Chapter 1
Vi could once confidently say, with all the arrogance of a teenager, that she knew the Undercity like the back of her hand.
She could navigate its twisting alleys blindfolded. She knew every shadow, every secret corner, the places to hide and the places to avoid. She knew the people, and through Vander, they knew her. She was somebody, and that meant something.
Seven years. It didn’t feel like that much time. To her, it was a blur, an eternity spent behind bars, a stretch of solitary confinement where days and nights bled into each other, indistinguishable.
It was naive to think the world had stopped moving while she was locked away. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. Life didn’t freeze in place when someone disappeared from it. People moved on, relationships shifted, and time never stopped for anyone. Vi had continued to grow and change, while the world around her—Piltover, Zaun, even the people she knew—had carried on without her.
The simple truth was undeniable: Vander was gone. Vi had been imprisoned. And the world kept turning, indifferent to her absence.
When she finally stepped out of that cage, the world waiting for her felt like a stranger. Piltover had advanced so much during her time in the dark, and when she brought Caitlyn to the Undercity, she realized how little she actually knew about it anymore.
There were names she recognized, but everything else felt foreign. Silco. Her sister. The chem-barons. Babette’s. The Last Drop.
Zaun, the place she once thought she knew like the back of her hand, no longer felt like home. And the people who had once known her? They didn’t recognize her anymore, either. She was a ghost in a world that had forgotten her.
And when her sister detonated the bomb that tore through the council, Vi felt every bit of the life she’d once hoped to return to crumble. She watched, helpless, as the remains of the world she knew turned to dust. Powder, the girl who had once been her sister, was now a face she didn’t recognize. It was as if the person she had loved so fiercely had disappeared in the explosion, leaving behind only a shell of someone she didn’t know.
The moments that followed the explosion were a blur of emotions, too chaotic and fractured to make sense of. Vi remembered Caitlyn at her side, a constant presence in a sea of devastation. She remembered holding Caitlyn up when the weight of grief threatened to crush her completely, the warmth of her presence a contrast to the cold fear that settled in Vi’s chest. Caitlyn’s tears soaked Vi’s shirt, but Vi didn’t mind. She was there, in the chaos, just as she always had been in the past when the world fell apart.
But after the explosion, the aftermath, Vi couldn’t remember why she had gone back to Kiramman Manor with Caitlyn. All she remembered was sitting in Caitlyn’s bedroom, silent and numb, while Caitlyn’s sobs filled the air. Caitlyn had needed her, and Vi had stayed, offering her nothing more than the comfort of her presence. She had nothing to give, no words of wisdom, just the hollow ache of loss shared between them.
Vi had returned to a world that didn’t have room for her anymore, and she had no idea where to go next.
Grief had been a constant companion in Vi’s life. She knew its shape, its rhythm, as well as she knew the streets of the Undercity. Too many faces. Too many names. Too many people she had loved and lost. She struggled to wonder if she should put her sister with the names of those who she had failed to protect.
Caitlyn floundered, trying to fight a battle she couldn’t win, pushing against a pain that didn’t have an end. She was an endless stream of tears and turmoil, unable to hold herself together.
Vi couldn’t remember how she grieved her mom. Powder didn’t understand death, and Vander kept trying to explain to Vi that Powder couldn’t grasp the fact that their parents weren’t coming back.
Vi didn’t know how to comfort Caitlyn, but she let her take what she needed. She held the woman together in her arms to keep her from falling and shattering to pieces. She allowed herself to be selfish and feel the closeness of another human being for the first time in years, to feel the arms around her that weren’t trying to hurt or cause her harm.
A week or two after the attack, Vi tried to return to Zaun. She wasn’t sure for what purpose, she didn’t know her next move, but she knew that she couldn’t stay in Piltover. That wasn’t the place for her. She was a fissure kid through and through.
But she didn’t have a cog to her name or anything other than the clothes on her back. She didn’t know who she could trust and who she couldn’t. She felt like a stranger in her home.
