Lost and Found

Chapter: 11 Reunion

The courtyard of Delverhold was a storm of chaos. Arrows rained down from the battlements like a deadly hailstorm, their sharp tips embedding into the blood-soaked earth with muffled thuds or striking shields with piercing clangs. Shouts of orders ricocheted off the towering stone walls, the desperate cries of soldiers mingling with the guttural screams of the wounded. The metallic clash of steel on steel rang out in a brutal, unrelenting rhythm, each collision a testament to the violent dance of survival. Blood seeped into the frost-covered ground, pooling in the jagged cracks beneath shattered weapons and splintered shields, turning the once-pristine snow into a grotesque tapestry of crimson and mud. The acrid scent of iron hung heavy in the frigid air, mingling with the bitter tang of smoke drifting from distant fires. Yet amidst the carnage, an island of silence began to form—a space where the sounds of war seemed to hush, as if the battlefield itself recognized the weight of the confrontation unfolding.

Mel Medarda stepped into the courtyard with deliberate precision, her white fur-lined cloak trailing behind her like a mantle of defiance. The hem was frayed and stained, soaked with the blood of fallen soldiers, a stark contrast to the regal figure it adorned. Her eyes burned with intensity, their glow cutting through the swirling snow and ash as they locked onto Ambessa. The elder Medarda stood at the heart of the battlefield, an unyielding monument to war amidst the chaos. Her golden armor, battered and streaked with blood and frost, still managed to gleam faintly in the pale, storm-muted light, a testament to her unshakable presence. The crimson cloak draped over her broad shoulders billowed in the icy wind, its frayed edges snapping like a banner of defiance, marking her as both a general and a symbol of unrelenting power.

Ambessa tracked Mel’s approach with calculated precision, her every movement measured and deliberate. One of her short swords rested casually on her shoulder, its edge gleaming with the lethal promise of death, each faint glint of light reflecting the countless lives it had claimed. Her golden eyes met Mel’s, and for the first time in years, there was no hint of familial warmth in her gaze—only the cold, unflinching calculation. Her expression was unreadable, her sharp features carved from stone, betraying neither doubt nor hesitation as the storm around them raged on.

“So,” Ambessa said, her voice slicing through the chaos like a blade. The storm of battle around them seemed to hush, the clamor of steel and cries fading into the background as her words rang clear. “You’ve finally stepped out of the shadows.”

Mel’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat reverberating through her veins like a drum heralding the inevitable clash. The warmth of her magic pulsed beneath her skin, erratic and untrained, like an unbridled flame threatening to consume her. Her hands trembled briefly before she clenched them into fists, the faint golden glow flickering at her fingertips betraying her unease. But she refused to let it show. Not now. Not here. She straightened her posture, locking her eyes on her mother’s. “You wanted me to fight,” she replied, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her. “Here I am.”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a faint smirk, though the amusement didn’t reach her sharp, calculating eyes. Her gaze swept over Mel, assessing her with the detached precision of a general studying the battlefield. “You think you’re ready for this?” she asked, gesturing with one of her swords to the blood-soaked chaos around them. “War isn’t a game, Mel. It’s a crucible. It burns away weakness and leaves only the strong.”

Mel’s jaw tightened, the muscles in her neck stiffening as her mother’s words sank in. She refused to flinch under Ambessa’s piercing gaze, even as doubt clawed at the edges of her resolve. “Maybe you’re right,” Mel admitted, her voice laced with a quiet steel. “But even you weren’t born a general. You had to learn. And now it’s your turn to see what I’ve learned.”

Ambessa’s smirk vanished, her sharp features hardening into focus. She shifted her stance, raising both swords with practiced ease, their gleaming edges catching the pale light.

Mel didn’t move, her body rigid as her eyes narrowed, locking onto the woman who had loomed over her life for so long—through sheer force, unyielding expectation, and haunting absence. The storm raged around them, but the space between them seemed eerily still, as if the battlefield itself held its breath. “You always talk about strength,” Mel said, her voice sharp and cutting, slicing through the tension like a blade. “As if it’s the only thing that matters. But tell me, was it strength that made you steal the gemstone? Or desperation?”

Ambessa’s golden eyes flickered with something unreadable, a faint shadow of emotion crossing her otherwise impenetrable gaze. Her grip on her swords tightened ever so slightly, the leather of her gloves creaking under the strain. She tilted her head, her expression hardening, though there was the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth. “Desperation?” she echoed, her voice low and edged with a dangerous calm. “No. I did what was necessary. That gemstone was a tool, and tools exist to be used. For power. For vengeance.”

Mel’s brow furrowed, confusion mingling with the anger simmering beneath her skin. “Vengeance?” she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. “For what exactly? What could justify all of this?” Her hand gestured toward the battlefield around them, the bloodied bodies littering the snow, the shattered remnants of lives and families destroyed by Ambessa’s quest.

Ambessa’s eyes shifted, and for a moment, a flicker of something raw and personal glimmered in her expression. She lowered her gaze, motioning with one bloodstained sword toward the snow-covered corpse of Darius. His lifeless eyes stared unseeing into the storm-gray sky, his chest bearing a gaping, frozen wound where Vi’s hextech arm had struck true. Blood pooled around his body, the edges crystallized by the biting cold.

“This man,” Ambessa began, her voice heavy, though her tone remained cold and clinical. “This man killed your brother, Mel. Your kin. My son.” Her eyes returned to Mel’s, burning with a mixture of fury and conviction. “Why do you think I’m here, in this waste of a place? Do you think I’d crawl through the frozen hell of the Freljord for anything less than justice?”

Mel’s stomach twisted, the weight of Ambessa’s words hitting her like a blow. Memories of her brother, faint and distant, flickered in her mind—his smile, his warmth, the fragments of their childhood that had long since been buried beneath Ambessa’s suffocating shadow. She glanced at Darius’s lifeless form, the frozen crimson wound a stark reminder of the cost of vengeance. “You think this is justice?” she asked, her voice trembling with anger. “Slaughtering armies, stealing gemstones, kidnapping people? Is that what you call justice?”

Ambessa’s expression darkened, her grip tightening on her swords once more. “Justice is an illusion,” she said coldly. “The world doesn’t give justice freely. You take it. You carve it out of blood and sacrifice. And if you don’t, someone else will take it from you.”

Mel’s hands began to glow faintly, the golden light flaring with the intensity of her emotions. “That’s not justice, Mother,” she said, her voice rising. “That’s tyranny. And it’s exactly why I’m going to stop you.”

Ambessa’s smirk returned, sharp and defiant. “Then stop me,” she challenged, raising her swords in readiness. “But remember, Mel, strength doesn’t ask for permission. It takes what it wants.”

“And what you did to Vi?” Mel shot back, her tone sharpening. “Was that necessary too? Turning her into your weapon? Stripping her of everything she was and calling it strength? She deserved better. And you—you deserve to answer for it.”

Ambessa’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flashing with something between irritation and pride. “Violet survived,” she said curtly, her tone dismissive. “She became stronger because of it. More than she ever could have been on her own. Isn’t that what matters?”

“You’ve always had a sharp tongue, Mel,” Ambessa continued, her voice low and deliberate, laced with a dangerous calm that sent a chill down Mel’s spine. The words were as precise as her strikes, each one meant to cut deep. She took another step forward, her boots crunching against the blood-soaked snow, the sound unnervingly steady amidst the chaos. Her gaze never wavered, pinning Mel in place as though daring her to respond.

Mel’s fists tightened, the faint golden glow at her fingertips flaring brighter as her heart raced. Her breath misted in the frigid air, but she stood firm, refusing to flinch under Ambessa’s piercing scrutiny. Her mother’s words hung in the space between them, heavy with unspoken threat and layered meaning.

Ambessa tilted her head slightly, her sharp features hardening as her tone took on an edge of cold finality. “The last person I faced with a sharp tongue like yours…” She paused, the weight of her next words building like a blade poised to strike. “…I cut it out.”

The sentence landed like a blow. Mel’s breath hitched as the full meaning of Ambessa’s words crashed over her. Her mind raced, piecing together the fragments of truth buried in her mother’s taunt. A memory surfaced—Vi’s silence, the deliberate movements of her hands, the haunting precision of her gestures. It hadn’t been an act of choice or defiance. It had been necessity.

“You…” Mel’s voice cracked, her eyes widening with both horror and fury. “You did that to Vi?” The light around her hands surged, crackling with unrestrained energy as the warmth of her magic turned searing. Her stomach twisted with a mixture of rage and disbelief, the image of Vi’s quiet resilience taking on a new, harrowing dimension.

Ambessa’s smirk deepened, though it held no satisfaction—only a cold, clinical amusement at Mel’s reaction. “She resisted,” Ambessa said matter-of-factly, as if recounting a battle strategy rather than a brutal act of cruelty. Her grip on her swords tightened, the leather of her gloves creaking faintly. “She needed to be taught a lesson. Words are weapons, Mel. And when they’re aimed against you, you break them.”

Mel’s chest heaved, her breaths sharp and uneven as fury boiled within her. Her magic pulsed wildly, the chains of light snapping around her arms with a life of their own. “You didn’t make her stronger,” Mel spat, her voice trembling with rage. “You broke her. And now you think you can break me? You’re wrong.”

Ambessa raised an eyebrow, her expression unbothered, though her golden eyes gleamed with something sharper—perhaps pride at Mel’s defiance, or maybe the thrill of the impending clash. “We’ll see,” she said simply, her tone cool and dismissive. She raised her swords slightly, the blades glinting ominously as she shifted into a ready stance.“But words mean nothing here. Strength does. Conviction does. If you think you can challenge me, then stop talking and prove it.”

Mel’s fists tightened, the golden glow at her fingertips flaring brighter. “I’m not here to prove anything to you,” she said, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. “I’m here to end this. You’ve taken enough—enough from me, from Vi, from everyone you’ve touched.”

Ambessa tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady and unreadable. “End this?” she repeated, her tone almost amused. “You think this is the end, Mel? This is just another step in the war. Another piece on the board. You’re playing my game now.”

“No,” Mel said, her voice firm and unwavering. The golden glow around her hands spread, flickering up her arms like firelight. “This isn’t your game anymore.”

Ambessa’s gaze sharpened, her swords shifting into a defensive stance. For the first time, there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or recognition. “Then show me, Mel,” she said, her voice quieter but no less commanding. “Show me what you’ve learned. Show me your strength.”

And with that, the space between them disappeared, both women surging forward, the battle beginning in earnest.

The first clash came like a hammer, the sound of steel slicing through the air sharp and deadly. Ambessa lunged with surprising speed, her short sword carving a brutal arc downward. The blade crashed into the frozen ground with a deafening clang, shattering the frost-covered earth and sending a spray of dirt, ice, and blood-stained snow into the air. Mel darted to the side, her fur-lined cloak whipping behind her as she narrowly avoided the strike. Her boots skidded slightly on the slick ground, and for a moment, her breath caught as she registered just how close she’d come to being cleaved in two.

