It was a day like any other. The sun peered past clouds with golden rays, and lectures echoed off of petricite walls, filling the garden. A cool morning mist from nightly rains cooled his skin as he sat.

He leaned against his seat, fighting back a yawn. Usually, he'd be sparring with his friends, or learning the trade of war from more competent soldiers. With a broken arm, however, all he could do is sit and learn. It was fine by him, as he enjoyed testing his mind and playing games of wit. Alas, the other students had returned to their classes, leaving him alone in the garden. If only he hadn't finished his textbook early, or brought along the advanced textbook for his own amusement…

He sighed and took in the atmosphere. A spot of green in a largely urbanized, white environment, the garden held an energy unique to it when compared with the rest of the city. An old oak tree which had its roots fashioned into makeshift benches by the school's noble founders, it evoked a natural grace. Yet, the arches of white stone and carved fences – combined with a view of Memorial Road beyond the balcony – linked it with the rest of the city. If not for context, he'd have found the silence almost magical.

He heard footsteps echo down the hall.

There was no doubt in his mind that classes were still in session. He was only exempted from his current lesson only because his injury barred him from participating. And, of course, he was ahead of the curve academically… Regardless, the problem remained. He stood up to investigate.

The source of the steps came and went swiftly. A flash of hair like sunlight and a choked sob passed by the door before he reached it.

"… before the light… A shadow fades before…"

By the time he reached the archway to the halls, it was too late. A lock of gold hair was the only trace of the one who had passed it. He sighed.

It was a day like any other.

And that made it worse.


Despite how polished and pristine the walls of the surrounding district were, the air within stank with blood and sweat. The ground was a grimy cake; layers upon layers of mud and animal fluids. Filthy peasants - far from the shining armor of the Dauntless Vanguard he had heard so much about - filled the packed square.

Gerris chuckled, "The glorious kingdom of Demacia."

The Noxian gave a final sneer to the world outside his carriage before closing the window. Breathing in fresher air, he looked to his commanding officer. Gerris was met with the slightest of glares, to which he laughed boldly. If his boss was concerned that little comment might blow their cover, Gerris figured he was being paranoid. As a massive, muscled man with a scarred eye and lip, Gerris painted an intimidating picture; no one would be looking to cause trouble with him. As for Gerris' comment itself, well that wasn't a problem either. It wasn't as though either of them actually minded insults to Demacia's "honor".

At the very least, he didn't.

"For all the praises you sing of your old homeland, I'd expect a better first impression," he stated.

"The walls were the first impression," his boss replied, "But they're fancy dressing for the shit within. And I don't just mean the grounds outside."

"Yeah, yeah, the corrupt noble classes and the lowlives too dumb to try overthrow them," the third member of their party droned from behind them with barely concealed irritation, "Same shit, different kingdom. Also, no magic, so that sucks…"

Gerris chuckled more as his boss raised an eyebrow.

"Any particular reason you're so cranky, Yin?" he asked.

Yin, the resident dedicated mage of their group, scowled, "Well, I dunno, might have something to do with forced sobriety? Maybe you try going weeks without your vice."

Yin may have been born into the Noxian Aristocracy - and her natural silver hair reflected it - but her attitude was anything but. As hungry for success as the commoners below her, as brash as the legionnaires he served with... If not for her natural talent for hemomancy, Gerris doubted she'd have developed ties to the two secret societies that had ruled Noxus' political sphere for centuries.

Of course, Yin didn't look like a Noxian aristocrat now. Their mission called for removing all traces of Noxus in lieu for an Arbormark merchant's wardrobe. The day they departed, Yin left two beloved aspects of herself behind; her silver hair dyed a dark black, and her hemomancy.

And Gerris didn't mind making it worse, "Legionnaires often march for weeks at a time, so; been there, done that. As for Mr. Hand, I doubt the Grand General would let him have one of those. But even then, he ain't the type for that."

He put a pensive hand to his chin, then clicked his tongue, "Same can't be said for you, though."

Yin shrunk more into her corner of the carriage, grumbling curses under her breath.

