Awakening and Echoes
Chapter 3: Awakening and Echoes
The sterile hum of the lab was faint but constant, an ambient noise that seemed to pulse faintly against the edges of consciousness. Vi stirred on the metal platform, her body feeling impossibly heavy and alien, as though it didn’t quite belong to her. The cold, unyielding surface beneath her pressed into her back, its polished steel biting against her skin through the thin fabric of her clothes, sending shivers up her spine. Each breath felt deliberate, the air sharp and sterile, carrying the acrid tang of hextech energy. The scent was both unfamiliar and unsettling, as though the room itself was alive with an undercurrent of unnatural power. It was disorienting, almost suffocating, as her senses clawed their way back to awareness, each one returning with a jagged, painful edge.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and the stark white light of the lab pierced her vision, sharp and unrelenting. She squinted against it, her head turning slightly as blurred shapes began to coalesce into fragmented outlines. The faint hum of glowing machinery filled her ears, and she caught glimpses of tall, shadowy figures moving at the edges of her vision. The walls shimmered with the reflection of pulsing blue light, their smooth, metallic surface cold and unfamiliar, stretching around her in every direction. Her heart began to race, its rapid, uneven rhythm drumming loudly in her chest as her gaze darted around the room. It was unfamiliar. The air felt thinner here, the walls closer, the cold sterility suffocating her.
She blinked rapidly, her breath catching in shallow, stuttering gasps as a knot of anxiety twisted in her chest. Her muscles, still sluggish from disuse, tensed instinctively, her legs jerking slightly as if to propel her away from the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. Her hands curled into fists, and her trembling fingers brushed against the edge of the platform. The icy chill of the steel sent a sharp jolt through her body, cutting through the fog clouding her mind. She froze, her senses reeling as the sensation of cold metal beneath her skin unlocked a cascade of memories, each more vivid and jarring than the last: the biting cold of restraints, the hum of machines, and the sharp, clinical scent of alchemists preparing their tools.
Her breathing quickened as fragments of her past clawed their way to the surface. Her body tensed, her pulse pounding in her ears, drowning out the room’s mechanical hum. It wasn’t just the lab that felt alien—it was the weight of her own body, the eerie quiet of her missing voice, and the sharp bite of the memories she could no longer contain.
The air was thick with the acrid scent of chemicals and burning oil. Vi lay strapped to a metal table, her limbs immobilized, her body trembling violently. The shimmer had been eating away at her, its volatile energy wreaking havoc on her veins, pushing her toward a slow, agonizing death. Ambessa had spared no expense, summoning two alchemists from Ionia and Shurima to stabilize the substance coursing through her.
The room was dimly lit, the flicker of alchemical flames casting ominous shadows across the walls of Ambessa’s ship. The alchemists worked with mechanical precision, their movements sharp and efficient as they adjusted syringes and vials filled with glowing liquids. The sounds of bubbling concoctions and clinking glass reverberated in the small space, blending with Vi’s labored breaths and the erratic thrum of her heart.
Ambessa stood at the edge of the room, her dark armor catching the faint light. She watched the procedure with a calculated expression, her hands clasped behind her back. There was no visible concern, no softness in her gaze—only a ruthless determination to see Vi survive.
Vi remembered the pain—the excruciating sensation of needles piercing her flesh, the searing heat as the alchemists injected stabilizers into her veins. Her body convulsed, her screams loud at the end. The shimmer fought back, its chaotic energy surging against the foreign stabilizers, and every second felt like an eternity.
Through the haze of agony, she had looked for Ambessa, her vision blurry and her mind fragmented. Her captor, her tormentor, her savior. Despite everything, she had clung to Ambessa’s presence like an anchor in a storm. The woman who had taken everything from her was also the one keeping her alive.
The memory slammed into Vi with the force of a tidal wave, consuming her senses and dragging her back to a place she thought she had buried. The smooth, sterile walls of the hextech facility rippled and blurred, melting into the dark, oppressive confines of Ambessa’s ship. The faint hum of the lab twisted and deepened, morphing into the bubbling and hissing of alchemical equipment, the clinking of glass vials, and the metallic scrape of tools being sharpened. The sharp, clean scent of hextech energy was overwhelmed by the acrid stench of shimmer and burning chemicals, clinging to her lungs like smoke. The harsh, white light dimmed, flickering and shifting into the erratic dance of firelight casting long, jagged shadows that seemed to reach for her from every corner.
Her breaths came faster and shallower, each one barely enough to keep her from drowning in the memory. Her body began to tremble uncontrollably, every muscle coiled tight, her fingers digging into the edges of the platform as though it could anchor her in the present. The chill of the steel beneath her hands felt too real, too similar to the freezing, rusted table where she had once been strapped down. Her chest tightened, the suffocating weight of the ship’s air pressing down on her, robbing her of what little breath she could manage. Her heart thundered wildly, each beat a deafening drumbeat of terror, threatening to rip through her ribs.
The panic surged through her veins like a living thing, gripping her in its claws and refusing to let go. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to flee, to fight, to do anything to escape, but her body refused to move. She was trapped—not just in the memory, but in the confusion of past and present colliding in a chaotic storm. She wasn’t on the ship. She wasn’t strapped down. She wasn’t dying. But her mind refused to believe it. The phantom pain of the shimmer coursing through her veins and the rough hands of the alchemists lingered like ghostly imprints, pressing into her flesh.
Through the haze of panic, a sharp sound pierced the fog—a voice, strong and steady, cutting through the roar of her fear.
“Vi!”
