Decisions
The room was bathed in golden light. Sunlight poured through the several windows behind her, illuminating the Medarda crest emblazoned on the centre window. Its shadow stretched long across the polished floor, sharp and defined in the morning, shifting and elongating as the sun arced across the sky.
Mel stood in front of the desk, her fingers tracing the smooth, cool surface. It was a room meant to impress—a testament to power and legacy, designed to showcase her and her family’s grandeur and influence in Piltover. A place where she had always been in control.
But now it felt suffocating.
Scattered documents lay across the table—reports, council briefings, investment notes—but her mind drifted far beyond them, slipping through her fingers just like the careful plans she had so meticulously built for years.
For the first time in a long while, she felt as if she was no longer the one steering the course.
She turned away from the table, her gaze drawn to the vast window overlooking Piltover. The city gleamed under the midday sun, its towering buildings forming a breathtaking skyline. From up here, it looked peaceful, prosperous—the perfect image of the future she had worked to shape.
But now, for the first time, she saw beyond it.
Beyond the beautiful architecture. Beyond the innovation and grandeur. Beyond Piltover itself.
For so long, she had focused on Piltover’s rise, on solidifying her place within it, on securing power and influence, on guiding the city’s future with her own careful hand. She had told herself she was different from her mother. She had led not through war but through strategy, control and calculated moves meant to make Piltover strong enough to stand on its own—to defend itself from those who would exploit or conquer it, like Noxus.
And yet…
Had she ever truly stopped to consider what that meant for those in the Undercity? Had she ever looked beyond Piltover?
She had never wanted to strangle the Undercity, had never sought to oppress its people on purpose, but had she ever cared to see the consequences of her choices?
Had she ever truly considered them at all? No, she hadn’t. And that truth settled in her stomach like a stone.
Lest’s voice echoed in her mind: “Everything you do up here ripples down to us, and we’re the ones who suffer for it.”
A soft knock at the door.
Mel didn’t turn. “Come in.”
She recognized the measured steps immediately, it was Elora, moving with her usual composed grace. But even before Mel turned to face her, she could tell something was wrong.
Elora’s voice was slightly strained. “Mel.”
“Elora?” Mel closed her eyes briefly, bracing herself. “Tell me.”
Elora hesitated, her expression carefully neutral, but Mel caught the strain beneath it. “Your mother has met with Jayce again.”
Mel’s fingers stilled against the desk. Of course she has.
Mel felt her jaw tighten. Her mother was making her moves.
And this time, she wasn’t even bothering to hide it.
Jayce felt like he was suffocating.
The walls of his office loomed over him, the air thick with the weight of responsibility, of unread reports and endless demands. He hadn’t slept well. Not that it mattered. There was much to do, too much to think about.
The words on the latest enforcer report blurred as he pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to focus.
A patrol unit suffered casualties last night. Multiple enforcers injured. One in critical condition. Suspected involvement of gang factions operating under shimmer influence.
The latest stack of reports sat before him, filled with details of skirmishes, attacks and patrols ambushed in the Undercity. He should have been used to them by now. He tried to focus, forcing himself to read.
Jayce exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. It was all adding up, spiraling further out of control with each passing day. And there was no sign of it stopping anytime soon.
Everything felt like a balloon stretched too thin, moments away from bursting. He had tried to do the right thing. That was all he had ever wanted—to help, to make things better. And yet somehow, everything just kept getting worse.
It was the same thing over and over. How was he supposed to fix this?
Piltover was under attack. People were dying. And every time he tried to take action, the council hesitated, debated, caught in an endless cycle of inaction and interest in only protecting their interests.
He clenched his jaw and let out a slow breath, resting his head in his crossed arms on the table.
A sharp knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. “Right. Marcus was supposed to come today.” He had been too tired to even remember.
He straightened, ran his fingers through his hair, and forced himself to sit up. “Come in.”
The door opened, and Marcus stepped inside, his posture rigid as always. “Councilor,” he greeted, his voice even, measured. But Jayce could hear the intent beneath it. A subtle push.
Jayce already knew what this was about. More security concerns, more pressure to act.
“What is it?” he asked, not bothering to hide his irritation.
Marcus placed a new file down on the desk. “Another incident,” he said. “The Undercity is only getting bolder. We need to increase the number of enforcers in our patrols before this spirals further out of control.”
