Chapter 1
The sky outside the window bled soft shades of gold and pink, another sunrise breaking against the shimmering glass of Piltover’s towers. The city woke slowly, indifferent to the grief festering inside the sterile white walls of the hospital.
Vi barely noticed the light. It felt wrong, too bright for a place so full of loss. Morning didn’t belong here. Hope didn’t belong here.
She sat where she’d been sitting for days—shoulders slumped, hands limp in her lap, head bowed as if praying to a god she hadn’t believed in for years. The only thing grounding her to the present was Caitlyn’s hand, pale and motionless, resting beneath Vi’s calloused fingers.
Fourteen days.
Fourteen days since Vi had dragged Caitlyn from the battlefield, blood pouring through trembling fingers, breath shallow, skin cold. Fourteen days since the world had narrowed to this chair, this room, this unbearable stillness.
And Caitlyn hadn’t woken. Not once.
The healers moved around them like ghosts, their voices hushed, their faces carefully blank. They tended to the wound on Caitlyn’s right side, peeling back stained bandages to reveal the angry, ragged flesh beneath. Vi couldn’t look away, no matter how many times she saw it—proof of how close Caitlyn had come to dying.
The stab had been deep. Cruel. It missed her livwr by inches, but the damage was done. Flesh torn open, muscles shredded.
Her left eye was worse—a swollen, angry bruise, the skin split and stitched with trembling hands. The doctor had told Vi once, voice low, “The eye injury is extensive."
Vi had just nodded, numb. As if any of it mattered while Caitlyn still slept.
The city beyond the windows was quiet now. No more sirens. No more screaming. Just the hum of machines and the steady, painful beep of the monitor tracking Caitlyn’s fragile heartbeat.
Vi closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, the breath shuddering from her lungs. She was so tired. Bone-deep. Soul-deep. The kind of exhaustion that no sleep could fix.
Grief had settled in her chest like a stone, heavy and cold.
And it wasn’t just Caitlyn.
No.
It was Vander.
It was Jinx.
It was every face Vi had ever loved and lost, come back to haunt her now.
They drifted through the edges of her mind, cruel reminders of everything she had failed to protect.
She thought of Vander first. Always Vander.
The man who’d raised her. Who’d taught her how to fight, how to stand tall even when the world tried to crush her.
Vi let out a sharp breath that almost sounded like a laugh. She had failed him too.
Now she was here, sitting beside Caitlyn’s broken body, wondering what was left of the family she was supposed to protect.
And then there was Jinx.
Vi bit down hard on her lip until she tasted blood, forcing back the sob that clawed at her throat.
She couldn’t think about Powder—not now. Not like this.
But grief didn’t care. It wormed its way through every crack, every weakness.
Powder’s smile. Her laughter. The way she used to cling to Vi like she was the only safe thing in a cruel world.
Gone.
No body. No sign.
Just gone.
And Vi didn’t know if she was alive or dead.
The not knowing was worse than death. Worse than anything.
It ate at her, slow and cruel, until it hollowed her out.
"I miss her, you know?" Vi’s voice cracked, breaking the silence. "God, Cait… I miss them all. Vander. Jinx. You."
She stared at Caitlyn’s face—pale, unmoving, lashes resting against too-white skin. She looked peaceful. Almost like she was sleeping. But Vi knew better.
There was nothing peaceful about this.
"I don’t even know if she’s out there. If she’s breathing. If she’s still… still my sister."
Her throat burned. Her eyes ached. She was so damn tired of crying.
"And you… you’re all I have left."
Vi leaned forward, resting her forehead against Caitlyn’s hand.
"Don’t leave me too."
The words were barely a whisper, but they echoed in the empty room like a scream.
The memories came in waves, unrelenting. They gnawed at her, dragged her back to that moment she couldn’t escape—back to the field where everything fell apart.
She’d arrived too late. She always did.
Ambessa lay dead, her hulking body sprawled in the dirt. But all Vi saw was Caitlyn.
Caitlyn—blood pouring from a gaping wound in her right side where Ambessa’s blade had torn through flesh like paper. Her left eye was ruined—shut, blood dripping in thin rivulets down her cheek. Bruises bloomed across her skin, cruel and dark, a map of every hit she’d taken.
Vi’s heart had stopped. She remembered that. It just… stopped.
Mel had been there, hands stained red, voice shaking as she pressed down hard on Caitlyn’s side. “She’s not going to make it—she’s losing too much—Vi, help me!”
Vi had moved then, but it felt like someone else’s body—numb, useless. She gathered Caitlyn in her arms, felt the sickening heat of her blood soak through her clothes. Caitlyn’s breathing was shallow, hitching, the sound weak enough to break bone.
"Stay with me, Cait. Please... please don’t do this..."
Caitlyn’s lips moved, but no sound came. Only a final flutter of lashes... and then she was gone.
Vi’s scream tore through the sky. No one heard it.
