#is that it? or is riot not following its own lore again

[chaospirals]

league of legends tell me where koyehn is challenge

[ionianwanderer]

riot Gamies is vague about it but what do you think happened between high noon yone and yasuo i want to know ur thoughts bruther

From what crumbs Riot has given us about Yasuo’s High Noon skin pre the revamp of the skinline to include Southern Gothic aspects, it ties with his original lore pretty closely: A man trying to outrun the sins and the guilt he carries on his back. But with the introduction of Yone into the universe things tend to shake up a little bit more. So for my interpretation of the two:

A tale of two brothers heading west for new opportunities, nothing unheard of for those migrating across the eastern settlement. But to leave the humble little town their mother had settled in along with the ranch they’ve known since they were kids, it hadn’t come as a surprise for Yasuo to be the one setting out on his own first. Only for Yone to follow suit out of growing concern to protect his only sibling. So out west they went.

As time went on, the two made themselves a little life catching odd jobs in every town they stopped in through their travels. Wasn’t a fruitful life but it was what they could consider comfortable as they went about their journey westward. All this until Yasuo manages to catch the eyes of a few folks that weren’t too keen on the two brothers strutting into town. 

Something that Yasuo always found comfort in was the saloons in each stop of their journey, this was no different. Settling in at one of the many wooden tables among the rest of the patrons before a bottle of rum was placed on his table. Much to Yasuo’s detriment, he’d managed to settle himself exactly where a few of the regulars had carved their names into the edge of the heavy oak, and they weren’t too fond of finding the cowboy in their rightfully claimed abode. What results is a fight between the four of them, at first the snide comments turning to shoving and chairs being pushed over. Escalating further when one smashes a bottle against a table and threatens Yasuo with it, something he never took kindly to. And as the wild and reckless little brother he’d always been, Yasuo shoots first. The saloon erupts into more chaos then as the man lay bleeding and clutching the wound dealt by Yasuo’s trigger happy finger. Before long Yasuo’s gone, taking off through the Saloon doors and past Yone as he races towards the source of the chaos.

It makes Yone skid to a stop, kicking up dust and dirt as his body snaps towards the direction Yasuo ran. Men pour out from the Saloon and past him as Yone divides their numbers like a rock parting a stream, legs heavy as he watches onward. Questions racing through his mind until he’s shouldered roughly by another man who tells him Yasuo’s getting away. That’s when Yone moves, racing through the stampede after his own flesh and blood in order to grab him, set him straight, find out what happened and why he did it. But he never does quite make it to him.

Yasuo, who had been quick witted enough to cut a horse free from its post, climbs upon the beast’s back and hikes the reins high before snapping them harshly. Setting off galloping straight out of the town and kicking up the dust of regret in his escape. There’s a moment, as he braces himself low against the saddle, where he rears his head back over his shoulder to watch as they try to shoot him. Finding Yone, standing among the very men that now wanted him dead, still as can be, unbelieving that this is the thing that severs the tie between them. Yasuo squeezes his eyes shut when he turns to face the horizon as he snaps the reins once more. 

Yone never finds him again after that.

[goldlightwriting]

Darkin Reimagined

I’ve said before, on many occasions, that the Darkin are a plotline Riot clearly didn’t initially know what they were doing with. They were just stand-ins for demons before demons really became a thing in Runeterra, with old Aatrox being the only lead we had as to what their deal was... And then they were aliens. Now they’re fallen demigods. Also there used to only be five, but now there are over a dozen of them.

While I’ll admit that I like some aspects of the current Darkin canon, it really only serves to help bolster Shurima’s storyline, and I don’t even think that was necessary. We could have easily had a civil war between the Ascended that ended in Twilight of the Gods WITHOUT having Twilight then go “yeah now let’s imprison the rest in their weapons because I guess we can only do the Moonfall ritual once.”

And the thing is, I do think there’s a way to tie the two together, but not so heavily that the Darkin are no longer allowed to be their own thing. I’ve talked about this at length in both my Aatrox and Varus videos, but I really do think that the Darkin would have been better as JUST demonic weapons that possess their hosts; this would not only work better for the existing Darkin characters, but it would also allow them to tie into other existing storylines more naturally. I mean, Yone’s got a demonic sword that’s trying to possess him, but that’s TOTALLY different from the Darkin weapons, guys.

