From ashes and blood
The room reeked of chemicals and decay. A makeshift operating table stood at its center, surrounded by flickering gas lamps and vials of Shimmer glowing with an ominous, iridescent light. Silco stood over Violet’s motionless body, his mismatched eyes filled with something between calculation and guilt.
"I believe she's too far gone, Silco," Singed muttered, trying to look away, the sight of the girl too cruel even for him. "Even Shimmer won’t—"
"Do whatever you need to make the girl live," Silco snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. "I don't care what it takes."
The scientist swallowed hard and nodded. A needle pierced Violet’s chest, the Shimmer surging straight into her heart. Her body jerked violently, limbs convulsing against the restraints as a scream tore from her lips—raw and guttural, like an animal clawing its way back to life. Veins blackened and shimmered under her skin, glowing faintly as her body absorbed the toxic lifeblood. Her breathing had returned, but everyone could tell that something was wrong.
Her skin began to glow faintly purple. It was not a pleasant feeling. It did not feel good; it was a burning heat—like molten metal coursing through her body. Her skin cracked, faint wisps of smoke rising as the Shimmer burned her from the inside out. The scientists scrambled, grabbing tools and clamps as her muscles spasmed uncontrollably.
"She is tearing herself apart!" one of Dr. Singed’s apprentices shouted in horror.
"Keep her together," Silco said, stepping closer and grabbing Violet’s right shoulder.
One of the doctors grimaced as he reached into her abdomen with gloved hands, pulling fragments of bone and torn muscle back into place. Another used crude sutures and Shimmer-infused salves to force her organs to rebind, the mixture bubbling and hissing as it fused the tissue. Violet’s chest rose and fell in jagged, shuddering gasps, the Shimmer dragging her body back together.
But the worst was yet to come. Violet’s screams gave way to a feral growl, her hands trembling as her fingers curled into fists. Her veins glowed faintly under her cracked skin, and her eyes snapped open—blazing with a mixture of pink and powder-blue light.
"Where is Powder?" Violet’s teary gaze locked on him, filled with fury, confusion, and something primal. Silco didn’t flinch.
"Welcome back, Violet."
She knew from the moment her eyes darted open that she was no longer the same little girl. She could never be the same. She was something new, something forged in ashes and blood.
Falling for Silco’s hateful discourse and vision of the free nation of Zaun is not difficult when you are barely a teenager who has watched her parents get killed fighting for a better nation for herself and her sister. It is certainly not difficult when you are bedridden and unconscious for months, with most of your body covered in chemical burns. When your family is buried six feet under and the only person who takes care of you after years is the same man who is giving you a purpose—a reason to do the only thing you deem yourself capable of: fighting. Fighting to protect the ones who cannot do it for themselves.
She fixed her posture on the stretcher, put on her best facade, and tried to swallow down the sob that was threatening to escape. She had to ask. It’s not like she trusted him, but what other chance did she really have?
"Is she—I... is Powder alive? My sister, do you know where she is?"
It was silent in the room. Suddenly, it was colder too, like the universe knew what was coming and just wanted to make it even worse for her.
Her heartbeats were getting louder and louder. She felt them against her chest, in her ears, everywhere. Maybe if she was silent enough, if she could just hold her breath long enough, she could hear Powder’s heartbeat too and go home with her.
"After the explosion, the enforcers were quick to enter the scene. I’m afraid that Sheriff Marcus informed us they found her body. She was under the rubble, near your brothers. I'm really sorry, kid. I truly am."
She felt her whole body shutting down. She didn't even realize when the tears started streaming down her face. She had suffered losses all her life—her parents on the bridge, friends who would get sick from the heavily polluted air in the Fissures, Mylo, Claggor, Benzo, Vander, hell, maybe even Little Man. But this was another level of pain—losing her little sister, her best friend, her last hope of ever having a family.
Powder was the whole reason Vi kept fighting after everything. Who would keep Powder safe if not her big sister? Sure, they had Vander, and he loved them to the core, but even as he tried his best, he could never understand her sister like Vi did. No one could. This was all her fault; she had promised her mother that night that no matter what happened, she would never leave Powder’s side, that she would protect her sister through everything.
As she was overwhelmed with tears, anger, fear, and, most of all, grief, a hand lifted her chin with surprising gentleness.
Vi lifted her gaze and met his face. For the first time, she looked at Silco. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes deep like bruises, the scarred side of his face glowing a dim, angry red in the flickering light. Her breath hitched as her eyes lingered on it—because now, she bore a scar of her own. The Shimmer experiments had left it slashing across the opposite side of her face, raw and jagged, a grotesque reflection of his. They were mirrors of each other now, two faces carved by pain.
He brushed his thumb across her cheek, wiping away her tears softly. She pulled back at first but then gave in after a few seconds. His voice was low and steady but with an edge sharp enough to cut through her defenses.
"You’ve been betrayed, haven’t you? By the people you trusted. By the ones who were supposed to fight for you, protect you. Vander? He wasn’t your savior, Vi. He was your leash."
Vi stiffened, but Silco didn’t stop. He pressed on, his voice softening, almost gentle.
"I know how it feels to be left with nothing. To watch the people you love slip away in seconds. He said he was keeping you safe. That he was keeping your family safe. But all he was doing..." His voice twisted, bitter. "...was keeping you weak."
Vi’s fists clenched, but she didn’t speak.
"Vander sided with the real enemy, Vi. He chose to sit back and hope the system would change. But you and I both know the system is broken to the core. Piltover never cared about people like you, like me, like any of us." He moved closer, his eyes locking onto hers.
"It uses us, crushes us under its boots, kills us. And it was always going to win because people like him were too afraid to fight back. Too afraid to do what needs to be done."
Silco paused, his gaze softening, almost sympathetic. "I’ve made mistakes. I won’t deny that. But I’ve kept fighting. For Zaun. For the kids who deserve a better future—kids like you. Like your sister."
Vi’s breath hitched at the mention of Powder, but Silco didn’t relent. His voice dipped lower, intimate, almost a whisper.
For the first time, she wasn’t sure whether she hated it—or needed it.