"Or you, Gerris," the fourth member of their party noted, "But, unless Demacia also has Fleshing pits, I doubt your addictions will be quenched here."

Erret, the saboteur of the group, gave a dirty look to Gerris. Often silent, Erret would rarely trade insults with someone. He was fiercely loyal toward his friends, though; he was especially bold when Yin was involved. Gerris shared a knowing look with his boss; they both knew what the pair had yet to confess.

"Not without losing a hand," Gerris conceded, "Or an ear, gods, what a nagging I'd get! But, I think I'll find you mistaken soon enough."

"That's enough, you two," their leader cut in, voice tense. He peered outside another window in their carriage, pensive and silent. After a brief pause, he shut the window.

"Mageseekers outside," he explained, "Of course, they can't actually frisk this vehicle without ruining trade with the Arbormark, but…"

"Don't use a magic art largely associated with Noxus, right," Yin answered, immediately sobering up.

"Or mention anything having to do with Noxus. At least until we meet our insider."

"Wolf take me," Yin cursed, "How long until then?"

"The General said our insider would meet us here at Graygate. But, worst case scenario? Around a week till Meltridge."

Yin groaned, prompting Erret to move to her side for comfort. Gerris' grin faded; he teased Yin often, but if she was struggling now, another week just might break her. Or his own temper, but who was to say?

Their leader would say, as it turns out. Or act, rather: he took an eerie red vial from his coat. It was a unique sample of blood; some mage or exotic beast had surely given its life for it.

"This is yours if we have to ride alone," he stated, "You'll have to ration it, and if we get caught by a seeker I'll kill you myself."

He paused, "And If we do meet the insider today, you can have it before lights out."

Yin's eyes shown with envy, but she nodded resolutely. The message clear, their boss put the vial back in his coat. A calming smile was on his face; a warm, caring demeanour that betrayed the rumours surrounding him.

It was common knowledge in Noxus that the Grand General was the authority in the land. The armies were loyal to him, the nobles feared him, and everyone else looked Jericho Swain's nationalism with pride. His rival in the Trifarix Council, the faceless representative of Guile, had, for the past months, been largely silent. Swain's supposed equal, Darius, was in truth, his Right Hand.

And recently, rumours spoke of a Left Hand. A dagger clad assassin in the night, who struck down the mistress of Guile; a blood-soaked hand, consorting with the underbelly of Noxus; a demon, unleashed by the Grand General. Some had vague ideas of his identity; a skilled assassin had to be of decent ranking and notoriety in the army, after all. A few even stumbled on the right track, suspecting the mysterious mage who defeated the Glorious Executioner in an upset victory in the Pits. But the full picture? Gerris doubted anyone could truly say.

And what did it matter anyway? Perhaps there was truth to the rumours, Gerris thought, but he knew that deep down, Xander, the Left Hand of Noxus, was a big softie. Came with his Demacian heritage, Gerris supposed, but Xander's nature made him a specialist for more delicate cases. The scalpel to the Right Hand's massive axe; the velvet glove to Darius' iron fist. Of course, that wasn't to say the hands couldn't emulate their counterparts, though. He'd served both long enough to know that for certain.

There was a brief pause, then Yin spoke up.

"I know it's an honor to work with you and all…" Yin started.

Xander sat down, attentive, "But?"

"Boss, you said our job here is to subtly manipulate Demacian culture," the hemomancer recalled, "I get bringing Erret, but a reckoner-turned-legion-vanguard and a blood mage?"

"In regular circumstances, and with the average member of your groups, I'd agree," Xander admitted, "But firstly, we have an opportunity to make quick, substantial changes."

"You mean the mage rebellion," Erret noted, his tone turning confused, "I thought it was put down."

"Not quite," Xander replied, "After the initial strike at the capital the rebellion's leader went into hiding. Activity died down afterwards, and the Mageseekers started their campaign to purge the population of mages."

"And they say we're the monsters," Yin growled.

Xander continued, "The rebellion started gaining public opinion, though. Rural farmers don't mind mages, especially when they help. Whilst they have no political power, being such a major part of the population does give some sway…"

"They didn't take kindly to it," Erret assumed.