Jayce barely glanced at the document as he skimmed through the words, barely heard Marcus continuing to talk. This was becoming a pattern.
At first, Jayce had tried to maintain some level of control in these meetings. But lately, he was too tired. He had learnt that nothing he said mattered. Marcus Marcus never changed his tone, never changed his opinions, no matter how much Jayce tried to rein him in.
So now he just let him talk. It was easier.It took less effort.
Jayce barely heard him. Because his mind was elsewhere. On him. On Viktor. On the way he had left. On the Hexcore, now gone.
His gut twisted. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about what it meant. Didn’t want to acknowledge that he had driven away his partner, the people he had trusted most.
Would he ever come back?
Jayce didn’t even know where to start looking. And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he should. One thing was certain—he would not use any of the enforcers for it.
Marcus’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Piltover needs a stronger hand, Councilor.”
Jayce didn’t respond.
Lately, he had made too many mistakes. He hadn’t been thinking about things through, he had been reacting, driven by his anxiety, his frustrations and his fear. And that made him act rashly.
It had taken Viktor leaving—walking away without a word—and the harsh consequences of his actions as councilor to finally hit him in the face to make him realize just how poorly he had been handling everything since stepping into this position.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to fix it.
But could he? He had no real power here. His position had been granted to him through Mel, and compared to the rest of the council, he had little influence. He could fight, argue, try to dissuade them from their plans, but would it even matter?
Before he could say anything, another knock came at the door.
A messenger entered, their uniform lined with crimson. The color struck Jayce as familiar, though it took a second for him to recognize it.
“Councilor Talis,” the messenger said, bowing slightly. “You’ve been summoned for a private meeting.”
Jayce frowned. He didn’t remember having any other appointments today. “With who?”
The answer made his stomach sink.
“General Ambessa Medarda”
What exactly does she want this time? That question lingered in Jayce’s mind as he made his way to the meeting.
He still remembered the last time. The discomfort. The confusing thoughts it had left him with.
This time, Ambessa was waiting for him in a spacious chamber—far more extravagant than he had expected. A long table sat to one side, filled with an array of fruits and dishes, the scents of fresh citrus and spiced meats mingling in the air. On the opposite side of the room, a space was clearly designated for combat training. Weapons of various designs hung in neat rows along the walls, and the floor was covered with thick mats meant to absorb the force of blows.
Jayce stepped inside and shut the door behind him, his gaze briefly flickering toward the broad-shouldered, bearded man standing near the entrance. The man barely acknowledged him, focused instead on muttering something under his breath as he polished a glaive.
“Mr. Talis,” Ambessa greeted, not even bothering to rise from the divan where she lounged.
Jayce walked toward her, his steps steady despite the unease settling in his gut. “I heard you requested to see me.”
It wasn’t until he drew closer that he realized she wasn’t alone. Seated on the floor beside her, massaging her calves with slow, practiced movements, was the same young man Jayce had seen the last time they met.
His gaze flicked up at Jayce, and a knowing smile tugged at his lips. His shirt was unbuttoned, his hair slightly tousled, a faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone as he continued his task.
Jayce immediately looked away. Why does this guy make me so uncomfortable?
It wasn’t just the way he was around Ambessa, the effortless sensuality in how he moved, how he touched her. It was something else.
Something Jayce couldn’t—or wouldn’t—put into words.
His cheekbones. His slim build. The shape of his face. Even the mole just below his eye.
All small details. Details that, separately, meant nothing. But together, they reminded Jayce of…
His throat felt dry.
“Umm…” Jayce cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. You’re not here for this. “So why did you need me, Mrs. Medarda? I’m very busy and can’t stay for long.”
Ambessa barely spared him a glance as she passed the plate of fruit in her lap to the young man beside her. He accepted it with an easy smile, fingers brushing hers in a way that made Jayce’s skin itch.
She finally turned her attention to him and gestured for him to come closer.
Jayce hesitated, but only for a second. He stepped forward, climbing the short set of stairs that elevated her lounging area slightly above the rest of the room.
He exhaled and met her gaze. Whatever this was about, he just wanted it over with.