The healers called it a miracle she survived the trip back. Vi called it cruelty.
They’d laid it out in clinical words, sterile and cold.
“The stab wound tore through muscle, missed the liver by millimeters. She’s lucky.”
Lucky. Vi nearly laughed in their faces.
“Her left eye... it's gone."
She’d ground her teeth until she tasted blood.
“And the concussion—severe. Someone struck her hard—rifle stock to the back of her head. We’re amazed she could even stand after that. The fact she fought... it’s impossible.”
Impossible. That was Caitlyn—always fighting. Always pushing past what should’ve killed her.
"She hasn’t woken since she collapsed. Not once. If... if she doesn’t wake soon..."
They hadn’t finished. They didn’t need to. Vi had felt the air leave the room, leave her lungs, leave her soul.
She stayed like that for what felt like hours—clutching Caitlyn’s hand, breathing slow, shallow breaths just to stay grounded.
She thought of every moment they’d shared—every fight, every stolen smile, every time Caitlyn had rolled her eyes and called her reckless.
Vi had fallen in love somewhere between the bullets and the blood.
She hadn’t meant to.
But now? Now it was the only thing she had left.
And she couldn’t lose it.
"I should’ve been there," Vi whispered. "I should’ve protected you."
She let out a shaky breath, staring down at the girl who had somehow become her whole world.
The machines beeped on, steady, unforgiving.
Outside, the city thrived—oblivious.
Vi stayed.
Because what else was there? What else could she do but wait for the only person who still tethered her to this world?
---
Her grief was a living thing now—clawing at her throat, weighing down her limbs until even breathing felt like a battle she wasn’t sure she’d win.
She had no tears left. Only the ache.
And the endless, echoing silence.
"Please," she whispered. "Please come back to me."
But Caitlyn didn’t stir.
And Vi stayed.
Because she didn’t know how to do anything else.
Vi didn’t realize she was shaking until her hands trembled hard enough to rattle the chair. Her throat ached from holding back the scream clawing its way up.
She had to get out—just for a second. But her legs wouldn’t move.
"You promised," Vi whispered, voice ragged. "You fucking promised me, Cait. You said we’d get through this."
Her voice cracked on the last word, breaking like glass beneath the weight of everything she couldn’t say.
"I don’t even know who I am without you anymore."
Vi’s head dropped forward until her forehead pressed against Caitlyn’s arm. Her breath hitched, shaking her whole body.
"I keep telling myself you’re gonna wake up. Any second now. You’re gonna open those blue eyes, look at me, and tell me to stop being so damn dramatic."
She laughed, a hollow, bitter sound that scraped against the walls.
"But you’re not, are you?"
Her chest ached. Her eyes burned. But no tears came—not anymore. She was long past crying. Now there was only the hollow ache of waiting for something that might never come.
Flashback
The sun rose slow and golden, spilling through the thin curtains like a blessing neither of them deserved. It painted soft light across Caitlyn’s bare shoulders, kissed the curve of her neck where Vi’s fingers traced lazy, reverent circles—memorizing every inch as if the world would steal it away.
It was the first morning they’d ever shared a bed. And somehow, it felt like the last.
They didn’t speak at first. Words felt too heavy. Too fragile.
Vi lay on her side, half buried in Caitlyn’s warmth, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. She didn’t think she’d ever been this close to someone.
Caitlyn smiled softly, the kind of smile that reached her eyes—genuine, untamed. But there was something else buried there too. Something Vi didn’t want to name.
"You’re staring," Caitlyn whispered, voice still rough with sleep.
Vi huffed a breath of laughter, nuzzling into her hair. "Can you blame me?"
Caitlyn’s smile widened, but it didn’t stay. It faltered—fading like morning mist—as the weight of the coming day settled between them.
They were both thinking it. The battle. The impossible odds. The truth neither wanted to speak aloud.
Vi’s hand found Caitlyn’s jaw, tilting her face up until blue eyes met hers. "Promise me something."
Caitlyn’s brow furrowed. "What?"
"That we get through this," Vi whispered, voice cracking just enough to betray her fear. "You and me. No matter what happens out there."
Caitlyn’s lips parted—words caught in her throat. She blinked once, twice, before she whispered, "Vi…"
But Vi shook her head, thumb brushing across Caitlyn’s cheek. "No. Don’t say anything else. Just… promise me."
For a moment, Caitlyn didn’t move. And then… her face crumbled. A shuddered breath left her lips.
"I broke the first promise I ever made to you," she whispered, voice breaking. "Do you remember?"
Vi frowned, fingers stilling. "What…?"
Caitlyn swallowed hard. "That day… when you begged me not to change. And I… I didn’t listen. I thought I knew better. I thought…"
Her voice cracked. "I broke it, Vi. I broke it, and I hate myself for it."
Vi’s heart twisted. She sat up slightly, cupping Caitlyn’s face with trembling hands. "Hey… hey, look at me."