She returned to Caitlyn two days later. She hadn’t expected much, but when Caitlyn opened the door, she didn’t expect the tight embrace that followed. Caitlyn wrapped her arms around Vi, pulling her in as though her very presence was a lifeline. Vi’s heart raced, her body tense, but she held Caitlyn close, whispering apologies. She didn’t know what she was apologizing for, maybe for everything.
“I don’t know where to go,” Vi admitted, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You can stay here,” Caitlyn whispered against her shoulder. After a moment she mumbled, “Please, stay here.”
Vi wanted to snap at her, to turn her down, to retort that she wasn’t a Piltie and she wasn’t a charity case. But she knew rationally that it was the best she was going to get. She needed time to figure out what to do next and if Caitlyn was offering her the space to do that then she should take it.
“Okay,” Vi replied quietly, dark blue hair tickling her nose. “I’ll stay.”
Vi had barely exchanged more than a few words with Tobias Kiramman. He’d seemed like the gentler of Caitlyn’s two parents when they’d first crossed paths, back when she had snuck through Caitlyn’s bedroom window. He was calm, reserved, and, on the surface, kind. But grief had a way of twisting people into something unrecognizable.
Tobias made it clear from the start that he didn’t want her there. His eyes narrowed with disdain, filled with hate, as if she were nothing more than trash beneath his shoe.
The first words he spoke to her after everything happened were an accusation. He accused her of taking advantage of Caitlyn.
“Survivor bonding,” he had spat like it was a label for whatever fragile relationship with Caitlyn.
Vi didn’t know the term. “What does that even mean?” she shot back, her voice defensive. She didn’t understand what he was getting at, but the tone he used made her feel small.
The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable as he replied. “It’s a bond formed between two people who didn’t know each other beforehand but went through some kind of traumatic experience together. It’s… it’s not real. It’s a reaction to the situation. A coping mechanism. A survival instinct.”
His words made Vi’s thoughts come to a screeching halt. She hadn’t expected that explanation, hadn’t known there was a name for what had been happening between her and Caitlyn. Her mind spun as she tried to make sense of his words, but it only left her more confused.
So, was that what they were? She and Caitlyn? Was it just a product of their shared trauma? The thought stung. She didn’t know how to respond. How could she?
“I don’t—” Vi stopped herself, words too tangled to speak. The idea of their connection being reduced to something so cold, so clinical, hurt more than she expected.
Her voice softened. "I didn’t have anyone left. Caitlyn... she was all I had. She trusted me when she didn’t have to."
Tobias’s grief turned to anger. “She trusted you, and look where that got her.”
“I didn’t ask her to trust me,” Vi shot back.
Tobias took a step toward her, his voice sharp. “You don’t get it, do you? She went through hell for you, and now you’re here. You’re just using her!”
Vi’s heart sank. "I’m not using her."
“What now? What’s left for you here?” His voice cracked, as though the question was more for himself than for her. "My wife is dead, Caitlyn’s mother is gone. She’s lost everything. So why are you still here? What the hell is keeping you out of that prison you came from? Huh?"
The question hit like a punch. She had no answer. Caitlyn’s mother was dead. He was right. There was no one else to justify her staying. Tobias was speaking from a place of pain, but there was a cold truth in his words. Vi had been brought out of the cage—out of her prison—but for what?
She opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. What was keeping her there? Was it just the fragile thread of a bond with Caitlyn, a connection born out of nothing but survival? Was that all there was?
Tobias’s accusing gaze never left her, and Vi couldn’t look away.
But then, the words came out before she could stop them. "I can’t go back to that place," she whispered.
Tobias’s face changed, his fists clenching. "So, you’re staying for her? For Caitlyn?" His voice was thick with disbelief and something darker—resentment, maybe. "Why? So she can keep holding your hand? So you can pretend this is enough? It’s not. It’ll never be enough. You can’t undo what happened."