It was Caitlyn. Her voice was distant, muffled, as though coming from the other side of a locked door. But it carried a tone of firmness, laced with a gentleness that clawed at the edges of Vi’s spiraling thoughts. A hand, warm and grounding, settled on her shoulder. The touch was meant to soothe, but it sent a violent jolt through her body, a reminder of the hands that had once restrained her. She flinched, jerking away with such force that the platform beneath her groaned faintly. Her body coiled tightly, a trembling spring ready to snap as her wide, terrified eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for the source of the nightmare she couldn’t escape.
Shapes blurred together, edges of figures melting into indistinct smudges in the periphery of Vi’s vision. The room felt wrong, tilting like the deck of a ship lost at sea, leaving her unable to steady herself. Her chest heaved as she clawed at her mind, desperate to separate the fractured shards of memory from the present. Her gaze darted from one unfamiliar face to another, her heart pounding like a war drum, until her frantic eyes finally landed on Caitlyn’s.
The faint glow of concern in Caitlyn’s blue eyes was unmistakable, a softness Vi once knew so intimately. But now, it barely registered. It felt like looking at a stranger wearing a mask of someone she used to trust. Vi’s breath hitched, her chest tightening as a flood of emotions surged—fear, anger, heartbreak, confusion. Her mind whispered traitorous thoughts, each one cutting deeper than the last. Caitlyn had left her behind. The love of her life, her anchor, had forgotten her when she needed her most.
“It’s okay,” Caitlyn said softly, her voice trembling with worry but forced into a steady rhythm, as if her words alone could pierce the chaos. She crouched down beside Vi, her movements deliberate and careful, her hand hovering near but not daring to touch her again. The weight of helplessness pressed down on Caitlyn like a leaden shroud, but she tried to remain calm, even as her own fear crept into her tone. “You’re safe. We’re here. No one will hurt you.”
Vi could hear the words, the familiar cadence of Caitlyn’s voice, but the meaning was lost. The syllables slipped through her grasp like sand through trembling fingers. They didn’t make sense. They couldn’t. 'Safe?' That word didn’t belong to her anymore. It had been stripped away long ago, along with everything else that had made her who she was.
Her thoughts spiraled, pulling her deeper into doubt. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Caitlyn wasn’t here. Caitlyn had abandoned her. The memories surged back unbidden—cold steel restraints, the gleaming edge of Ambessa’s blade, the sterile, suffocating air of her captivity. Vi’s chest burned, each shallow breath searing her lungs as she fought to make sense of where she was and what she was seeing. Her body shook under the weight of it all, her trembling hands gripping the platform beneath her as though it were the only solid thing left in the world.
What was real?
Caitlyn’s voice reached her again, softer this time, pleading. “Vi… please. You’re safe now.” But to Vi, the words felt distant, as though spoken from across an endless void. The face before her blurred with the ghosts of a past she couldn’t escape, and her heart clenched painfully. The ache of longing and betrayal twisted together, cutting deeper than any physical wound ever could.
Mel stepped forward cautiously, her pristine coat shifting softly with each deliberate step. Her movements, usually exuding confidence and calculated control, now carried an unusual hesitance, as though she were approaching a wounded animal. Her golden eyes, sharp and discerning, were narrowed—not with her typical cold calculation, but with a flicker of genuine concern. She took in Vi’s trembling form sprawled on the platform, the erratic rise and fall of her chest, and Caitlyn kneeling beside her, whispering reassurances that barely seemed to register.
The faint, uneven glow of Vi’s scars reflected in Mel’s gaze, casting subtle patterns across her otherwise composed features. The jagged, rhythmic pulsing of the scars seemed to echo the panic coursing through the woman on the platform, as if her body itself couldn’t decide if it was safe. “What’s happening?” Mel asked, her voice quieter than usual but laced with urgency. Her sharp tone betrayed the tight rein she held on her emotions, her concern slipping through the cracks of her normally impenetrable facade. Her gaze flicked toward Viktor, who stood at the console with his usual measured focus.
“She is adjusting—most likely to her new surroundings and body,” Viktor replied without looking up, his voice calm but tinged with an undercurrent of unease. The soft whir of his mechanical arm accompanied his precise movements as he adjusted a dial, the glow from his console illuminating the faint lines of tension on his face. His sharp eyes remained trained on Vi, observing every tremor, every uneven breath, with a mixture of scientific curiosity and reluctant sympathy.
He leaned slightly closer to the readouts, studying the energy fluctuations coursing through Vi’s Hextech arm and veins. The faint pulsing of the gemstone energy within her body seemed steady, but her vitals were another story entirely. His voice remained steady, though there was a faint strain to it. “Her mind is struggling to reconcile what she’s experiencing—the shift in her body, the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. It’s… disorienting.” He adjusted another parameter, his movements deliberate and methodical, as though trying to anchor himself amidst the tension in the room. “Give her time to return to herself.”
Mel’s eyes lingered on Vi’s trembling hands, the way her fingers curled into fists as though clutching for something unseen. She took a slow, steadying breath, her lips pressing into a tight line as she turned back to the platform. The flicker of the scars, the strain in Vi’s muscles, and the haunted look in her eyes—it all painted a picture of someone teetering on the edge of control. “Time,” she echoed quietly, though the word felt heavier than she intended. How much time did Vi even have left to find herself again?
Vi’s eyes darted around the room in frantic, jerky movements, each unfamiliar face and alien detail adding to the growing panic that clawed at her chest. Her breaths came sharp and shallow, the sterile air burning her lungs as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. The hum of the lab’s machinery, so steady and detached, only heightened her disorientation, a stark contrast to the grittier, chaotic sounds she had lived with for years. Her body felt foreign, her scars glowing faintly with residual energy that pulsed through her veins, casting fleeting patterns of light across the gleaming metal platform and pristine walls. Everything about this place felt wrong.