"No, they didn't. Now, the only thing that would be worse is if rumors spread about noble-born mages getting off of the mageseeker treatment. Guess what the rebellion started announcing?"

"So the mages have spurred up the commoners to aid in their fight against a seemingly common enemy," Yin summarized, "Or rather, that's what they want to do. Based on what I see outside, it doesn't seem like this is a country on the brink of civil war."

"Well, we just passed by a mageseeker patrol. Before Swain's coup, would anyone have declared their hatred of Boram Darkwill in front of a legionnaire?" Xavier chuckled, "Those against the nobility are scared but hopeful, and those with them are paranoid."

"So we swoop in, raise tensions, and start a civil war," Gerris concluded, "Leaving Demacia defenseless against the Legion."

The Left Hand grimaced, "That… is a possible route, yes. But, I'd rather we avoid it."

Gerris raised an eyebrow.

"You're... not going against any orders, are you?"

Xander scoffed, "I'm not turning traitor, Gerris. I just prefer the least bloody option. And for the record, the General agrees."

"Oh, now THAT is bullshit."

"I'm not lying," Xander swore. He paused before his explanation, "The death toll to conquer Demacia would be too costly, even if we started a war now, and focused all of the Legion's strength. That doesn't include costs to repair infrastructure and put down the numerous rebellions that would follow. Demacia isn't just another lowly kingdom; it's our main rival in the world today."

"So, what are our options?" Yin asked.

"Swain recommended a coup," Xander started.

"But you don't agree with it."

"No. I suspect we'd have similar problems there; nationalist rebels rallying against overtly Noxian rulers," Xander sighed, "My preference is simply buttering up to whoever wins, enough to the point that they agree to sign a peace treaty with Noxus, maybe even an alliance."

"That's..."

"Extremely unrealistic?"

Yin shrugged, and her would-be lover spoke on her behalf, "It is unlikely, but as you've pointed out we have the perfect storm to make it happen. Either way, the first step would be to integrate ourselves into the two factions."

"And the Grand General's contacts have a way to get us there, I'm guessing," Gerris assumed.

Xander opened his mouth to reply but quickly shut it. Eyes narrowed, he looked to the window. When Xander poked his head through it, Gerris stepped forward and tried to peer past the Left Hand. He paled when he saw what was pass the window.

Clad in shining runesteel armour, a member of the Dauntless Vanguard sat atop a massive horse peered in.

"Is this the carriage of Imuren Sha?" he asked.

Prompted by his cover name, Xander responded, "Indeed it is, good sir. What can I do for you?"

"I received a raven from the Head Mageseeker; I am here to pick up the packages you carry."

"The packages are only for the raven's master to see," Xander said, "May you guide us to her?"

The Vanguard smirked, and Gerris understood.

"Follow me, then," the Vanguard ordered their coachman. He then turned his gaze to Xander, "We will talk later."

The Left Hand nodded with a smirk, then returned to the carriage within.

"Well, Yin, today is your lucky day," he declared, "You'll be getting your blood soon."

As Yin all but contained her joy, Gerris changed the subject, "Xander, you said the civil war was the first reason you brought us. What was the second?"

Xander paused, seemingly confused at the question. He then appeared to remember, and looked at him with a curious grin.

"For better or for worse, I trust you guys," Xander said.

The glint in the Left Hand's eyes told Gerris otherwise.


They arrived at their new post at sunset.

To Yin's surprise, their new home-away-from-home wasn't a shoddy sight. By contrast, it was an old mansion. Its walls were worn with age, and it was modestly sized; fit for a fortunate merchant rather than a low-ranking noble. To an untrained eye, it would simply be so. Yin saw the orchard of black roses in front of the mansion and knew otherwise.

"I was aware that the Black Rose had connections, but..." she started.

"They 've existed since before the Empire started," Xander pointed out, "I'm not entirely surprised."

Gerris stepped off the carriage with a thud behind them, followed by gentler footsteps from Erret. To the saboteur and his alleged lover's irritation, the ex-reckoner wouldn't keep his mouth shut.

