The Wolf
Chapter 9: The Wolf
Vi’s first sensation was warmth—an unfamiliar comfort against the dull ache thrumming in her body. Slowly, consciousness crept back to her, heavy and disorienting, like rising to the surface of a dark, endless sea. Her eyelids fluttered before opening fully, and the blurred shapes around her sharpened into focus. The soft crackling of a fire echoed faintly in the stillness, its orange glow spilling across the wooden walls and casting long, flickering shadows.
She was in her quarters. The familiar scent of burning wood and iron greeted her, mingling with the sharp bite of the Freljord’s icy air that seeped through the cracks in the hull. The bedding beneath her was soft yet coarse, a stark contrast to the rough, cold ground she was on during her mission. Vi’s brow furrowed as she tried to piece together how she’d ended up here. The last thing she remembered was the storm of energy tearing through her body—the blue lightning searing her from the inside, the veins pulsing, and then… nothing.
Vi let out a slow exhale, the sound muffled by the quiet room. Her right hand rose instinctively to her face, her fingertips brushing the scar that stretched from the underside of her jaw to her left eye. The skin felt hot, tender—different. Her brow furrowed further as she traced the line upward, pausing where the scar pulsed faintly beneath her touch. Unlike the familiar black shimmer that laced her body, this scar glowed a faint blue, its energy humming softly beneath her fingertips.
Something wasn’t right.
Her hand hesitated at her eye, and she blinked once, twice, as if testing it. The world tilted slightly, her vision adjusting. Everything was sharper through that eye—too sharp. It was like looking at the world through the edge of a storm. Flecks of faint blue crackled along the edges of her sight, dancing in rhythm with the hum beneath her skin.
“Can you still see?”
The voice cut through the quiet like a blade—steady, calm, yet laced with a concern that Ambessa Medarda rarely showed anyone but her. Vi froze at the sound, her gaze snapping toward the corner of the room. There, bathed in the faint glow of firelight, Ambessa sat in a heavy chair positioned just beyond the foot of Vi’s bed. The general’s form was unmistakable—towering, broad-shouldered, draped in her dark cloak lined with fur. Her sharp golden eyes, usually burning with confidence and command, now watched Vi intently, as though searching for something she wasn’t sure she would find.
Vi blinked again, testing the eye further as Ambessa’s question lingered in the air. The lack of light spilling through the window told her it was the dead of night, yet Ambessa had clearly been there for some time, the crease in her brow deeper than usual, her posture more rigid.
Slowly, Vi turned her head, the subtle movement revealing the faint stiffness in her neck and jaw. She nodded in response, a short, deliberate gesture, but the flicker of unease in her expression was impossible to hide.
Ambessa exhaled softly, though it was not relief—it was something heavier. She leaned forward slightly, her gloved hands clasped together as her elbows rested on her knees. The firelight danced across her face, highlighting the faint lines of tension that had settled there. “Good,” she murmured, though her tone was more measured than reassuring. Her gaze lingered on Vi’s face—on the glowing scar and the strange, crackling eye—as if trying to determine what exactly had changed.
Vi looked away, her hand dropping to her side as she stared at the ceiling above. The faint glow of the fire mixed with the blue flicker in her left eye, illuminating her face in uneven light. She flexed her fingers, her body testing itself, searching for signs of damage that should have been there but weren’t. The ache was deep, but the pain didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t something she could simply shrug off—it was something new. Her other scars had been black veins of shimmer, a reminder of what she had become. But this… this blue mark was something else entirely, and it didn’t belong.
Ambessa’s voice broke the silence again, softer this time. “What do you remember?”
Vi turned her head back to Ambessa, her glowing black eye meeting the general’s gold, the storm still crackling faintly in the left one. Ambessa’s face remained impassive, but Vi could see the tension in her jaw, the flicker of worry hidden beneath layers of iron will.
Vi didn’t sign anything in response—not yet. Instead, she frowned faintly, her lips parting as if testing something unspoken. Her gaze returned to the faint reflection of herself in the window’s glass, where she could see the scar pulsing with energy and the storm raging quietly in her eye.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed—permanently.
Vi looked back at Ambessa, her sharp gaze locking onto the general’s golden eyes. She drew in a slow breath before lifting her hands, her movements steady but laced with urgency. Her fingers signed with quick, deliberate precision. I didn’t do anything. The gemstone… it just came alive. Like it had a will of its own, or something—someone—was calling it.
Ambessa’s expression remained unreadable, but Vi didn’t miss the subtle tightening of her jaw, the faint crease in her brow that betrayed her thoughts. The general leaned back in her chair, the leather groaning softly under her weight as she studied Vi, calculating and thoughtful. The firelight flickered between them, throwing jagged shadows across Ambessa’s face, her golden eyes gleaming with something Vi couldn’t quite place—worry, maybe, though it was buried deep beneath her practiced steel exterior.
The silence stretched, broken only by the crackling of the hearth and the faint hum of the ship’s engines far below deck. Ambessa’s golden eyes remained fixed on Vi, her voice soft but firm, carrying the weight of an unshakable decision. “You will remain here.”
Vi’s frown deepened, the sudden shift in the room’s air sharp enough to slice through her. She pushed herself upright, the soreness in her body ignored as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet planting firmly on the cold floor. The motion was deliberate, defiant, her body language screaming rebellion. Her hands shot up, signing with sharp, controlled force. No. I’m fine. You need me. I won’t be left behind like—
Ambessa’s piercing gaze snapped to Vi, cutting through her protest like a blade. “You are not fine,” she said, her voice low, but carrying a weight that left no room for doubt. “I saw you on the floor, Violet. I saw what that thing did to you. That gemstone nearly tore you apart. I don’t care about this ship, or the walls it scorched—” she gestured briefly at the faintly charred edges of Vi’s chamber. “I care about you.”
The words landed heavier than Vi anticipated, stealing her argument for just a moment. Her glowing eyes narrowed, her frustration simmering beneath the surface as she clenched her fists. Not fine—she hated the words. They made her feel weak, useless. Her hands moved again, this time more desperate, more pointed. I won’t fail you. I can handle this. This changes nothing.
Ambessa rose to her full height, the movement slow and deliberate, her golden eyes never leaving Vi. Her presence filled the room like a rising storm—not violent, but vast and undeniable. She stepped forward, boots echoing against the iron floor, and stopped just short of Vi. Her face, though controlled, was etched with something raw—something close to fear.
“This changes everything, Violet,” she said quietly, the firelight catching on the sharp lines of her features. Her voice wasn’t hard now, but soft, almost pleading, though it still carried the weight of command. “Do you think I don’t know your strength? I forged it with my own hands. But this—” she reached out, her fingers brushing just shy of the faint blue vein glowing at Vi’s neck, “—this is different. This isn’t something I trained you for. It’s unknown, and unknowns don’t just cost battles. They cost lives. Your life.”
Vi’s jaw tightened, her hands twitching slightly as though caught between defiance and something deeper. Ambessa’s gaze softened, though the fire in her eyes never fully dimmed. She took another step closer, lowering her voice as though the words themselves might break her.
“You nearly died, Violet. And I can’t—” Ambessa’s voice faltered for the briefest moment before she caught herself, her composure steadying. “I will not lose you.”
The raw vulnerability in those last words shook Vi more than any anger could have. She looked away for a heartbeat, the faint shimmer beneath her scars pulsing with the weight of her emotions. But still, her stubbornness lingered like a shadow, her fingers twitching as if ready to sign another protest.