So, once again, I’d like to present to you a new and refined version of the Darkin Saga.

Lore

None recall the true origins of the Darkin. Some say they are the first weapons ever forged, so tainted by ages of battle that they developed a bloodlust all their own. Others claim they are powerful demons, feared by the gods themselves and bound in inanimate forms. Still others claim they are an ancient race not born of Runeterra, magically imprisoned within their own weapons for crimes long-forgotten.

Whatever the truth, one thing is certain: the Darkin harbor an insatiable appetite for chaos and destruction. They offer power to any that dare to wield them, but corrupt the user’s mind and body in exchange. Scattered and hidden across Runeterra, many believed that the twisted influence of the Darkin would never threaten the world again, and most have forgotten these ancient weapons even exist... But one has remained free, biding its time for the perfect opportunity to unleash its fellows and wreak havoc on the world once more.

Fundamental Changes

-The Darkin are no longer all fallen Ascended.

-The Darkin have never held any loyalty or allegiance to any individual or faction.

-Darkin grow more powerful by consuming the blood of those they have slain, allowing them to enlarge and even alter their forms further.

-Fearing the potential of what the Darkin could become, the Aspects of Targon once rallied together in an effort to hunt down and confine these deadly weapons across Runeterra.

-Twilight is not the one that sealed the Darkin this time (though Myisha is still responsible for the death of the Ascended Host in Nerimazeth.) It was primarily the Aspect of Justice, Mihira, who imprisoned the Darkin as punishment for the many lives they stole during the Rune Wars.

-The Darkin Saga, as before, follows the Shadow Kayn timeline in which he triumphs over Rhaast, inadvertently allowing Xolaani to corrupt Jun.

-Aatrox, Xolaani and Varus/Paallas travel the world seeking to free and rally the other Darkin to their respective causes. Aatrox wishes to wage war against the gods, Xolaani wants to enslave all Runeterra to her will, and Varus/Paallas simply seek retribution for their suffering.

-Aatrox’s faction consists of: Horaazi, Anaaka, and Taarosh.

-Xolaani’s faction consists of: Baal, Ibaaros, and Stryaatu

-Varus’s faction consists of: Praa, Joraal and Naafiri(?)

-The three factions eventually convene at Targon to fulfill their respective agendas.

-Xolaani arrives with an army of possessed thralls, Varus with a band of warriors committed to helping him stop the Darkin, and Aatrox with a hoard of bersekers infused with his own bloodlust.

-With three Aspects missing (Atreus in the Celestial realm, Diana in Ionia and Zoe who-knows-where), it falls to Taric, Leona and Kayle to defend Targon.

-Taric and Leona devote themselves to protecting as many as they can, while Kayle leads an army of Celestial spirits to battle against the Darkin threat.

-Kayle calls forth the spirit of her mother to aid her, but to her horror, Mihira’s essence is bound and consumed by Xolaani, transforming her into the Aspect’s Bane.

-In desperation, Kayle sends a messenger to the only remaining ally she can think to call: Ryze.

-Ryze answers the call, though upon witnessing the destruction before him, he ponders whether or not Runeterra is worth saving, and whether or not it’s a fool’s errand to try. He contemplates some of the greatest tragedies of Runeterra’s history: the Void War, the Fall of Shurima, The Reign of Mordekaiser, the Ruination, and the betrayal of his own teacher, Tyrus. Ryze ponders if he should intervene, as well as whether or not he has any right to.

-Witnessing a band of mere mortals take up arms against the Darkin, however, Ryze has an epiphany: that these tragic moments throughout Runeterra’s history are, in fact, mere moments in history. Trials that the people of Runeterra have overcome. Time again the people of this world have braved impossible odds to protect what is dear to them, and they have always rebuilt after every disaster.

-Ultimately, Ryze agrees to summon World Rune fragments from his scroll. With them, he manages to destroy nearly every Darkin on the battlefield.

-Only three Darkin now remain in existence: Aatrox, Varus/Paallas, and Naafiri.

-Should Rhaast triumph over Kayn, he takes Xolaani’s power for himself. This results in most of the other Darkin not being freed as quickly and the Darkin Saga being delayed.

