself from her thoughts as Chesed leaned slightly closer, amusement evident in his tone. He still cradled that ever-present cup of coffee in his hand, his relaxed posture at odds with the weight of the negotiations before them.

"Merely considering the… generosity of your offer," She replied smoothly, casting him a sidelong glance. "It's rare for a foreign party to present themselves with such a giving hand. Piltover is, after all, the premiere city of traders in all of Runeterra. We tend to be wary of deals that seem too good to be true."

Chesed chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink. "Smart of you~. It'd be plain dumb to accept gifts without wondering about the strings attached~. But you'll find that we're not the type to pull strings in ways you'd expect.~"

"An interesting choice of words," Mel mused, arching an elegant brow. "Does that mean you do intend to pull strings—just in a way we're not anticipating?"

Chesed simply grinned, offering no further clarification.

Their conversation paused as Mel, with the barest tilt of her head, gestured toward the center of the room.

Angela stood near Heimerdinger, the Yordle professor visibly engrossed in the film as she carefully, patiently, explained the mechanics of the television.

And it wasn't just an explanation—it was performance.

Her tone was warm but instructive, her phrasing precise yet effortless, weaving just enough mystery to keep Heimerdinger intrigued, engaged. She guided him through concepts he had never encountered before as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her presence exuding the kind of authority that did not need to demand respect—it simply commanded it.

She was charming him.

And judging by the engrossed look on Heimerdinger's face, it was working.

Mel hummed thoughtfully. "She's done this before."

Chesed smirked, shifting his weight slightly. "She was taught well~."

There it was. That particular phrasing, that specific choice of words. Mel latched onto it instantly.

"Taught?" She repeated, keeping her tone light, even playful, though her gaze sharpened. "By whom?"

For the first time since she had met him, Chesed hesitated. It was subtle—a momentary shift in posture, a flicker in his expression—but it was there.

Mel made sure not to react to that.

Finally, Chesed exhaled lightly, swirling what little remained in his coffee cup. "The man who founded what came before the Library~. You could say he's the one Angela inherited the Library from him in a way~."

That was an answer. But not the answer.

Mel could have pressed—she was tempted to—but she had already gleaned something important. Whoever this founder was, the topic of him was enough to make Chesed, the ever-composed, ever-relaxed Librarian, just a little bit uncomfortable.

So instead, she merely gave a thoughtful hum, letting the matter settle. She wasn't exactly close enough to ask personal questions to the complete strangers that showed up in town, though she made a note in her mental notebook that there was someone that the Library, as grandiose as it was, seemed to fear, which was a concept that she herself was rather uncomfortable with.

Still, she made sure to meet Chesed's gaze directly as she spoke.

"Sounds like a difficult man to trust."

Chesed chuckled, but there was something too knowing in his expression. "He was difficult to read, I'll give you that~. But he was good at getting on people's good sides, even if he had a little help~."

Mel smirked, reclining slightly in her seat, turning fully back at the film playing. "Well, then. I look forward to seeing if that particular talent extends to the rest of you as well."

"Is everybody alright?!"

Vi's voice joined the weak and shaken chorus of responses from the exhausted group huddled together in the dimly lit room. Their breaths were ragged, their bodies tense, as they sought refuge from… that thing.

She barely managed to suppress the shiver that ran down her spine at the mere thought of what they had just experienced.

The air inside the room was thick with sweat, fear, and the lingering stench of blood. It clung to their skin, soaked into their tattered uniforms, and settled in their lungs with every shallow, ragged breath.

The flickering overhead light did little to push back the suffocating darkness, casting jagged shadows across the cold, metal walls. Every so often, the bulb buzzed angrily, threatening to plunge them into pitch blackness.

Three wardens, their once-crisp uniforms now marred with grime and torn fabric, stood huddled near the rusted door, their hands gripping weapons that had proven utterly useless against the thing outside. Just a dozen prisoners, the last remnants of what had once been a full block of inmates, crouched in varying states of shock. Some clutched their heads, rocking slightly. Others stared blankly at the blood staining their hands—not their own, but from the bodies that had been next to them only moments ago.