Ambessa seemed to anticipate it. She placed a firm, steady hand on Vi’s mechanical arm, grounding her. “This is not a punishment. It’s protection. For you.” Her golden eyes softened further, the command in them tempered by an unspoken tenderness. “You will stay here. You will rest. And we will figure out what’s happening when I get back… Together. Do you understand me?”
Vi’s shoulders sagged slightly, though her fists remained clenched at her sides. Her glowing eyes flicked up to meet Ambessa’s, the fight still burning within her, but muted now by the weight of her words. Finally, she gave the smallest, begrudging nod.
Ambessa exhaled softly, the tension in her posture loosening just enough to show her relief. Her hand lingered on Vi’s arm for a moment longer before she stepped back, her gaze lingering on the faint glow of the scars and the unsettling blue vein that now marked her daughter.
Vi’s fists trembled at her sides, her mechanical hand humming faintly with tension, while her uneven breaths fought against the anger rising in her chest. She hated this feeling—helplessness. Not the kind of helplessness that came from weakness, but the crushing weight of Ambessa’s decision, like a wall she couldn’t break through no matter how hard she hit it. She knew the truth behind the general’s words: Ambessa was afraid—not of failure, not of the mission, but of losing her.
The fire in Vi’s gaze flickered, the defiance softening just enough to show the hurt lingering beneath. Slowly, her hands fell from their defensive stance, the energy draining from her frame. Her shoulders slumped, a reluctant surrender, as though the fight had bled out of her like water escaping from a cracked vessel. She turned her head slightly, unable to hold Ambessa’s gaze any longer, her glowing eye catching the faint reflection in the frost-kissed window. The storm still simmered there, alive and unrelenting, a faint crackle of blue lightning flickering within the iris—a living storm that hadn’t yet been tamed.
Ambessa’s eyes softened as she watched Vi, though the rest of her remained unyielding, a wall of steel and command. She took a step closer, her boots echoing faintly on the floor, and lowered her voice, though it lost none of its authority. “Rest, Violet,” she said, her tone steadier now but edged with a rare gentleness. “When I’m certain the storm within you won’t tear you apart, only then will I put you back on the battlefield.”
Her words carried more weight than their literal meaning. Vi knew that Ambessa wasn’t just concerned about the ship, or the men, or even the war. She was worried about her—about what this unknown power might do, how it might twist or break the one person Ambessa couldn’t bear to lose. It wasn’t just a command; it was protection, though Ambessa would never say it so plainly.
Vi sat back down on the edge of the bed, the motion sharp, her jaw clenching as her hands rested on her knees, the faint hum of her hextech arm pulsing like a distant heartbeat. She didn’t respond, didn’t sign a single word of agreement or protest. Her silence was sharp, an unspoken tension lingering in the air, but she didn’t fight Ambessa anymore. Not right now.
Ambessa lingered for a beat longer, her gaze lingering on Vi’s face, the subtle twitch of her muscles betraying her concern. For all the strength in her golden eyes, there was something else—a quiet unease she couldn’t shake. Slowly, she turned on her heel, her heavy cloak brushing against the doorframe as she moved to leave. The creak of the door echoed through the quiet room, and the cold air from the hallway swept in like a ghost, snuffing out some of the fire’s warmth.
She hesitated, just for a moment, her back still to Vi. “You won’t face this alone, Violet.” Her voice was low, quiet, almost like a secret she wasn’t sure she should share. Then, without waiting for a response, she stepped through the doorway, and the heavy door closed behind her with a soft, final click.
The room fell into silence again, save for the crackling of the fire and the faint hum of the ship’s engines far below. Shadows danced across the walls, their edges flickering like memories half-formed. Vi sat still, staring at nothing, her chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. Finally, she lifted her hand, hesitating just a moment before tracing the faint, glowing vein that stretched from the underside of her jaw to the edge of her left eye. Her fingertips were tentative, the blue line warm beneath her touch—a stark contrast to the black shimmer that marred the rest of her body.
It was alive. It pulsed faintly, as though in response to her touch, and she could feel it—something restless, something aware—beneath her skin. Vi’s hand fell away, curling back into a fist as she swallowed hard. For the first time, a thought crept into her mind that she couldn’t shake.
She wasn’t sure whether this power, this storm that had made a home inside her, was something to fear—or something to embrace.
Vi’s gaze burned into the churning, ice-flecked waters far below, her frustration rising like a relentless storm. The cold wind whipped through the narrow window, carrying with it the sharp bite of frost, but she barely felt it. Ambessa’s words echoed endlessly in her mind, twisting like a knife in her gut. "You nearly died, Violet." Each syllable carried the weight of something final, a judgment that branded her as fragile, as broken—words she refused to accept.
Her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles went white, the faint hum of her hextech arm vibrating through her bones, as though the storm inside her veins wanted to break free. "Nearly died." Was that all she saw now? Not her strength. Not the fight she carried in every scar, every blow, every breath. Just the risk. Just the unknown. She bit down on her rising anger, but the fire in her chest only roared louder. Tears she hadn’t meant to shed slipped free, streaking her cheeks—one black, shimmering like ink, the other a crackling blue, glowing faintly in the dim light. They slid over her skin like silent confessions she refused to voice.
With a sharp, angry motion, Vi swiped at her face, smearing the tears with her fingers. The strange colors mingled together, but she ignored them, her jaw tightening as her glowing black eye darted back to the window. Below, the dark, endless waters seemed alive, writhing like an abyss waiting to swallow anything that dared to fall. The iron hull of Ambessa’s flagship groaned faintly against the freezing winds, and somewhere out there, beyond the vast white wastes and shadowed seas, 'Ambessa would face Darius. Alone without her...'
The thought struck Vi with the force of a hammer to the chest, stealing the air from her lungs. ‘No.’ She shook her head, the motion sharp, her braid whipping against her back. ‘I can’t sit here.’ The idea of remaining behind, sidelined and useless, while Ambessa stood against that Noxian monster made her stomach twist with something more potent than anger—fear. Not for herself, but for Ambessa. For the woman who had pulled her from the wreckage of her life before, who had made her into more than just a weapon.
Her mechanical fingers twitched restlessly at her side, the faint hum growing louder, almost like the gemstone itself was urging her to move, to act. The very thought of Ambessa being left to fight alone, without her—without her army—was unbearable. She couldn’t stand it. She wouldn’t stand it.
Vi’s gaze hardened, her expression sharpening into something resolute, something feral. The storm of emotion churning inside her found its focus, its edge. She turned from the window abruptly, the faint pulse of her scars glinting as the first light of day began to creep through the frost-streaked glass. The decision was already made, carved into her bones. She wouldn’t remain here, left to watch helplessly while Ambessa walked toward her reckoning. No, Vi would be there. No matter what it took.
As she breathed heavily, something shifted—a strange, tingling sensation rippling through her mouth. Her expression faltered, the steady rise and fall of her chest pausing as confusion crept into her features. Slowly, her brow furrowed, and her fingers rose instinctively to her lips. The feeling was faint but undeniable, a flicker of something long forgotten. It wasn’t pain; it wasn’t numbness—it was presence, a soft hum where there had been nothing for years. Her throat tightened, her breath catching as disbelief clawed at the edges of her mind. She parted her lips slightly, as if testing the impossible, but the sensation only deepened.