Her gaze flitted over the figures near her, none of them anchoring her spiraling thoughts. The faces blurred together, their concern meaningless in the haze of her confusion. Her mind was consumed with one overwhelming need, a single tether she clung to amidst the storm of fear and unfamiliarity. She wasn’t looking for answers or reassurance from the strangers around her. She wasn’t even searching for safety.
She was searching for her.
Ambessa.
Her mother.
The thought of Ambessa ignited something deep within her—a desperate, yearning need that transcended logic. Ambessa had been everything: her captor, her savior, her tormentor, her protector. But above all else, Ambessa had been her mother. Through every moment of pain, every ounce of loss, and every twisted act of survival, Ambessa had been the constant force in her life. Her love for Ambessa was a tangled mess of contradictions—fierce, unconditional, and achingly human. She hated what Ambessa had done to her, but she couldn’t hate her.
Her breathing quickened, her heart hammering against her ribs as her frantic gaze swept across the room, her desperation mounting with every passing second. She needed to see her. Needed to feel the grounding presence that Ambessa had always provided. Ambessa’s towering figure, her piercing golden eyes, her strength and dominance—it was what had kept Vi going, what had tethered her to the world when she wanted to let go. Without her, Vi felt unmoored, as though she were falling endlessly into the void.
But Ambessa wasn’t there.
The realization hit her like a physical blow, and her search faltered. Her wide, panicked eyes froze mid-scan, and a trembling shiver passed through her body. The absence of Ambessa was a hole she couldn’t fill, a gaping void in the center of this cold, unfamiliar space. For the first time in six years, she was without the woman who had shaped her existence. Vi’s chest tightened painfully, her body trembling as the weight of the moment settled over her.
Ambessa wasn’t here. And without her, Vi didn’t know who she was supposed to be.
Her body trembled as her mind scrambled to make sense of it. She wanted to cry out for her, but her throat tightened with the bitter knowledge of what had been taken from her. She didn’t need to test her voice to know it wouldn’t come.
Her trembling hand rose, shaking as she moved. The gesture was clumsy, adrenaline and fear stealing the grace from her movements, but she forced her fingers to form the familiar shapes. Where… is she?The signs were urgent and raw, desperation dripping from every motion.
The question hung in the air, Vi’s silent plea reverberating with an intensity that words could never match. Her trembling hands dropped to her lap for a moment, but the urgency in her eyes burned like a signal flare, demanding understanding.
Caitlyn’s brow furrowed deeply, her blue eyes narrowing in concern as she glanced at Jinx, who stood stiffly by her side. Jinx shook her head in silent confusion, her fingers twitching at her sides as if unsure whether to reach for Vi or retreat. “What is she trying to say?” Caitlyn asked, her voice tight, a mixture of worry and frustration lacing her tone. Her gaze darted between Vi’s trembling form and the others in the room, searching for answers she couldn’t provide.
Mel stepped forward, her movements deliberate and uncharacteristically careful, like someone navigating through a fragile, unspoken tension. The coat draped over her shoulders shifted slightly as she raised her hands, her golden eyes fixed on Vi with rare softness. Her fingers moved fluidly, signing back to her. Who?
The room seemed to hold its breath as Mel’s hands stilled, waiting for Vi’s response. Vi’s fingers twitched, struggling against the weight of her panic and exhaustion. She tried again, slower this time, the motions clumsy but unmistakable in their intent. Ambessa.
The name landed like a silent dagger. Mel froze, her expression cracking as the weight of it settled over her. The carefully composed mask she wore slipped just enough to reveal the turmoil beneath—the conflict that name evoked. Her eyes darkened, and for a fleeting moment, her regal posture faltered.
Caitlyn’s sharp instincts didn’t miss the shift in Mel’s stance. Her eyes narrowed as her hand tightened around the edge of the platform. “What is it?” she asked, her voice low but firm, laced with an edge of suspicion. Her gaze pierced Mel, demanding an answer even before the question had fully left her lips.
Mel hesitated, her hands dropping slowly to her sides. The silence stretched taut, thick with unspoken truths, as her jaw tightened. Finally, she inhaled deeply, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s asking for Ambessa,” she said, her tone weighed down by a mixture of reluctance and resignation.
The name seemed to darken the room, an invisible storm cloud pressing down on everyone. Jinx’s reaction was immediate and volatile. Her eyes widened, glowing brighter with an almost feral intensity. A sharp breath escaped her, and her hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides. “Ambessa?” she hissed, her voice low and venomous, like the crackle of a lit fuse. Her body tensed, the raw energy in her movements barely restrained as she took a half-step forward. “Are you kidding me, Vi?”
Caitlyn’s expression hardened, the concern on her face now tinged with something colder—a shadow of the pain she knew that name represented. Her voice was quieter but no less cutting. “Why would she…” The words trailed off as realization dawned in her eyes, followed quickly by a simmering anger that flickered just beneath the surface.
Jinx’s voice rose sharply, her words tumbling out like gunfire. “After everything she did to you—to us—and you’re asking for her?” Her breaths came faster, her chest heaving as she threw her hands into the air in frustration. “She cut you apart, Vi! She used you, made you into… into whatever this is! And you still want her?” The edge of hysteria in her voice was undeniable, her rage burning so brightly it threatened to consume the lab.
“Jinx,” Caitlyn said softly but firmly, a hand reaching out as if to calm her, but Jinx wrenched away before she could make contact.
“No! Don’t you dare try to calm me right now!” Jinx shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. She turned to Vi, her glowing eyes brimming with tears that she refused to let fall. “You’re supposed to hate her! You’re supposed to—” Her voice broke, and she slammed her hands against the nearest wall, the force rattling the equipment that hung there. “She doesn’t deserve you.”
