Dualities in the Dark
Swain stepped into the room, his calculated steps echoing across the metallic floor. The ancient door behind him remained open, a faint hum emanating from the glowing gem embedded in its mechanism. He glanced back for a moment, noting how the purple veins of energy had begun to spread like living tendrils from the doorframe into the room, creeping across the walls like invasive roots.
As he moved deeper, the air grew heavier, pressing against his chest with an oppressive weight. Suddenly, light burst to life without warning, the sterile white glow flickering erratically before stabilizing. Swain froze, his sharp eyes scanning his surroundings. The very idea of electric lights—still operational after centuries—gnawed at the edges of logic.
The vast hall stretched endlessly before him, an eerie fusion of ancient craftsmanship and advanced, alien technology. The walls were smooth and pristine, entirely untouched by time. But as he approached, he noticed them pulsating faintly, as if alive. It wasn’t just the gem powering this place—this chamber thrummed with magic far beyond anything he had ever encountered.
His demonic arm twitched slightly, an involuntary response to the ambient energy. Every instinct screamed at him to remain cautious, but the pressure at the far end of the room drew him forward, as though daring him to come closer.
Swain pressed on, his boots moving with deliberate rhythm. When he reached the far end, the source of the pull became clear: a solitary lever, embedded into the wall. The metal looked ancient yet pristine, its handle gleaming as if untouched by decay.
He hesitated only briefly. There was no fear in him—only calculated curiosity. Wrapping his gloved fingers around the lever, Swain pulled it down with a firm yank.
The room erupted.
Red veins of light surged across the walls, flooding the chamber like molten lava coursing through hidden channels. A low, resonant rumble shook the floor beneath him, and the air itself seemed to thicken. The sound grew louder, escalating into a deafening roar as a section of the wall hissed and slid open with a violent shudder.
From the hidden recess, a pedestal emerged, grinding upward with mechanical precision. Swain instinctively stepped back, his senses on high alert. The pedestal stopped, revealing a small statue atop it.
The figure was hauntingly lifelike—a woman carved with flawless precision, her head bowed low in supplication. She knelt on both knees, her palms joined and extended outward, as though begging for something unseen. The faint red light that pulsed through the room now illuminated her features, casting sinister shadows that danced across her sorrowful visage.
Swain’s face hardened as recognition struck him. He exhaled slowly, his piercing gaze fixed on the kneeling statue.
A blood seal.
Swain sighed, his sharp mind already calculating the implications. This wasn’t just a magical barrier—it was a lock bound by something far more primal. No amount of brute force or spellcraft could undo it. Only the blood of the one who had created the seal could open it.
He clenched his jaw, the realization sending a wave of irritation through him. He hated the audacity of it—this relic, this statue, this entire chamber defied him.
Swain’s sharp eyes narrowed as he stepped back, his boots echoing against the stone floor. The red veins of light across the walls pulsed, twisting and shifting as though alive. He moved further, his gaze sweeping across the patterns, trying to discern their purpose. Then, as the shapes realigned and coalesced, the glowing veins formed jagged, deliberate symbols.
The message came into view, bold and unmistakable:
"Permission Denied! Unless you're me!"
Swain’s face darkened, his expression unreadable at first. Then his lips curled into a sneer, a mix of contempt and frustration flickering across his features. He exhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the heavy stillness of the room.
The arrogance of it. Whoever had crafted this seal had done so with an air of absolute confidence, leaving no avenue of entry for anyone other than themselves. The blood seal was unbreakable, even to the most powerful mages. Swain could do nothing but stare at the mocking words as they burned into his memory.
He let out a bitter chuckle, though his eyes burned with restrained fury. “Centuries have passed, and you still think you hold the upper hand,” he muttered, his voice low and venomous.
But it wasn’t just the seal that infuriated him—it was the unknown. The creator of this message, this entire chamber, had left no trace of their identity in the records he had scoured. No name, no legacy, no mention of who they were or how they had come to possess such power.
Swain’s eyes returned to the kneeling statue, its posture radiating an almost divine authority. He felt the weight of its presence, as if it were silently mocking his every step.
Swain clenched his fists, his demonic arm pulsing faintly in frustration. "Who are you?" The question hung in the air, unanswered.
Turning back toward the door, Swain resolved to leave. But as he approached the glowing gem embedded in the doorway, he paused. He reached out, attempting to remove it. His hand met resistance.
He tried again, this time summoning dark magic, his demonic arm flaring with power as he attempted to wrench the gem free. Sparks erupted, the purple veins in the room flaring in response. Still, the gem remained steadfast, as if mocking his efforts.