'No.' Vi ripped her hand away and shook her head violently, her braid snapping over her shoulder like a whip. The motion was sharp, almost desperate, a physical attempt to banish the thought before it could take root. Her jaw tightened, a flash of old memories threatening to surface. ‘Don’t think about it.’ Her hands clenched at her sides, trembling faintly before she forced them to still. ‘Focus.’
Her attention returned to the horizon, the distraction she desperately needed. The first light of day began to break through the heavy clouds, faint streaks of silver piercing the oppressive gray and bleeding across the dark waters far below. The distant shimmer of the sea looked almost calm, a quiet illusion of peace that steeled Vi’s resolve. Her eyes narrowed, the faint glow of her scars pulsing with her determination. ‘I won’t be left behind. Not this time.’
She pushed herself away from the window with newfound purpose, her bare feet thudding softly against the cold iron floor. The room seemed smaller now, the air charged with her resolve as she crossed to the far side where the closet stood. The heavy door creaked as she pulled it open, the sound mingling with the faint howl of the wind outside.
Inside, Ambessa’s chosen armor hung prominently—reinforced, gilded, and tailor-made for Vi’s role in her war. But Vi didn’t spare it a glance. Instead, her glowing eyes fixed on what lay beside it: her black uniform with gold trim, sleeveless, its edges still sharp and worn in all the right places. It was hers—uncomplicated, familiar. Ambessa had called it impractical, unsuitable for the climate, but Vi didn’t care. The shimmer beneath her skin would keep her warm, the heat pulsing through her veins a constant, silent companion.
She pulled the uniform over her shoulders, the fabric hugging her frame like a second skin, every movement deliberate and precise. Her hands worked with practiced efficiency, securing the simple black belts around her waist and tugging them into place. As she moved, the faint glimmer of an arcane chain wrapped tightly around her right forearm caught the light—cold, metallic links pressing against her flesh. It pulsed faintly, almost alive, a reminder of the forces tethered to her, both power and burden.
Vi slipped into a pair of unadorned boots, their sturdy soles firm against the floor, their weight grounding her like an anchor. There was no pretense in them, no unnecessary flourish—just practicality. They were a stark contrast to the opulent armor Ambessa had given her, left untouched and hanging in the closet like a relic of someone else. This uniform was hers. This choice was hers.
At last, she reached for the cloak draped to the side—a dark, heavy thing meant not for warmth but concealment. She swung it around her shoulders, the edges sweeping low and pooling slightly at her boots. The hood was rough in her grip, but she pulled it up, shrouding her glowing scars in shadow.
Vi turned back to the window, her mechanical hand reaching out to the latch. The faint scrape of metal against metal cut through the room, the sound sharp and final. Slowly, the hinges groaned as she pushed the window open, the frigid wind biting at her face with unrelenting ferocity. Snowflakes swirled around her, carried by the gales that rushed in and swept through the small room like a frozen breath.
She didn’t flinch. The cold could not touch her—not anymore. Her glowing eyes peered down at the churning waters below, dark and restless, their surface splintered by jagged shards of drifting ice. The current tugged at them listlessly, indifferent to their frozen isolation. The faint smell of salt and cold iron filled the air, mingling with the icy sting against her skin.
Vi lingered for only a moment longer, her fingers curling tightly around the edge of the window frame. She took a breath, steady and controlled, as if gathering all her frustration, all her hurt, into one focused point. 'Ambessa can try to stop me, but she won’t.' The thought was sharp and unyielding. She glanced back once at the dim room, at the firelight still flickering faintly on the iron walls, before turning her gaze back to the abyss below.
Without further hesitation, Vi stepped onto the ledge, the wind whipping at her cloak as it billowed like a shadow around her. Her pulse quickened, but her resolve held. The drop was long, the waters merciless, but fear didn’t exist here—not for her. Her muscles tensed, and with a final push, she leapt.
The wind screamed in her ears as she plummeted, her cloak whipping and snapping violently behind her, twisting in the air like a torn and tattered banner. The ship above grew smaller with every second, a dark silhouette against the dim, bruised sky of the early dawn. The world blurred, streaks of light and shadow spinning past her vision as the freezing waters below rushed up to meet her, jagged sheets of ice dotting its churning surface like fractured glass.
Vi’s expression remained calm, her glowing black and blue scars pulsing faintly in the growing light, their shimmer a stark contrast to the harsh and lifeless gray of the Freljordian sea. The wind tore at her face, but she didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate. Her focus was ironclad, her eyes locked on the water below as if daring it to swallow her whole.
The moment her body struck the surface, the force hit like a sledgehammer. A deafening, muted crash sounded in her ears, the world erupting into a burst of icy darkness. The water closed over her like an unrelenting fist, the cold shocking the air from her lungs with brutal precision. It felt alive—cruel and unyielding—as though a thousand invisible needles stabbed into her skin, every nerve ending screaming at the intrusion. The shimmer burned beneath her scars, warring against the frostbite trying to creep into her veins, its faint glow casting eerie trails of light into the depths.
For a moment, everything was still. The distant roar of the wind above faded to nothing, replaced by the muffled weight of silence that came with being buried in the freezing abyss. The world was shadows and pressure, the water squeezing against her chest, her limbs, trying to drag her down. But Vi’s mind was clear, her muscles tightening as the hum of her hextech arm vibrated faintly beneath the water—a mechanical lifeline, cutting through the cold.
Her legs kicked, powerful and deliberate, propelling her upward in slow, determined strokes. The shimmer coursing through her body seared brighter now, fueling her movements, a fire against the freezing dark. Her chest burned for air, but she fought it down, her focus unshaken. The faint rays of light from the rising dawn began to bleed into the depths above her, soft and rippling like molten silver. Vi gritted her teeth, her glowing eyes locked on the surface.
With a final, forceful stroke, she broke through. The air hit her lungs like a blade, sharp and cold, the sound of her gasping breath loud against the roaring wind. Droplets of icy water streamed down her face, freezing against her skin in seconds. She blinked hard, clearing her vision, her chest rising and falling as she pulled herself under control. Her braid clung to her back like a frozen rope, and her cloak billowed limply in the frigid water, dragging at her movements.
Vi floated for just a moment, her gaze lifting to the ship looming high above her. Its dark iron hull towered like a mountain against the pale sky, its edges blurred by the swirling snow and mist. Lanterns glowed faintly along its railings, a faraway constellation of light that seemed impossibly distant now. Ambessa was up there, preparing for what lay ahead—unaware of what Vi was already doing, already becoming.
Turning her head, Vi’s gaze fell on the distant shoreline, a jagged line of ice and stone barely visible in the gloom. The sight sharpened her focus, and her resolve solidified, a silent fire burning beneath the shimmer of her scars. She wasn’t staying behind. Ambessa might have left her on the ship, but Vi had made her choice—and no order, no fear, could keep her from this fight.
Her muscles ached with the cold, every motion stiff and sluggish, but she pushed forward. She stretched her arms out, her mechanical hand cutting cleanly through the water as she began to swim. Each stroke was purposeful, slicing through the churning darkness, her body a silent blade in the freezing void. Her breath came slow and even as she moved, the shimmer warming her from the inside, shielding her from the worst of the frost.
The shoreline seemed impossibly far, yet Vi moved with the single-minded determination of someone who could not be stopped. Ambessa’s words echoed faintly in her mind—“You nearly died, Violet.” But Vi shoved them aside, her jaw tightening. She would prove that she wasn’t broken, that she wasn’t weak. That she ‘couldn’t’ die, no matter what the world threw at her.