Vi felt the weight of his words. He was right. She couldn’t undo any of it. But she couldn’t leave either.
The tension in the room was suffocating. Vi had no answer for Tobias, not one that made sense to anyone but herself.
But before she could say anything more, the door to the room creaked open, and Caitlyn stepped inside, her presence cutting through the suffocating silence.
Caitlyn’s eyes were red, her face pale, the dark circles under her eyes a testament to the sleepless nights she had spent, lost in her own grief. She looked between Tobias and Vi, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything.
“Why are you still here, Vi?” His voice was tight with frustration, raw from grief. “Why haven’t you left? Why aren’t you back in prison, where you belong? Or at least back in Zaun, with the rest of your kind?” His eyes were burning, demanding an answer, any answer. “Why are you still here?”
Vi opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught. She didn’t know what to say. She glanced over at Caitlyn. Caitlyn hesitated, clearly struggling to find the right words, as if she knew the question was too big for them both to answer easily. Finally, Caitlyn spoke, her voice a little shaky, but she was trying, her eyes darting between Tobias and Vi.
“Father, please... I don’t—” Caitlyn faltered, not sure how to frame it, the words slipping through her fingers. She let out a breath and shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know why. It’s just... she’s here, and I—she’s not... she’s not a threat. She’s—” Caitlyn stopped herself, her brow furrowing, her mind grasping at explanations that didn’t quite fit. “We’re just... we’re trying to figure things out.”
Tobias’s gaze hardened. “Figure things out?” His voice was incredulous, laced with disbelief. “You’re telling me you’re keeping her here because you’re still figuring things out? This isn’t some charity case. She’s not some... stray you decided to rescue. Look at her! She came from a cage, Caitlyn. A cage. And now you’re telling me she’s just... what? A lost soul wandering around because you two can’t face the reality of what happened?”
Vi stood silent. He wasn’t wrong, not entirely. She was from that cage, from a place where survival meant everything and trust meant nothing. The fact that Caitlyn had reached into that darkness and pulled her out had been a mercy, but what had they expected once she was out? They didn’t know. None of them had any idea what came next.
“I... I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Vi finally admitted quietly. She didn’t look at Caitlyn, not sure if the honesty would make things worse. “I wasn’t exactly given a lot of choices. I didn’t know where else to turn.”
Tobias didn’t soften, though something flickered in his eyes. "So, you just stayed because you had nowhere else to go?"
“Yeah,” Vi said quietly.
Tobias’s voice turned cold. “You don’t belong here, Vi. You don’t belong in Caitlyn’s life. You don’t belong in this house.”
Vi straightened, fists clenched, feeling a raw urge to fight back, but she forced herself to stay calm. “Are you going to kick me out then?” she asked, her words sharp.
Tobias’s gaze was icy. "I don’t want to see you around anymore," he said, his voice low but sharp, carrying an edge of finality that made Vi’s stomach twist.
The words stung more than she expected. He wanted her gone. No more pretending, no more staying because there was nowhere else. He didn’t want her here, and the bluntness of it made her feel more alone than she had in a long time.
Before Vi could respond, Caitlyn grabbed her arm and pulled her away from Tobias. “Stop it, Father!” Caitlyn’s voice cracked. "This isn’t helping anything. You’re not—this isn’t the way to fix things!"
Tobias shot Caitlyn a look, but she didn’t let go of Vi. Vi stumbled slightly, caught off guard by Caitlyn’s forcefulness, but Caitlyn didn’t let go. She dragged her toward the door, her steps quick, her breathing shaky.
“Caitlyn, stop!” Tobias’s voice followed them, but Caitlyn kept pulling Vi, her gaze fixed ahead, her jaw clenched in a way that made it clear she wasn’t going to let this escalate further.