Revamped characters

Aatrox Name meaning: “Ender of worlds.” A blade with a heart that beats for bloodshed, Aatrox revels the brutality of the battlefield. The only Darkin to escape confinement at the hands of the Aspects, Aatrox has lurked in the shadows of history, turning the tides of war in some of Runeterra’s most significant conflicts. Its current wielder is a former member of the Ascended Host, who took up the cursed sword in desperation to fight back the Void. Though some lingering traces of the mighty god-warrior still remain, his name is all but forgotten to time, and he now fights for but one purpose: to wage war against the very gods that imprisoned the Darkin, even if it means the end of the world itself.

*Bonus note: maybe Aatrox’s host was the original wielder of the Infinity Edge?

Rhaast Name meaning: “Obedience through fear.” A wicked scythe with an equally wicked sense of humor. Rhaast revels in carnage, instilling terror into mortals. In the distant past, some say this Darkin even inspired a cult of worshipers. The scythe was initially hidden deep below ground in eastern Valoran, until Noxian soldiers found it through one of their expansions. Before they could take the scythe back to the capital, though, the escort was ambushed by The Order of Shadow and the scythe stolen by Kayn. Kayn and Rhaast now fight for control of one body, each seeking to claim the other’s power as their own.

Paallas Name meaning: “To forsake mercy.” A malicious bow burning with contempt for all life on Runeterra. Though the Darkin had lent their strength to mortal races for untold ages, they were repaid with imprisonment. Paallas desires nothing but revenge, and now has the opportunity to claim it through its current wielder: an Ionian archer named Varus. Varus, however, harbors a burning vengeance of his own, and a will strong enough to keep the bow’s corruption at bay... For now. Both parties know that Varus is running on borrowed time, but the archer is determined to avenge is lover and son, Kai and Theshan, both of whom perished during the Noxian Invasion.

*In the Shadow Kayn timeline, Varus witnesses several other Darkin running amok and laying waste to the Noxian countryside. Seeing their cruelty firsthand, Varus begins to fully comprehend the evil these weapons represent, and realizes that his family wouldn’t want him to succumb either. He also comes to resent the Darkin, realizing they’re technically responsible for his families’ deaths as well, and vows to use Paallas’s own power against its kind. Realizing that one Darkin against many puts the odds against them, though, Varus reluctantly manages to sway Praa and Naafari to his cause, using Paallas’s memories to deduce that they’re the most likely potential allies.

Xolaani Name meaning: “Crusher of wills.” A pair of bloodletters imbued with twisted ambition. Xolaani is different from the other Darkin in that they seek to bring an end to all conflict. They have learned how to fragment their own essence and imbue it into several hosts at once, creating a sort of hivemind in the process; through this technique, Xolaani hopes to one day transform all of Runeterra’s inhabitants into their thralls, including the very gods that imprisoned them so long ago...

Baal Name meaning: “Binding of vessels.” An ancient staff imbued with powerful forbidden magic. In an ironic twist of fate, this same magic played a key role in imprisoning the other Darkin. It was only after Baal’s own imprisonment that the Darkin Staff learned the meaning of guilt, and has since vowed to aid its fellows in whatever way possible should the opportunity arise. That opportunity may come soon than expected as the flora of the Bandlewood is slowly tainted by Baal’s essence...

Ibaaros Name meaning: “Glory through killing.” A vicious harpoon once used to slay many legendary beasts. Among the Darkin, Ibaaros possessed what some might call a sense of pride, having been wielded by many powerful champions and heroes across the ages. Its final hunt, however, saw the harpoon lost deep beneath the waves. Though the Aspects surely presumed Ibaaros lost to time, it was there, in the depths, that the Darkin encountered something even more vile than its own kind: an abomination from a place darker than the abyss. When Ibaaros next emerged, it had fused into something entirely new, wielding the might of both Darkin and Void.

Joraal Name meaning: “Solitude in eternity.” Most Darkin offer their host the strength to slay their foes, but Joraal offers a very different form of power: a nigh-unbreakable defense. The Darkin Aegis has withstood blows from gods and demons alike, enduring the strain of attacks that even its host body cannot. Among the Darkin, Joraal has taken on more hosts than any other across history, and each one leaves fragments of memories forever embedded into the aegis. It times, these memories surface and swirl together, which has begun to affect even the Darkin’s own mind and personality...