The icy water rippled around her, parting in her wake as she swam through the freezing dark, her figure steady and unwavering. Her heart beat like a drum, matching the pulse of the shimmer beneath her scars, its faint light flickering beneath the surface. Ambessa was counting on her—even if she didn’t know it yet. And Vi would not fail.
The march to The Delverhold began at the break of dawn, the faint glow of morning barely piercing through the storm-laden sky. The first light stretched weakly across the frostbitten peaks of the Freljord, painting the snow with streaks of pale gold and gray. Ambessa’s forces moved with unyielding precision, their heavy boots pounding in rhythm over the frozen earth, the sound swallowed by the howling wind that cut like knives through the mountain passes. The soldiers, cloaked in muted Noxian reds and blacks, moved as one—a disciplined tide of steel and determination.
At the center of the advancing army, Ambessa rode at the front atop a massive black warhorse, its dark barding lined with frost, glinting faintly in the early light. Her presence alone seemed to part the swirling snow, her golden armor catching the sun’s weak rays and burning like a beacon of power against the stark white wilderness. Every curve of her gilded plate had been crafted to both intimidate and inspire, its surface etched with intricate patterns that paid homage to her victories. Her cloak, a heavy swath of crimson edged in gold, billowed behind her like the banner of an empress.
Ambessa’s eyes cut through the haze, sharp and unyielding, scanning the path ahead with predatory focus. She held herself with the ease of someone who owned the battlefield, her every movement measured and deliberate. To her soldiers, she was a symbol of unshakable strength—a queen in all but name. The snowstorm clawed at her armor, swirling around her like a tempest trying and failing to touch her, as though even the Freljord itself knew it could not break Ambessa Medarda.
The plan had been set in motion long before their march began. A single envoy had been sent ahead—a messenger bearing a forged decree from the emperor himself. The script, stamped with the crimson seal of Boram Darkwill, promised salvation: reinforcements to bolster Darius’s weary troops, supply wagons laden with food and firewood, and the illusion of relief from their endless suffering. The soldiers at the Delverhold would welcome them as allies, desperate to grasp even the faintest sliver of hope.
The distant outline of the fortress emerged as the army crested the final ridge, its sheer stone walls rising out of the frozen earth like the teeth of some great beast. The Delverhold, once a bastion of Noxian might, looked like a dying monolith. Frost clung to its blackened stones, and its massive gates groaned against the wind. The tattered banners hanging from its battlements were stiff with ice, the crimson of Noxus faded and pale.
As Ambessa’s forces neared the gate, the air grew thick with tension. Every soldier felt it—the knowledge that their entrance was a performance, one that would decide the success of Ambessa’s plan. The cold wind whipped through the valley, carrying with it the scent of burning fires and the faint sound of voices within the fortress. Guards stood hunched along the walls, their spears drooping, their movements sluggish with fatigue. These men were not Noxus’s finest anymore. They were ghosts of what they had been, hollowed out by starvation, exhaustion, and the unforgiving cold.
A horn sounded from the fortress walls as Ambessa’s force drew to a halt. The gates began to creak open, heavy chains rattling with laborious groans as the iron doors parted. Ambessa dismounted with a fluid, practiced grace, her red cloak billowing behind her as she strode forward. Her soldiers fell into disciplined formation, their lines tight and imposing, presenting an image of strength and stability that Noxus itself had failed to provide.
From within the gates, a massive figure emerged—Darius, the Hand of Noxus himself. He walked with the bearing of a warlord, his steps slow and deliberate, every movement a calculated display of dominance. His armor was scuffed and dented, his once-proud crimson cape torn at the edges, but his presence remained unshakable. The great axe slung over his shoulder was as much a symbol as a weapon, its blade worn but still deadly, glinting faintly in the morning light.
His face, scarred and shadowed with days of exhaustion, twisted into a scowl as his gaze fell on Ambessa. The lines of age and war were etched deeply into his features, his dark eyes smoldering with suspicion and disdain. Soldiers filed in behind him, their expressions wary and hollow, but their loyalty to their leader still evident in the way they stood.
“You’re late,” Darius growled, his voice rough, like stones grinding together. His words carried across the snow-covered ground with the weight of accusation, as though they were an axe he was preparing to swing. He stopped a few paces from Ambessa, his imposing frame framed by the crumbling walls of the Delverhold.
His dark gaze swept over Ambessa’s forces—calculating, searching for weakness. When his eyes finally settled on her, they narrowed with barely veiled distrust. “Didn’t expect the emperor’s reinforcements to be led by you, Medarda.”
Ambessa’s lips curled into the faintest smile, a sharp, calculating expression that betrayed nothing. She held her ground with the poise of someone who had nothing to prove, her golden eyes meeting Darius’s stare unflinchingly. “Desperation breeds strange alliances,” she replied smoothly, her voice carrying a cool authority that rippled across the tense silence.
Darius’s fingers flexed on the haft of his axe, as if testing its weight, but he said nothing more. His silence was a challenge, and Ambessa accepted it without hesitation, taking a single step closer, her presence commanding even against a man like him. Behind her, Vi’s absence went unnoticed, but Ambessa felt it like an ember burning at the edge of her mind. She would have to focus—Darius would not be fooled easily, and the game had only just begun.
Ambessa inclined her head slightly, her expression carved from stone, unreadable save for the glint of calculation in her golden eyes. The soft crackling of frost underfoot and the faint howl of the wind were the only sounds for a moment as her words cut the air. “The emperor sends his regards,” she said smoothly, her voice even and measured, betraying none of the intent simmering beneath her calm facade.
Darius grunted in response, his disdain clear in the deep furrow of his brow and the heavy exhale that fogged the icy air. He turned sharply on his heel, his cape billowing behind him as he barked orders to his men. “Unload the supplies,” he growled, his voice ringing with authority but weighed by exhaustion. The soldiers behind him moved with slow, hesitant motions, their bodies stiff from cold and weeks of hardship. For them, the crates being carried from Ambessa’s wagons seemed like salvation—firewood, food, and the promise of relief.
But as the supplies began to pile along the fortress gates, Darius turned back toward Ambessa. His movements slowed, the sharp gaze of a seasoned warrior scanning her force again, more carefully this time. It was then that realization struck. His dark eyes narrowed, and his grip on the haft of his massive axe tightened until his knuckles turned white against the leather-wrapped handle. His posture shifted subtly—weight settling back on his heels, his broad shoulders squaring with instinctive readiness. A spark of anger, mingled with suspicion, flickered in his eyes.
“You’re not here to help,” he said, his words low and deliberate, each syllable dripping with menace. His voice dropped into a dangerous growl, the rumble of it carrying like distant thunder across the snow-covered expanse.
Ambessa’s lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile, her expression one of satisfaction as she allowed the facade to finally slip. Her eyes gleamed like a wolf who had cornered its prey. “No, I am not,” she said softly, her voice almost gentle as if savoring the moment. Then, with a razor’s edge to her tone, she added, “I’m here to end this.”
A ripple of tension swept through the courtyard. The soldiers, their arms loaded with crates, froze mid-step, the weariness in their eyes giving way to unease. For the briefest moment, silence reigned—a terrible, deafening pause that seemed to stretch on forever. The air itself felt heavier, the chill of the Freljord deepening as if the storm itself were holding its breath.