Ambessa didn’t pause. With a feral precision honed by decades of battle, she pivoted, her other sword slashing horizontally at Mel’s midsection. The elder Medarda’s strikes were not just powerful—they were calculated, each one aimed to leave no room for escape. Mel barely ducked in time, the blade slicing through the air just inches above her head, the faint whistle of its edge a grim reminder of its lethality. The cold air stung her face, and she spun away, her movements graceful but hesitant, as though her body moved faster than her thoughts.

There was no reprieve. Ambessa advanced relentlessly, her dual blades an extension of her will, cutting through the air with a deadly rhythm. Each swing seemed heavier, faster than the last, the sheer force behind them vibrating through the courtyard like a hammer striking an anvil. Mel staggered back, her boots crunching on the icy ground as she dodged, the strain of staying ahead of Ambessa’s attacks evident in the sweat glistening on her brow despite the freezing wind. The older woman’s strikes left gouges in the ground, splinters of ice and stone flying like shrapnel with every missed blow.

“You’re holding back!” Ambessa barked, her voice a whip-crack of fury and command. Her eyes burned with intensity as she stepped forward, slamming the hilt of one blade into Mel’s hastily raised dagger. The impact jarred Mel’s arm, the vibrations rattling her bones. She stumbled, her knees buckling slightly, but forced herself upright, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. “If this is all you’ve got, you’ll die here, Mel!”

The elder Medarda’s words cut deeper than her blade, slicing through Mel’s mounting fear like a scalpel. She dodged another swing, her cloak nearly catching the edge of a strike that would have torn her apart. Her movements grew sharper, but still lacked the confidence she desperately needed. Her mind raced as she felt the warmth of her magic surge within her, an unfamiliar force that demanded release, burning hotter with every passing moment.

Ambessa’s next strike came like a hurricane, the short sword swinging in a lethal downward arc. Mel raised her dagger instinctively, the smaller blade catching the blow with a deafening clang. The force of the impact sent a violent shockwave up her arm, her muscles screaming in protest as her dagger vibrated in her grip. Her knees buckled under the pressure, her boots slipping slightly on the blood-slick snow. She gritted her teeth against the pain, golden sparks flickering at her fingertips as her magic reacted to her desperation.

“Fight me, Mel!” Ambessa roared, her voice echoing across the battlefield. Her strength seemed inexhaustible, her strikes relentless. Blood from a shallow wound on her cheek streaked down her golden armor, pooling in the intricate etchings, but she didn’t seem to notice. Each attack was a brutal reminder of her dominance, of the sheer difference in their experience and skill.

Mel’s heart pounded as she sidestepped yet another crushing blow, her breath clouding in the freezing air. Her movements, though nimble, were growing slower, her legs trembling as exhaustion crept in. She clenched her fists tighter, the glow at her fingertips flaring brighter, the warmth within her now an uncontrollable inferno. It demanded action, demanded release—but Mel hesitated, unsure if she could wield it, unsure if it would obey her will.

“Fight me!” Ambessa roared, her voice thunderous and raw, a challenge and a taunt wrapped in the promise of violence. She advanced like a storm, her blades cutting through the air in brutal, unrelenting arcs. Each swing was a declaration of dominance, the steel whistling as it cleaved through the cold, biting wind. The force of her strikes churned the blood-soaked snow beneath her boots, sending icy shards spraying outward. “Or fall like the rest of them!”

The words struck something deep within Mel, igniting a spark of anger that blazed into defiance. Her body tensed as if a dam had broken within her, the unfamiliar warmth of her magic surging upward with unstoppable force. The golden glow erupted from her hands, the light fierce and untamed, wrapping around her arms like molten fire. The air around her shimmered with heat, crackling with energy as golden sparks leaped into the stormy sky. She took a step back, her boots crunching against the frost-covered ground, but this time, it wasn’t retreat—it was preparation.

“I’m not like the rest of them,” Mel said, her voice low and steady, fierce with newfound resolve. Her eyes locked onto Ambessa’s, burning with a defiance that hadn’t been there before. She raised her hand, and the magic obeyed her will, surging forward like a tidal wave. It coalesced into a shield of pure, radiant light, its surface shimmering like tempered glass infused with fire.

Ambessa’s next strike came down with earth-shattering force, her blade slamming into the shield. The impact sent a deafening crack through the courtyard, the golden surface rippling under the weight of her blow but holding firm. A shockwave exploded outward, rattling the ancient stone walls of Delverhold and sending soldiers on both sides stumbling. The ground beneath them quaked, snow and blood flung into the air like debris from a collapsing mountain. Both women staggered back, their breath misting in the icy air as they regained their footing.

Ambessa steadied herself, her armor streaked with frost and blood. She looked at Mel with narrowed eyes, her expression unreadable but sharp with calculation. Her lips curled into a faint smirk, though it held no warmth—only a cold, ruthless approval. “So, you’re finally showing your hand,” she said, her voice dripping with a mixture of condescension and intrigue. She shifted her stance, her fingers tightening around the hilts of her blades. Her movements were deliberate, her posture shifting. “Good. Let’s see what you’re really made of.”

The air between them seemed to vibrate, charged with anticipation. The faint glow of Mel’s magic reflected in Ambessa’s sharp eyes, and for the first time, there was something close to respect in her gaze—but it was fleeting, overshadowed by the hunger for dominance. The clash of golden light against steel was no longer just a battle; it was a reckoning.

The battle shifted with the intensity of a brewing storm. Mel, emboldened by the crackling magic coursing through her veins, began to push back with newfound ferocity. The golden chains of light coiled around her hands like living serpents, their edges sparking and hissing as they snapped through the air. Each strike was precise and deliberate, slicing through the icy mist with a sharp crack. The chains struck Ambessa’s blades with a force that sent jarring vibrations through the elder Medarda’s arms, forcing her to step back and adjust her footing. For the first time, Mel dictated the rhythm of the fight.

Ambessa’s movements, once unyielding and assured, became more measured as she parried each glowing strike. Her golden armor gleamed faintly beneath the pulsing light of Mel’s attacks, the intricate etchings now marred with streaks of frost and blood. Though her swordsmanship remained calculated, a flicker of unease flashed in her sharp eyes as the chains darted toward her with relentless precision. Sparks erupted as her blades deflected the glowing tendrils, but each strike left faint scorch marks on the polished steel.

Mel’s magic grew stronger with every passing moment, the raw energy responding to her will like an extension of her own body. Her confidence swelled, the flames of her defiance burning brighter as she pressed her advantage. She lunged forward with startling speed, the golden chains surging toward Ambessa’s short sword. The tendrils coiled tightly around the blade, their radiant light searing into the steel with a hiss. With a sharp, determined pull, Mel yanked the weapon from Ambessa’s grasp. The sword flew from her hand, spinning through the air before clattering to the blood-soaked ground with a hollow, metallic thud.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. The sound of the blade hitting the earth echoed in Mel’s ears like a victory cry. Her heart raced as she stood tall, the golden glow around her hands pulsing with triumph. Ambessa’s weapon lay inert at her feet, and for the first time, Mel felt the intoxicating rush of control. Victory, once a distant hope, now seemed within reach.

But Ambessa was far from finished. A feral growl escaped her lips, low and guttural, as she surged forward with the force of a charging beast. Her eyes blazed with unrelenting determination, her muscles coiled with raw power. Before Mel could react, Ambessa’s gauntleted fist slammed into her chest with bone-crushing force. The impact was devastating—a thunderous blow that sent Mel hurtling backward. Her breath exploded from her lungs in a ragged gasp as the air was knocked from her body. The golden chains flickered and wavered, their light dimming as her focus faltered.

Mel crashed into the frozen ground, the icy surface scraping against her skin as pain radiated through her chest. She struggled to breathe, her ribs aching with each shallow gasp. Above her, Ambessa loomed like a towering shadow, her imposing figure framed by the swirling snow and the dim glow of Mel’s fading magic. Blood trickled down the edge of her cracked armor, staining the frost at her feet, but her expression remained fierce and unyielding.

With a fluid motion, Ambessa bent to retrieve her sword, her eyes never leaving Mel’s prone form. The blade gleamed menacingly as she gripped its hilt, lifting it effortlessly as though the weight of battle had no hold on her. “Is this it?” she growled, her voice sharp and cutting. She raised the sword slightly, her posture radiating both dominance and the promise of more bloodshed. “Get up, Mel. If you want to stop me, you’ll have to do better than this.”

An explosion tore through the courtyard with deafening ferocity, the fiery blast erupting from the right and ripping apart stone and steel alike. The shockwave rolled through the battlefield, scattering debris like shrapnel. Chunks of stone and twisted metal hurtled through the air, crashing into walls and soldiers, leaving jagged trails of destruction in their wake. The acrid stench of smoke and burnt flesh filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. Ambessa flinched instinctively, her head snapping toward the source of the blast, her eyes narrowing as she tried to assess the threat. Her focus fractured for just a moment—but it was enough.

Mel’s magic surged, answering her will with ferocious intent. The golden chains, once flickering with uncertainty, solidified into brilliant, radiant tendrils. They snapped forward like striking vipers, the light so intense it carved streaks of brilliance into the smoke-filled air. The chains coiled around Ambessa’s arms and torso, their heat searing the edges of her armor as they tightened with unrelenting force. The elder Medarda let out a guttural scream, straining against the bonds with every ounce of her formidable strength, but the chains only constricted further, forcing her arms to her sides.

Ambessa staggered, her knees buckling as the golden light bore down on her like an unyielding weight. The sound of her gauntlets scraping against the bloodied frost filled the courtyard as she was driven to the ground. Her massive frame hit the frozen earth with a heavy thud, the blood pooling beneath her staining the white snow a deep, vivid red. The golden chains writhed like living serpents, pinning her to the ground, their light pulsing with each beat of Mel’s heart.

Mel rose slowly, her body trembling from exertion, each breath coming in ragged gasps as the power within her threatened to overwhelm. Her glowing eyes burned with intensity, locked on her mother as if willing her to submit. Sweat dripped down her face, mingling with the frost and streaks of blood on her skin. Her hands, still raised, radiated an almost blinding light as the chains tightened further, pressing Ambessa flat onto her stomach.

“It’s over,” Mel said, her voice trembling with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph. Her words echoed through the courtyard, cutting through the muffled sounds of dying battle. She raised her hand, the golden chains responding to her motion, pulling tighter against Ambessa’s struggling form until the general’s movements slowed, her resistance faltering under the crushing weight of Mel’s magic.