He climbed the last step onto the raised platform where Ambessa lounged, every instinct telling him that this was a bad idea. That he shouldn’t be here. That this meeting wouldn’t be like the others.
Ambessa Medarda was watching him the way a wolf watches its prey—uninterested in the chase, confident in her inevitable victory.
He stood stiffly, resisting the urge to fidget under her gaze. She hadn’t even motioned for him to sit, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. He already felt too trapped.
A small smirk curled at the edge of her lips, as if she could read the discomfort in every line of his body.
“Come now, Mr. Talis,” she said, stretching lazily before sitting upright. “No need to look so stiff. We’re only having a conversation.”
Jayce swallowed, straightening his posture. “If that’s the case, I’d like to make it clear that my work—our work—was never meant for warfare. That was never my intention when I– ”
She waved a hand dismissively before he could finish, exhaling like he was a child wasting her time.
“Intentions,” she said, unimpressed. “I hear those a lot. Intentions don’t change the reality of a situation.”
Jayce’s jaw tightened.
Ambessa leaned forward, resting her chin on her fist. “And the reality is, your city let this situation spiral out of control. Now, people are dying.” Her voice was low, steady, like she was stating a simple fact. “You think you have a choice, but you don’t.”
Jayce exhaled sharply, his pulse beating faster. “I’m no stranger to failure,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying. More violence isn’t the answer.”
Ambessa hummed, like his words mildly amused her.
Then, she stood.
Jayce had almost forgotten how imposing she was, how her presence filled the room. But as she stepped toward him, all muscle and power, all old scars and sharp eyes, he was suddenly very aware of it. He was not a weak man, but in this moment he felt like a child standing before a lion, one that could strike at any moment. And there was nothing he could do.
She came to a stop right in front of him, looking down, making sure he felt it. Felt how inferior and powerless he really was.
Jayce held his ground, but he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
“The Council will need someone to blame for this,” she said smoothly, her tone dropping just slightly. “And who do you think they’ll choose?” She cast him a sidelong glance, the weight of her words settling heavily between them.
Jayce frowned. “They don’t have any proof that the gemstone has anything to do with the recent attacks.”
Ambessa tilted her head, almost like she was humoring him. “Proof?” she said. “Since when has proof ever mattered to them? As long as their interests remain protected they don't mind but lately, your performance has been… how should I say this… unsatisfactory.”
Jayce’s blood ran cold.
Ambessa walked past him, heading toward the table. She reached for the large glass pitcher and poured herself a generous amount of deep red wine, the rich scent of wafting through the air.
“You should think carefully about what you do next,” she said, swirling the liquid in her glass but not drinking it yet. “I’m willing to help you navigate this—of course, in exchange for some small favors. But we can discuss that another time.”
Jayce clenched his fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms.
Ambessa took a sip of her wine, her back still turned to him and after a moment she walked past. As if she had already decided this conversation was over. As if he was no longer even worth her attention.
She reached the divan, settling back into place with an air of casual ease. The young man who had been sitting there waiting smiled as he shifted to sit beside her.
Just as Jayce thought she might not say anything else, she did.
“Choose wisely, Jayce.”
His name—not Councilor, not Mr Talis—spoken so smoothly, carried a weight that made his stomach turn. It was a warning. A promise.
“I’d hate for something unfortunate to happen to your city.”
Jayce’s nails bit deeper into his palms, but he refused to let himself react any more than he already had.
Before he could respond, movement beside him caught his attention.
The large, bearded man who had been standing near the door was suddenly there, next to him so silent in his approach that Jayce hadn’t even noticed.
Jayce’s pulse pounded in his ears. He turned his gaze back to Ambessa one last time, as if to say something, but she was already ignoring him. Already murmuring something low to her boytoy, her fingers idly trailing along his collarbone, her expression that of someone completely at ease.
Jayce felt ill as he watched the scene unfold.
Next to him, the tall warrior didn’t say a word, he simply gestured toward the door.
Like Jayce wasn’t even there anymore.
The dismissal was infuriating.
He clenched his jaw and turned, walking toward the door.
The warrior followed him, his presence at his back suffocating, looming.
The door shut with a heavy thud behind him. Jayce let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
His head was pounding. He wasn’t even sure how he had made it out of that room, only that the tension still coiled in his muscles like a snake.
Without thinking, his feet carried him home.