Ambessa stepped forward, the hard crunch of her boots breaking the silence like a gunshot. She moved with purpose, each stride exuding the confidence of a woman who knew she already held the winning hand. Her soldiers watched without a word, their disciplined ranks unmoving, while Darius’s troops, gaunt and hollow-eyed, exchanged uncertain glances.
“You’ve overstayed your welcome, Darius,” Ambessa continued, her voice sharp enough to slice through the icy wind. The weight of her words carried across the courtyard, each one landing with the finality of a death knell. “You took something from me. My son.” Her gaze darkened, her tone hardening as the memory of loss rippled through her, subtle but unmistakable. “And now, I’m taking everything from you.”
Darius’s face darkened, his lips pulling into a scowl as he absorbed her words. His shoulders tensed, the sinews in his neck flexing as though bracing for the inevitability of what was to come. Around him, his soldiers hesitated, their hands instinctively reaching toward their weapons but faltering. They were men on the brink, broken and uncertain, and Ambessa could see it.
She stopped mere paces from him now, her presence dwarfing everything else in the clearing. Snow swirled around her, the rising sun glinting faintly off the edges of her gold armor, casting her in an almost otherworldly light. She looked directly into Darius’s eyes—unyielding, unflinching. “I challenge you,” she said, her voice resonating with authority, the command undeniable. “Single combat. Here and now.”
The words hung in the frozen air like a gauntlet thrown at his feet. Behind Darius, his men shifted uneasily, their uncertainty spreading like a slow-moving infection. They were exhausted, starving, and outmatched—not just in strength but in will. And they knew it. Ambessa had chosen her battlefield perfectly.
Darius’s chest rose and fell, his breath misting in the cold as he stared her down. The scarred planes of his face twisted in a mix of fury and grudging respect. He knew the challenge could not be ignored. Refusing her would shatter the fragile morale holding his men together. Accepting it would mean playing her game—one she had clearly been preparing for far longer than he realized.
For a moment, they stood locked in silence, titans poised on the brink of war. The wind tore between them like a blade, carrying with it the faint clinking of armor and the distant creak of the fortress gates. Ambessa didn’t move. She didn’t need to. The battlefield was hers, and she knew it.
Vi crouched low on the tower’s edge, the wind slicing through her sleeveless black uniform like a thousand icy blades. Frost clung to the hem of her cloak where it pooled around her feet, the fabric stiff and nearly frozen from the punishing cold. Her bare arms were a stark contrast to the snow-drenched world around her, the faint glow of her black and blue scars shimmering against skin that should have been numb. The arcane chain coiled tightly around her right forearm added to the eerie light, its faint hum vibrating in sync with her heartbeat. Each shallow breath turned to mist before vanishing in the bitter air, she ignored the ache that had begun to settle into her limbs. Yet the shimmer kept her moving, its unnatural heat burning beneath her skin, warding off the worst of the frostbite threatening to claim her.
Her glowing eyes, sharp and unyielding, narrowed as she scanned the courtyard below. Ambessa stood there, an unrelenting figure of power, her gilded armor burning like molten gold against the pale morning light. The intricate etchings of her platework seemed to blaze defiantly, each line catching the light in stark contrast to the muted gray stone of the fortress walls. She faced Darius head-on, a woman imperious and unshakable, her crimson cloak snapping like a flag in the wind as if daring the very elements to oppose her. Even from this height, Vi could feel the tension between the two warriors—the air thick with a storm of vengeance and bloodlust ready to break.
Vi barely registered the faint sound of boots crunching through the snow until the patrolling guard turned, his breath curling visibly in the frigid air. The dim light glinted off the edge of his spear, and for a fleeting second, Vi’s body remained perfectly still, her glowing eyes locking onto his. Before he could exhale his next breath, Vi shot forward like a shadow breaking free. Her hextech arm closed around his throat with a vice-like grip, the faint hum of its mechanisms muffled by the shriek of the wind. The man’s eyes widened in silent terror, his muffled gasp lost to the storm as Vi tightened her hold. A sickening snap reverberated softly against the stone walls, and his body went limp.
Vi dragged him effortlessly into the shadows, her muscles taut as she deposited his lifeless form against the stone with a dull thud. The snow swallowed any sound, leaving only the biting cold and the faint hiss of her controlled breaths. Frost clung stubbornly to her boots and the edges of her cloak, and as she crouched low again, the chill dug deeper into her skin, testing her resolve. She ignored it, her focus snapping back to the courtyard below.
Ambessa still stood, unmoving and defiant, and Vi’s gaze sharpened further, the faint glow of her scars intensifying as the fortress fell eerily silent once more. The tension in the air coiled tighter, sharp and unrelenting, and Vi knew the storm below was about to erupt.
But something caught her eye.
Off to her left, the faint scrape of metal against stone shattered the fragile stillness. Vi froze, every muscle in her body taut, her sharp gaze snapping to the source of the sound. Her breathing slowed, the shimmer beneath her skin pulsing faintly as her body became a coil, ready to strike. There—three figures pulling themselves up and over the fortress wall, their movements deliberate, almost soundless. Cloaked shadows against the pale light, they seemed to merge with the frost-draped stone, but Vi’s trained eyes caught the nuances in their approach.
The first figure moved with deliberate, practiced steps, each motion controlled and measured, like a veteran accustomed to navigating danger with precision. The second was more agile, sharper in their movements, almost feline, their body weaving through the climb as if unburdened by the weight of the world. And the third—Vi’s gaze narrowed—was wild, their motions jerking yet fluid, like a fire that refused to be contained. Erratic, reckless, but somehow just as lethal as the others. There was no hesitation in the way they had scaled the wall, no uncertainty in their purpose, but something about them unsettled her.
Vi strained to see beneath their hoods, her brow furrowing in frustration as the low light kept their faces hidden. They weren’t part of Ambessa’s crew—she was certain of that. Ambessa’s soldiers were orderly, disciplined, and announced by their presence. These intruders were anything but. Unease prickled at the back of Vi’s neck, a familiar warning born of years spent surviving in the underbelly of Zaun. Her gut told her something was wrong, and that instinct was rarely mistaken.
But there was no time to investigate.
The fortress below had fallen deathly silent, the kind of silence that choked the air and made even the stone walls seem to hold their breath. Vi forced her attention back to the courtyard, reluctantly tearing her gaze from the figures on the wall. Down below, Ambessa and Darius now stood face to face, the space between them crackling with unspoken fury and sharpened intent.
Darius loomed like a war-forged monolith, his broad shoulders casting a long, dark shadow that stretched across the frostbitten ground. The massive axe in his hands seemed to hum with anticipation, its blade etched with scars from countless battles. His scarred face twisted into something between contempt and wary respect, his red cloak snapping violently in the wind as though it shared his aggression. He took a step forward, his boots grinding against the frost, the movement slow and deliberate.
Ambessa remained unmoved, a golden statue of defiance. Her armor blazed in the rising sunlight, its intricate engravings catching every gleam as if to remind the world of her authority. Her sharp golden eyes met Darius’s with a quiet, unrelenting fury that seemed to still even the howling wind. She held her ground, no weapon yet drawn, but her presence alone seemed to match the enormity of Darius himself.
Vi exhaled slowly, the air escaping her lips in a thin stream of mist as she watched the confrontation unfold. The tension was tangible, sharp enough to cut. A storm was brewing down there—a storm of vengeance, steel, and blood—and Vi could feel it in her bones. She stole one last glance at the figures on the battlements, her unease lingering, but Ambessa’s fight took priority. Whatever those shadows wanted, they would have to wait.