His frustration grew. Swain braced himself, putting his full strength into a final attempt to force the gem loose. The air around him trembled with the intensity of his magic.
Nothing.
The gem held firm, untouched by his magic or brute strength. Swain’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a snarl. He stepped back, exhaling sharply.
With one last glance at the glowing gem, Swain turned and left the chamber, the faint hum of the door echoing behind him as the door remained open. For now, the room held its secrets, and Swain was forced to retreat. But his resolve hardened with every passing moment.
In Ravenhurst
The night had settled, the world blanketed in a quiet stillness that only the faint hum of distant insects disturbed. Inside the old garage where the Demacian nobility stayed, most had fallen into an uneasy sleep. But for Lux, sleep was elusive.
She sat on the edge of her small cot, her eyes half-closed, trying to calm the restless energy that buzzed faintly in her chest. It was still there—the faint, lingering magical pulse from the forest. Not as intense as earlier, but persistent enough to gnaw at her focus.
Sighing, she decided she needed fresh air. Lux slipped quietly out of her room, careful not to disturb Jarvan or Garen in the adjacent spaces. Her soft steps carried her into the main garage, but as she passed the dimly lit hallway, a faint sparking noise caught her attention.
Curious, she followed the sound to the semi-open workshop. The air smelled of grease, metal, and faint ozone from soldering tools. There, huddled over a cluttered workbench, was Powder. Her blue hair glowed faintly under the moonlight streaming through the workshop’s broken windows.
Powder’s concentration was absolute as her hands deftly tinkered with a small mechanical device. Sparks flew briefly before she leaned back, inspecting her work with a satisfied nod.
Lux stepped closer, her soft voice breaking the silence. “Can’t sleep either?”
Powder startled slightly, her hands pausing mid-motion. She quickly recovered, pushing her goggles up onto her forehead and flashing a crooked, sheepish grin at Lux. “Yeah, well... I guess my brain doesn’t really come with an off switch.”
She gestured toward the half-assembled contraption on the table, the faint smell of solder and metal filling the air. “Figured I’d keep busy. Y’know, better than lying there staring at the ceiling.”
Lux took a cautious step closer, her gaze flicking between Powder and the strange device. “What is it?”
Powder smirked faintly, leaning back in her chair as she twirled a small screwdriver between her fingers. “Nothing fancy. Just a... thing.” She waved vaguely at it, her tone nonchalant. “Might explode. Might not. Guess we’ll find out.”
Lux blinked, unsure whether to laugh or take a step back. “You sound very confident about that.”
Powder shrugged, her grin widening just slightly, though her eyes carried a flicker of something deeper—something restless. “It’s half the fun, right? Gotta keep life interesting.”
Lux tilted her head, studying Powder for a moment. There was an edge to her, like she was carrying something heavy beneath that playful demeanor. “You’re really talented,” she said gently. “I mean it. The way you work with this stuff... it’s incredible.”
Powder blinked, caught off guard. Her smirk faltered for a split second before returning, though softer this time. “Thanks, I guess. Just something I’m good at. Always have been.”
Lux leaned against the edge of the workbench, her eyes warm. “You must have a sharp mind for this kind of thing.”
Powder chuckled dryly, tapping her temple with the end of the screwdriver. “Yeah, sharp’s one way to put it.”
Lux sensed the slight shift in her tone but didn’t press. Instead, she gestured toward the door. “Wanna take a break? The moonlight’s beautiful tonight.”
Powder hesitated, then tossed the screwdriver onto the table with a clatter. “Eh, why not? Beats staying cooped up in here all night.”
They two walked out into the cool night air, the soft glow of the moon casting long shadows over the garage and the surrounding trees. Powder shoved her hands into her pockets, glancing sidelong at Lux.
“So,” Lux began, her tone light. “Is tinkering how you usually unwind?”
“Yeah,” Powder replied casually. “That, or blowing stuff up. Depends on the day.” She grinned at Lux’s startled expression, though it lacked the manic energy she might’ve shown in the past. “Kidding. Mostly.”
Lux chuckled nervously, sensing Powder’s unease. “And that guy you’re with—Ekko. You two seem... close.”
Powder froze for a moment, her goggles slipping down slightly before she pushed them back up onto her forehead. “Ekko? Nah, we’re just—” She paused, the words sticking in her throat. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her shirt as she glanced away, avoiding Lux’s gaze. “We’ve known each other forever. He’s... he’s just a good friend.”