They were the lucky ones.

A grotesque, gurgling sound echoed from the other side of the door, the wet squelch of something shifting its impossible form. The steel vibrated under an unnatural weight, the hinges groaning. Even as the sound became more distant, the fear in the air was still thick.

"Where the hell do we go from here?" One of the prisoners rasped, his voice hoarse from screaming.

Nobody answered.

They had barely escaped, and now they were trapped.

And it was only a matter of time before the thing found a way in.

The door at the other end of the room groaned as it swung open, the sudden rush of movement causing several prisoners to flinch instinctively. A few tensed for another fight, expecting the nightmare to have finally broken through. But instead of clawed limbs and distorted flesh, the unmistakable silhouettes of armored Enforcers filled the doorway, their weapons raised and eyes scanning for threats.

For a moment, no one spoke, their collective breath held in suspended disbelief.

Then, relief crashed over the group like a tidal wave. A warden let out a shaky laugh, slumping against the wall as tension finally gave way.

"Markus?" One of the wardens gasped, recognizing the Head Enforcer at the front, who stepped forward, surveying the sorry state of the survivors. His sharp eyes flicked over each face before settling on the three remaining wardens.

"Dalton, Reeves, Mira," Markus said, calling them by name. "You're all that's left?"

Dalton, the most senior of the three, wiped a streak of blood off his forehead, steadying himself. "From our section? Yeah. That thing tore through everyone else."

Markus gave a grim nod before shifting his attention to the room. It was a sorry sight, filled with the exhausted remnants of prisoners who had seen far too much. He didn't recognize all of them, but that hardly mattered. What mattered was the devastation outside—wherever they had come from, it looked like they had run from hell itself. He'd expected the situation to be bad; you couldn't expect it to not be bad with how the place looked, with how the metallic smell of blood permeated every corner and every wall, but the unspoken horror that made him want to get the Hell out of here was written in big, bold, neon letters within everyone's minds at this point:

'Whatever did this was still here, and nobody could take it down as is. Should have pushed harder for more Hextech weaponzation…'

His gaze swept over the room again. Unbeknownst to him, Vi pressed herself further into the shadowed corner where she crouched. Her heart pounded in her chest. Of all the people to show up, it had to be him.

She kept her head down, her mess of hair covering part of her face. Thankfully He was too focused on the problem at hand to notice her.

Markus let out a sharp breath. "Alright," he said. "Somebody start talking. What the hell happened here?"

Dalton exchanged a brief glance with the other wardens before stepping forward. His voice was hoarse, but he spoke quickly, recounting the nightmare that had unfolded. He described the attack in horrifying detail—the way the thing moved, the way it shredded through concrete, the inhuman screech that still rang in their ears. He spoke of how they had barely made it out alive, how the bodies of both guards and prisoners alike littered the corridors, and how they weren't even sure if the creature was still lurking outside or had gone elsewhere in the prison.

By the time he finished, the room had gone dead silent. Even the prisoners, usually quick to talk back or complain, said nothing.

Markus exhaled, running a hand down his face. "So, we've got a slaughterhouse behind us and no guarantee that thing isn't still roaming around." He straightened, eyes sharpening with command. "Here's what we're doing. We're getting out. No one wanders off. No one plays hero. We move in a tight formation, and if we run into that thing again, we do not engage unless we absolutely have to. The goal is to escape, not get revenge." Not for a lack of will, at least from the remaining wardens and the Enforcers who saw the remains of their colleagues decorate the once-vast facility, but because even Markus, for all of his sins, flaws, and arrogance, did not see how a riot-suppression unit was supposed to take down something that had torn down a facility made of cement and steel like it was tearing apart a children's toy.