“You think you can take me?” he snarled, his deep voice like gravel dragged across steel, each word laced with disdain.
Ambessa didn’t flinch. Her eyes held his with a quiet, unshakeable power. Her smile was faint, cold, and brimming with certainty as she took a single step forward, her armor catching the light like a beacon against the bleak stone and snow. “I know I can.”
Around them, Darius’s soldiers began to stir, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten as they realized what was about to unfold. Some exchanged uneasy glances, their breath misting in the frozen air, while others leaned forward, eager to witness what could only be a clash of titans. A loose circle began to form, boots crunching against frostbitten ground as the two leaders squared off.
Vi’s chest tightened as she watched Ambessa step into the center, her posture commanding and effortless. She seemed untouchable, every movement deliberate and measured. Darius mirrored her approach, his axe held low but ready, his muscles coiled with the tension.
“Let’s finish this,” Ambessa said, her voice carrying over the courtyard like a death knell, steady and resolute.
Darius lifted his axe, the blade catching the light in a deadly gleam. “For Noxus,” he growled, his voice a vow, a promise of violence.
Ambessa’s smile widened, her eyes blazing with unspoken fury and intent. “For Kino.”
From her vantage point, Vi’s fists tightened against the ledge, her mechanical fingers creaking softly as the tension coiled through her body. She couldn’t look away, the gravity of the moment pulling her in. Yet in the back of her mind, the appearance of those figures lingered like a splinter. The unknown element gnawed at her instincts, whispering that something else was coming.
And she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all about to collide.
Then it began.
The courtyard fell silent, the only sound the mournful howl of the wind tearing through the crumbling walls of the Delverhold. Ambessa Medarda and Darius stood at the center, locked in a standoff that seemed to draw the air from the world. Soldiers from both sides formed a loose circle around them, their breath visible in the frigid air, their hands tense on their weapons. None dared to interfere.
Ambessa moved first, her golden armor flashing as she surged forward, her blade a glinting streak in the pale light. Darius met her charge head-on, his massive axe cleaving through the air in a deadly arc. Their weapons collided with a thunderous crash, the impact sending vibrations through the frozen ground. Sparks flew from the point of contact, scattering like dying stars into the snow.
Darius pressed his advantage immediately, his axe a relentless force of destruction. He swung with all the weight of his immense frame, each blow threatening to cleave Ambessa in two. She dodged and parried, her movements precise and measured, but the sheer force of his strikes sent shockwaves up her arms, the vibrations rattling her bones.
A downward strike came so close it sheared a lock of her hair, the strands floating briefly before being swallowed by the snow. Ambessa spun away, her boots skidding on the frost-slick ground. Her blade shot out in a tight arc, catching Darius across the ribs. The edge found a gap in his armor, and a thin line of crimson welled up against the stark gray of his steel.
Darius grunted but didn’t falter. He swung his axe in a horizontal sweep that forced Ambessa to duck low, the blade whistling just above her head. The wind of the missed strike slapped her face, and she lunged forward, driving her shoulder into Darius’s chest. The impact staggered him, his boots crunching through the frost as he fought for balance.
Ambessa’s blade was already moving. She struck low, aiming for the vulnerable joint at his knee, and her sword bit deep. Darius roared, his leg buckling slightly as blood seeped through the torn fabric. He retaliated with a furious backhand, the hilt of his axe slamming into the side of her head. The blow sent her stumbling, the taste of blood exploding in her mouth as she fell to one knee.
“Still standing?” Darius growled, his voice a rumble of gravel. His bloodied lips twisted into a cruel smile as he raised his axe high. “I’ll fix that.”
The axe came down like a guillotine, but Ambessa rolled to the side at the last second. The blade struck the ground, shattering the frozen earth and sending shards of ice flying in all directions. Ambessa pushed to her feet, her vision swimming, the edges of the world blurring from the force of the blow she’d taken.
“You hit hard,” she said, spitting blood into the snow. Her voice was steady, though her chest heaved with exertion. “But brute strength isn’t enough to win a war.”
Darius snarled and charged, his massive frame barreling toward her like an avalanche. Ambessa sidestepped at the last moment, her blade slashing out and carving a jagged line across his forearm. The cut was deep, blood dripping onto the frost-bitten ground in steady, heavy drops.
Darius spun, ignoring the wound, and swung his axe in a deadly arc aimed for her midsection. Ambessa leapt back, the blade grazing her breastplate and leaving a jagged gouge in the golden armor. The impact rattled her chest, and she felt the sharp sting of bruised ribs beneath the metal. She retaliated with a swift lunge, driving the point of her sword into his side. The blade bit through flesh and muscle, sinking deep enough to draw a guttural grunt of pain from him.
“You talk too much,” Darius spat, his voice low and venomous. He pulled back, twisting his body to wrench himself free from her blade, and swung his axe in a wide, desperate arc. The edge caught the hem of her crimson cloak, tearing it clean off and sending the fabric fluttering into the snow like a fallen banner.
Ambessa didn’t flinch. She pressed the attack, her movements sharp and unrelenting. Her blade flashed toward his exposed neck, but Darius raised his axe at the last moment, the haft deflecting her strike with a sharp clang. The force of the block jarred her grip, and she gritted her teeth as pain lanced up her wrist.
The two warriors circled each other, their breaths fogging the air, blood staining the snow beneath them. Darius’s face was a mask of fury, his eyes blazing with unrelenting rage, while Ambessa’s was cold and calculating, her sharp golden gaze fixed on her opponent like a predator sizing up its prey.
Darius roared and charged again, swinging his axe with reckless abandon. Ambessa ducked under the blow, the blade missing her by a hair’s breadth and smashing into the stone wall behind her. The impact sent shards of rock raining down, but Ambessa didn’t falter. She surged forward, her blade slashing across his chest. The steel sang as it cut through flesh and armor, drawing another pained roar from the warlord.
Blood poured from the wound, soaking into Darius’s tattered cloak. He gritted his teeth, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, but his grip on his axe never wavered. He swung again, the sheer force of the strike lifting Ambessa off her feet as she raised her blade to block. The impact sent her sprawling into the snow, her sword flying from her grasp and skidding across the frozen ground.
Darius loomed over her, his axe dripping with blood, his shadow stretching long and dark against the snow. “You’re done, Medarda,” he growled, his voice a death knell as he raised his weapon high for the final blow.
Ambessa stared up at him, blood streaking her face, her chest heaving. Her hands clawed at the frost as she tried to push herself up, but her body screamed in protest. Her vision blurred, the edges of the world dimming as the axe began its descent.
But the blow never came.
A blur of motion tore through the battlefield, faster than the eye could track. Vi. She was a phantom of violence, her form cutting through the chaos like a blade. The glow of her hextech arm burned brighter as she struck, and the sickening shlunk of metal piercing flesh ripped through the air like a death knell. Silence fell like a shroud over the crowd.
Darius’s massive frame jerked violently as Vi’s fist punched through his chest, the force so brutal that it tore through skin, ribs, and organs. The grotesque sound of cracking bone and tearing flesh accompanied the fist’s emergence from his back, slick with blood and viscera that dripped in slow, rhythmic streaks onto the frost-coated ground. Darius’s head tilted downward, his eyes wide in disbelief as his body trembled, the breath leaving him in wheezing, wet gasps.