But it was Vi’s expression that silenced the room. Her trembling hands hovered again, poised to sign, but her movements faltered as if she lacked the strength to continue. Her eyes—wide, frantic, and filled with a raw, aching need—spoke louder than any words or gestures ever could. Ambessa was her anchor, her tormentor, her mother. And despite the weight of that truth, Vi’s search for her was relentless.
Caitlyn’s voice, softer now, broke through the tense air. “She still wants her,” she said quietly, her tone heavy with heartbreak. Her gaze remained fixed on Vi, her throat tightening as she tried to understand. “Even after everything, she’s still searching for her.” The words carried a weight that filled the lab, undeniable and suffocating, forcing everyone to confront the jagged edges of Vi’s fractured reality.
Jinx let out a bitter laugh, harsh and hollow. She turned away from Vi, pacing furiously before stopping to glare at Mel. “This is her fault,” Jinx spat, pointing an accusing finger at Mel. “All of this started because of your family, because of her!”
Mel flinched, the sharpness of Jinx’s words cutting deeper than she let show. She straightened, her golden eyes narrowing as she met Jinx’s gaze. “Blame me all you want,” she said coldly, her voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about Vi. And she’s trying to reconcile something none of us can fully understand.”
The truth settled over them like a heavy shroud, suffusing the sterile lab with a grim tension none of them could escape. Caitlyn’s fingers curled into fists at her sides, her knuckles whitening as she wrestled with the conflicting emotions threatening to overtake her—grief for Vi, anger for what had been done to her, and helplessness for the wounds that no healing could reach.
Mel didn’t respond to Vi immediately. She stood rooted in place, her golden eyes locked on Vi’s trembling form. The raw, unspoken yearning in Vi’s gaze was like a knife to her chest, cutting through every layer of composure she had carefully constructed over the years. For a fleeting moment, Mel’s own grief threatened to surface, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, she drew a steadying breath, forcing herself to exhale quietly before stepping closer.
“She’s gone,” Mel said finally, her voice calm but heavy with a quiet finality. She crouched slightly, lowering herself to Vi’s eye level, as if trying to bridge the distance between them. Her words were firm but tinged with a rare gentleness, an attempt to anchor Vi to the present. “You’re safe now.”
Vi’s expression shattered. Her trembling lips parted in a silent gasp, and the tension that had kept her upright seemed to collapse all at once. Her shoulders sagged, and her hands fell back to her side, lifeless. Her head dipped forward slightly, her bright, tormented eyes losing their focus as tears spilled over, tracing silent paths down her scarred cheeks.
Her chest heaved with the effort of suppressed sobs, each shallow breath trembling as though it might break her entirely. The voiceless cries that followed were a haunting echo of anguish—a soundless scream that reverberated in the hearts of everyone present. It was a grief that couldn’t be soothed, a cry for something lost that could never be reclaimed.
Caitlyn’s jaw tightened as she watched Vi crumble, her own heart fracturing at the sight. She took a tentative step closer but hesitated, her outstretched hand hovering midair, unsure if her touch would comfort or further break Vi.
Jinx’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, the sight of her sister’s silent anguish rekindling a fire of guilt and fury within her. She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she turned slightly away, unable to bear the full weight of Vi’s pain. “This isn’t fair,” she muttered hoarsely, her voice breaking as she fought the tears threatening to spill.
Mel, for her part, didn’t move. She stayed close, her golden eyes unwavering as she watched Vi fall apart. The faint flicker of her hand betrayed the instinct to reach out, to provide some semblance of comfort, but she stopped herself. Instead, she remained present, letting Vi see her, grounding her in the reality that she wasn’t alone.
The room held its collective breath as Vi’s grief unfolded, the silence broken only by the faint hum of the lab. It wasn’t the sterile hum of machinery anymore; it was a background pulse that seemed to mirror the fractured rhythm of Vi’s heart—a haunting symphony of pain, loss, and the faint, fragile hope that something, someday, might begin to mend.
Caitlyn hesitated before letting her hand brush Vi’s, the touch as light and fleeting as a whisper. “Vi, you’re safe. I promise,” she said, her voice soft but firm, desperately trying to anchor Vi to the present. “She can’t hurt you anymore.” There was a quiet pleading in Caitlyn’s tone, as though her words alone could rebuild the shattered pieces of Vi’s world.
But Caitlyn’s voice was distant, barely breaking through the roaring storm in Vi’s mind. Her focus remained locked on Mel, her tear-streaked face a poignant mixture of grief, confusion, and yearning. Her trembling hands began to move again, signing with slow, deliberate motions that seemed almost reluctant, as if the act of admitting it aloud—even silently—would cement the truth. She saved me. Kept me alive.
Mel’s breath caught audibly, and for a moment, her eyes widened, betraying the emotions she so often kept tightly locked away. She quickly looked away, her jaw tightening as she pressed her lips together into a thin line. The faint tremor in her hands as she folded them at her waist betrayed the struggle within her—a maelstrom of guilt, anger, and something even more complicated.
The the air growing heavier with each passing second. The sterile hum of the machinery filled the silence, a steady rhythm that contrasted starkly with the chaotic emotions crackling between the people inside. Vi’s labored breathing punctuated the stillness, every shallow rise and fall of her chest a painful reminder of her fragility.
For the first time in years, Vi let herself feel the full weight of her pain, no longer pushing it aside or suppressing it beneath survival instincts. Memories of the ship, the torturous procedures, and Ambessa’s unrelenting presence flooded her like a relentless tide. But underneath it all, stronger and more enduring than the pain, was the love she couldn’t sever—the connection to the woman who had both torn her apart and saved her.
The realization left her feeling exposed and raw, and yet she didn’t shy away from it. Her gaze moved to the ceiling, her expression a storm of emotions that needed no words to convey their depth. The echoes of her past mingled with the fragile threads of the present, creating a moment that felt both unbearable and unbreakable, as if her very existence teetered on the edge of this truth.