Lux tilted her head, studying Powder with a knowing smile. “You hesitated.”
“What? No, I didn’t,” Powder said quickly, her voice defensive. She rubbed the back of her neck, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “It’s just... I don’t know. Lately, he’s been different. Or maybe I’m different. I don’t even know what I’m feeling, okay?”
She trailed off, her fingers idly tracing the edge of a screwdriver on the workbench. Her voice softened as if the words were meant more for herself than Lux. “When he’s around, everything feels... lighter. Like I’m not as broken as I think I am. But then, sometimes he looks at me…differently, and I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s weird. I don’t get it.”
Lux’s smile grew softer, more understanding. “Sounds like someone’s important to you,” she said gently, watching as Powder’s blush deepened.
Powder shrugged, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just being dumb. It’s Ekko—we’ve always been a team. That’s all.”
But the way she gripped the screwdriver just a little tighter and avoided Lux’s gaze told a different story.
Lux’s expression softened. “Maybe you’re overthinking it. Or maybe you’re feeling something new.”
Powder shot her a skeptical look. “Wow, thanks for the life advice, Your Royal Highness.”
Lux laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Believe me, I’m no expert. My life’s already been decided for me, anyway.”
Powder frowned, her curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”
Lux hesitated, her gaze dropping as she fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. “Let’s just say… when you’re part of a noble family, your future isn’t really your own.”
Powder raised an eyebrow, her curiosity growing as they strolled outside the workshop, the cool night air brushing against them. “Like… arranged marriage stuff?”
Lux gave a small, reluctant laugh. “Something like that.”
Powder tilted her head, shoving her hands into her pockets as they walked. “So, what’s the deal? Do you and the prince ever talk? Or is this one of those ‘family-decided-this-is-your-future’ kind of things?”
Lux sighed, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “It’s a little bit of both. Jarvan’s kind and responsible—everything a prince and future king should be. But it’s not like we’ve really had time to know each other. My family thinks the match is perfect. For our family, at least.”
Powder glanced at her, her pink eyes sharp with understanding. “But not perfect for you.”
Lux hesitated before nodding slightly. “It’s not that he’s a bad person. He’s actually... a good one. But I feel like I’m too young. There’s so much I still don’t know about myself, about the world.”
Powder gave a wry smile. “Sounds rough. Fancy title, shiny crown, but no say in your own life. Real freedom, huh?”
Lux chuckled softly, the sound tinged with a trace of sadness. “It’s part of the responsibility, I suppose. The needs of the kingdom come first.”
Powder shrugged, kicking a loose pebble along the path. “Yeah, well, responsibility sounds overrated. Especially if it means pretending to be something you’re not.”
Lux glanced at her, intrigued. “You know something about that?”
Powder hesitated, her pace slowing as she gazed ahead, her boots scuffing lightly against the gravel path. “A little,” she finally said, her voice quieter. “There’s the me everyone sees—fun, reckless, always tinkering with some crazy invention, making jokes like I don’t have a care in the world. That’s the Powder everyone expects. The one they think they know.”
Lux glanced at her, sensing the weight behind her words. Powder continued, her tone soft but tinged with something deeper. “But then there’s... the other me. The one that feels like she’s always lurking in the back of my head. She’s louder, wilder, and sometimes... angry. Like, really angry. I don’t think anyone would really get that part of me, you know? They’d just say I’m broken or... too much.”
She exhaled sharply, a forced laugh escaping her lips. “I mean, maybe they’re right. Sometimes I don’t even know which one of me is the real me. Am I still Powder, the kid with big dreams and too many gadgets? Or am I... Jinx?” Her voice caught slightly on the last word, as if even saying it out loud made it more real. “Am I both? Neither? I don’t know anymore.”
Lux slowed to match Powder’s pace, her heart aching at the vulnerability in her words. “That sounds... exhausting,” she said softly, her voice empathetic but guarded.
“It is.” Powder shrugged, trying to play off her own confession with a casualness she didn’t feel. “But you learn to live with it. Or, at least, you pretend you do.”
Lux bit her lip, looking ahead but not really seeing the path in front of her. Powder’s words struck a chord—too close to home for comfort. For Lux, hiding her own truth wasn’t just exhausting—it was a matter of survival. The spark of magic she carried inside her was as dangerous as it was beautiful. If her family or the people of Demacia knew what she really was, the consequences would be unbearable. To them, a mage wasn’t just different; they were a threat. And she was no exception.
“I think I understand,” she murmured, her tone cautious.