Ambessa glared up at her daughter, her eyes blazing with defiance even as blood dripped steadily from the corner of her mouth. Her jaw tightened, her lips curling into a snarl as she spat, “Do it.” Her voice was low, venomous, the words laced with both fury and challenge. “Finish it.”

Mel hesitated, her magic flaring erratically as the golden chains pulsed with barely restrained energy. Her hand wavered, the light flickering uncertainly as memories flooded her mind—memories of the woman who had once held her as a child, who had taught her to stand tall but had also left her scarred with betrayal and loss. The image of her mother now, broken and bleeding, was a sharp contrast to the towering, unshakable figure that had once loomed over her life.

“I won’t,” Mel said finally, her voice quiet but resolute. She released the chains slightly, enough to hold Ambessa firmly but without causing further harm. Her eyes softened, though the fire within them did not dim. “You don’t get to dictate how this ends. Not anymore.”

Ambessa’s head fell forward, her bitter laugh muffled against the blood-soaked snow. “You’re a fool,” she muttered, her voice thick with pain and exhaustion. Her body sagged under the weight of the chains, her strength finally giving out. “Mercy will cost you everything.”

Mel didn’t respond, the words echoing in her mind but failing to shake her resolve. She stepped back, her glowing hands still raised, the magic holding Ambessa pinned like a predator keeping its prey subdued. The light around her flickered and dimmed slightly as the strain of the battle began to take its toll, but she remained standing, unyielding.

Around them, the battlefield fell into an uneasy silence. Soldiers on both sides paused, their weapons slackening as they took in the sight of Ambessa—their unbreakable general—bound and bleeding in the snow. Her army, scattered and demoralized, shifted uneasily as the weight of defeat settled over them. The cries of battle faded into the soft, eerie sound of the wind whistling through the ruined courtyard.

Ambessa lay prone in the snow, her golden armor dented and smeared with blood, her crimson cloak torn and soaked in frost. The pool of blood beneath her spread slowly, staining the icy ground around her like a dark shadow. For all her power, for all her strength and ruthlessness, she had lost. And above her stood Mel, her figure silhouetted by the faint glow of her magic, her breath visible in the frigid air as she gazed down at the woman who had once seemed invincible.

Mel, despite her exhaustion, straightened her posture, the golden chains binding Ambessa a testament to her newfound strength. For the first time, she felt the weight of victory—not just over her mother, but over the fear and doubt that had plagued her for so long. She had claimed this moment, and in doing so, she had finally claimed herself. The Medarda legacy had shifted. And Mel had claimed it as well.

The battlefield churned with unrelenting chaos. Blood soaked the snow, staining the white expanse a deep crimson as bodies crumpled under the relentless assault of Ashe’s warriors. The air was thick with the cacophony of battle—metal clashing against metal, the guttural cries of dying soldiers, and the relentless thrum of war drums echoing across the icy expanse. Ashe’s warriors moved with deadly precision, their fur-lined cloaks swirling like specters in the frost-laden air as they drove the remaining Noxian forces further into disarray. The ground beneath their feet was a treacherous mix of blood, mud, and shattered ice, each step a reminder of the violence consuming the fortress.

From her vantage point, Caitlyn’s sharp blue eyes scanned the fray through the scope of her rifle. Her breath misted against the freezing air as she swept the battlefield, her heart pounding with every passing moment. The Noxian forces were crumbling, their once-disciplined ranks reduced to scattered remnants desperately trying to hold their ground. Amid the chaos, she spotted Ashe atop the fortress tower, a lone figure standing against the storm.

The Warmother’s bow was drawn, its string taut as she nocked a unique arrow tipped with faintly glowing runes. The weapon seemed to hum faintly, the tension in its string mirroring the tension in Ashe’s form. Her fur-lined cloak billowed behind her, her sharp features illuminated by the dim light breaking through the storm clouds. Caitlyn’s breath caught as she followed Ashe’s line of sight, her heart sinking when she realized the target of the arrow.

Vi.

The arrow was trained squarely on her chest, the glow of its runes pulsing faintly against the storm’s dim light. Ashe’s gaze was unyielding, her icy blue eyes locked onto Vi with a grim determination that sent a chill through Caitlyn. This wasn’t a tactical maneuver, a mere strike against an enemy combatant. The tension in Ashe’s stance, the measured stillness of her movements, told Caitlyn everything she needed to know—this wasn’t a warning. It was an execution.

“No,” Caitlyn whispered, her voice trembling as her hands tightened around her rifle. Her pulse raced, each beat echoing like a drum in her ears. She couldn’t look away, her chest tightening as she watched the Warmother prepare to end Vi’s life with a single, precise shot.

Caitlyn sprinted across the battlements, her boots crunching against the frost-encrusted stone as Jinx followed close behind, her movements more erratic but no less determined. The icy wind stung their faces, carrying with it the metallic tang of blood and the distant cries of soldiers. Caitlyn’s voice tore through the cacophony, raw and desperate, as she called out, “Ashe! Please, wait!”

Ashe stood atop the tower, her bow still drawn, the arrow’s glowing tip aimed unerringly at Vi. The Warmother didn’t move immediately, her sharp, icy gaze shifting to Caitlyn with an intensity that could have frozen the blood in her veins. The wind tugged at Ashe’s fur-lined cloak, the pale morning light catching the faint runes etched into her weapon. Her presence was commanding, unshaken by the chaos swirling around her.

“Why?” Ashe called back, her voice cold and resolute, cutting through the battlefield’s din like a blade. “She fights against us. She’s a threat to everyone here.”

Caitlyn’s chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, her gloved hands trembling as they tightened around the barrel of her rifle. “She doesn’t belong to them!” she cried, her voice cracking with emotion. “She’s been turned into something she’s not. Please, give us time—we can get through to her!”

Jinx, standing just a step behind Caitlyn, gripped her pistol tightly, her finger hovering near the trigger as her wide, frantic eyes darted between Ashe and Vi. Her crimson-streaked hair whipped in the wind, and her lips twisted in a mix of pleading and defiance. “She’s my sister!” Jinx shouted, her voice trembling but fierce. “Whatever she’s doing now, it’s not her! I’ll do whatever it takes to bring her back—but we can’t lose her again. Please, just give us a chance Ice Queen!”

Ashe’s expression didn’t soften, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her icy blue eyes as she regarded the two women. Her bow remained taut, the arrow glowing faintly as she held it steady. “You ask me to gamble the lives of my warriors for a single person,” she said, her tone sharp but measured. “And what if you fail? What if she turns on you?”

Caitlyn stepped forward, her voice steadying despite the crackling tension in the air. “If we fail, you’ll have your shot. But I’m begging you, Ashe—don’t take her from us without giving us a chance to save her.”

Jinx, her pistol still raised in case things went sideways, chimed in again, her voice raw with desperation. “She’s worth the risk! I’ll stake my life on it. Just give us the chance!” Her eyes flicked to Vi in the distance, her hands trembling as her grip on the weapon tightened. “Please. Let us bring her home.”

Ashe’s gaze shifted between the two of them, her posture unyielding as the tension hung heavy in the air. Finally, with a slow exhale, she lowered her bow slightly, though her fingers remained on the string, ready to fire if needed. “You have until the end of this battle,” she said smoothly. “Convince her—or I will do what must be done.”

The unspoken weight of her words settled heavily over Caitlyn and Jinx, but neither hesitated. Caitlyn gave a quick, resolute nod, lowering her rifle. Jinx muttered under her breath, “We’ll make it count,” before tucking her pistol away, though her fingers twitched near the grip, ready for anything.

Without another word, they turned toward the battlefield, their eyes locking on Vi’s distant figure, who remained an unrelenting force amidst the chaos.

With a sharp, piercing whistle, Ashe raised her arm and redirected her forces. Her warriors responded instantly, their movements swift and coordinated despite the chaos. Like a tide shifting course, the Freljordian soldiers turned their focus away from Vi, redirecting their efforts entirely to the remaining Noxian troops. Spears and axes were raised as battle cries echoed through the icy air, the relentless assault overwhelming Ambessa’s crumbling lines.

Vi noticed the change immediately. She paused mid-strike, her mechanical arm frozen mid-swing as she watched the warriors break off from her. Her eyes narrowed in sharp confusion. The arcane chain in her hand slackened, its sharp-edged links trailing faintly in the snow. Her head tilted slightly, trying to process what had just happened.

The realization dawned quickly. They weren’t retreating in fear. They weren’t regrouping to counter her. They were ignoring her. Her shoulders tensed as the weight of the insult settled deep in her chest, radiating outward like the thrum of her hextech arm. The veins on her right arm pulsed faintly, glowing in time with the steady hum of energy beneath her skin.

Her breath came heavier, misting in the frigid air as a simmering anger took hold. Her teeth clenched, lips pulling back in a silent snarl. Her fists tightened, the shimmer coursing through her veins making her scars glow more intensely, casting faint, jagged shadows across her hardened features.

‘How dare they?’ The thought tore through her like a thunderclap. She wasn’t just a fighter on this battlefield—she was its storm, its reckoning. And now they dared to turn their backs on her? The fury in her chest grew hotter, tighter, as her mechanical arm twitched, its mechanisms whining faintly under the tension.

Vi took a step forward, the snow crunching beneath her boots as she squared her shoulders. Her jaw set in defiance, and the arcane chain coiled around her right hand hissed faintly as it tightened. Her eyes burned brighter, the anger coursing through her like wildfire. She would show them. She would remind them why they should fear her.

She prepared to charge, muscles coiling like a spring ready to unleash devastation, when a sound stopped her cold.

“Vi!”

The name tore through the chaos like an arrow through her chest. It wasn’t Violet, the cold, sharp command she had grown to love and obey under Ambessa’s rule, but something softer, something raw and real. That voice—it was a ghost she had chased in the shadows of her mind for years, a sound she had dreamed of during endless nights of agony, only to have it vanish with everything else she had once been.

Her mechanical arm slackened, the arcane chain falling limp in her grip as she froze. Her glowing eyes widened slightly, the blue storm in her left eye flickering like a dying ember. Her breath hitched as memories long buried clawed their way to the surface—laughter, warmth, a sense of belonging—and then the pain, the endless pain that had consumed them all.

The battlefield around her blurred, the clash of steel and the cries of the wounded fading into a dull hum. That voice—it was real. It wasn’t another phantom conjured by her mind. It wasn’t a cruel dream meant to taunt her before dragging her back into the abyss. It was real.

“Vi… it’s us. We’re here.”

The words pierced through her like a blade, sharp and unrelenting, cutting through the layers of fury, pain, and confusion that had defined her existence for years. Her eyes flickered, darting around as though searching for the source. She couldn’t see her—not yet—but the voice, so achingly familiar, ignited something raw inside her. Her chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat. Recognition and disbelief warred within her, leaving her paralyzed.