"You were in the cabal before the rest of us," Gerris noted, "Shouldn't you be more in the know?"

"As compared to who?" Yin asked back, "Xander used to live here and answers directly to all of my superiors. Erret has done jobs for the Grand General himself, and... you. Did you know about the cabal that infiltrated our nation's rival, or did they not teach that in the Reckoning Pits?"

Gerris conceded with a shrug.

A gruff, echoed voice cleared its throat. The Vanguard who led them trotted his white stallion in front of them before disappearing in a grey mist. An older woman - in her forties, if Yin had to guess - stood in her place.

"The Matron said you'd be coming, Left Hand," she said coolly, "She didn't mention your escorts."

"Truly?" Xander held his chin in a pensive pose, "Well, more info for me, then... Regardless, my team is here to aid me in my endeavors. Their skill sets should allow us to... scour more ground."

The Black Rose member nodded, "Then allow me to introduce myself. I am Elia de Recht, and I welcome you to House Sharpstem."

The tour started promptly. Elia explained that the mansion was a few days' ride from Meltridge, but with favorable wind by the nearby river the ride was far shorter. Said river, Elia explained, allowed the mansion's old owner, a long dead merchant named Roman Sharpstem, to make a quick fortune trading. The man's descendants married into minor noble houses, eventually leading the lands of House Sharpstem to belong to a branch of the Laurents. The house's caretakers never forgot their origins, however; a flower bloomed from a seed left by the Mistress of the Immortal Bastion.

Night was in earnest when they finished their dinner. Xander has gone to speak with their host, whilst the rest of them retired to the guest quarters of the mansion. Their hosts had moved their baggage to their room and made it presentable. With two beds on opposite walls and a fireplace at the center of the room, it was far more cozy than the usual Legionnaire posting. It was to the point that Yin couldn't feel the charms on the door frame. It seemed that whatever Xander had done to bring the factions of Noxus to peace was a stopgap at best. She knew that already, of course, but...

"Alright team, listen up," Xander cut in. The team in question stopped what they were doing - unpacking various items from their luggage's - and gathered around their leader. He stood at the doorframe, baggage in hand.

"I've spoken with our host; we have our postings," he announced, "Gerris, Erret, you will be making acquaintances with the local workforce. Offer services and aid, listen for gossip, the works."

"And avoid causing a commotion, so as to not alert Demacian law enforcement?" Erret asked, gaze flickering to Gerris.

"A scuffle between peasants won't cause the Dauntless Vanguard to come in for our heads," Xander chuckled, "Of course, don't be an idiot, but if you think you could get some info from rough play, go for it."

Gerris laughed darkly, "I'll be in my best behavior."

"What about us?" Yin asked.

Xander's face and voice morphed into a mockery of aristocracy, "As esteemed members of Noxian nobility, we have the honor to escort the Lady Elia..." he switched to a dry deadpan, "and learn how to manage trade. And negotiate business contracts. And all the paper work that entails."

"Alongside people who are so paranoid they have listening runes at the doorknob," Yin matched her boss' deadpan tone, "Yay."

Gerris' eyes widened, "They're spying on us?!"

"Well, yes - they're Black Rose - but no, not anymore," Xander answered, "I noticed the runes earlier when I was directing the servants to carry our bags up. I set up my own runes, so we at least have this room for privacy."

Yin's eyes widened this time, and she raised her gaze to the right. Sure enough, on a lose brick on the fireplace was a rune. It was faint, and she doubted the others could sense it, but it was there.

"We'll be staying around the mansion in this way for the next few days," Xander continued, "Next week, we move to Meltridge."

"Sounds simple enough," Erret answered, "What's the catch?"

"According to Lady Elia, Meltridge has become an unofficial hub of activity for the mages. The people there are sympathetic to the cause. Normally, it wouldn't be too hard to find those sympathizers, and through them, the rebels," Xander noted, "The catch is that the next week will be all the time we have for this. Week after, we're headed to the Great City."

"The Capital?" Gerris asked, incredulous, "Why?"

"Trade contracts to be renewed, or something. I don't believe it's another Black Rose spy," Xander replied, "Regardless, we have a few days, maybe a couple of weeks, in the heart of Demacia."