Once they were in the hallway, Caitlyn stopped, still holding onto Vi’s arm, her breath ragged. She looked at Vi, her face flushed with the effort of holding herself together. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, but there was something in her voice that sounded like she wasn’t just apologizing to Vi—she was apologizing for everything. “I didn’t want that to happen. I didn’t want you to have to deal with that.”
Vi exhaled, running a hand through her hair, her thoughts a swirl of anger, confusion, and guilt. “It’s fine. I’m used to it,” she muttered, even though she wasn’t. No one had ever looked at her that way, no one had ever made her feel like an intrusion so clearly, so publicly. Tobias didn’t want her there. He’d made that clear.
Caitlyn shook her head, her expression softening as she reached for Vi’s other hand, pulling her in a little closer. “It’s not fine, Vi. He’s just... he’s just hurting, okay? He doesn’t know how to deal with any of this, with what happened to Mom. And he’s...” Caitlyn’s voice cracked, but she quickly steadied herself. “He’s just lashing out. He doesn’t mean it. He’s just... lost. We all are.”
“I get it,” Vi said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know what it’s like to want to push people away, to just... hurt because it feels like there’s nothing else to do. Hell, I’ve done it.”
Caitlyn didn’t say anything, just gave a small, strained nod, her eyes searching Vi’s face.
Vi exhaled sharply and looked away. The truth was, she hadn’t asked for any of it. She hadn’t asked to get pulled out of that cage, out of the life she’d learned to survive in, just to be dropped into the aftermath of someone else’s grief. Caitlyn was trying, but there was only so much that could be done when everything felt like it was slipping through their fingers.
“I can go,” Vi said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I'll survive. I always have.”
Caitlyn shook her head violently, her grip tightening on Vi’s arm. “No. You’re not going anywhere, Vi.”
Vi looked at her, bewildered. She hadn’t expected that after the confrontation where Tobias ordered her out. “What, you want me to just... stay here? After everything?”
“I don’t care about what’s happened, or what my Father said, or any of it,” Caitlyn said, her voice low and urgent. “You’re not leaving. I don’t want you to go.”
Vi swallowed hard, looking away. “Caitlyn... I don’t know where I fit in anymore. I don’t know what I’m doing here, or what you need me for.” She was stumbling over her words, the uncertainty bleeding through. “Maybe it’s just... easier if I don’t stay. I don’t know how much longer I can be here, in the middle of all of this, with no real place...”
Caitlyn stepped closer, her hands reaching up to grip Vi’s shoulders, her eyes fierce. “You don’t have to know. You don’t have to have it all figured out. I’m not leaving you out there, Vi. Not after everything. You... you’re not a burden, alright? You’re not. I don’t care if you don’t know where you fit in. We’ll figure that out.”
Vi’s heart twisted at her words. There was no question now that Caitlyn meant what she said, that she was determined to hold on to something she was so afraid of losing. Vi wasn’t sure she deserved it, wasn’t sure she could stay without destroying something else, but Caitlyn’s resolve was clear.
“I’m not... I’m not good at being around people, Caitlyn,” Vi whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m used to surviving alone. And maybe it’s just better if I keep it that way. I won’t be the person you want me to be.” She looked down at the ground, her voice shaking a little. “I’m just... trying to not be a mess.”
Caitlyn’s grip softened, but the fire in her eyes didn’t fade. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you. Okay?”
Vi slumped, unsure what to do, but nodded. “Okay.”
Vi lay on her side in bed, her back to Caitlyn. She could hear Caitlyn’s breath, slow and even. The sheets under her were too soft, the mattress too squishy. Vi couldn’t bring herself to move because she might wake Caitlyn up.
It had started after the bombing, after the council fell, after everything exploded into chaos. They’d both been numb, barely able to function, clinging to whatever they could to get through the day. One night, after too many sleepless hours, they had ended up in Caitlyn’s bed, not for comfort or anything else—just because it was there, just because it was too hard to be alone.