And as the weight of it all pressed down on the room, no one moved. No one spoke. The moment hung suspended, fragile and electric, waiting for someone to find the courage to break it—or for Vi to find the strength to claim it.
As Vi stared at the ceiling, her tears long dried, the rhythmic hum of the lab’s machinery pulsed softly in the background, steady and unrelenting, like a heartbeat tethering her to this strange reality. The sound seeped into her awareness with every beat, amplifying the crushing weight in her chest. Her breaths came shallow and uneven, as though her lungs were struggling to remember how to draw air. Each inhale felt foreign, her body betraying her with its unfamiliar rhythms. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy, a sluggish deadweight pinned to the sterile platform beneath her. Exhaustion coursed through her veins, but it was her mind—fogged and fragmented—that truly felt alien.
A foggy labyrinth of fractured memories swirled within her, sensations overlapping in chaotic, nonsensical ways. Her mind clawed at threads of clarity, but they slipped through her grasp like water. The sting of metal restraints, the blinding heat of firelight, the suffocating press of damp wood—all tangled with the cold sterility surrounding her now. She was awake—that much she was certain—but everything else was shrouded in a haze of disjointed realities. She didn’t feel whole. She didn’t feel real.
The walls surrounding her were too smooth, too perfect, their polished metallic surfaces reflecting the cold, artificial light with a precision that made her stomach twist. Their gleaming sterility was a stark contrast to the grimy, chaotic spaces she had inhabited for the last six years. There were no dark, splintered wood beams or the flickering dance of lanterns casting uneven shadows. The scent of salt and oil—ever-present aboard Ambessa’s ship—was absent, replaced by the antiseptic sharpness of a laboratory. It was clean. Too clean. This wasn’t the world she had known; it was something alien, detached, and suffocating in its order.
She blinked slowly, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, trying to reconcile the clash of past and present. The sharpness of the light hurt her eyes, yet it wasn’t the light that unsettled her the most—it was the absence of chaos. No shouted commands, no distant hum of engines, no echo of heavy boots on steel grates. The silence here was mechanical, deliberate, and unnatural to her. It wasn’t survival. It wasn’t real.
She inhaled sharply, the sterile air filling her lungs and tightening her throat. The room, the light, the hum of the machines—it all felt like a cage. And she wasn’t sure if she’d just escaped one prison only to find herself trapped in another.
Vi shifted slightly, instinct driving her to sit up, and as she pushed against the platform, her left arm bore the brunt of her weight. The motion sent a sharp, jarring sensation through her shoulder, not painful but strange, a tingle that coursed down her arm and grounded her. She froze. Her wide eyes flicked down to the source of the sensation, and what she saw made her breath hitch sharply.
Her left arm was a gleaming construction of purple-hued metal, its seamless plating catching the sterile light with an almost iridescent glow. Energy pulsed faintly within it, coursing through intricate, otherworldly patterns etched into its surface. The tendrils of light shifted and moved in harmony, as if the arm itself was alive. She raised it slightly, her fingers flexing instinctively, and the arm responded with precision that was both startling and unnervingly smooth.
Her brows knitted together in confusion, her lips parting in a silent gasp as she continued to examine the foreign limb. This wasn’t her arm—not the one she remembered. Her old Hextech arm, the one Ambessa had given her after cutting off her original limb, had been brutal and utilitarian. It was designed for war, every joint and panel rough and angular, a weapon as much as an extension of her body.
This one, though, was different. It didn’t feel like a weapon, not entirely. It was smoother, more refined, and it moved with a grace that unnerved her. The pulsing energy within it felt connected to her, as if it were part of her rather than a tool stitched to her flesh. Her scars, etched across her body in jagged, glowing lines, seemed to resonate faintly with the arm’s light. Their glow pulsed in perfect synchronization, like an eerie rhythm binding the two together.
Her heart raced as she stared, a mixture of awe and unease filling her chest. She flexed her fingers again, this time slower, watching as the plates of the arm moved seamlessly, the purple energy within flaring briefly at her command. It was alive in a way she couldn’t explain, and the realization sent a shiver down her spine. ‘What had they done to her?’
Her breathing quickened, shallow and erratic, each inhale sharp and stinging. Her pulse hammered in her ears, an unrelenting drumbeat drowning out the faint hum of the lab’s machinery. Vi’s eyes darted frantically around the room, wide and searching for something familiar, something grounding, but all she found were foreign shapes and sterile walls.
The sleek consoles blinked and pulsed with rhythmic lights, their glowing conduits snaking across the walls like veins of an unfeeling machine. Hovering screens displayed lines of indecipherable data, their cold, clinical glow painting the space in shades of blue and white. It screamed Piltover—pristine and engineered—but to Vi, it was suffocating, oppressive in its order. Her gaze flitted from one unfamiliar object to the next, her mind scrambling to piece together where she was and why. She blinked rapidly, willing herself to focus, but the harder she tried, the more fragmented her thoughts became.
And then there was the pain—the unbearable, searing pain. She could still feel the ghost of the blade slicing through her flesh as Ambessa cut out her tongue. The sensation was etched into her very being, a trauma that never dulled, never faded. She had screamed then, or at least tried to, her cries drowned in the gurgling of blood and the cold indifference of her captor.
Her breath hitched violently, her chest heaving as she fought against the onslaught of memory. Her vision blurred with tears she couldn’t stop, her mind desperately clawing at the edges of reality. She wasn’t on the ship. She knew that much. But where was she? Her pulse thundered in her ears, her chest tightening as panic threatened to swallow her whole. The room felt too bright, too sterile, and far too empty of answers.
