Veil of Magic
The morning sun cast a gentle light over Ravenhurst, but its warmth did little to lift the heaviness in the air. The bodies of the Demacian soldiers, including Kara’s, had been sent back to Demacia for a proper burial. But today was for the revolutionaries—the locals who had fought with the Demacians against the forces that sought to crush their home. Their sacrifices were profound, and their deaths had left an indelible mark on the hearts of those who remained.
The coffins of the fallen revolutionaries were carried through the streets of Ravenhurst, draped in simple cloth, each one representing a life that had been given for something greater than survival. The people of Ravenhurst led the procession, their solemn faces reflecting the heavy burden of loss. These were the faces of neighbors, friends, and families—the very heart of the town. They had fought alongside the soldiers, side by side, in defense of their homes, and now they carried the bodies of their loved ones, honoring the sacrifice made for a better future.
The mourners walked slowly, the pace deliberate, their eyes downcast but filled with pride for those who had fallen. Some of them held hands, others carried tokens—small flowers or trinkets that symbolized the lost. As they moved through the town, the silence was only broken by the distant sound of birds and the occasional sigh, a collective sorrow shared by all.
Vi, Caitlyn, Powder, and Ekko stayed in the background, respectful of the grief that had settled into the very bones of Ravenhurst.
Amidst the mourners were members of the Demacian nobility—Jarvan IV, Lux, and Garen—accompanied by a few soldiers. Though they kept to themselves, blending into the procession, their presence was a quiet acknowledgment of the bond forged between Demacia and Ravenhurst in the fires of battle.
When the procession reached the graveyard, the fallen revolutionaries were laid to rest, each coffin lowered with the reverence it deserved. The air was thick with the heaviness of the moment, and even the sunlight seemed to dim in respect. Maya stood by the grave of her mother, Ava, alone but surrounded by those who had shared in her mother’s cause. Her hands trembled as she placed a single white rose atop Ava's coffin, her silent grief echoing in the hearts of those around her.
The ceremony continued, and Ekko, standing at the front of the crowd, felt the weight of the moment settle into his chest. He hadn’t known most of the fallen personally, but they were part of something much larger than just this town—they were part of the heart of Ravenhurst, and that was something Ekko understood deeply. Vi and Caitlyn had only arrived the day before, their presence more a symbol of solidarity than a personal connection to the dead. Neither of them had known Ava, nor the people they now stood with, but Ekko, having lived among them for so long, felt the need to honor them.
He stepped forward, his voice steady but laced with the sorrow that filled the air, and addressed the gathered mourners. “We stand here today for the ones we’ve lost. People who weren’t just fighters in a battle—they were our neighbors, our friends, our families. And for them, we’re here, to honor their sacrifice.” His eyes moved across the crowd, resting on the families and faces that had fought beside those who now lay at rest.
Ekko paused for a moment, a brief wave of emotion threatening to crack his composure. He took a breath, steadying himself. “I didn’t know all of them the way you did. But I knew this town. And I knew what it meant to these people—to all of us. They didn’t fight for glory or fame. They fought for their homes. For their families. And when they fell, they did so knowing they were part of something bigger than themselves.”
He looked down at the graves, at the faces of the revolutionaries he had fought beside in Kalstead, their names etched into his mind even if their faces were not always so clear. “They believed in something. Something worth dying for. And because of them, we still have a chance. We owe them that much—to keep fighting for what they died for.”
He paused again, the flames from nearby fires flickering in his eyes as he finally spoke the words that had been on his mind since the battle ended. “To all the people who gave everything so that we might have a future, we say goodbye, not as soldiers, but as the people who will carry that hope forward. We won’t forget what they’ve done for us.”
The crowd was still as Ekko stepped back, his heart heavy but his spirit steady. Powder, standing close by, stepped forward and placed a hand gently on Ekko’s shoulder, offering quiet comfort in the stillness that hung over the graveyard. Her touch was soft but grounding, a reminder of the bond they had forged through everything they had faced together. Ekko glanced up at her, his eyes reflecting the shared weight of the day’s events. They didn’t speak, but the gesture spoke volumes—two souls carrying the same burden, offering strength in silence.
As the final words were spoken, the crowd dispersed, and the mourners moved toward the heart of Ravenhurst for the gathering that would follow.
Later that evening, Ravenhurst came alive with quiet fires and low murmurs. People gathered around bonfires, the flickering flames offering a semblance of warmth in the cool night air. It wasn’t just the fire that drew them together—it was the need to remember, to reflect, and to find solace in the presence of others who had shared their grief.
Around one particular bonfire sat an unusual group: Vi, Caitlyn, Powder, Ekko, Jarvan IV, Lux, and Garen. Though their paths had crossed by circumstance rather than design, they were now bound by shared battles, loss, and the tenuous hope of something better.