Caitlyn forced herself to meet Vi’s gaze.
" You’re… you’re everything good, Cait. You hear me? You’re the reason I’m still standing."
A sob slipped from Caitlyn’s lips then—quiet, fragile. "I don’t want to break another promise, Vi. I can’t."
Vi leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, breath mingling. "Then don’t."
She kissed Caitlyn—slow, aching, full of everything she couldn’t say. "Promise me," Vi whispered again, lips brushing against Caitlyn’s. "Promise me we get through this."
Caitlyn’s eyes burned as she whispered, "I promise."
Vi smiled then—small, broken, but real. "That’s all I need."
And for one stolen moment, they held each other—soft, in love, terrified of what waited just beyond the door.
Neither of them knowing it was the last time the world would be this kind.
The room smelled like antiseptic and fading hope. Tobias stood by the window, shoulders stiff, staring out at the city that had taken everything from him.
"We tried to protect her, you know," he whispered, breaking the suffocating silence. "Cassandra… me… we did everything. Paid off captains. Pulled every string. Bribed every official who mattered just to keep her off the worst assignments."
Vi looked up slowly, her throat tight.
Tobias let out a bitter laugh, eyes distant. "But she was stubborn. Always was. Too good with a rifle… too sharp to sit behind a desk like the rest of us wanted." He exhaled hard. "She made it impossible to keep her safe."
He turned then, eyes red-rimmed, hollow. "And now look where it’s gotten her."
Vi swallowed hard. "She wanted to fight. To fix this place."
"I know," Tobias rasped. "But she’s paying the price now. If she wakes up… if she opens her eyes… what’s left for her, Vi?"
He took a shaky breath. "Her eye… damaged, maybe gone. And she’s a shooter. That rifle was part of her. You think she’ll survive losing that?"
Vi said nothing, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
"Then there’s Maddie’s betrayal. The enforcers we lost. Everything… Cassandra died in that Council chamber, blown apart by your sister. And now… Caitlyn’s all I have left."
His voice cracked, and for a moment, Tobias Kiramman looked like a man already mourning his daughter.
"I don’t know if I can watch her survive this, Vi. I don’t know if she’ll want to."
Vi blinked back tears. "Then we’ll remind her why she has to."
But neither of them believed it. Not fully.
And in the dark, the weight of their shared fear settled between them—too heavy to carry, too real to ignore.
Then a tremor. A faint pull of delicate fingers against her own.
Vi froze.
The air thickened, every sound dulling around her until the only thing she could hear was the desperate, aching thrum of her own heart.
"Tobias," she whispered, her voice cracking like dry earth. "She… she moved."
Tobias startled but didn’t speak. His eyes locked on Caitlyn’s face, wide, disbelieving.
And then—slowly, painfully—Caitlyn’s brow furrowed. A shallow breath dragged through her lungs, her lips parting on instinct rather than awareness. Her head shifted, a wince flickering over her pale features as pain lanced through every fragile inch of her battered body.
Vi was on her feet in an instant, hands hovering, unsure whether to touch her or simply watch. "Cait… Cait, it’s me. I’m here. You’re okay."
Caitlyn’s lashes fluttered—once, twice—before her right eye cracked open. The blue was dulled, glassy, unfocused. She stared through Vi at first, seeing nothing. And then, slowly, her gaze landed.
Vi’s breath caught in her throat. "Hey… hey, there you are."
But there was no recognition. No flicker of relief.
Only confusion.
Caitlyn blinked once, slowly, as if dragging herself through molasses. Her breathing hitched, shallow and uneven.
Vi reached out, unable to stop herself. Her hand found Caitlyn’s—cold, fragile—but the moment their skin met, Caitlyn stiffened.
The contact was brief, but Vi felt it—the way Caitlyn recoiled ever so slightly, muscles tightening beneath the sheets.
"Cait… it’s me. Vi. You’re safe now. You’re home."
Caitlyn’s lips parted. She exhaled shakily but said nothing for a long moment, her gaze darting around the unfamiliar room.
And then—softly, almost too quietly to hear—she whispered, "Who…?"
Vi blinked, her chest seizing. "It’s me, Caitlyn. Vi."
But Caitlyn’s brows pulled together, confusion deepening. She didn’t jerk away. She didn’t scream.
Instead, she did something far worse.
With deliberate slowness, Caitlyn slid her hand from Vi’s grasp—weak, trembling, but determined. She pulled back as if Vi’s touch was foreign. Unfamiliar. Unwelcome.
"I… I don’t know you," she rasped, her voice cracking at the edges but steady—too steady.
The words carved through Vi like a blade.
She opened her mouth—no sound came. Her lungs burned, her throat closing around the sob threatening to break free. "Cait… no, you do. You know me. We… you—"
Caitlyn blinked slowly, eyes darting to Tobias as if searching for an anchor. "Where… am I?" she whispered. "Where’s my mother?"