They hadn’t meant to fall asleep that night. They hadn’t meant for it to become a habit, but somehow it had. The exhaustion weighed on them both, and the grief that followed the bombing clung to them like a second skin. They cried together sometimes, the sounds of their sobs filling the room, raw and unrestrained. But even when the tears stopped, they would find themselves drifting off to sleep beside each other without meaning to.
It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a way to get through the night. But the thing about grief was that it didn’t always make sense. Sometimes it made you reach for someone, even when you didn’t know if you were ready for it, even when you didn’t know what it was supposed to be.
Vi turned over in the bed, her front facing Caitlyn, who was already asleep. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been like this, tangled in the mess of grief and exhaustion, but it had become familiar, a kind of quiet comfort. The soft rise and fall of Caitlyn’s chest, the gentle sound of her breath in the dark. Those things, as small and insignificant as they might have seemed to anyone else, were a lifeline for Vi.
Vi didn't try to fight the sleep that was overtaking her. She hadn’t realized how much she needed the quiet moment of not being alone.
The last time she’d shared a bed with someone had been Powder back when they were kids, before the world had crumbled into the chaos it was now. Before everything changed.
Vi’s heart squeezed at the thought of Powder, at the girl she used to be. The girl who had been full of fire and laughter, before the bombs and the betrayals, before everything they had known fell apart. She remembered how they would share a blanket on cold nights, curled up together for warmth and comfort, the sense of safety that came from being near each other. That had been their world, just the two of them, holding on to each other in the chaos, as children do.
Vi had always been the protector, the older sister. She had promised to keep Powder safe, even though the world kept threatening to rip them apart. But after everything that happened, after Powder—after Jinx, Vi had learned how futile those promises could feel. It had been a long time since she had shared that kind of closeness with anyone. Stillwater prison had made sure of that. The isolation, the cold stone walls, the silence. It had been worse than the physical pain. Worse than the beatings or the shackles. The isolation had eaten away at her, leaving her feeling like a hollow shell. She'd spent years locked away, her only company the voices in her head, the memories of the people she'd lost, the guilt of not being able to keep them safe.
In prison, there was no space for connection. You couldn’t trust anyone, not even the people who were supposed to be on your side. Trust was a luxury you didn’t get. You were forced to fend for yourself, always on edge, always waiting for the next betrayal, the next fight. The solitude became as much a part of her as the scars on her skin, a constant reminder of how she'd lived her life.
And then Caitlyn had come along. Caitlyn, with her sharp eyes and her unwavering sense of duty. At first, it had been something else entirely—a mission, a duty to bring her to justice. Vi had never expected anything more than that. But over time, something shifted. Caitlyn had been the first person to look at her and see her, not just the broken, dangerous woman who’d been locked away for seven years, but something more. Something human.
In the beginning, Vi had resisted it. She wasn’t used to being seen. Not for who she was, not for what she could be. She was used to the cold distance, the judgment, the fear. But Caitlyn hadn’t treated her like that. She hadn't been afraid, even when the world was falling apart around them.
With Caitlyn, there was no expectation. No promises she couldn’t keep. No cages. Just space to breathe, even if it was only for a few fleeting hours before the world came rushing back in. It was a comfort, but it was also terrifying. Vi didn’t know how to let herself trust that kind of comfort, that kind of care.
It was easy to fall into the rhythm of it—Caitlyn’s breathing, the quiet safety of her presence. But Vi knew, deep down, that it couldn’t last forever. She couldn’t stay in this fragile bubble where nothing was expected of her, where she didn’t have to fight to stay alive every second of the day. Caitlyn had her own grief, her own demons to face. Vi couldn’t keep leaning on her, couldn’t keep burdening her with the weight of things Vi herself had never learned to deal with.
Vi watched the slow rise and fall of Caitlyn’s chest, her breathing raspy from the crying jag she had before falling asleep.
Soon, she told herself. Soon she would leave and figure her shit out.
But for the moment, she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of Caitlyn breathing.