She was lost. Again.
Caitlyn stood nearby, her sharp blue eyes fixed on Vi’s trembling form. Every movement Vi made—every hesitant glance, every twitch of her fingers—screamed confusion and fear, and Caitlyn could feel it like a tangible weight pressing against her chest. Her hands twitched at her sides, desperate to reach out, but the raw panic etched across Vi’s face froze her in place. She glanced at Viktor, her voice low and tense.
“She’s spiraling,” Caitlyn said softly, her words barely above a whisper. “We can’t just stand here.”
Viktor remained focused on the console, his mechanical fingers moving steadily over the controls. The soft glow of the screens illuminated his face, but his attention didn’t waver. “She needs to find her footing,” he replied, his voice calm but layered with quiet concern. “Anything sudden might make things worse.”
Jinx stood next to Vi, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes flicked between Caitlyn and Vi, the tension in her posture betraying her unease. “She looks like she’s ready to bolt,” Jinx muttered, her tone sharp but tinged with worry. “Or break something. Probably both.”
Mel, kneeling next to Vi’s head, shifted slightly. Her coat pooled around her knees as she carefully lowered herself further, her golden eyes level with Vi’s. She didn’t rush to speak or move, her presence steady and deliberate. The calculated calm in her demeanor seemed almost magnetic, her voice gentle yet firm as she broke the silence.
“She’s not going anywhere,” Mel said softly, her words directed at Jinx and Caitlyn but meant for Vi as well. “She’s just trying to understand. We need to give her the time to do that.”
Mel’s calm, measured tone drew Vi’s gaze toward her. Vi’s chest heaved with rapid breaths, her stormy eyes darting over Mel’s face, searching for something—recognition, reassurance, anything familiar to cling to. Her lips pressed into a thin line, trembling slightly, as her gaze flicked between Mel’s composed expression and the sterile lab around her.
“Vi,” Mel continued, leaning in just enough to meet her line of sight without encroaching on her space, “it’s okay. You’re not there anymore. You’re here—with us. And no one will hurt you.”
The words hung in the air, and Vi’s frantic gaze locked onto Mel’s. She didn’t fully relax, but something in her breathing shifted—just enough to slow the frantic rhythm pounding in her chest. Still, her panic hadn’t dissipated; it lingered, held together by the tenuous thread of Mel’s presence.
Caitlyn, standing close, noticed the subtle change in Vi’s posture. Her fingers curled into fists, and she took a hesitant step closer. “Vi,” she said gently, her voice steady but laced with an edge of vulnerability, “you’re safe. I promise. No one can hurt you anymore.”
But Vi wasn’t looking at Caitlyn, nor at Jinx, who had shifted uncomfortably beside her. Her focus remained on Mel. The golden-eyed woman was the only constant in this unfamiliar, overwhelming space—the only anchor in the sea of chaos swirling in her mind. Slowly, hesitantly, Vi’s hand twitched, and her fingers lifted, shaking with effort as she began to sign.
Mel’s golden eyes softened as she recognized the effort in Vi’s gestures. She spoke softly, “What is it, Vi? What do you need?”
Vi’s signing was halting, fragmented by the adrenaline still coursing through her. Where am I? she managed, her movements clumsy but clear.
Mel nodded, her voice soothing as she responded, “You’re in Piltover. You’re safe. This is a lab where we’re helping you recover.”
Vi’s hand paused mid-sign. Her brows furrowed as her gaze darted to the sleek, glowing consoles, the hovering screens, and the unfamiliar faces around her. Panic flickered in her eyes again as she seemed to remember something—an echo of her past. Her fingers moved again, slower this time, the motion heavy with hesitation.
Why? she asked, her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and dread.
Mel hesitated, her jaw tightening briefly before she answered. “Because you were hurt, Vi. And we’re trying to help you heal.”
The words were kind, but they didn’t soothe the storm behind Vi’s eyes. Her gaze darted to her glowing arm, and her breath hitched. The intricate, pulsing metal didn’t belong to her—not the way she remembered it. Her fingers curled slightly, trembling as she struggled to process what she was seeing.
Mel reached out slowly, her hand hovering just above Vi’s trembling shoulder, her movements deliberate and respectful. “We’ll explain everything,” Mel promised gently. “You don’t have to figure it out all at once. Just focus on now.”
The room felt heavy with unspoken tension. Caitlyn’s sharp gaze flicked between Vi and Mel, her lips pressed tightly together, while Jinx fidgeted nervously, her eyes betraying her guilt and worry. Viktor remained at the console, his mechanical arm twitching slightly as he monitored Vi’s vitals, his sharp mind processing every nuance of the exchange.
Vi’s head turned slightly, her eyes darting between the figures in the room, trying to make sense of it all. The unfamiliar faces only deepened her sense of isolation, but Mel’s steady gaze remained her tether, her lifeline in a sea of confusion and fear. For now, it was enough to keep her from spiraling further.
Piltover. The word reverberated in Vi’s mind, distant and disconnected, as if it belonged to a world she no longer recognized. Heal felt like a hollow promise, the sterile quiet of the room pressing down on her like a suffocating weight. Every muscle in her body felt alien—sluggish and heavy, as though she were inhabiting a shell that wasn’t her own. Her gaze drifted back to her arm, the soft, rhythmic glow of the casting intricate, dancing patterns onto the metal platform beneath her. The sight was mesmerizing and horrifying in equal measure, her mind struggling to reconcile what she was seeing with the fragmented memories of what had been.
Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a jarring reminder of her disorientation. Slowly, deliberately, her trembling fingers moved again, forming the question that burned at the forefront of her thoughts. What happened to me?The motions were slower this time, weighed down by fear and the uncertainty of what answer might come.