"... No picking fights there, then?"

"Not in open daylight, no. But I have a few... contacts there," Xander smiled, but without his usual mirth, "If I need your muscle I'll tell you."

"Old friends, eh?" the ex-reckoner guessed, "You think they'd turn coat?"

"Not likely," Xander said, "But they're all higher-ups. Stalking them probably gives me info, scaring them could cause misplays in the aristocracy's part..."

"But no assassinations?"

"No. Allegiances or not, I won't kill them without provocation."

Gerris crossed his arms and shook his head, but said nothing. A glint in Xander's eyes betrayed a reaction; disgust, Yin thought. It was probably paranoia to expect something, but Yin wouldn't let it come to blows regardless.

"So, we have a bit more than a week to find the mage rebellion, then have to survive at the heart of Demacia for potentially longer than that," she summarized, not at all subtle in her subject cry change. She cleared her throat, "Is there anything else?"

"I'll be walking out, taking in the lay of the land and such," Xander replied, "We wake at sunrise tomorrow, so if you want you can retire for the night."

"I'll come with," Erret cut in.

After a short pause, Xander nodded. After leaving his luggage by his bed, took the blood vial from his coat and flicked it at Yin. He and Erret then left the room. With just herself and Gerris remaining, Yin slowly reclined on her bed before breaking the silence.

"Any particular reason you're so cranky, Gerris?" she asked.

The ex-reckoner snorted before replying, "I would've thought serving under the Grand General would've made Xander less... less..."

"Naive?"

"Demacian," Gerris' voice was bitter, "I want to believe he's not turning traitor but-"

"He isn't," Yin cut off, "He may hold Demacian ideals loosely, but Xander is a Noxian. As you say, he's working for Jericho Swain! He isn't on their side. "

"Not yet," Gerris sighed, "He was never indecisive in Noxus. He knew who the enemy was - no offense, Black Rose and all-"

"None taken."

"- and he executed his task swiftly. If he spared someone, he was told to directly to do so. Even when he was given vague instructions he didn't try and bend the rules. He only ever talked about Demacian ideals then, but here, he's acting on it. Too much so, I think."

"The Grand General gave him the go-ahead."

Gerris was silent, then continued as if the point hadn't been made.

"There's only one thing that's changed between them and now. He's back home now, and..." the muscled man sighed again, "Maybe I'm being paranoid. I hope you're right about him."

The ex-reckoned stood up, took of his tunic, and dug into his baggage. After fishing out a towel, he stood up.

"I'll be having a shower," he announced, a grin returning to his face, "You can go ahead and... indulge yourself."

Yin grimaced at the implication, "Piss off, Gerris."

The legionnaire laughed and left, leaving Yin alone. She raised the vial above her, letting it and its contents glimmer with the embers of the fireplace. After a moment's consideration, she pocketed it. Perhaps the stress relief could've taken her mind off of Gerris' doubts, but at that moment she found sleep to be a better alternative. She lied down and closed her eyes.

Glowing white eyes met her in the dark.


"Yin and Gerris are spying on me, you know."

Erret tried to keep his shock off his face, but it was a futile attempt. Even if he hadn't been friends with Xander long enough for him to memorize his tells, Erret knew the Left Hand's magic would reveal his secrets by sunrise. Before he could cut in, however, Xander continued.

"Our hosts are as well, for more sinister purposes. LeBlanc distrusts me, and likely wouldn't mind trying to kill me to go back to the status quo; our hosts will act on her will."

"Gerris is working for Swain, and Yin for Vladimir," Erret guessed. He was rewarded with a nod and an explanation.

"Yin is only keeping tabs on my actions because Vladimir finds me interesting. He's not particularly committed to Noxus or the Black Rose, so his spying isn't too bad. Gerris though... he isn't subtle, but he and Swain are worrying about the same thing; whether I'll turncoat to the Demacians. A valid concern, but the threat of execution… that's just a little stressful, you know?

After a pause, Xander asked him directly, "Do you share their concerns?"