Not the lab. Not to Mel’s office. Not to his room at the Academy.
Home.
He needed to breathe. To think.
But the weight of it all—the pressure, the threats, the manipulation—was becoming unbearable. And Jayce was already at the edge.
The house was just as he remembered. The warm scent of spices lingered in the air, and the familiar creak of the wooden door as he knocked sent a strange wave of nostalgia through him.
It hadn’t been that long since his last visit. Not as long as other times, really. But to his mother, it was always too long.
When the door opened, Ximena Talis blinked in surprise. “Jayce?”
He had barely opened his mouth to greet her before she was pulling him inside. “I wasn’t expecting it to be you.” She smiled, warm and bright, her eyes softening as they took him in. “I’m so glad to see you.”
She clasped his face between her hands briefly, studying him the way only a mother could. “You don’t have work? Come in, honey, I’ll make some tea.”
Before he could protest, she was already leading him toward the kitchen, her hand firm on his arm. “Have you eaten today? You look thinner.” She frowned, already moving toward the stove. “I’ll make something quick.”
Jayce barely had time to sit before she was bustling around, gathering the tea leaves, heating water and reheating a pot of what was probably leftover food, all at once.
He didn’t say anything. And she noticed.
The moment she turned to face him, her brows furrowed. She placed a gentle hand against his cheek, tilting his face toward her. “What’s wrong?”
Jayce exhaled sharply, feeling the lump in his throat swell. He leaned into her touch, let his eyes slip shut for just a second.
And then, before he could stop himself, he hugged her.
It wasn’t a gentle embrace. He clung to her, arms tight around her smaller frame, careful not to squeeze too hard. Despite his size and strength, Jayce had always been soft when it came to physical affection.
Ximena held him just as tightly, immediately running a soothing hand up and down his back.
“Did something happen at work?” she asked softly. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head against her shoulder. “No.”
It was the first honest answer he had given in days.
“I’m not okay, Mom,” he whispered. “I think I messed up. And I don’t know what to do.”
She held him closer.
Jayce wasn’t even crying, but he was shaking.
Ximena knew her son. Knew that for him to admit something like this, for him to seek her out so openly in distress, it had to be bad.
For a long moment, they just stayed like that.
Then, gently, she guided him toward the couch. Jayce followed without argument, sinking into the cushions, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion.
Ximena disappeared into the kitchen for only a minute before returning with two steaming cups of tea. She placed one in his hands, her touch lingering for just a second longer than necessary.
Neither of them spoke as he took a few slow sips, the warmth grounding him little by little.
When she finally broke the silence, her voice was as gentle as ever.
“Jayce,” she began, “you know I don’t understand much about your work. And maybe you don’t want to tell me, and that’s okay.” She reached out, resting a hand on his back. “But maybe you’d feel better if you did. Even just a little. Voicing things can help you organize your thoughts.”
Jayce opened his mouth to brush it off, to say something like “It’s nothing, I was just stressed about a deadline,” but the words didn’t come.
He was so tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of masking every thought, every doubt, every fear.
So, without thinking too much about it, he told her. Not everything. Not in detail. But enough.
He spoke about the council, about the pressure, about the decisions being made around him that he couldn’t control. About how he had wanted to do good, but things were spiraling into something he never intended.
Ximena listened. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t judge. She just let him speak, let him spill his frustrations into the open without fear.
And when he finished, she sat in thoughtful silence for a moment before asking something he hadn’t expected.
“What does Viktor think about all this?”
Jayce blinked.
Ximena poured herself more tea, then refilled his cup too, as if she hadn’t just shaken the ground beneath his feet. “I can’t imagine he’d be thrilled.”
Jayce looked down, fingers tightening slightly around the warm ceramic. “…Uh.”
She continued, not noticing his hesitation. “Last time he came here, he looked exhausted. You two work too much. You should learn to rest. All that time in the lab…” She shook her head. “I’m no doctor, but that can’t be good for you.”
Jayce quickly lifted his head. “Viktor came to see you?”
His mother gave him a look. “Of course. Since you became a councilor, he started coming by himself sometimes.”
Jayce hadn’t known that.
“I was happy,” Ximena went on, sipping her tea. “You were too busy to visit, but he still stopped by. Always made sure I wasn’t lonely.”