The group was quiet at first, the silence filled by the occasional crackle of the fire. Powder sat cross-legged, fidgeting with a loose thread on her sleeve, while Ekko stared into the flames, his thoughts distant. Vi leaned back against a log, one arm draped protectively around Caitlyn’s shoulders, her thumb unconsciously tracing small circles on Caitlyn’s sleeve.
Jarvan IV broke the silence, his gaze turning to Caitlyn. “Lady Caitlyn of House Kiramman,” he began, his tone polite but inquisitive. “Your family’s ingenuity shaped Piltover’s iconic vent systems—an achievement widely admired, even in Demacia. I’ve heard stories about your House’s brilliance, but it seems your personal path took a much different turn. How did you go from a life of privilege to leading the enforcers?”
Caitlyn straightened slightly, her voice measured but warm. “The Kirammans have always valued progress and innovation,” she began. “But while my family focused on building Piltover’s foundations, I wanted to focus on protecting the people living within those walls. Becoming an enforcer gave me that chance—to make a tangible difference in their lives.”
Jarvan nodded thoughtfully. “A noble pursuit,” he said. “Many would have been content to rest on their family’s legacy. You chose otherwise. It’s commendable.”
Caitlyn offered a small smile. “I think everyone here has made similar choices,” she said, glancing at Vi and Ekko. “Whether we were born into privilege or hardship, we’re all fighting for something greater than ourselves.”
Lux, who had been quiet until now, spoke up softly, her voice tentative. “I think that’s really brave,” she said, her cheeks faintly pink as she addressed Caitlyn. “I—I mean, stepping away from what’s expected of you to follow your own path. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do but... well...” She trailed off, fiddling with the hem of her cloak.
Jarvan glanced at his fiancée with a flicker of surprise. “You’re stronger than you think, Lux,” he said gently. “And you’ve proven it time and again. It’s not easy to step out of the shadow of expectation, but you’ve done so admirably.”
Lux gave him a shy smile, her fingers still tugging at the fabric of her cloak. “Maybe,” she murmured.
Garen, sitting beside her, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’ll find your way, Lux,” he said with quiet confidence. “Just as Caitlyn has. We all have different battles to fight.”
Vi, who had been content to let the others speak, suddenly leaned forward, her voice cutting through the moment. “You know, Lux,” she said, her tone light but not unkind, “the thing about finding your path is that no one’s gonna hand it to you. You’ve got to grab it with both hands and make it yours. And if anyone tries to stop you? You show them why they shouldn’t.”
Lux looked up at Vi, her eyes wide. For a moment, she seemed unsure of how to respond, but then a small smile crept onto her lips. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said softly.
Powder, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly sat up and stretched dramatically. “Okay, that’s enough serious talk,” she declared, her grin tugging at her lips. “If we keep going like this, we’ll all be crying into our boots. Let’s lighten the mood. If we had to fight to the death with pies, who’s winning?”
Vi raised an eyebrow at her sister. “Pies, Powder? Really?”
Powder shrugged, her grin widening mischievously. “What? It’s a valid question. My money’s on... uh, what was your name again?” She squinted at Garen, tapping her chin theatrically. “Oh yeah, Garen! You look like the kind of guy who’d treat a pie like it’s a sword or something. All honor and precision, right?”
Garen blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected comment. Then, realizing Powder was teasing, his lips twitched into a faint smile. “I’m not sure whether that’s an insult or a compliment,” he said dryly.
“It’s both!” Powder chirped, clearly pleased with herself. She jabbed a thumb toward him. “Big guy like you? You’d probably monologue before throwing it, though. Something like, ‘For Demaciaaaa!’ and then—splat!” She mimed a dramatic pie throw, complete with sound effects.
The group burst into laughter, even Lux, who hid her giggles behind her hands.
“I don’t monologue,” Garen said firmly, though his tone betrayed his amusement.
Jarvan leaned back with a smirk. “Don’t listen to her, Garen. You’d definitely win the pie battle... eventually.”
Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t know, Jarvan. I think Powder here would probably take us all down. She’s got that unpredictable chaos thing going for her.”
“Darn right I do,” Powder said proudly, crossing her arms and grinning. “No one out-crazies me when it comes to pie warfare!”
Ekko, who had been quietly watching the exchange, finally chimed in, his grin matching Powder’s. “I don’t know, Powder. You’d probably blow up the pies before the fight even started.”
Powder gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I’d only blow them up after winning.”
The group dissolved into laughter again, the heavy atmosphere of the evening giving way to lighter spirits. For a brief moment, they were just people around a fire—no battles, no grief, just the warmth of newfound connections and the ridiculous image of a pie-fueled showdown.
In the dense jungle of Kalstead
Night had already settled, and the air was thick with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. The faint hum of insects and the rustle of leaves filled the air, as if the entire forest was alive with secrets. Deep beneath the forest floor, in a hidden underground bunker, Swain stood before a massive, rusted metal door. His eyes fixed on the purple gem he had taken from Ava’s lifeless body. It was fitted perfectly into the ancient mechanism on the door, revolving slowly, its light flickering like a heartbeat. The glow of the gem illuminated his face, casting eerie shadows that danced across his sharp features. He stood still, his breath shallow with excitement and anticipation as the gem spun with an almost hypnotic rhythm.