He turned to the prisoners, his expression dark. "And before any of you get any bright ideas—let me make this clear. This isn't an opportunity. This isn't some golden ticket to freedom. You step out of line, you make my life more difficult, I will personally see to it that you don't leave this place at all. Do I make myself clear?"

A low murmur of agreement rippled through the prisoners, their usual bravado completely stripped away by the horrors they had witnessed.

"Good." Markus nodded once. "Then let's move."

As the Enforcers repositioned themselves and prepared to lead the survivors out, Vi let out a slow breath, keeping her head low.

For now, she was still just another face in the crowd, but she had no idea how much longer she could keep it that way.

The air was thick with tension as the group moved through the ruined corridors of Stillwater. The flickering emergency lights cast long, jagged shadows along the walls, making every shifting shape a potential threat. Footsteps echoed eerily, each step measured, careful, as if the wrong move would summon the nightmare once again.

Vi kept her head low, staying near the back of the group. The Enforcers moved in tight formation, weapons raised, eyes darting to every doorway and broken fixture. The wardens whispered quietly to one another, guiding them through the safest route, their voices hushed as if speaking too loudly might wake something.

The prisoners—what little remained of them—stayed unnervingly silent. No snide remarks, no bargaining, no threats. Just the hollow, defeated look of people who had stared into the abyss and realized it was staring back.

And then, finally, they saw it—the exit.

Just beyond the corridor, the heavy steel doors leading to the outer grounds were still intact, locked but easily overridden. The sight of it sent a wave of relief through the group, shoulders relaxing, some even daring to breathe a little easier.

They were going to-

BOOM!

A deafening crash shook the prison, debris and dust filling the air as something massive smashed through the concrete. The sheer force sent people sprawling to the floor, coughing, eyes wide with horror.

The nightmare had arrived.

A grotesque, writhing shape emerged from the wreckage, its limbs impossibly long, its form shifting and twisting in ways that defied all reason. Its head—or what could barely be called a head—was an amalgamation of stretched flesh and glowing, unnatural eyes, locked onto them with a hungry, unfeeling gaze.

It was a wolf, or at least, it tried to be. The creature- no, the abomination that stood before the huddled, terrified formation felt like some mockery of all creation itself, tragic in all of its monstrous, terrifying ways. Its body had cracked and torn and shredded itself to become a wolf, attempting to even form that noble, fearless silhouette that decorated so many emblems and crests across the lands, but it was as if the being -whatever it was in the past- was instead judged too vile, too undeserving of that power, and was sentenced to remain among the accursed, at least, that's the story its current form told.

Its back was hunched, the arc forming an obtuse angle with the ground, as its skin leaked an intoxicating, sickly-sweet pus-like material that made Vi's head light just because she was within its general vicinity. It was almost addictive, like she'd become a junkie from that single half-breath she took, and the pores that dotted the abnormal creature's body didn't seem to stop producing it at any moment. Its face was elongated, almost furry in its disposition, as if attempting to form some malformed canine jaw with fangs too large to fit inside, cutting into the skin and flesh outside of its maw as it panted for air. It was as if its own lungs were betraying it, as if the external appearance had taken so much energy to maintain that its own body was failing it, and considering what it looked like, that could've very well been the case.

Despite its immense size, towering over the puny humans in front of it, the creature looked downright famished, its bones pressing so tightly against the rash-ravaged skin, barely covered with some fur patches here and there to not be bald, and Vi swore she could see some bones peeking outside of their fragile skin covers, with sporadic bleeding fits from its oversized limbs, their extremities too humanoid to be called paws and too animalistic to be called hands or feet. Its hind limbs were longer than its front ones, giving its stature an unnatural obtuse angle, clearly wearing on its spine, which cracked and turned and spun in ways that made the young woman's stomach lurch.