Powder gave her a sideways glance. “Yeah? How’s that?”
Lux hesitated, gripping her hands tightly in front of her. Her thoughts raced, but she couldn’t tell Powder the truth—not entirely. Not yet. “There’s... a part of me, too. A part I have to keep hidden. People wouldn’t understand it, and if they did...” She trailed off, the rest of her sentence hanging heavily in the air.
Powder raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “What? You got some kind of dark side, too? Didn’t seem like it to me. You’re all sparkles and smiles, princess.”
Lux’s laugh was soft, almost bitter. “I wish it were that simple. But no... it’s not like that. It’s just... there are things about me I can’t share. Not with my family, not with anyone. If I did, it would change everything.”
Powder stopped walking, turning to face her. Her sharp pink eyes seemed to peer straight through Lux. “Sounds like you’re scared they’ll judge you for something you can’t change. Or worse, that they’ll hate you for it.”
Lux froze for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Something like that.”
Powder tilted her head, studying her. “You sure they’d hate it? Or is that just what you tell yourself? People can surprise you, you know.”
Lux offered a small, sad smile. “Maybe. But some things... they’re too dangerous to risk. Sometimes it’s easier to keep them buried. To pretend.”
Powder crossed her arms, leaning back slightly. “Yeah, well, pretending sucks. Trust me on that one. But if it’s what you gotta do to survive... I get it.”
Lux stayed quiet, the flicker of magic in her chest feeling heavier than usual. Powder somewhat knew what it was like to have the world see you as a savior while you carried something they considered a curse. Lux had learned long ago that trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford—not with something so dangerous.
The two girls stood in silence for a moment, their shared struggles bridging a gap neither of them could fully articulate.
Eventually, Powder broke the quiet, her tone lighter but still thoughtful. “You ever feel like... I dunno... you’re not meant to fit into the life people expect for you? Like you’re meant to be something else, even if you don’t know what that is yet?”
Lux looked up at the stars, the faint glow of the moon reflecting in her eyes. “All the time.”
Powder nodded knowingly, shoving her hands back into her pockets. “Yeah. Same here. Guess we’re both a couple of misfits, huh?”
Lux smiled faintly. “I suppose we are.”
The moment of understanding passed as they heard a faint rustling from the trees in the distance. Lux straightened, her gaze sharpening, but she quickly masked it with a calm expression. Turning to Powder, she said lightly, "It’s a bit different out here at night. Almost feels like the forest has a life of its own, huh?"
Powder looked toward the trees, then shrugged casually. “Could be. The forest’s always been a bit... unpredictable.”
Lux hesitated, her gaze drifting to the distant tree line visible beyond the workshop. She drew a deep breath, her voice soft but laced with a hint of longing. “I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by walls—stone walls, city walls, walls built by people and expectations. Sometimes, it feels like they’re closing in, you know? I thought... maybe tomorrow, you could take me out there. Into the forest. Just for a bit.”
Powder tilted her head, her pink eyes narrowing as a teasing grin spread across her face. “Into the woods? You don’t really seem like the ‘hiking boots and muddy trails’ type. Fancy Demacian lady like you? I’m shocked.”
Lux laughed lightly, though there was a slight edge to it. “You’d be surprised. I just... I’ve been feeling restless, like there’s something I need to see or figure out. Being outside the city might help.” She hesitated, then added, “I hear forests are good for the soul.”
Powder leaned against a nearby post, crossing her arms as she studied Lux. “You’re not running away from home, are you? Because I’m pretty sure Jarvan would send the entire Demacian army after us.”
Lux smiled faintly, the mention of Jarvan a reminder of the obligations she couldn’t fully escape. “No, nothing like that. I just need to... breathe for a while, away from everything.”
Powder’s grin softened into something more genuine. “Fair enough. I get it. Cities can feel like cages sometimes. And the forest? It’s wild, free, kinda like me. You might actually like it.”
Lux’s expression brightened, the faint tension in her shoulders easing. “So, you’ll take me?”
Powder gave a mock sigh, pushing off the post with exaggerated drama. “Fine, fine. I’ll play tour guide. But don’t blame me if we run into a giant bug or something.”
Lux chuckled, grateful for the lightheartedness Powder brought into the moment. “Deal. I’ll try not to embarrass myself too much.”
As they exchanged smiles, Lux’s thoughts lingered on the faint pull she felt toward the forest. It wasn’t just restlessness driving her—there was something out there. Something waiting. But for now, she kept those thoughts to herself, masking her true intent behind an easy smile.