His axe slipped from his fingers, the massive weapon clattering to the ground with a dull thud that reverberated through the stillness. Vi’s eyes glowed faintly as she tilted her head, her expression detached, her hand still embedded in Darius’s chest. The hum of her hextech arm rose to a deafening pitch as a crackling pulse of electric energy surged into him. The current exploded outward, twitching his limbs violently, his mouth falling open as arcs of blue light crackled across his body, searing his insides.
A long, ragged breath rattled in Darius’s throat as his body sagged, his weight pulling against Vi’s fist. His blood splattered across her face, streaking down her cheek in jagged crimson lines. He coughed weakly, his lips frothing red, and managed to lift his head one last time. A faint, pained smile curled on his bloodied lips, as though welcoming the end. “Finally…” he rasped, his voice a whisper, barely more than air.
Vi yanked her arm free with a sickening, wet squelch, the motion deliberate and unflinching. Blood spurted in a sharp arc, painting the snow in vivid streaks of crimson as she stepped back, her movements slow and deliberate. Darius’s body swayed like a felled tree, his massive frame trembling before crumpling backward with a heavy, earth-shaking thud. The sound echoed across the frozen expanse, stark and final, as his lifeless form sprawled across the ground. A widening pool of dark crimson seeped into the frostbitten earth, staining it like a permanent scar.
For a moment, the entire courtyard stood suspended in time, as if the world itself had forgotten how to breathe. The air hung thick and oppressive, the coppery scent of blood mingling with the icy bite of the wind. Even the relentless storm seemed to pause, its shrill reduced to a distant, mournful wail. The soldiers who had gathered in a loose ring around the duel remained frozen in place, their weapons slack in their hands, their faces pale and slack with disbelief. Each of them stared at the scene before them, their gazes darting between the fallen warlord and the blood-drenched figure standing over him.
Vi stood motionless, her hextech arm still outstretched, its gears and joints humming faintly as blood dripped from its sharp edges. The droplets hissed and sizzled as they struck the icy ground, faint tendrils of steam curling upward like ghosts. Her scars pulsed faintly in the dim light, the glow of her mismatched eyes—one black and ominous, the other crackling with blue energy—cutting through the swirling snow. Her expression was a mask of detachment, but beneath the surface, a storm brewed—an unrelenting surge of triumph, anger, and grief all at once.
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixed on Darius’s lifeless body, as if willing him to rise again so she could strike him down once more. The faint twitch of her mechanical fingers betrayed the simmering tension in her, the remnants of the duel coursing through her veins like an unspent charge. Slowly, she shifted her weight, the snow crunching beneath her boots as she turned her head toward Ambessa.
The general lay sprawled on the ground a few feet away, her golden armor dented and smeared with blood. Her sharp eyes, dulled with exhaustion, were locked on Vi. For all her strength, Ambessa looked vulnerable in that moment—a queen brought low, her triumph stolen and reshaped by the girl she had forged. Vi met her gaze, unflinching, her expression unreadable. The silence between them was deafening, the weight of what had just transpired bearing down on them both, heavier than the snow-covered sky above.
Ambessa rose slowly from where she had fallen, her movements deliberate, her breath coming in shallow, measured gasps. The frostbitten earth clung to her knees, and the sharp sting of her wounds burned against the freezing air. Her eyes, blazing with a mixture of fury and disbelief, locked onto the scene before her—the lifeless body of Darius sprawled in a widening pool of crimson, steam rising faintly from the blood that seeped into the frost. Her gaze shifted, almost reluctantly, to Vi, who stood over him like a storm made flesh, her hextech arm dripping with blood and faintly steaming, the eerie glow of her scars casting shadows on her pale, bloody face.
This was supposed to be her moment. The weight of Kino’s death had driven every strike, every step, every decision leading to this confrontation. She had envisioned it countless times—driving her blade through Darius herself, standing over him as justice was served. But now, the vengeance she had craved for so long was stolen, delivered not by her hand, but by the girl she had forged—her weapon, her daughter.
Ambessa didn’t know what to feel. The grief she had carried for years collided with the bitter sting of failure, each emotion warring for dominance. A hollow ache spread through her chest, heavier than the injuries that marred her body. But beneath the anger, beneath the resentment of her stolen triumph, was something more complicated: pride. She couldn’t ignore the sheer force of Vi’s will, the unstoppable determination in her every move. Ambessa’s lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw tightening as the raw anger tempered into something quieter, something she wasn’t sure she could name.
Her golden eyes bore into Vi, searching for something—answers, understanding, perhaps even an explanation Vi couldn’t give. But the girl didn’t flinch under her gaze. Vi simply stared back, her face streaked with blood, her glowing eyes wild and unrelenting, her chest heaving with the effort of what she had just done. The silence between them stretched like a chasm, the weight of it suffocating in its finality, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Ambessa clenched her fists at her sides, her nails biting into the flesh of her palms as she fought to steady her racing thoughts. The soldiers, stunned into silence, didn’t move. All eyes remained on the two of them—Ambessa and Vi—standing amidst the carnage like gods descended to the mortal plane, bound by blood and fire but divided by an unspoken tension.
This was not how it was supposed to end, yet here they were. Kino was avenged, but the victory felt hollow, its triumph dulled by the storm of emotions Ambessa could no longer suppress. For a moment, she wondered if Vi felt the same, but the cold, distant fire in the girl’s glowing eyes offered no answers, only defiance and something unnameable—something that reminded Ambessa of herself.
Ambessa didn’t take her eyes off Vi as she spoke, her voice cutting through the frozen air with the precision of a blade. “You have a choice,” she said, her tone low and commanding, each word laced with the weight of authority. Her golden gaze remained locked on Vi, as if daring her to look away. The tension between them was palpable, an unspoken challenge crackling in the air like the remnants of the storm that had been unleashed. Her next words rang out with chilling clarity, directed at Darius’s men but resonating with everyone present. “Either die with him, or join me.”
The soldiers surrounding the courtyard exchanged uneasy glances, their breath misting in the cold as the silence stretched unbearably thin. Many were still frozen in shock, their gazes darting between Darius’s lifeless body and the towering figure of Ambessa, her armor streaked with blood and frost but her presence unyielding. The weight of her words seemed to press down on them like a vice, forcing them to confront the reality of their situation. Their leader lay dead, his broken body a grim testament to the power of the woman who now stood before them.
Ambessa began to move, her steps slow and deliberate, her boots crunching against the frostbitten ground. She didn’t look at Darius’s men as she spoke, her attention fixed entirely on Vi. The girl’s glowing eyes flickered slightly, the storm within them subdued but far from extinguished. “But make no mistake,” Ambessa continued, her voice sharpening, “your loyalty will be tested.”
She came to a stop a few paces from Vi, her towering form casting a long shadow over the blood-streaked snow. Her gaze softened slightly, but her words were as cold and unyielding as the Freljordian wind. “If you fail,” she said, her tone a quiet growl that carried across the courtyard, “you will end up like him. Dead without honor.”
The words hung heavy in the air, their weight undeniable. Ambessa finally tore her gaze away from Vi to sweep over the gathered soldiers, her golden eyes burning with an intensity that left no room for defiance. The men stiffened under her scrutiny, the icy wind biting at their exposed faces as they weighed their options. The promise of survival glimmered faintly in her offer, but it was a fragile, conditional thing, and the unspoken threat of failure loomed like a shadow over them all.