"Not exactly," Erret confessed, "I suspect Swain asked of Gerris the same of me. Demacia is at a turning point and Swain doesn't want you screwing it up for Noxus."

"...so what's the difference between you and them?"

"They think you'll betray Noxus for Demacia. I think your idealism could make Demacia worse than it already is; and not just for Noxus either."

Leaning over a balcony, Xander confessed, "That, is a very likely possibility."

Erret briefly considered the knife by his belt, but decided against it. He stood next to Xander, looking upon the view of the river the mansion provided.

"Do you remember when we met?" he finally asked.

"When I kicked your ass into the dirt on my first Reckoning," Xander recalled, "The crowd wanted you to win, but they were so impressed by me that they were all too willing to leave you for dead. Never mind that most of them probably lost bets on you."

"It was an underdog story, I suppose," Erret joked, before his tone turned solemn, "Most Noxian folk would've left me for dead in that pit. Survival of the Fittest, as you say. But now-"

"Now I'm the Left Hand of Noxus, and you're about to catch yourself a fancy heiress for a lover," Xander smirked, "If hemomancy is anything to go by Yin's probably quite kin-"

"She's third in line to inherit, and… We're not discussing that here."

Xander gave a short bark of laughter, "You're going to all but interrogate me, and I can't dig a little into your love life?"

Erret growled, "Are you sure your magic isn't foresight?"

Xander raised his left hand to his side in dramatic fashion, "One can read the future in battle lines-"

"Assuming one can read," Erret finished his friend's quotation of their boss. He sighed, "Sometimes I get these Demacians. You mages are too damn annoying."

"Now you're speaking my language," Xander smiled, "So, what's our reading of the lines?"

"You're an idealist. You could change things, like you changed whether I'd have lived that week," Erret deadpanned, "Or you're going to get us all killed for as stupid a reason as, well, saving some dumbass."

"Mmm, I've heard that somewhere before… Can't say I would do that, but…" the Left Hand's eyes gleamed, "I can change this world. I have changed this world; I can feel it."

"You're not wrong, but just because you have a perfect storm doesn't mean you'll be able to pull this off," Erret warned, "I don't think I could kill you if it came to it. Hell, I don't think any of us could, even if we had the chance. But don't be stupid here. Promise me you won't make me or the others have to try."

Xander didn't meet his gaze. His voice had a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "I want to change the world. Unify it. It would be ironic if in doing so I lost every friendship I had."

"I suppose that's all I'll get," Erret sighed, "I'll go talk to Gerris, try calm him down."

"Thanks."

And so, the Left Hand of Noxus was left there, on a balcony in a land of lost memories; a home not quite away from, yet within, home. Xander closed his eyes in pensive reflection, blinding himself from his friend's thoughts. If he hadn't delved into his own mind, he might've seen the tells of his friend pondering and being disturbed.

As he walked away, Erret sighed and pondered. He knew the Left Hand was something special. He had since the beginning; when he was in the dirt, and the crowd called for his death; when Gerris signed the two of them for the Grand Pit, where they would fight the Glorious Executioner himself; when they went on excursions in Shurima, then Valoran, and the Freljord; when they infiltrated the ranks of the Black Rose Cabal; even when the storms of blue rose and the Revenant threatened to return. The fact that they hadn't died a hundred times over proved one thing; two, by Xander's logic. There was no doubt that the Left Hand was extremely lucky. He argued that he was also extremely competent, as he had to grasp the opportunities his luck granted him to survive. Erret found it a tad bit obnoxious, but seeing Xander fight, trade verbal barbs, and outsmart others... well, he couldn't flat out deny his friend there, could he?

But ultimately, his friend was human. He knew that, and he hoped Xander did. Perhaps Xander was special, perhaps he truly he was destined for greater things. But, he was as human and mortal and imperfect as the rest of them. He had his flaws, fears... and now that he thought of it, Erret knew that the Left Hand had a vice of his own. Some devolved into brutish savagery, others surrendered to sexual pleasures, yet others drowned in toxins and drugs. Xander's affliction was of the mind. Erret knew only one other with Xander's vice; the one that calls for willpower when none can be drawn; the one that consumes the mind and heart and soul. His friend had committed himself to an idea, and returning home, Erret suspected his friend's dream burned brighter in his heart.