For a moment, Vi couldn’t move. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Caitlyn’s voice, the voice she had longed for in her darkest hours, wrapped around her like a lifeline. Yet it was a lifeline she had once abandoned as a cruel trick of memory—a voice she had convinced herself would never call her name again.

Her chest rose and fell sharply, the fresh scar left by Caitlyn’s bullet pulsing faintly, a physical echo of the pain inside her. It was a reminder of how far she had fallen from the person she once was. The shimmer in her veins burned hot, fighting against the chaos in her mind. But that voice—Caitlyn’s voice—tugged at something buried deep within her, something she thought had been destroyed, crushed under Ambessa’s heel.

Caitlyn’s steps slowed as she descended toward Vi, her rifle lowered but still gripped tightly in trembling hands. Her voice cracked as she spoke again, the words trembling with emotion. “Vi… please. Look at me.”

Finally, Vi’s eyes found her, standing on the steps leading down from the battlement. In that moment, her world shifted violently. Caitlyn was here. ‘How? Why?’ The questions roared through her mind like a storm, but no answers came. Instead, a whirlwind of emotions surged within her—anger, confusion, and something dangerously close to love.

Her glowing eyes burned as they locked onto Caitlyn. Her expression twisted with rage and disbelief, but underneath, a flicker of vulnerability shone through, fleeting but undeniable. For the first time in years, Vi felt something other than pain and anger. But the intensity of it—raw and unfiltered—threatened to undo her completely.

“Vi!” Jinx’s voice broke through the chaos, raw and trembling, filled with desperation as she pushed past Caitlyn and flung herself against her sister. Her arms wrapped tightly around Vi’s waist, clutching her as though she’d disappear if she let go. Jinx’s body trembled against the cold, her sobs muffled as she pressed her face against Vi’s chest. The sheer vulnerability in Jinx’s voice struck Vi like a blow.

The sudden impact jolted Vi out of her spiraling thoughts, her body stiffening as her arms hovered awkwardly in the air. Her mismatched eyes, one crackling with blue lightning and the other glowing a deep, malevolent black, darted between Jinx and Caitlyn. Suspicion clouded her gaze, her jaw tightening as the warmth of Jinx’s embrace warred with the icy grip of doubt instilled in her mind.

Her thoughts spiraled, unbidden, back to the photographs Ambessa had shown her during those long, agonizing years. Each image had been a weapon, carefully wielded to dismantle her trust. Vi saw them now as clearly as she had then: The images were unrelenting, burned into her mind with painful clarity. Jinx and Ekko in a thriving Zaun. Caitlyn standing beside Jinx, smiling a fierce grin on her face as though she’d never been broken, never lost anything. Celebrations in Zaun’s streets—streets that were rebuilt and thriving, bustling with hope and light.

Without her.

The memories of those images gnawed at her like a ravenous beast, each one a reminder of her absence, of her supposed irrelevance. And Ambessa’s voice—soft, deliberate, poisonous—whispered in her mind once more: “They moved on without you, Violet. Are they even looking?”

Ambessa’s words had been calculated, delivered in her moments of greatest vulnerability. She had spoken with the measured precision of someone who knew the weight her words would carry. She had painted a picture of a world that had forgotten Vi, a world that didn’t need her anymore. And the photographs, cruelly curated and presented, had been proof. Proof that her family had left her behind. Proof that they had found joy, success, and peace—everything Vi had been denied.

Jinx’s arms tightened around her, her sobs hitching with emotion, but Vi couldn’t bring herself to respond. Her mind twisted between the embrace of the sister she had spent her life protecting and the narrative Ambessa had woven so expertly. Ambessa—her mother. The one who had saved her when no one else came. The one who gave her purpose, forged her into something unbreakable. ‘She wouldn’t lie to me, right?’

The tension in Vi’s frame only grew. Her trust in Ambessa warred with the faint glimmer of hope stirring in her heart as Jinx clung to her. The love and anguish radiating from Jinx and Caitlyn’s faces were undeniable, but so was the “evidence” Ambessa had provided. Her mind reeled, caught between the conflicting truths, unable to reconcile the two.

Vi’s lips pressed into a hard line, her eyes narrowing as she cast a wary glance at Caitlyn. Her confusion and anger were palpable, simmering just beneath the surface, but so was something else—something fragile and deeply buried. Something dangerously close to love but for whom?

Slowly, hesitantly, Vi’s arms moved to return the embrace. Her mechanical arm hummed faintly, the cold steel pressing against Jinx’s back, while her flesh-and-blood arm trembled with uncertainty. The sensation was unfamiliar, almost alien, after so many years of isolation and pain. She held Jinx tentatively, as though afraid the connection might shatter like glass under too much pressure.

From this distance, Caitlyn’s sharp eyes missed nothing. She watched with bated breath as Vi’s arms wrapped around Jinx, her mechanical hand resting awkwardly against her sister’s back. At first, the embrace seemed hesitant, almost tentative, as if Vi were testing the reality of the moment. But then Caitlyn noticed it—the faint twitch in Vi’s jaw, the subtle clench of her teeth, and the way her glowing veins pulsed faintly, matching the rhythm of her tightening grip.

Relief warred with unease in Caitlyn’s chest. Her gloved hands trembled slightly as she stepped closer, lowering her rifle further. Her voice was soft, almost pleading. “Vi, it’s okay. We’re here. You’re safe now.”

For a brief second, it seemed to work. Vi’s body relaxed slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing. But the moment shattered as her mechanical arm began to tremble, the faint hum of its energy growing louder. Her grip on Jinx tightened, almost imperceptibly at first, but quickly becoming unrelenting. The shimmering black veins on her flesh-and-blood arm pulsed violently, the glow intensifying as the anger buried within her seemed to rise.

Jinx’s muffled sobs of joy shifted suddenly, turning into soft gasps. Her body shuddered against Vi’s as the pressure around her grew unbearable. The sound of strained fabric echoed faintly as Vi’s mechanical fingers dug into Jinx’s coat, pulling her closer with a force that bordered on painful. The shimmer in her scars seemed to ripple, feeding into the storm brewing inside her.

“Vi…” Jinx whispered, her voice weak and strained, trembling as she tilted her head back to look up at her sister. Her wide, tear-filled eyes searched Vi’s face, desperate for the warmth she remembered. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw it—recognition in Vi’s eyes. The black void seemed to soften, and the crackling blue lightning flickered with something almost human. But then, she saw it: the anger. The pain. A darkness just beneath the surface, threatening to consume everything.

Jinx’s breath hitched as she whispered, “It’s me, Vi. It’s Powder. I’m sorry—I’m so, so sorry…” But her voice cracked under the weight of the moment, and her trembling fingers reached up to brush against Vi’s back, searching for something that felt familiar.

Caitlyn stepped closer, her own voice trembling. “Vi, let her go. Please, you’re hurting her.” But even as she spoke, she could see the battle raging within Vi, the conflict playing out across her face. Her arms continued to tighten, Jinx’s gasps growing more strained with each passing second.

Tears streamed freely down Jinx’s pale, dirt-smeared face as she clung to her sister, her trembling voice breaking the tension between sobs. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words heavy with pain and regret. Her hand, shaking but determined, fingers fumbling until they brushed against the cold, metallic curve of the grenade she clipped to her sister’s back.

The faint metallic click of the pin being pulled was drowned out by the cacophony of the battlefield, but it was enough. Vi’s body stiffened instantly, her glowing eyes snapping wide with shock. The blue lightning in her left eye crackled erratically, and the black void of her right eye seemed to narrow as recognition set in. Her arms, which had been like iron bands around Jinx, loosened abruptly. The moment of softness was replaced with frantic energy as her mechanical hand shot toward her back, clawing desperately at the grenade. Her lips parted in a silent snarl of frustration, her expression twisting with a mix of fury and panic as her flesh-and-blood arm joined the effort, the glowing veins pulsing erratically beneath her scarred skin.

“Run!” Jinx screamed, her voice cutting through the chaos like a gunshot. She grabbed Caitlyn’s hand with an iron grip, her fingers slick with sweat and grime, and yanked her with startling force toward the nearest crumbling wall.

Caitlyn stumbled, nearly losing her footing as she was dragged along. Her heart thundered in her chest, every fiber of her being screaming to stop, to look back. Her sharp blue eyes darted over her shoulder, catching a fleeting glimpse of Vi’s frantic movements. “No! Jinx, what—” Caitlyn’s voice cracked, desperation thick in her tone. Her steps faltered, her feet dragging against the uneven ground as she tried to resist Jinx’s pull.

Jinx didn’t relent, her grip tightening as she screamed back, her voice tinged with equal parts rage and heartbreak. “We don’t have time! She’s not—she’s not Vi right now!” Tears mixed with the dirt on her face, streaking her cheeks as she shoved Caitlyn forward with all her strength, the looming shadow of the explosion driving them onward.

Behind them, the grenade’s timer ticked down mercilessly, the faint hum of its charge growing louder with every passing second. Vi’s hands trembled as she clawed at the device, her glowing scars pulsating wildly as if the shimmer itself were reacting to her desperation. The battlefield seemed to slow, the sounds of war fading into a muted roar as the grenade reached the final beat of its deadly countdown.

The blast tore through the courtyard with devastating force, a deafening roar that seemed to consume the world in an instant. The explosion’s heat rolled outward in a fiery wave, searing everything in its path. Caitlyn barely had time to brace herself as the force of it slammed into the wall they had taken cover behind. The crumbling stone buckled, jagged fragments raining down, and the impact drove her to her knees.

Flames roared skyward, mingling with a thick plume of black smoke that twisted and churned in the icy wind. The ground beneath Caitlyn shook violently, cracks spiderwebbing through the frost-covered earth as if the very foundation of the fortress had been struck. Shards of debris and shattered stone tore through the air, slicing past Caitlyn with terrifying speed. One sharp fragment grazed her cheek, leaving a thin line of blood that felt ice-cold against her flushed skin.

The acrid stench of burning metal and flesh filled the air, choking her lungs as she coughed violently, her ears ringing from the sheer force of the blast. Caitlyn’s hands trembled as she pushed herself up, her gloved palms slipping against the frost-slick stone. Her chest heaved with panicked breaths, her heartbeat pounding in her ears as her sharp eyes scanned the chaos before her.

Smoke curled upward in thick, angry plumes, cloaking the battlefield in an oppressive haze. The center of the explosion was a smoldering crater, its edges blackened and jagged. Flames licked at the ruins of what had once been stone and flesh, casting flickering, hellish light across the snow. The heat of the blast still radiated from the site, distorting the air in waves that shimmered like a mirage against the cold.