Mel’s hands froze mid-motion, her golden eyes flicking toward Viktor. The hesitation in her posture spoke volumes, but she didn’t respond. Instead, Viktor stepped forward, his mechanical arm whirring softly as he took over, his sharp eyes meeting Vi’s with a mixture of calculation and empathy. He spoke with deliberate clarity, his movements measured and precise. “Your body was deteriorating. The gemstone was destabilizing you. We intervened. Stabilized you. Your arm… adapted.”
Vi’s brow furrowed, the word 'adapted' twisting uneasily in her mind. It felt cold, clinical—a detached explanation for something she couldn’t begin to understand. Her confusion deepened, a swirl of questions and half-formed memories tangling together in her head. Her lips pressed into a tight line, her breathing uneven as she tried to ground herself in the present, but the sensation of wrongness lingered, gnawing at her composure.
And then she felt it—a faint, almost imperceptible tingling in her mouth. At first, it was subtle, like the lingering numbness after biting your tongue, but it quickly began to grow. The sensation spread across her jaw, sharp and insistent, a strange electric buzz that seemed to vibrate through her very bones. Her hand shot up instinctively, brushing trembling fingers against her lips as the tingling became more pronounced, almost alive, as if something beneath the surface was stirring.
Her breathing hitched, and panic flared in her chest, a wild, uncontrollable thing. She froze, her fingertips pressed against her mouth, her heart hammering as she focused entirely on the sensation. The tingling reached a crescendo, the sharpness cresting like a wave before fading suddenly, leaving behind a faint, pulsing warmth. It wasn’t pain—it was something else. Something she couldn’t name.
And then she felt it. A subtle contraction deep in her throat, an involuntary motion she hadn’t experienced in years. Her eyes widened, her fingers falling away from her lips as her breath caught. She hadn’t been able to speak—not since Ambessa—yet now, something was shifting. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossible.
Before she could stop herself, a single sound formed, rough and trembling, breaking free from her lips like a fractured echo: “Powder.”
The word was hoarse, raw, and uneven, but unmistakable. The sound carried across the room like a shockwave, freezing everyone in place. The sterile hum of the lab seemed to fade into nothingness, the only noise the faint reverberation of Vi’s voice hanging in the air.
Mel’s golden eyes widened, the normally composed woman momentarily losing her guarded demeanor. Caitlyn’s breath hitched audibly, her hands flying to her mouth as she stared at Vi in disbelief. Jinx stiffened, her eyes going impossibly wide, her lips parting in stunned silence. Viktor’s mechanical arm twitched faintly, his sharp gaze snapping to Vi as though analyzing her every breath.
Vi didn’t notice their reactions. She sat frozen, her own mind reeling from the sound of her voice—a sound she hadn’t heard in years. Her hand trembled as it brushed against her throat, her eyes brimming with confusion and a flicker of fear. The sensation of speech, so strange and yet so familiar, left her breathless. She tried to speak again, but her throat tightened, her vocal cords trembling with effort. Nothing came out.
The silence that followed was deafening. The room seemed to hold its collective breath, every pair of eyes fixed on Vi as she struggled to comprehend what had just happened. For a brief moment, the weight of the past six years, the scars both visible and invisible, seemed to hang between her and the others like an unspoken barrier.
And then, like a breaking dam, the emotions came crashing down. Tears welled in Vi’s eyes, her trembling fingers clutching at the edge of the platform as her chest heaved with suppressed sobs. She didn’t understand—her arm, her voice, this room—none of it made sense. But one thing was clear: something had changed. Something irrevocable. And she wasn’t sure if it was salvation or another cruel twist of fate.
“Powder,” Vi repeated, her voice rasping and uneven, the sound scraping through her throat like something long forgotten. Each syllable was clumsy, as though her body struggled to remember how to shape the word. The rawness in her tone carried the weight of years lost, and yet, it was undeniably her voice. Tears pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision, but she didn’t wipe them away. All her focus was on the sound—the fractured familiarity of her own voice. It felt strange, unnatural, as though it belonged to someone else and yet tethered to her identity in ways she couldn’t understand.
Jinx stumbled forward, her movements jerky and uncertain, as if drawn by an invisible force. Her trembling hands hovered just above Vi’s shoulders, unsure whether to touch her. “Vi…” she whispered, her voice cracking with disbelief and something deeper, something raw and fragile. “You can… you’re talking?” Her eyes glistened, wide with shock, as if the universe had shifted before her eyes.
Caitlyn took a hesitant step closer, her sharp blue gaze darting between Vi and the others, struggling to process what was unfolding. The disbelief etched into her features mirrored Jinx’s, but her words faltered under the weight of the truth. “But… her tongue—Ambessa—she…” Caitlyn’s voice broke, the memory of Vi’s mutilation colliding violently with the reality of her voice echoing in the room. She couldn’t finish the sentence, the impossibility of what she was seeing rendering her breathless.
Viktor, ever the observer, stepped closer, his sharp, analytical eyes narrowing as he studied Vi intently. The glow of his augmented eye flickered faintly, scanning her body as though peeling back layers to uncover the truth beneath. “The stabilization,” he murmured, his voice more to himself than anyone else. “The shimmer… the gemstone energy… It’s not simply repairing her. It’s rebuilding her entirely.” His words carried a mix of awe and concern, the implications of what he was witnessing unfurling rapidly in his mind.
Vi, however, barely registered their reactions. The world around her was a blur, their voices distant and fragmented. Her mind reeled as the tingling sensation in her mouth faded entirely, leaving behind only a strange, lingering warmth. It wasn’t painful, but it was profoundly unsettling. She could feel her tongue—parts of her she hadn’t felt in years. The sensation was surreal, like waking from a long, unshakable dream.