As the silence stretched on, Ambessa turned her attention back to Vi, her expression unreadable but her posture rigid with tension. The girl hadn’t moved, her chest still heaving, her bloodstained face a mask of defiance and relief. Ambessa’s jaw tightened imperceptibly as she studied her, the memory of Darius’s death replaying in her mind. This was a test for everyone—for Darius’s men, for her soldiers, and for Vi herself. But it was Ambessa who felt the weight of its outcome pressing down on her like a blade at her throat.
Ambessa turned sharply, her voice ringing out with the force of command that brooked no hesitation. “Reload the supplies,” she barked, her tone slicing through the icy air like a whip. “We leave tomorrow at dawn, back to my fleet.” Her words were curt and final, leaving no room for questions. The fortress, with its crumbling walls and frostbitten grounds, meant nothing to her—it never had. It was a shell of Noxian pride, its purpose long eroded by time and neglect. She had come here for one thing: vengeance. Now that she had it, though stained by Vi’s intervention, there was no reason to linger in this place. Her eyes swept over the men, silently daring them to falter as they began to move.
Darius’s soldiers hesitated only briefly before obeying, their hands trembling as they hauled crates of supplies back into wagons. The cold stung their fingers, and the weight of their former leader’s lifeless body pressed heavily on their minds, but Ambessa’s unyielding presence left no room for defiance. Her soldiers, seasoned and disciplined, worked efficiently, their movements precise even in the frigid wind. The courtyard, once still with the tension of battle, now hummed with the sound of boots crunching on snow and the scrape of crates being dragged across the frozen ground.
As the men busied themselves, Ambessa finally turned her attention back to Vi. The golden lines of her armor, streaked with crimson and frost, glinted faintly in the pale light. Her eyes bore into Vi’s, unblinking and sharp, their intensity searching for something beneath the stormy glow of the girl’s mismatched gaze. Around them, the men worked to reload the supplies, their movements subdued, the quiet scrape of crates and the crunch of boots against frost filling the stillness of the courtyard. There was nothing left for her here.
“I know I told you to remain on the ship,” Ambessa said, her voice low but firm, carrying the weight of unspoken disappointment. The words hung heavy in the cold air between them, more a statement than a reprimand, her sharp tone making it clear that Vi’s disobedience had not gone unnoticed.
Vi’s jaw clenched at the words, her chest still heaving from exertion, her bloodstained face defiant. Slowly, deliberately, she raised her hands, her fingers moving with a controlled precision that betrayed the storm of emotions beneath her composed exterior. You told me, she signed, her movements sharp and deliberate. I’m glad I didn’t listen.
Ambessa’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of something unspoken crossing her face. She remained silent, her arms folded over the dented plates of her armor, her imposing presence unyielding. Vi’s hands moved again, more forcefully now, the faint hum of her hextech arm vibrating faintly in the still air. You think I’m weak because of what happened, she signed, her glowing blue scar pulsing faintly with her frustration. But I’m not. As you see, we have your vengeance.
She gestured toward Darius’s lifeless body, now half-covered by a fresh layer of snow, his blood staining the frost in a dark, spreading pool. Her hand paused mid-motion, trembling slightly before curling into a fist. The gesture, though silent, carried the weight of a scream—an unspoken defiance etched into every movement.
Ambessa’s jaw tightened, her expression unreadable as her gaze flicked to Darius’s corpse. The once-mighty warlord, the man who had taken her son’s life, now lay broken and forgotten beneath the falling snow. Her vengeance had been achieved, but the bitter taste of it remained. Slowly, her eyes returned to Vi, studying her with the same piercing intensity she reserved for enemies on the battlefield.
For a moment, there was only silence between them, broken only by the faint sounds of the men working behind them. Ambessa’s expression softened slightly, the tension in her shoulders loosening, though the sharp edge in her gaze never wavered. “Your strength was never in question,” she said finally, her voice quieter now, but still carrying the weight of authority. “But disobedience will cost you, Violet.”
Vi’s hands twitched, as though she were preparing to sign another retort, but she stopped herself. Instead, she held Ambessa’s gaze, her mismatched eyes burning with a quiet fire that spoke louder than words ever could. The snow continued to fall around them, the faint hum of Vi’s scars and hextech arm the only thing that broke the suffocating stillness. In that moment, it was clear: this wasn’t just about orders or vengeance. It was about the unspoken bond forged between them—one that both women understood, and that had openly admitted.
Ambessa’s eyes softened slightly as she raised her gloved hand, her movements deliberate, almost hesitant, as though the act carried more weight than she was willing to admit. Her fingers traced the glowing blue scar that ran from beneath Vi’s jaw to her left eye, the faint hum of its energy vibrating under her touch. It wasn’t just a scar—it was a symbol of Vi’s transformation, her resilience, and the new, untamed power coursing through her. Ambessa’s voice dropped to a low murmur, the words meant for Vi alone. “You can’t keep doing this,” she said, her tone devoid of anger, laden instead with something unspoken. “Disobeying me. Putting yourself at risk.”
Vi’s chest heaved, her fists trembling at her sides as she fought to steady herself. The glowing pulse of her scars flickered faintly, echoing the storm of emotions that threatened to consume her. Her hands rose sharply, the movements of her signing controlled but brimming with frustration. If I had followed your orders, you’d be dead, she signed, each motion deliberate, her glowing eyes locked onto Ambessa’s. I do not regret that.
Ambessa’s lips tightened into a thin line, her jaw flexing as she absorbed Vi’s words. She didn’t pull her hand away, her thumb brushing over the edge of the scar as if to remind herself that Vi was still here—alive, defiant, hers.
Vi continued, her hands trembling slightly but her resolve unwavering. I’ll accept whatever punishment you decide. I’ll bear it gladly, because in the end, I did my part. She hesitated, her hands faltering for the briefest moment before she finished, her signing slower now, more deliberate. I protected you… mother.
The last word hung between them like a blade, sharp and undeniable. Ambessa froze, her golden eyes widening ever so slightly as the weight of Vi’s declaration crashed over her. They had long since acknowledged the bond between them, but Vi had never signed that word before. It wasn’t an obligation—it was a choice, a declaration born of love and loyalty forged in blood and fire.
Ambessa’s hand fell away from Vi’s face, her expression fracturing under the weight of emotions she had long buried. For a moment, her golden eyes softened, the sharp edges of her gaze blunted by something raw, unguarded. She exhaled shakily, her voice barely a whisper as she said, “You don’t know what it means to hear that.” The words slipped out unbidden, vulnerable and unpolished. She looked away briefly, as though gathering herself, before returning her gaze to Vi’s.
“But you’re wrong,” she continued, her voice steadying, though it carried a faint tremor. “This isn’t about punishment. It’s about why I can’t lose you—not you. Not after everything.” Her gloved hand hovered briefly in the space between them, as though she might reach out again, but instead, it clenched into a fist and fell to her side.
“You protected me,” she said, her tone firm but tinged with an unspoken warmth. “But you don’t fight for me alone. We fight together. Always.” Her words carried a quiet finality, an acknowledgment of their bond and the unspoken promise it carried.
Vi’s mismatched eyes flickered with emotion, her hands twitching as though she wanted to respond, but instead, she simply nodded. The glow of her scars softened, their light fading to a quiet pulse as she stood motionless amidst the snow and blood.
Ambessa held her gaze for a moment longer, her own expression unreadable. Then, as though to punctuate the moment, she turned sharply, her crimson cloak snapping in the wind as she strode away. The soldiers around them continued to do their work, their movements subdued, while Vi remained where she stood, the weight of their exchange settling over her like a fresh snowfall.