“Vi…” Caitlyn’s voice cracked, the word barely a whisper as it left her trembling lips. She staggered forward, her legs unsteady beneath her. Tears blurred her vision, spilling down her cheeks and mixing with the streak of blood as she fought against the overwhelming tide of emotion threatening to drown her.

Jinx, crumpled nearby, groaned as she pushed herself upright, her face pale and streaked with soot. Her eyes flicked toward the crater, her expression a mixture of shock, regret, and raw, unfiltered pain. “Where… where is she?” she rasped, her voice trembling.

Caitlyn ignored the question, her gaze locked on the epicenter of the explosion. Her sharp eyes darted across the wreckage, scanning for any hint of movement—a shadow, a figure, anything. Her breath hitched in her throat as the smoke swirled, obscuring her view.

“Vi!” she called out, louder this time, her voice breaking as desperation clawed at her chest. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her knuckles turning white as she fought to suppress the sob threatening to escape her throat.

The battlefield fell eerily quiet, the echoes of the blast fading into the distance. The only sound was the faint crackle of flames and the soft hiss of smoke rising into the icy air. Caitlyn’s heart sank, a cold, gnawing dread settling in her stomach as the seconds dragged on with no response.

Then, through the thick haze of smoke and ash, a figure began to emerge, silhouetted against the smoldering wreckage.

Vi pushed herself off the edge of the still-smoking crater, her body trembling with the effort but refusing to yield. The air around her was thick with heat and ash, the acrid scent of burned flesh and scorched metal clinging to her. She was a haunting figure—more specter than human—wreathed in the aftermath of destruction yet impossibly standing.

The remains of her sleeveless outfit clung to her frame in blackened, frayed strips, exposing charred and bloodied skin. Her chest and arms bore the brutal evidence of the explosion: deep, jagged lacerations crisscrossed her torso, their edges raw and glistening. Her glowing scars flickered erratically, the veins of black and blue spidering across her skin like rivers, pulsing with an unnatural rhythm that seemed to fight against the damage consuming her. The shimmer surged within her, faint tendrils of light pushing through the soot and blood like embers refusing to die.

Her mechanical arm was a ruin. The sleek, deadly appendage dangled at her side, its surface warped and blackened from the heat of the blast. Sparks shot from the exposed wiring, the mechanisms groaning with each faint twitch of her fingers. Smoke curled upward from the shattered casing, carrying the acrid tang of burning metal. Yet even in its broken state, the arm exuded a dangerous energy, as though waiting for her command despite its damage.

Vi’s movements were slow, deliberate, each step a testament to her willpower. Her bare feet crunched against the frost-dusted rubble, leaving streaks of blood in her wake. The shimmer within her worked frantically to repair the damage—charred flesh began to close, burns faded into raw, pink skin, and fractured bones fused with agonizing precision. But it was far from perfect. The toll of the battle was evident in her uneven breaths, the way her body shuddered as she forced herself forward.

Her mismatched eyes, locked onto Caitlyn. Confusion and fury warred within them, but beneath the surface was something far more fragile: pain. Raw, unfiltered pain that cut deeper than any wound on her body.

Blood dripped steadily from her injuries, pooling on the ground beneath her as she took another step. Her frame trembled, a tower of defiance against the destruction that threatened to claim her. Every movement was both agony and triumph, her body a brutal testament to survival and the unrelenting force of will that kept her standing amidst the devastation.

“Vi…” Caitlyn’s voice trembled as she whispered the name, each syllable laced with desperation and grief. Her chest tightened as she took in the sight before her, unable to reconcile the woman standing amidst the rubble with the Vi she had known—the woman she had loved and spent years searching for. This wasn’t just Vi. This was something darker, angrier, and far more dangerous. She stood like a specter of vengeance, daring the world to defy her, defying mortality itself with her sheer willpower.

Jinx, slumped against the crumbling wall, let out a strained, shaky laugh that barely masked the fear in her voice. “I think you pissed her off, Cupcake,” she muttered, her words a hollow attempt at humor. Her hands trembled as she gripped her discarded pistol, her knuckles white as she glanced nervously between Caitlyn and Vi. The quaver in her voice betrayed her, as did the sheen of tears in her wide eyes.

Caitlyn didn’t answer. Her hands instinctively gripped her rifle, but the weight of it felt alien, useless. She didn’t raise it, couldn’t—not against her. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the faint crackle of flames and the rasping hiss of Vi’s damaged mechanical arm. Her sharp blue eyes locked onto Vi’s gaze, searching desperately for a glimmer of the woman she knew. But what she saw instead sent a cold shiver racing down her spine. There was recognition there, yes, but it was fleeting, buried beneath a feral intensity that was both terrifying and heartbreaking.

The silence between them was heavy, suffocating, broken only by the faint whir of Vi’s sparking arm and the soft patter of blood dripping onto the frost-streaked ground. Caitlyn’s lips parted, as though she wanted to say more, to plead, but the words stuck in her throat. The raw power radiating from Vi froze her in place, filling her with equal parts hope and dread. Was there still a chance to reach her? Or was it already too late?

Vi’s breathing was ragged, the shimmer coursing through her veins flickering like a storm barely contained. Her glowing scars pulsed faintly against the blackened skin of her chest and arms, their eerie light casting shadows across her hardened features. Her eyes bore into Caitlyn’s with a fury that sent a ripple of panic through her. But there was something else beneath the anger—something she couldn’t quite place. Confusion? Pain? A flicker of emotion that seemed to war against the rage consuming her.

Jinx’s trembling voice broke the tension for a moment. “Vi, it’s us,” she whispered, her earlier bravado fading entirely. Her hands lowered the pistol, her shoulders sagging as though the weight of everything had finally crushed her. “It’s me… It’s Powder.”

But Vi didn’t respond. Her jaw tightened, and her hands curled into fists. The arcane chain wrapped around her healing arm rattled as she flexed her fingers, the links catching the dim light with a metallic gleam. The sound was sharp, menacing, and deliberate. Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat as Vi’s body tensed, her gaze hardening with renewed focus.

For a moment, Caitlyn thought Vi might stop—might listen. But then Vi shifted her weight, her stance predatory, and Caitlyn knew what was coming before it happened. Vi’s muscles coiled like a spring, and then, with a burst of raw power, she lunged forward. The chain lashed out as though alive, trailing behind her like a serpent poised to strike. Each step sent tremors through the ground, the force of her movement cutting through the icy air.

“Vi, no!” Caitlyn shouted, the words torn from her throat as she stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest. She raised her rifle instinctively but hesitated, her hands shaking as she realized she couldn’t fire. Not at her. Not at Vi.

But Vi wasn’t hesitating. Her glowing eyes burned with intensity, her expression unreadable—a storm of anger, pain, and something Caitlyn couldn’t name. Something that made her heart ache even as her legs threatened to give out beneath her.

Jinx didn’t hesitate. Bloodied and battered, she shoved herself off the crumbling wall, her jagged grin masking the heartbreak etched into her eyes. “Fine, let’s dance, Fat-Hands,” she snarled, her voice a mix of bravado and desperation. Her hextech pistol came up in a fluid motion, the barrels humming faintly before spitting out bolts of charged energy. Each shot streaked through the air with a high-pitched whine, aimed with the reckless precision that only Jinx could muster.

Vi twisted mid-charge, her glowing eyes snapping toward Jinx. The energy bolts ricocheted off her damaged hextech arm, sparks and shards of metal scattering like embers. Her expression darkened, a low growl rumbling from her chest as she shifted her focus. The chain wrapped around her healing arm unraveled in a blur, the jagged links snapping forward like a whip, aimed to disarm her sister.

But Jinx was too quick. She ducked beneath the chain’s deadly arc, her mocking laughter slicing through the chaos like a razor. “Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted, firing another barrage of energy bolts at Vi’s exposed side. “I remember you being scarier, sis!” Her voice wavered slightly, but she kept up the assault, her movements erratic and unpredictable as she danced around the battlefield.

Vi’s movements were fluid yet ferocious. She recoiled her chain with a flick of her wrist, its sharp edges slicing through the air as it retracted. The frost clinging to her damaged arm cracked audibly, the strain evident, but her focus remained unyielding. Her eyes burned with a dangerous intensity as she redirected her charge toward Jinx, her heavy footsteps crunching through the icy ground.

Caitlyn’s heart shattered as she watched the deadly exchange. Her hands trembled, her rifle lowering briefly as she grappled with the impossible choice before her. But when Vi’s chain lashed out again, narrowly missing Jinx’s head and embedding itself into the wall behind her with a deafening crash, Caitlyn knew she couldn’t stand by any longer.

With a heavy heart and shaking hands, Caitlyn raised her rifle. Her sharp blue eyes locked on Vi, and she forced herself to focus—not on the woman she loved, but on the threat she had become. Her finger tightened on the trigger, the sound of the shot cracking through the frozen air. The first bullet grazed Vi’s shoulder, tearing through her soot-streaked skin and sending a spray of blood into the frost.

Vi staggered but didn’t stop. Instead, she turned sharply, her glowing veins flaring with renewed energy as her gaze locked onto Caitlyn. A flicker of recognition passed through her eyes, but it was fleeting, overwhelmed by the fury that consumed her. Caitlyn’s chest tightened as she fired again, this time hitting Vi squarely in the thigh. Blood spattered the snow, dark and vivid, but Vi barely faltered.

“Damn it, Cait!” Jinx shouted, her voice strained as she dodged another strike from Vi’s chain. “Shoot her like you mean it, or she’s gonna turn us into pancakes!” Her mocking tone was laced with genuine fear, her movements growing more frantic as Vi closed the distance between them.

Caitlyn gritted her teeth, her breath misting in the icy air as she fired again, her shots aimed to wound but never to kill. Each pull of the trigger was like tearing a piece of her soul away, but she couldn’t let Vi hurt Jinx—or anyone else. The battlefield around them seemed to vanish, the world narrowing to the three of them in a deadly, heartbreaking dance.

Vi turned her attention to Caitlyn, her every movement calculated and deliberate. Her mechanical arm, charred and useless, hung at her side, sparking faintly with every jerky twitch. But it didn’t matter—she didn’t need it. She advanced with terrifying precision, her bear feet crunching against the frost-streaked ground, her body radiating an unrelenting force of will. The jagged glow of her scars pulsed in sync with the rage burning in her eyes.

Caitlyn’s rifle cracked again and again, the sharp, deafening sound tearing through the chaos. Each shot tore into Vi with sickening precision. Blood erupted from her shoulder, spraying vivid arcs onto the snow. A bullet ripped through her side, carving a jagged path through flesh, and another struck her thigh, leaving a deep, gaping wound. But Vi didn’t falter. Her steps didn’t slow, her gaze didn’t waver. The shimmer coursing through her glowing scars worked frantically, the wounds sealing almost as quickly as they were inflicted, leaving only faint, glistening streaks of blood in their wake.