She'd never see a creature for whom the mere act of existing seemed to hinge on its spite, for no other biological reason would explain why the shambling pile of spilled blood and intoxicants could carry on living. The cold glares the malformed wolf-like monstrosity shot the small crowd below it, however, were all the more chilling, as it wasn't just staring down its prey, it was staring down its enemies; the hate and disdain within its eyes could nary be animalistic, for it was all too human. A massive tail, more rat-like that a wolf's majestic one, ended in a large, barbed spike that seemed to have pierced the tail's skin, leaving an unhealing gash that leaked more of that pinkish material, alongside some good old-fashioned blood for good measure.

But the screech it produced is what brought that far-too-human beast together, like there could be no arguments against its once-human nature; the sound was like metal grinding against bone, a warped, piercing wail that sent chills down Vi's spine, but it was launched with too much conviction, too much knowledge, too much glee to have belonged to a simple animal or beast guided by instincts to survive and devour. From what it looked like, its painful, horrendous existence was sustained solely for this moment, for snuffing the lives of its former compatriots(?). It was almost like the perfect steed for revenge…if whoever conceived the idea of this monster was some drug-addled, unrighteous scumbag who was taking a revenge they simply did not deserve.

These philosophical wanderings, however, would have to wait for another time, for the beast attacked its prey after the moment, thick with anticipation , passed, lunging at the spectators with a speed far, far beyond what any normal, natural creature should have.

The Enforcers opened fire immediately, a barrage of gunfire echoing through the prison, but it did nothing. The bullets barely slowed it down as it surged forward with impossible speed, tearing into its body without hindering it.

One Enforcer was impaled before he could even react, his body lifted into the air like a ragdoll by the spiked tail before being tossed aside. Another was crushed beneath its weight, his scream cut short in an instant. Blood sprayed across the walls, the floor, the faces of those still alive—

"FALL BACK!" Markus roared, his voice barely cutting through the chaos.

One of the Enforcers had just turned to run when the creature's massive limb swung outward, slamming into them with brutal force. The impact sent her flying backward—right into Vi.

The force knocked the wind out of her and causing her gasmask to fly off of her head, revealing an orange haired woman, whose unconscious form collapsed against her. Vi staggered, barely keeping her footing.

And then the creature's gaze locked onto her.

A deep, guttural growl rumbled from its shifting form, its movements twitching and its mouth dripping with the mixture of liquids it produced as it lunged again.

Vi didn't think. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't with the pink haze that made her feel like her head was light. She just ran.

She barely managed to drag the orange haired woman with her, her arms locking around her unresponsive body as she bolted down an adjacent corridor as the monster followed behind her with its relentless pace.

The walls trembled as it crashed after her, moving in a way that shouldn't have been possible—fast, fluid, like a shadow with weight, like it wasn't even a physical being, as if it were a mere idea that was chasing her. Vi's heart pounded as she ducked around corners, weaving through the wreckage of the prison, trying to put as much distance between them as possible and ignoring how it simply broke through every crumbling wall and every piece of debris like it was nothing.

But she could hear it. The sickening sound of flesh twisting, the scraping of claws against metal, the breathing, the wolf-like howls that sounded neither like a wolf nor like a human. She couldn't panic, and she wouldn't falter, but she couldn't deny it, either: It was right behind her.

And she had no idea if she would make it out alive.

Vi's breath was ragged, her muscles screaming in protest as she pushed forward. The Enforcer's unconscious weight in her arms slowed her down, but she couldn't stop. Not when that thing was still behind her.

She rounded a corner, nearly tripping over debris, and pressed herself into the shadows, holding her breath and involuntarily tightening her grip on the body she dragged with her. She didn't want to let go of this Enforcer, and she might come up with a thousand justifications later on, but for now her mind knew that she couldn't let any presumably innocent person just die to that thing. Had it been Markus, she might've given the prospect of letting the body drop so she could save her skin, but as fate would have it, she was not so lucky. The halls were eerily silent now, only the distant crackling of broken lights and the creaking of damaged metal filling the void.

Did she lose it?

She swallowed hard, shifting the woman in her arms slightly as she tried looking around a corner. Maybe, just maybe—

A deep, wet clicking noise echoed from the darkness.