Erret stopped his march, turning a head to a pillar of the mansion. Despite having Noxian owners, its architecture was mostly Demacian. Illuminated by torchlight, this influence was clearly displayed on the pillar. Before meeting the ceiling, the pillar's form shifted to mimic a bird; likely the native Silverwing Raptors he'd heard about. The feathered wings brought to mind a story Xander told him about. An old Demacian myth, dating to the Rune Wars, Xander said. He spoke of a man who made wings of feather and wax, and sought to fly. He flew into the sky, high, seeking greater heights. He chased the sun, but as he neared it his wax wings melted and he plummeted to the earth.

Erret sighed. He knew his friend was intelligent. He knew Xander's idealism had not only saved his life, but made Noxus better. From what he heard, the warband they briefly served in was rising up the ranks due to Xander's Demacian ideals. Instead of expecting strength and pruning weakness, their old warband employed and strengthened all they could. The weak grew strong, the strong became unified. Xander has carried his ideals with him into the secret societies of Noxus as well, though he admittedly he knew not how much effect they had. But, those ideals were a blazing sun. And despite everything, Erret feared Xander would melt down.

He walked away from the pillar hastily. He returned to the darker corridors; returning to their quarters; returning to the Noxian party; away from the light of the pillar; away from Demacia.

Erret lay under his bedsheets thereafter, lying but awake. After a quick chat with Gerris, the muscled legionnaire slept without care for their leader's absence. Erret, however, waited. In the dark, he focused, hoping for the sound of leather on wood. Until he heard footsteps at the door, he would not close his eyes.

He did not get much sleep that night, but it did eventually come.


It was a beautiful day. The sun showered them all with its golden rays, and laughter echoed off of the petricite walls, filling the garden. A cool morning mist from nightly rains cooled his feet as he ran.

"Where are you going?" a high-pitched voice called, "Wait up!"

He stopped in his tracks and turned around, waiting with a smile. With a huff, his friend arrived moments later. Her blue eyes darkened with irritation.

"Can't keep up?" He teased.

"It's not fair!" She answered, "You're bigger and older and more grown up, and I'm tired!"

"Sorry, did you want me to carry you?"

"No!" She snapped, "Only Garen can do that."

"He's out training with Jarvan," he noted, "Ugh, he's going to get one up on me."

"When's Garen going to be back?" she asked.

"After lunch."

"Oh..."

He sighed, walking to the center of the garden. He leaned his good arm against the against the tree therein, cradling his mending one to his chest.

"But anyway," he switched, "I wanted to show you something."

Her eyes brightened, "Really?"

He offered her his good hand, "Really."

As she approached, he channelled energy to his hand. She gasped as a mirage formed over his palm. She peered at it, making out shapes in the cloud. She could see a woman holding a light. A woman with blond hair - no, a girl.

"Oh. Oh!" her eyes flashed white with shock, "That's me! I did that, but-"

"Do you believe in magic, Lux?"

She frowned, "Mother said I couldn't..."

He put a hand on her shoulder, "You don't need to hide it."

"But… magic is an affliction, that's what mother said…" Lux listed, "And people would be upset… my family…"

"Magic isn't an affliction." he firmly said, "People are just afraid of it. But, we don't need to be chained by the past. A better future is coming; we just need to make it."

"...That's not what happened."

Lux looked him in the eyes, a glaring beam of light piercing his soul.

"You never said those words."

"I wanted to…"

"You didn't."

Lux's golden hair and sky-blue eyes faded, darkened. The scene around him did as well. Ink fell like rain and smoke filled the garden, covering the grass. The mist rose higher and higher, but it never reached him, for he grew to match it.

But he admitted to himself the truth, "No, that's not what happened."

The whine of a blade being sharpened echoed behind him.

"An execution never happened either, Nocturne," he continued, a small smile on his face, "And even if it was, I'm more prepared than the child you first met. How have you been, you... demon you..."