Caitlyn’s hands trembled, her breathing labored as she pulled the trigger again, her sharp blue eyes wide with panic. Each shot felt like a betrayal, her heart splintering as she fought to survive against the woman she loved. “Vi!” she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her anguish. “Stop! Please, stop!”

Jinx darted around the battlefield like a phantom, her hextech pistol spitting bursts of searing energy. Each shot streaked through the icy air with a high-pitched whine, aimed to distract or deter, but Vi dodged with inhuman agility. Jinx’s face twisted in frustration, tears streaking her soot-smeared cheeks as she screamed, “Vi! You’re gonna kill her! Damn it, just STOP you dumbass!”

Vi didn’t stop. Her movements were relentless, unyielding, her gaze locked on Caitlyn. Her chain unraveled from her arm with a metallic hiss, the jagged links snapping forward. Caitlyn barely managed to dive out of the way, the chain slicing through the air inches from her face. It struck the stone wall behind her with devastating force, shattering it into a storm of jagged fragments that tore through the air. A shard sliced across Caitlyn’s cheek, a thin line of blood trailing down her face as she rolled to her feet, her rifle trembling in her grasp.

Caitlyn’s sharp eyes met Vi’s for a fleeting moment, and in that instant, she thought she saw something—something human, something familiar. A flicker of recognition passed through Vi’s gaze, a crack in the storm of fury. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, buried beneath the cold, seething rage that drove her forward.

Jinx’s screams grew louder, more frantic, as she emptied her pistol into Vi’s back. Each bolt of hextech energy slammed into Vi’s flesh, tearing through muscle and searing her scars. Sparks erupted where the bolts struck her damaged mechanical arm, the acrid scent of burnt metal mingling with the freezing air. “You don’t have to do this!” Jinx sobbed, her voice raw and hoarse. “She loves you! I love you! Why the hell can’t you see that?”

Vi’s head tilted slightly, her lips curling into a silent snarl as she registered Jinx’s words. But there was no hesitation in her movements. She charged Caitlyn with unrelenting speed, her chain snapping out again. The jagged links coiled around the barrel of Caitlyn’s rifle with brutal precision, yanking it from her hands. The weapon skidded across the icy ground, spinning to a stop several feet away.

Caitlyn staggered back, unarmed and defenseless, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her trembling hands. Blood trickled down her cheek from the gash left by the shattered stone, mingling with the tears streaming down her face. She looked up at Vi, who loomed over her like a shadow of death. Blood dripped from the jagged edges of Vi’s scars, steaming faintly in the frozen air. Her mechanical arm twitched weakly at her side, useless but still intimidating. The arcane chain coiled in her hand, its sharp-edged links glinting with lethal intent.

“Vi,” Caitlyn whispered, her voice breaking, her hands trembling as they hovered in the air. Her blue eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and heartbreak, searched desperately for any trace of the woman she loved in the figure looming over her. The weight of her words lingered, fragile and desperate. “Please…”

Vi’s eyes burned, her veins pulsed faintly with the shimmer’s eerie light as her hand shot forward, seizing Caitlyn by the neck. The movement was swift and unrelenting, her grip like iron as she hoisted Caitlyn off the ground effortlessly. Caitlyn’s boots scraped against the blood-soaked snow, her body dangling as Vi’s mechanical arm sparked weakly at her side.

The air left Caitlyn’s lungs in a choked gasp, her hands instinctively flying to Vi’s wrist as her fingers clawed at the unyielding grip around her throat. The pressure was immense, her breaths shallow and strained as she struggled to find air. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but her sharp blue eyes remained locked on Vi’s face, pleading silently even as her vision blurred.

Vi’s expression was a storm of rage and confusion, her lips curled in a silent snarl as her gaze bore into Caitlyn. But then, something shifted. The faint warmth of Caitlyn’s touch, her trembling fingers pressing against Vi’s scarred skin, made her pause. Her grip slackened slightly—not enough to release Caitlyn but enough to still the whirlwind in her mind.

Her eyes flickered as her gaze dropped to Caitlyn’s face, truly examining her for the first time. Every detail came into focus—the tear tracks frozen on her pale cheeks, the faint line of blood trailing from a cut on her temple, the sharp blue eyes that, even now, were filled with raw emotion. Vi’s lips parted slightly, her breath hitching as recognition flickered across her features.

It wasn’t just a memory. This wasn’t another phantom conjured by her mind. This was Caitlyn, here, alive, her presence cutting through the layers of pain and fury like a blade. Vi’s mechanical arm twitched at her side, her flesh-and-blood hand trembling as she held Caitlyn aloft. Her glowing scars pulsed erratically, their light dimming and surging as though reflecting the battle raging within her.

For the first time in years, Vi ‘saw’ her—not as a shadow from her past or a trick of the mind, but as Caitlyn. The woman she had fought beside, laughed with, loved. The walls Ambessa had built in her mind began to crack, the carefully constructed narrative unraveling under the weight of Caitlyn’s presence. Vi’s eyes softened, the rage ebbing as something else took its place: recognition, longing, and the faintest glimmer of guilt.

Her grip loosened further, Caitlyn’s boots brushing against the ground as she coughed weakly, her fingers still clutching Vi’s wrist. Vi didn’t let go entirely, but her hand trembled, her strength faltering as she stared into Caitlyn’s eyes.

Then Vi’s head snapping to the left at the sound of something she had never heard before—a scream. She instantly releases her hold on Caitlyn.

Ambessa.

Ambessa Medarda—her mother, her creator, her tormentor—Ambessa lay crumpled on the blood-soaked snow, her golden armor tarnished and streaked with crimson. The proud, gleaming plates that had once seemed impenetrable were cracked and dented, the edges marred by frost and fire. Her body was curled inward slightly, one gauntleted hand clutching at her side, where blood seeped through the gaps in her armor. The invincible general of Noxus looked impossibly small, her defiance buried beneath the weight of the battle. it was raw, unrestrained anger, fear, and it shattered something deep within Vi.

For the first time, the battlefield around her seemed to vanish. The shimmer in her veins dimmed, the frost clinging to her body crackled faintly, and the storm in her eyes faltered. She stared at Ambessa, her mechanical hand twitching uselessly at her side, as though torn between two worlds—the one she had fought for and the one she had lost.

Ambessa—did not scream. She commanded, she conquered, but she did not falter. For Vi, that sound was as jarring as the courtyard falling silent. A surge of panic shot through her chest, familiar and unwelcome.

Standing over her was a figure equally impossible to ignore—Mel Medarda.

Mel’s presence was regal and commanding, even amidst the chaos. Her fur-lined white coat billowed behind her like a royal banner, the gold trim catching what little light filtered through the storm clouds. Her golden eyes blazed with a fury that seemed almost otherworldly, her sharp features etched with resolve. She stood tall, unyielding, her entire form radiating an intensity that made even the chaos of the battlefield seem distant.

And then there was the magic.

Golden tendrils of light coiled around Mel like living things, twisting and writhing in harmony with her movements. They danced along her arms and shoulders, casting flickering shadows across the snow-streaked ground. The magic didn’t just glow—it pulsed, a rhythmic beat that resonated like a second heartbeat. The warmth it exuded was palpable, even from a distance, a sharp contrast to the biting cold of the Freljord. It clung to her like armor, a force both protective and devastating.

The tendrils flared brighter as Mel raised her hand, the light forming into jagged, crackling shapes that hung in the air like a cage of fire and gold. It was raw and unrefined, but its power was undeniable. The magic was eerily reminiscent of the arcane chain wrapped around Vi’s wrist—the way it moved with purpose, almost sentient, as though responding to the emotions of its wielder.

Vi’s chest tightened at the sight. The panic that had flared within her morphed into something deeper, something she couldn’t name. Her mechanical arm twitched at her side, the chain clinking faintly as she instinctively prepared to move. She didn’t think—she couldn’t think. All that mattered was reaching Ambessa. Whatever memories had been distorted, whatever loyalties had been forged in pain, there was one undeniable truth: she had to protect her mother.

She surged forward, every muscle in her body straining as she pushed herself to move faster, harder. The frost-crusted snow crunched beneath her bear feet as her glowing scars pulsed faintly, their light mirroring the arcane magic that surrounded her sister. But even as she moved, she couldn’t shake the weight of the moment—the golden light, the unspoken challenge in Mel’s blazing eyes, and the vulnerability of Ambessa lying broken on the ground.

Vi’s breath hitched. Her chest tightened, her instincts screaming to protect Ambessa. Whatever else had been twisted in her mind—whatever memories Ambessa had warped or buried—this need to defend her mother was undeniable.

But fate had other plans.

The faint whistle of an arrow sliced through the chaotic symphony—quick, precise, and deadly. It was the kind of sound that signaled an inevitability, a moment frozen in time. Perched high on the fortress tower, Ashe stood poised, her fur-lined cloak billowing in the icy wind. Her bow was still raised, the string vibrating faintly from the release. Her sharp blue eyes remained locked on her target, the Warmother’s expression unreadable as the unique, enchanted arrow sailed through the air.

Vi caught the faint glint of the arrowhead out of the corner of her eye, a flash of death hurtling toward her. Her bare chest, still streaked with soot and blood, was utterly exposed, the jagged scars and faint glow of the shimmer providing no defense. The arrow struck just below her collarbone with brutal precision, its enchanted tip sinking into her flesh like a knife through warm butter. The impact was devastating, driving her back a step as a sharp, wet sound escaped her lips. Her bare feet slipped on the blood-slick snow, leaving faint streaks of crimson as she struggled to keep her footing.

Her glowing eyes widened, the electric blue crackling faintly while the black orb seemed to darken further. Shock rippled across her face, her gaze locking onto the arrow protruding from her collarbone. Blood welled around the wound, spilling down her chest in hot, steaming rivulets, stark against her pale, frostbitten skin. The force of the strike reverberated through her entire body, her mechanical arm jerking involuntarily, the chain slumping lifelessly to the ground. Sparks flickered weakly from her damaged arm, a grim accompaniment to the faint hiss of her shallow breaths.

For a single, harrowing heartbeat, time seemed to stop. The world faded into a blur of muted sound and color, the storm overhead pausing as if even nature itself was stunned. The cold air burned in her lungs as she tried to inhale, her lips parting in a silent gasp, but no sound emerged. Her gaze darted toward the arrow, confusion and pain swirling in her expression. How had this happened? Why did it feel like this was the end?

The distant cries of “No!” broke through the oppressive silence, faint at first but growing louder with every passing second. The desperation in the voices cut through Vi’s haze, her head tilting slightly toward the sound. They became clearer, sharper, until finally Caitlyn and Jinx came into view.