Jayce felt like an idiot.
“The first time, he came looking for you. I guess he didn’t realize you’d still be busy with council work that late. I invited him to stay for dinner, and after that, he started coming by every once in a while. He always had some excuse, but I knew better.”
Jayce exhaled through his nose, trying to process that. “When was the last time?”
His mother tilted her head. “A while ago now. He asked about you. Brought some really nice tea leaves.”
Jayce swallowed.
Ximena sighed, looking at him knowingly. “Did you two have an argument?”
Jayce was startled by how easily she saw through him. “I—”
“You’re not children anymore,” she chided. “You should talk things out. That sweet boy cares about you, but he hardly ever says anything.”
Jayce looked away. “…It’s not that simple this time.”
“Of course you’d say that.” She let out a small huff. “Even if it’s not simple, what are you going to do? Just leave things as they are? Stop talking to each other entirely? You care too much about each other for that.”
Jayce felt his ears heat for some reason.
“Listen to me, Jayce.” Ximena took one of his hands, sandwiching it between both of hers. “I know all you’ve ever wanted is to do the right thing. But even good people make mistakes. That doesn’t mean you should stop trying.”
Jayce felt the tension in his chest ease just a little.
“Talk to him,” she urged. “Not to convince him you’re right, just talk to him. You’re both too stubborn for your own good, but I know he’ll listen if you’re honest with him. And maybe he can help you too.”
Jayce swallowed past the lump in his throat.
His mother’s voice softened. “Don’t lose each other over something that can be fixed.”
Jayce spent the rest of the day with her, letting himself sink into the comfort of home. They talked about anything and everything—sometimes returning to more serious topics, but mostly, it was just normal.
For the first time in weeks, he felt light.
His mother listened to him, truly listened, and even when she scolded him for some of his choices, the love in her eyes never wavered. It grounded him.
Hours passed in a way that felt slower, softer. He let himself enjoy the warmth of her presence, the quiet hum of her voice as she asked about the little things in his life, things he had barely noticed slipping away in the chaos of his days.
At some point, she forced him to eat.
He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he was already halfway through a plate of home-cooked food, his mother watching him with fond amusement.
It was evening by the time Jayce finally stood to leave.
In a way, it felt strange. It had only been a few hours, not even a full day, but he felt different.
Maybe it was the exhaustion settling in, or maybe, just maybe, it was the weight on his shoulders shifting into something manageable.
He kissed her forehead and pulled her into one last hug, whispering his thanks into her hair.
She simply smiled.
As he descended the stairs, she called after him. “Next time, bring Viktor. I have to be angry at him for not visiting in so long too.”
Jayce let out a small, breathy laugh.
His footsteps echoed against the stone as he walked through the cooling streets of Piltover, the city bathed in the last traces of fading sunlight.
His mind was made up. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe he was being naive again. But he wasn’t going to wait another day.
He turned toward the direction of the lab.
The halls of the Academy were dimly lit at this hour, casting long shadows as Jayce moved carefully through them. He kept his steps light, instinctively avoiding the main corridors where he might run into someone who would question why he was sneaking around like this.
It felt strange. He had never been the type to skulk around, but if anyone knew he was here, his plan would only become more complicated.
When he finally reached the lab, he hesitated before pushing the door open. It had only been a few days since he had last been here, but it felt different.
The space was cold and empty.
For so long, this had been their space—his and Viktor’s. In equal parts. A place filled with invention, excitement, and shared dreams. But lately… Jayce had barely stepped inside.
He had convinced himself he was too busy, that the council work had taken over his time. But the truth was, he had been avoiding this place.
Because without Viktor, it didn’t feel the same.
Jayce swallowed down the weight in his chest and stepped further inside.
A noise from the hall made him stiffen, and he instinctively moved toward the shadows, pressing himself into a corner. Footsteps approached, light and unhurried and then a voice, soft but clear.
Jayce peeked around the edge of the shelf just as Sky entered the room, balancing a few books and a notebook in her arms. She was muttering something under her breath, too absorbed in whatever she was reading to notice him immediately.
Jayce stepped forward, trying not to startle her. He failed miserably.
Sky let out a sharp, high-pitched scream, flinching so hard that the books tumbled from her arms and hit the floor with a thud.