For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, like time itself held its breath. His mind raced with thoughts of the years spent chasing this moment—years of searching, of plotting, of sacrificing everything for power. His grandfather had sought the same treasure, and now, here he stood, about to claim what was once beyond reach.
As the gem turned, Swain’s pulse quickened. The light grew brighter, and with every rotation, a heavy pressure built, as if the very air in the bunker thickened with magic. His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to feel the raw energy that was just out of reach. The hum of ancient power vibrated beneath his skin, stirring something deep inside him.
Then, with a resounding click, the gem stopped. The light flashed one last time, and for a brief moment, everything was still. Swain’s heart pounded in his chest. This was the moment. This was what he had waited for. He was on the brink of uncovering a power beyond imagination.
His hand shot forward, pressing against the cold, rusted door. It creaked and groaned in protest, but with a forceful push, it slowly began to move. As the door cracked open, a burst of raw magical energy surged outward, engulfing the room in a blinding flash of light.
Swain was thrown back, his body crashing to the ground as the force of the energy swept through him. He gasped, his vision blurring for a moment, the air around him crackling with power. It felt as though the very foundations of reality were shifting, the magic thrumming in the air like an ancient beast awakening from a long slumber.
A wicked grin spread across Swain’s face as he knelt, feeling the magic wash over him. It was intoxicating. He reveled in it, every cell in his body alive with the power surging through him. This was it—the culmination of everything. His grandfather’s dream, his own ambition, all coming to fruition in this single, overwhelming moment.
“Ah… it’s beautiful,” Swain murmured, his voice thick with awe and satisfaction.
The room before him was shrouded in darkness, but the air was alive with energy, swirling around him like a storm. The darkness was thick and suffocating, yet the power emanating from it was undeniable. It was as if he was standing at the edge of something immense, something beyond even his understanding.
Back in Ravenhurst
As the bonfire crackled and laughter filled the air, Lux suddenly stiffened. The warmth of the flames was no match for the cold, creeping sensation that suddenly wrapped around her like a vice. Her stomach churned, a sharp pressure building in her chest.
She gasped, her face going pale as the world around her seemed to blur. “What’s happening…?” Lux whispered to herself, her breath catching in her throat.
Without warning, she doubled over, a wave of nausea overtaking her. She barely had time to react before she vomited, the sudden weakness in her body catching her off guard.
Jarvan was the first to react, rushing to her side and helping her steady herself. "Lux! What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.
Lux tried to speak, but the words felt foreign in her mouth. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t understand why she felt so… wrong. The pressure in her chest only intensified as she glanced around, her eyes scanning the dark sky and the distant silhouette of the jungle.
Powder, ever the playful one, threw in her usual joke, though her smile faltered at the sight of Lux’s distress. “Guess the pie caught up with you, huh?” she said, though it sounded more like an attempt to lighten the mood than anything else.
But Lux wasn’t listening to the teasing. Her senses were overwhelmed, and her head felt like it was spinning. She couldn’t explain it. She couldn’t let anyone know what was happening. The magic, whatever it was, was like nothing she had ever felt before—it was ancient, raw, and dangerously potent. It wasn’t just her magic acting up. It was something far bigger, far stronger, and she could feel its pulse in her very bones.
Lux swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her composure. “It’s... it’s nothing,” she said quickly, though her voice cracked with the effort. She glanced at the concerned faces around her, worry etched across her face. “Just a bit of dizziness... it’ll pass.”
Her mind raced. Don’t let them see. Don’t let anyone know.
Powder’s usual mischievous grin faded as she noticed the strain in Lux’s face. She leaned in closer, her voice softer, filled with genuine concern. “You sure you're okay? You look... off. I’ve got some special stomach medicine I use when I feel all heavy and lightheaded. It helps.”
“I appreciate it, Powder,” Lux said softly, still not entirely trusting her own words. “Maybe later…”
Her gaze flickered once more to the direction of the jungle, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Something out there—something terrifying—was pulling at her, trying to reach her. The magical energy was so intense, she could feel it in the air like a heavy fog.
She took a steadying breath, hoping to shake off the sensation. "I just need to sit for a moment," Lux said, her words casual, as though it was just a little tiredness. She pushed herself slowly to her feet, steadying herself on Jarvan’s arm.
Jarvan didn't buy it entirely, but he helped Lux to a nearby log, his eyes still full of concern. "If you say so," he said.
Lux gave a brief, grateful nod, but her thoughts were far away, focused on the source of the magic she could feel pulsing from the depths of the jungle. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of the bonfire wash over her, but even as she tried to ground herself, she couldn’t shake the sense that something had just been unleashed.
And she had no idea what it meant for them all.