The sight of them struck her like a second blow. Both were bloodied and battered, their movements labored as they ran toward her with sheer panic etched across their faces. Caitlyn’s eyes, filled with tears, were locked on the arrow embedded in Vi’s collarbone, her lips trembling as though forming words she couldn’t yet speak. Jinx stumbled slightly, her hand clutching her side where blood seeped through her tattered clothing, but her wide eyes never left Vi. The manic edge that usually colored her expression was gone, replaced by raw, unfiltered anguish.

“Vi!” Caitlyn’s voice cracked, rising above the howling wind. Her steps quickened despite the pain evident in her movements, her arms reaching forward as if she could somehow pull Vi from the brink.

Jinx, her breath hitching with every step, screamed louder, her voice breaking with emotion. “Fat-hands! Don’t you dare—don’t you DARE give up now!”

But Vi barely registered their approach. The weight of the moment bore down on her, the shimmer within her veins flickering weakly as if struggling against the ice now creeping outward from the wound.

A searing cold erupted from the point of impact, radiating outward in jagged, crystalline tendrils of frost that burrowed beneath Vi’s skin. The icy tendrils moved with unnatural speed, snaking over her collarbone and spreading down her chest like a ravenous, living entity. Frost crept across the torn scars etched into her body, its relentless grip dimming the once-brilliant glow of her veins. The shimmering black and blue that pulsed with eerie life slowed, the faint light flickering weakly before succumbing to the creeping ice.

Her mechanical arm groaned in protest as the frost overtook it. Sparks sputtered weakly from the damaged joints, flickering against the darkening metal. The delicate hum of its inner workings faltered, replaced by the harsh crackle of ice as it consumed the intricate mechanisms. The fingers twitched violently, jerking as if in defiance, but the enchanted frost pressed on. The arcane chain, once alive with fluid motion, rattled faintly before freezing solid, its metallic links becoming rigid, fragile like glass.

Vi staggered, her feet scraping against the snow-slick ground as she fought against the icy assault. Her body trembled under the strain, the frost creeping inexorably down her torso, wrapping her thighs in its suffocating grip. It encased her legs, rendering her movements sluggish and uneven. Every breath was a struggle, her chest heaving as the frost tightened around her like a vice.

Her eyes—a lightning storm of blue and a void of endless black—flickered faintly. The once-feral glow began to fade, dulled by the relentless cold. Her gaze darted toward her right arm, watching helplessly as the frost claimed the glowing scars that had defined her, consuming the faint remnants of the shimmer that had kept her alive. Her movements slowed further, her muscles straining against the encroaching cold, but the frost’s grip was unrelenting.

Through the haze of pain, Vi’s gaze lifted. Her eyes locked onto the figures running toward her—Caitlyn and Jinx. Their cries reached her ears, piercing through the heavy silence of her fading awareness. Caitlyn’s face was a portrait of anguish, her eyes wide with tears that froze against her pale skin. Jinx’s wild desperation was unmistakable, her trembling hands outstretched as if she could pull Vi back from the abyss by sheer force of will.

Vi’s expression wavered as her gaze lingered on them. For a fleeting moment, recognition broke through the storm of panic and confusion that churned within her. Her lips trembled, and a silent apology took form in the faint movement of her mouth. ‘I’m sorry.’

The frost surged higher, climbing over her throat and jawline, its crystalline grip glinting in the dim light. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, each exhale forming fleeting clouds of mist in the frigid air. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of the ice, and her body began to stiffen, the shimmer within her veins flickering faintly as though waging a losing battle.

Even as her body faltered, Vi’s eyes remained fixed on Caitlyn and Jinx. Her gaze, though dimmed, was unyielding—a final act of defiance against the fate that sought to claim her. Her lips moved once more, but no sound escaped. Only her eyes spoke, a tempest of regret, longing, and the faintest glimmer of love that refused to be extinguished until the very end.

Caitlyn and Jinx skidded to a halt just a few feet from Vi, their breaths catching in their throats as they took in the sight before them. Vi stood motionless amidst the chaos, the ice creeped inexorably across her body. The arrow embedded beneath her collarbone was the cruel nexus of the spreading ice, its enchanted power freezing her from the inside out. Her glowing eyes stared at them through the crystalline sheen, filled with recognition but void of warmth. Her mechanical arm hung limply at her side, the frost having claimed it entirely, the shimmer’s light pulsing faintly, weaker with every second.

“Vi!” Caitlyn’s voice broke, raw and desperate as she reached out, her gloved fingers trembling in the frigid air. She hesitated, the cold biting at her resolve, but then surged forward. “No, no, no—don’t do this!” Her voice cracked under the weight of her grief, breaking into sobs she struggled to contain. Refusing to crumble, she pressed her hands against the ice encasing Vi’s chest, the searing chill seeping through her gloves and into her skin. “Please, Vi, fight this! I love you—do you hear me? I love you! I always have!”

Jinx collapsed beside Caitlyn, her knees hitting the frost-bitten ground as her trembling hands clutched at the edge of the ice encasing Vi’s legs. The usual chaotic energy that defined her was gone, replaced by raw desperation. “Come on, Vi! You’re stronger than this!” she cried, her voice cracking as her fingers scraped uselessly against the frozen surface. “I know you are! Don’t—don’t leave me! Please, move!” Her sobs shook her small frame as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the unyielding ice. “I love you too, Vi. I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this—any of this—to happen.”

Caitlyn’s trembling hand brushed over the ice covering Vi’s cheek, her touch featherlight as if afraid it might shatter the fragile surface. The frozen layer was rough and unyielding, yet her fingers lingered, her tears falling freely and tracing tiny streaks in the frost. “You can’t leave us,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the howling wind. “Not now. Not after everything. You’re all I have, Vi. You’re everything.”

Jinx lifted her tear-streaked face, her wide, bloodshot eyes brimming with guilt and despair. “I didn’t mean it, Vi,” she choked out, her voice a broken whisper. “I just wanted you back. I wanted my sister. Please… don’t go.”

Caitlyn, unable to hold herself upright any longer, pulled Jinx into her arms, wrapping the younger woman tightly against her. Their shared grief spilled out in unrestrained sobs, blending together in a raw, anguished harmony that echoed across the frozen battlefield. They leaned against the cold, unyielding figure of the woman they both loved, their cries cutting through the bitter wind. The frost stung their skin, the chill numbing their limbs, but they didn’t move. They couldn’t.

All that remained was the frozen figure of Vi, standing like a monument to their pain, and the desperate hope that somewhere within her, she could still hear their words.

The ice encasing Vi had spread to her head, its jagged edges crawling with a merciless intent. Her exposed skin was pale and frozen over, the veins beneath her scars darkened by the chill. Only her eyes remained visible, their flickering storm of blue and black dimming as if the frost were snuffing out the last embers of her soul. The silent desperation in her gaze pierced Caitlyn’s heart like a dagger, the recognition breaking what was left of her resolve.

Caitlyn’s grief turned to a searing rage that ignited within her like a firestorm. She whirled around, her movements sharp and trembling with fury. “Ashe!” she screamed, her voice raw, jagged with pain and betrayal. “You promised us more time!”

Her words echoed across the now-silent battlefield, cutting through the howling wind. Ashe descended from the tower with measured, deliberate steps, her fur-lined cloak billowing in the icy gusts. The bow slung over her shoulder glinted faintly in the muted light, a reminder of the deadly precision with which she had loosed the arrow that now sealed Vi’s fate. Her expression was as cold and unyielding as the frost that consumed Vi, her icy blue eyes locking onto Caitlyn with an almost detached calm.

Around them, the Freljordian warriors began to withdraw, their movements efficient and purposeful. Noxus had been defeated; their work was done. The battlefield quieted as the remaining cries of the wounded faded into the background, leaving only the mournful wail of the wind and the soft crunch of snow beneath retreating boots.

“The battle is over,” Ashe said, her voice steady and unshaken, though it carried a weight of finality that made Caitlyn’s blood boil. Her gaze flicked to Vi, encased in ice and standing like a frozen sentinel amidst the carnage. “Noxus is defeated. I did what needed to be done.”

Caitlyn’s fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms through the fabric of her gloves. The rage bubbling inside her threatened to spill over as tears streamed down her face, freezing into crystalline trails on her cheeks. Her voice trembled with fury and anguish as she stepped toward Ashe, her accusing finger pointing toward Vi. “Needed to be done?” she spat, her words dripping with venom. “You call this justice? You didn’t give her a chance! You didn’t give us a chance!”

Ashe’s reply was as simple as her description, “I gave you every chance.”

Caitlyn’s breathing came in sharp, shallow gasps, her chest heaving as the emotions she had fought so hard to contain erupted. “Look at her!” Caitlyn’s voice broke as she gestured toward Vi’s frozen form, her eyes barely visible through the ice. “That’s not a chance—that’s murder.”

Ashe’s gaze remained steady, though a flicker of something unreadable crossed her features—regret, perhaps, or understanding buried too deeply to surface. “She chose her side,” Ashe said quietly, her voice firm but not unkind. “I made the decision to protect my people, just as you made yours to save her.”

Caitlyn’s legs felt weak, her knees threatening to buckle under the weight of her sorrow and anger. Her gaze darted back to Vi, her heart shattering further at the sight of the woman she loved reduced to this silent, frozen monument. “You don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice cracking as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. “She wasn’t their weapon. She was ours to bring back home. She was...”

Jinx stood beside Caitlyn, her own face streaked with tears, her trembling hands clenched tightly into fists. She didn’t look at Ashe, couldn’t tear her gaze away from Vi. Her voice, usually sharp and biting, was soft, choked with emotion. “She didn’t choose this,” Jinx muttered, her words barely audible above the wind. “She didn’t choose them. That bitch took her from us, and you—” She cut herself off, her voice breaking as she sobbed into her hands. “You took her from us too.”

Caitlyn fell silent, her chest heaving as she struggled to contain the storm raging within her. The frost clinging to her boots and cloak was nothing compared to the icy grip of helplessness squeezing her heart. She stood in the snow, reaching out to touch the edge of the ice encasing Vi’s chest. It burned against her fingertips, a bitter reminder of how close Vi was yet how impossibly far away she had become.

A faint movement from the corner of Caitlyn’s eye drew her attention.

Ambessa.

The once-mighty general lay prone on the blood-streaked snow, her golden armor cracked and dented, its brilliance dulled by battle. The ornate filigree that once gleamed with power now bore the stains of defeat, crimson streaks mingling with the frost. Tendrils of Mel’s golden magic coiled tightly around her, pulsing faintly as they kept her restrained, their light an eerie echo of the arcane chain that had once bound Vi. Ambessa’s shoulders trembled, her head bowed, her strength sapped not just by the fight but by something far deeper.