Her hands trembled as they rose instinctively, fingers moving in sharp, deliberate motions, the one language that had been her constant companion in silence. Even now, as her voice returned, signing felt more natural than speaking. What is happening to me? she signed, her motions reflexive and shaky, betraying the turmoil roiling inside her.
For a moment, the room fell silent. Jinx stared at her sister, her lips trembling as she seemed torn between reaching for Vi and retreating under the weight of her emotions. Caitlyn’s hand pressed lightly against her chest as though steadying her own breath, her eyes searching Viktor and Mel for answers she couldn’t find herself.
Mel, who had been silent until now beside Vi, her golden eyes unreadable. She reached out but stopped short of touching Vi’s trembling hand, her voice low and deliberate. “Your body is adapting,” she said softly. “Whatever the shimmer and gemstone did… it’s rewriting you.”
“Rewriting me?” Vi’s voice was barely above a whisper, the words trembling as they left her lips. Her throat felt raw, her chest tight as she tried to grasp the enormity of what Mel was saying.
“Yes,” Viktor interjected, stepping forward. His expression was calm, but his mechanical hand twitched slightly at his side. “The process is unprecedented. It’s integrating you—your scars, your body, even your voice—into something new. It’s not simply repair. It’s evolution.”
The word hung heavy in the air. Evolution. It was supposed to signify progress, growth, but to Vi, it felt like a stripping away of everything she had known. The room felt colder, the air heavier as the implications settled over her like a crushing weight. Her voice—her voice—a part of herself she had resigned to losing forever, was back. But at what cost?
Her hand instinctively rose again, brushing against her lips, her fingers trembling. The faint warmth of her newly returned tongue lingered, a reminder of what had been lost and what was now inexplicably restored. But her voice didn’t feel like her own, her arm didn’t feel like her own, and her body—her self—felt like a battleground she barely recognized.
She closed her eyes, her breath shaky, as tears began to fall freely again. The sensation of speaking, the sight of her arm’s glow, the sterile hum of the lab—they all felt like fragments of a life that wasn’t hers, stitched together into a reality she couldn’t escape. And amidst it all, one question burned in her mind: 'who was she now?'
Jinx couldn’t hold back anymore. Her chest heaved with emotion, her trembling hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. The dam of restraint she had tried so hard to maintain finally shattered, and before anyone could stop her—Viktor’s warnings be damned—she threw herself at her sister. The motion was desperate, almost frantic, as if closing the gap between them could mend the years of pain and separation.
Her arms wrapped tightly around Vi, pulling her close. The embrace was fierce, almost crushing, but it was a physical manifestation of everything Jinx couldn’t put into words—relief, guilt, love, and a desperation to hold onto the one person who had always been her lifeline, even in her absence. Jinx's eyes clenched shut as tears spilled down her cheeks, soaking into Vi’s shoulder.
Vi stiffened at first, the sudden impact jolting her already overloaded senses. But as Jinx’s trembling sobs reached her ears, she felt something inside her crack open, raw and vulnerable. Despite the disorientation and the overwhelming flood of emotions in the room, Vi’s arms slowly lifted, wrapping around Jinx in return. She clung to her sister, her fingers curling into the fabric of Jinx’s coat as if letting go would make her disappear.
Her own sobs wracked her body, each one dragging up memories and pain she had buried deep inside. The weight of the years apart, the torment she had endured, and the fear of never seeing her sister again—all of it poured out in unrestrained waves. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to break.
Jinx’s voice was muffled against Vi’s shoulder as she choked out, “I missed you, Vi. I thought— I thought I lost you.” Her words dissolved into sobs, her grip tightening.
Vi couldn’t speak. Her throat felt raw, her emotions a chaotic storm she couldn’t hope to articulate. But she didn’t need words. She held Jinx tighter, their tears mingling in the space between them.
The others in the room fell silent, the weight of the moment pressing down like a tangible force. Caitlyn’s hand hovered near her mouth, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears as she watched the reunion unfold. Mel stood back motionless, her usual composure faltering as she looked away, the rawness of the scene too much to bear. Even Viktor, ever the observer, remained silent, his mechanical hand twitching faintly as he averted his gaze, giving the sisters a semblance of privacy.
As the flood of emotions began to crest, Vi’s breathing grew heavier, her sobs turning into shallow gasps. Her body, already weakened and overstimulated, began to falter. Her head drooped slightly against Jinx’s shoulder, her trembling fingers loosening their grip. Her voice, raw and uneven, broke the silence one last time. “Powder,” she whispered, the word escaping her lips like a prayer, filled with both love and sorrow.
The sound froze Jinx in place, her sobs catching in her throat. She pulled back just enough to look at Vi’s face, her eyes wide with shock. The nickname, one she hadn’t heard from her sister’s lips in years, struck her like a lightning bolt, cutting through the pain and filling her with an ache so deep it was almost unbearable.
Before Jinx could respond, Vi’s body went slack. Her eyes fluttered closed, her grip falling away as she collapsed into unconsciousness. The exhaustion, the overstimulation, and the flood of emotions had taken their toll.
“Vi!” Jinx cried, panic lacing her voice as she held her sister’s limp body. Her hands shook as she looked to the others for answers, desperation painted across her tear-streaked face.
“She’s overstimulated,” Viktor said quickly, moving to check the readings on the console. His voice was steady, but there was an urgency in his movements. “Her body is still recovering. She needs rest.”
“She’ll be okay,” Caitlyn added, her voice firm but soft as she knelt beside Jinx. “She just needs time.”
Jinx’s chest heaved as she cradled Vi’s head gently, her tears falling freely once again. “Powder,” she whispered, the sound barely audible. Her heart ached at the word, but beneath the pain was a flicker of hope—her sister had come back to her, even if just for a moment.