“Sky— Sky, it’s me! Please don’t scream again,” Jayce said quickly, raising his hands in surrender.
She exhaled sharply, placing a hand over her chest as she looked at him, wide-eyed. Then, as recognition settled in, her expression twisted into one of irritation.
“Jayce, what the hell– what are you doing creeping around in the dark?! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
Jayce winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… I needed to talk to you in private, and I didn’t want anyone to know I was here, so I—”
He knelt down, scrambling to help pick up her fallen books, his words tumbling out in a nervous ramble.
Sky sighed, adjusting her glasses as she crouched down to gather the rest. “Okay… I’m surprised you wanted to talk to me so badly that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”
Jayce caught the slight shift in her tone, colder than usual.
He deserved that. He hadn’t exactly made an effort to talk to her much lately. She had always been closer to Viktor, but they had been friendly, and ever since things had spiraled… he had distanced himself.
Jayce swallowed. “I know. And I’m sorry. But this… this is important.”
Sky studied him for a moment, then exhaled, standing up with her books in her arms. “…Alright. What did you need?”
Jayce hesitated for only a second before saying, “First, this conversation stays between us. Even if someone asks.”
Sky raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Okay.”
Jayce inhaled deeply, rubbing a hand over his face before continuing. “I’ve been… unsure lately. About everything. The power I thought I had to make a difference, to control the situation—it’s a joke. And now, the more I see, the more I realize how wrong I was.”
Sky pushed her glasses up, waiting.
Jayce clenched his fists. Just say it.
“I’m leaving,” he blurted.
Sky froze. “What?”
“Well— not leaving leaving,” Jayce quickly corrected. “I’m going to find Viktor. I need to talk to him.”
Sky stared at him like he had just grown another head.
Jayce braced himself for an immediate argument, but instead, she just folded her arms and tilted her head slightly. “…Huh.”
Jayce sighed, shaking his head. “I know, I messedup. But I can’t leave things like this. I—” He hesitated, struggling for the right words. “I feel like I can think clearly now. And I need to talk to him about everything.”
Sky’s lips parted like she had something to say, but then she seemed to reconsider. She studied Jayce, eyes narrowed in thought, as if reassessing him in real time. Whatever she had originally planned to say, she held it back.
Jayce shifted under her gaze, suddenly feeling more exposed than he had anticipated.
“I know you’re from the Undercity too,” Jayce finally said, his voice quieter now, more deliberate. “And you and Viktor… you’ve known each other since childhood.”
Sky’s posture tensed slightly at that, but she didn’t interrupt.
Jayce exhaled, running a hand through his hair before continuing, “I need to find him but I don’t know where to start. I’ve barely been to the Undercity… ” He hesitated, then admitted, “I need your help.”
Sky sighed, rubbing her temple before shaking her head with something between exasperation and reluctant amusement. “You’re lucky I like you,” she muttered as she moved toward the desk, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil.
Jayce, who had taken a cautious step forward to see what she was doing, stopped.
Sky didn’t look at him as she continued, “Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be helping you right now.”
She started sketching something in the paper, her movements quick and practiced. Jayce watched in silence.
“But,” she added, her tone lighter now, almost playful, “I do think you’re a good person. Even if you’re a bit of an idiot sometimes.”
Jayce let out a breath of something close to a laugh.
“And Viktor…” she shook her head as she added more notes to the map, “Viktor is too stubborn and negative to do anything about whatever happened between you two. So, I’ll help.”
Jayce swallowed thickly. “Thank you,” he said, voice rougher than he meant it to be.
Sky didn’t look up from the paper, but her lips twitched in a small, knowing smile.
After a few more moments of scribbling, Sky turned and handed him a small, hastily drawn map. Jayce stared at it, scanning the details, the marked paths, the small notes in the margins.
“I haven’t heard from him since he left,” Sky admitted, “but these are the places I know he used to go to when he visited the Undercity.”
He lifted his gaze back to her. “Thank you, Sky. I mean it.”
Sky smiled. “Good luck,” she said, gathering her books and notes. Then, with a smirk, she added, “Like I said, he’s not going to make it easy.”
Jayce exhaled a small, nervous laugh as he carefully folded the map.
No, he doubted Viktor would. But that wasn’t going to stop him.