For the first time, Ambessa Medarda—towering, indomitable—seemed small. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, the weight of her emotions breaking through the walls she had so carefully built. Silent tears traced paths down her weathered face, carving lines through the grime and blood that clung to her skin. Her eyes, once sharp with command and authority, were glassy and unfocused, locked on Vi’s frozen form as though she could will her back with sheer force of will.

Mel stood above her mother, her regal fur-lined coat catching the faint light of the battlefield. The golden magic that swirled around her crackled faintly, an outward manifestation of the storm within. Her eyes narrowed, disbelief flickering across her face as she registered the sight before her—tears. Tears. She had never seen her mother cry, not in victory, defeat, or grief. The sight was jarring, almost unreal.

“Why?” Mel demanded, her voice sharp and unrelenting as she stepped closer. The accusation in her tone cut through the stillness like a blade. “Why are you crying? You made her into this. You took everything from her—you forged her into a weapon, and now you cry for her?”

Her words were laced with fury and pain, the years of bitterness and resentment bubbling to the surface in the face of her mother’s vulnerability. Mel’s hands trembled slightly as the magic wrapped around her flared brighter, the light casting sharp shadows on Ambessa’s face.

Ambessa’s gaze flicked up to meet Mel’s, her golden eyes glistening with tears. The unshakable confidence that had defined her for so long was gone, replaced by something raw and fragile. Her lips trembled as she tried to form words, the silence stretching painfully before she finally spoke. Her voice was a raw whisper, barely audible above the wind, yet heavy with the weight of truth.

“Because she was my daughter,” Ambessa said, her voice breaking as the words left her lips.

The courtyard seemed to still in that moment, the quiet confession hanging in the air like a fragile thread. Mel’s breath caught, her golden eyes widening as the words struck her like a blow. She had always believed her mother saw Vi as nothing more than a weapon, a tool forged in blood and fire to serve her ambitions. But the devastation etched across Ambessa’s face, the tears that fell unbidden, told a different story.

The words struck Mel like a physical blow, an impact that rippled through her core and left her unsteady. Her sharp, gaze faltered for the first time, her chest tightening as she searched her mother’s face for any hint of deception. But there was none. Ambessa Medarda, the woman who had been unyielding in the face of enemies, unshaken by war or loss, now wore an expression of pure devastation. Genuine and unrelenting.

Mel’s throat tightened, her eyes narrowing as though trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She had always known Ambessa to be cold, calculating, and relentless—a woman who viewed people as pieces on a chessboard. But this… this was something entirely foreign. The grief etched into Ambessa’s features was raw and unguarded, cutting through every shield Mel had ever seen her mother construct.

She took a hesitant step back, the glowing magic still coiled around her fingers flickering faintly as her focus faltered. Her voice, usually sharp and commanding, came out quieter, almost hesitant. “Your… daughter?” The words felt foreign even as she spoke them, their weight sinking deeper into her mind with every breath.

The golden threads of magic surrounding Ambessa loosened slightly, though they didn’t dissipate. Mel’s control wavered as the full meaning of her mother’s words sank in. Her heart hammered in her chest, the conflicting emotions clawing at her—anger at what Ambessa had done to Vi, confusion over this new revelation, and an unfamiliar pang of something that felt like sympathy.

Ambessa’s tears fell freely now, streaking through the grime and blood that marred her face. They glistened faintly in the muted light, as though even the battlefield itself were holding its breath. She didn’t try to hide them. Her eyes, bloodshot and shining, stayed fixed on Vi’s frozen form. Her voice, when it came, was cracked and broken, carrying a weight Mel had never heard before.

“She was so much more than a weapon,” Ambessa whispered, her words trembling with grief. “More than I ever deserved to have.” Her lips quivered as she spoke, the raw emotion seeping into every syllable. “And I failed her.”

Ambessa’s gaze lingered on Vi, her expression shattering with each passing second. Her chest heaved as she tried to speak again, but the words stuck in her throat. “I pushed her too far,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I thought… I thought if I made her strong enough, no one could hurt her. Not even me.”

Mel’s jaw tightened, her mind a swirl of fury and something that felt like pity. She wanted to lash out, to accuse her mother of all the pain she had caused. But as she looked at Ambessa now, crumpled and vulnerable, the sharp edges of her anger dulled. She saw, for the first time, the full depth of her mother’s connection to Vi—not as a tool or a soldier, but as something closer to love. It wasn’t the kind of love Mel understood, the kind she herself had longed for, but it was love, at least by Ambessa’s measure.

“You…” Mel began, her voice trembling, the words catching in her throat. She clenched her fists, her golden magic flaring briefly before dimming once more. “You really cared for her?”

Ambessa turned her tear-streaked face up to her daughter, her eyes hollow but sincere. “I didn’t just care for her,” she said, her voice breaking. “I loved her, Mel. I broke her, and over time she became something more... I didn’t know how to protect her.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and undeniable, forcing Mel to confront a truth she had never thought possible: Ambessa’s strength had always been rooted in fear, and her cruelty had been a misguided attempt to shield Vi from the world—even at the cost of her own humanity.

Ashe approached Vi’s frozen form with deliberate steps, her fur-lined cloak billowing faintly in the icy wind. Her sharp, calculating gaze swept over the encased figure, her brows knitting together as a flicker of uncertainty passed over her composed features. Something wasn’t right.

The frost was thick and unyielding, its jagged tendrils glinting faintly in the muted light. Ashe’s fingers brushed against the ice tentatively at first, her brow furrowing deeper as she tilted her head, as if trying to sense something beyond the physical. The cold bit into her skin, but it wasn’t the chill that made her pause—it was the faint, undeniable energy she could feel beneath it. She pressed her hand flat against the ice, her palm flush with the frozen surface. Her eyes widened slightly. She could feel her.

Caitlyn’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and desperate. “Get away from her!” she snapped, stepping forward, her grief-soaked face twisting into anger. “You’ve done enough, Ashe!”

Ashe didn’t flinch, her focus remaining fixed on Vi. “Be silent,” she said firmly, her tone commanding but devoid of cruelty. Her fingers splayed against the ice, her sharp eyes narrowing as she concentrated. There was a pulse—faint but distinct—beneath the surface. It wasn’t natural, but it wasn’t fully extinguished, either. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting her instincts guide her, the connection clearer now. She could feel life.

When she finally turned her gaze back to Caitlyn and Jinx, her voice carried a weight of certainty that silenced them both. “She’s alive,” Ashe said, her expression steady, her hand still resting on the ice. “I don’t know how, but she’s still here.”

Jinx’s knees buckled as she let out a cry of pure, unrestrained relief, her trembling hands covering her face as sobs wracked her body. “She’s alive?” she choked out, her voice cracking. “Like really alive, alive?”

Caitlyn’s legs threatened to give out as well, her breath catching in her throat. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she exhaled a shuddering sob, her hands clutching her chest as if trying to hold her heart together. “Vi…” she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief and hope.

Ashe stepped back from Vi’s frozen form, her hand lingering briefly on the ice before she turned to face Caitlyn, Jinx, and Mel. Her piercing blue eyes swept over them, her expression resolute but touched with a rare softness. The battlefield around them had grown eerily quiet, the chaos settling into a somber aftermath of blood and frost.

“It’s time for you to leave,” Ashe said, her voice steady but gentle. “Take Vi. Take Ambessa. Go back to Piltover.”

Caitlyn’s head snapped up, her face hardening in confusion. “What? We can’t just—” she began, but Ashe held up a hand, silencing her with a calm yet commanding presence.

“You’ve fought your battle here,” Ashe continued, her tone firm. “Whatever brought you to the Freljord is over. Vi doesn’t belong to this place, and neither do you. If she’s going to have any chance at recovery—if all of you are going to find your way through this—you need to leave.”

Jinx’s wide eyes darted between Ashe and Vi’s frozen form, her hands trembling at her sides. “And that war pig?” she asked, her voice dripping with disdain. “Why the hell would we take her?”

Ashe’s gaze shifted to Ambessa, who lay crumpled on the ground, golden armor cracked and streaked with blood, her strength sapped by Mel’s magic. The once-mighty general remained silent, her face streaked with tears as she stared at Vi. “Because whether you like it or not, she’s part of this,” Ashe said simply. “She’s tied to Vi, to everything that’s happened here. Leaving her behind would only deepen the wounds you’re all trying to heal.”

Mel, still standing near her mother, narrowed her golden eyes. “You expect us to take her back to Piltover? She’s not exactly welcome there.”

“She’s your burden now,” Ashe said, her tone unyielding. “What happens to her is for you to decide. But keeping her close may be the only way to understand what truly happened to Vi.” Her gaze lingered on Ambessa, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “And perhaps the only way for her to understand it as well.”

Caitlyn’s chest tightened as she glanced back at Vi, her glowing eyes still faintly visible beneath the ice. “What about Vi?” she asked, her voice cracking. “How do we help her?”

Ashe looked back at Vi, her expression unreadable. “The ice is strange. It’s not natural, not entirely. But she’s alive. Somehow... I don’t know what holds her here, but whatever it is, it’s not something we can unravel in the Freljord. Take her home. If she has a chance at healing, it’s in Piltover.”

Jinx’s fists clenched at her sides, her blue eyes brimming with unspoken anger and desperation. “And what if we can’t fix this?” she demanded. “What if she’s just… gone?”

Ashe’s gaze turned to Jinx, her expression softening. “She’s not gone,” she said firmly. “I can feel it. And so can you. But she won’t come back to you here. Zaun is where her heart lies—it’s where she’ll find her way back, if she can.”

The wind whipped around them as Ashe adjusted her bow on her shoulder and stepped back. “Gather your strength,” she said. “The journey ahead won’t be easy, but it’s the only path forward. This battle is done. It’s time for you to go home.”

Without waiting for a reply, Ashe turned and strode away, her fur-lined cloak billowing in the cold wind. Caitlyn and Jinx exchanged a glance, their grief and uncertainty mirrored in each other’s eyes. Mel looked down at Ambessa, whose silent tears continued to fall as she stared at Vi, and then back at the frozen figure with the gemstone in her arm that had been their reason for everything.

“We’re taking her back,” Caitlyn said, her voice shaking but resolute. She glanced at Vi’s frozen form, her eyes dim beneath the ice. “And whatever’s left of her—we’ll bring her home.”

Jinx nodded, her trembling hands brushing frost from her sister’s encased legs. “Zaun will fix her,” she whispered, as much to herself as to Caitlyn. “It has to.”

As the wind howled and Ashe’s silhouette disappeared into the distance, Caitlyn turned to the others. “Let’s move.”

Ambessa’s tear-streaked face remained downcast, but Mel noticed her trembling hands tighten into fists. For the first time in her life, she saw her mother not as invincible, but as broken.

The journey back would test them all—but none more than Vi, whose frozen body stood silent, her fate uncertain.