A sound like sandpaper shifting repeated behind him as the dream entity laughed, "That your simplest regrets are more nourishing than the deepest of their terrors is... interesting."

"Can't compete with mages, I'm afraid," he replied, "Did you… investigate the people I asked you to?"

"Your friends have delectable traumas. And passions. And secrets. Raum has good tastes," Nocturne said, "I may heal from the light mage's burns sooner."

"You fought Luxanna?" The slightest twinge of concern entered his voice.

"I fought her ancestor once. A shard of my spirit remained in his crypt. She purged it as I was on my way to pick it up."

"Oh. So that happened. How long ago was this?"

"Three weeks after the incident at the city," Nocturne chittered mischievously again, "That was a day of emotions as well. I gained much... essence."

He nodded. Nocturne, once little more than a desiccated corpse in shape, had gained musculature. Its head seemed more defined; a harder cheekbone, sculpted and emotive eyebrows... and its eyes flowed brighter, yet not just white. Flecks of other colors flickered in the orbs, fading into mist.

Ever since he learned what demons were in this world, he suspected they weren't evil beasts; at least, it wasn't that simple. They were mirrors of spirit, and like the wolves within himself, all they needed was the right diet.

He and Swain suspected one other in the history of this world to know the same truth they came to. He expected to meet that man's final legacy in due time.

"So you have returned," Nocturne rasped, "What do you seek?"

"That was not what happened then," he repeated, "But, it can happen now. I will need your help, but not soon. Take what you need of my mind, do not draw attention to yourself."

"Very well, summoner."

"I suppose I've been calling you around enough for that title to apply," he chuckled, "Now leave. I'd like this night for myself."

Nocturne laughed and faded, and so he was left alone again.

The stars twinkled in the sky. There were more in the sky than he remembered in his last days, for which he was thankful.

Despite the shine of the stars, however, he felt the earth below him. The dried cake of filth was not apparent, thanks to the nurtured grass that cushioned his back. He knew from experience, though, that brown stains would likely plague his tunic.

That was fine. He planned to get rid of the set on his back anyway.

He sat up from the dirt and surveyed the area. A normal forest that branched out to a petricite grove, he suspected it would be the last place for someone to find a mage like him. Of course, someone had found him en-route, but thankfully it was a friend of his dad; he lived another day, and even got some weapons and resources to further his travels. His travels had been safe since. His quick glance affirmed that remained.

With a sigh he turned around, switching his view from the forest to the city he left behind. Castle towers reaching to the sky reflected yellow hues of light from the rising sun. The small houses surrounding the city, darker with dirt but illuminated by torch light, looked like embers to him.

He smiled at the poetry. Demacia was the guiding beacon of the world's morality. A beacon of light to which all were attracted to. At least, in theory… now it was simply a burning fire, leaving behind smouldering victims. It could be hell: paved by good intentions, but ultimately a destructive force.

"But, I cannot deny its dream," he recited the thoughts he had held, "I will pursue it. I will restore this kingdom to its ideals, even if it's the last thing I do in this world."

Xander closed his eyes and woke to a dimly lit plank ceiling. Night had not yet ended, but the dawn would come soon. The final word of his dream - his vow - left his lips with conviction.


Author's Note: So, it's been a while since I last posted something to this site. Last I did so I was a rather poor writer (at least, in my opinion). Didn't have much of an idea of plot, and couldn't really finish a piece. Here's hoping this fic will change that.

Now, a few things. Firstly, this is a SI-OC fic, but it's also heavily based in League of Legends lore. If you've read any or all of the stories in the lore - especially those surrounding Demacia and Noxus - it should improve your enjoyment. Even without reading this, I'll try my best to make the story good regardless.

This includes flashbacks to explain the backstory which I've skipped over. For the second point, this fic also basically constitutes AU tag as well. At this point in the fic's timeline, some of the Noxus plotlines have already gone ahead. I don't know weather Riot will be going a different way than I have, but for this fic I won't be making retroactive changes.

Finally, thanks for reading this far. More so than anything, please leave a review with your thoughts so far. Any and all feedback is appreciated. Thanks!