Vi's stomach dropped.

Before she could even react, a grotesque limb shot from the shadows, striking with impossible speed. The impact sent Vi flying, slamming her hard into the corner of the hallway. Her back exploded with pain as she barely managed to keep hold of the unconscious woman, her vision swimming from the force.

The Distortion loomed, its hideous, shifting form barely visible in the dim light. It's unnatural limbs twitched in anticipation, its glowing eyes locked onto them.

Vi tried to move, tried to get up.

It lunged.

And then—

The air cracked.

A golden light burst into existence between them, forming a solid, translucent barrier. The creature screeched as it slammed into it, its massive claws scraping uselessly against the shining wall, the mere sensation of pain offending and frightening it. The golden surface shimmered, completely unyielding.

Vi's dazed mind barely registered the soft sound of approaching footsteps, slow, deliberate and unhurried.

"Well," A voice, smooth as silk yet dripping with an unsettling amusement, carried through the corridor as it talked to seemingly no one. "You've certainly made quite the mess, haven't you? The perfect little town of Piltover didn't seem to have many who'd entertain your Voice, though a prison? That fit perfectly well, didn't it?"

Vi turned her head, wincing as she saw a tall, dark-haired, pale skinned woman dressed in black with gold markings approaching, her hands behind her back, her stride unhurried, as if she were taking a casual stroll through the ruins of Stillwater.

She barely spared Vi a glance, her attention fully on the monstrous being desperately clawing at the golden barrier.

"My, my, what do we have here?" The woman continued, her voice lilting with a tone of detached curiosity and something resembling disappointment. "Such a crude and uncontrolled manifestation. How utterly vulgar. You've gone and made such a dreadful scene. Tearing through flesh and stone alike, without the slightest refinement, without even the slightest retentions of humanity. If you had a little less determination, perhaps you'd have become a worm from such primal, animalistic wants and desires."

Vi could barely process her words before another voice cut through the moment.

"Maddie!"

A sharp gasp, hurried footsteps, and then a younger woman with blue-purple hair dropped to her knees beside her.

Vi blinked as the young woman, clad in her Enforcer uniform, reached out with careful hands to check the now named orange haired woman's pulse. Her rifle lay momentarily forgotten at her side, but her blue eyes were filled with raw concern.

"She's alive," Caitlyn exhaled, relief washing over her expression. "And how are you?"

Vi barely managed a nod, her breath still shaky. She could feel those bright blue eyes scanning her, checking for wounds, but Vi's attention was still stuck on the other woman.

The monster—no, the Distortion, as the dark-haired woman called it—was still desperately clawing at the golden barrier, its screeches growing more and more enraged. And yet, the woman facing it remained unfazed.

"Oh, do not insult me," She suddenly chided, her voice dropping into something almost… disappointed. "I know you understand me. I know you can hear me."

The creature stilled.

Vi felt a cold chill creep down her spine.

"Come now," The woman continued, her tone turning almost mockingly gentle. "You thought you could claim yet another victim for your rampage here, did you not? How unfortunate for you; though the sight displays such life to me, I am not here for amusement, not yet." She moved her fingers, as if readying herself for more."And you shall receive nothing."

A guttural, inhuman sound rattled from the Distortion's throat as the barrier surrounding it shattered into a shockwave, sending the abomination into the depths of whatever remained of the prison while it howled in pain. The blast was so strong it sent it flying through a couple of fractured walls, letting its wrathful, pained wails echo.

Vi stared.

It's… fucking gone? Just like that?

A slow, knowing chuckle broke through her shock.

When she turned back, the dark-haired woman was looking at her now.

And she was smiling.

A sharp, spine-chilling smile that made Vi's blood run cold.

"Well then," The dark haired woman mused, tilting her head ever so slightly. "Would you care to explain exactly what has transpired here?"

Vi could only stare, her heart still hammering against her ribs.

She had a feeling this nightmare was far from over.