Anaaka Name meaning: “Yearning for violence.” There are few even among the Darkin as eager for battle as Anaaka. The Darkin Spear charges blindly forward, ever-seeking its next adversary. Anaaka gives no thought or care for those it slays, desiring only the thrill of a good fight, even if each foe is soon to be forgotten. Perhaps what Anaaka truly seeks is an opponent that can quell its own insatiable appetite for battle...

Praa Name meaning: “Emptiness of life.” Equal parts elegant and deadly, Praa revels in making each battle a dance; a performance through which it can display its own lethal beauty. Every movement is made with killing intent, every strike aiming for a vital spot on the foe’s body. There must be no wasted movement, no imperfections in Praa’s performance. Alas, mortals are imperfect creatures, and so Praa has never quite found an ideal vessel among them. Perhaps being imprisoned in the spirit realm was a blessing in disguise, then; surely a more worthy host awaited the Darkin Fan there than in any Runeterran nation...

Horaazi Name meaning: “Seeking forbidden knowledge.” Horaazi represents a truth that both Aspects and Darkin are loath to admit: that perhaps gods, demons and mortals are not so different at their core. After all, is all life not born of the same stardust? Do all creatures not originate from that first wellspring of creation? Horaazi knows well this truth, as well as many others; the Lodestone offers knowledge, not power, to any mortal that would seek it... Yet for all its wisdom, Horaazi harbors a deep hatred for the one who would see an end to wisdom and those that would seek it: Xolaani.

Stryaatu Name meaning: “Wailing in agony.” The Darkin are often regarded as tools of war; deadly weapons or instruments meant to turn the tides of battle. But not all conflicts are won on the battlefield. Not all war songs are loud and imposing. Stryaatu offers a simpler solution: rather than slay your enemies, turn them to your cause. Let your emotions manifest as melody. Place your heart’s desires into the strings... Give yourself over to the harp, and the harp shall instill your hatred and bloodlust into the enemy. Watch as kings and generals turn upon each other with every note you play. That is the power of music: the power of Stryaatu.

Taarosh Name meaning: “Fighting until death.” The Blessed Isles seemed the perfect place to seal a Darkin weapon; who better to resist such temptation than those who could expel their darkest urges? However, the monks of the Isles never foresaw the day a grief-stricken king would arrive on their shores and unleash centuries of evil in an instant. As the Ruination swept through the land and corrupted everything it touched, Taarrosh stirred, its power amplified by the Black Mist. It didn’t take long to find a worthy vessel: a corrupted rider once belonging to the Iron Order. While Hecarim would lead his unending crusade against the world of light, Taarosh knows a greater conflict awaits: one that will shake the very heavens...

[arcane-ish]

Poor Ekko was robbed big time by Arcane

I’m really sad that most people who only know Arcane won’t realize just how layered Ekko is. 

If you think about it, Ekko is one of Riot’s most used characters in their extended game universe, just like Jinx they really enjoy using him. 

Most relevant for Acane of course is

this music video which premiered before the show encapsulates its themes in regards to Jinx vs. Powder and almost all of the Jinx x Ekko childhood buddies charaterization is hidden away in here. 

Ekko also figures prominently in the following cinematic: 

True Genius: Heimerdinger’s Progress Day hextech gadgets gets stolen by Jinx who tries to include it into a rocket, it gets loose, falls down into Zaun into Ekko’s hands who then tech-techs it into a hoverboard which then gets back to Heimer and is presented as the big new Progress Day invention

Seconds: Ekko’s original champion trailer, showing off his time powers and the first time, long pre-Arcane we see him having a memory wall that includes Powder

The Climb: Ekko being part of a very glitzy multi champion cinematic having the time of his life showing off his powers (seriously for just pure pretty and awesomeness, watch this one, it’s the most high production of these)

Rise of the Underworlds: Ekko taking on hextech smugglers. 

True Damage - Giants: Did you know that in the K/DA kpop universe Ekko is in a band with Akali, Senna and Qiyana, produced by Yasuo? (seriously, somebody write this as an Arcane AU where Jinx is like this angry punk fan who is angry at her childhood friend selling out and keeps crashing his concerts)

Speaking of company sanctioned AUs, did ya’ll know that Ekko has a boyfriend (ex? ardent admirer?) in an alternate timeline? I’ll let TB Skyen explain it. 

This is the short story they are referencing btw. 

Ekko’s short story on universe is Lullaby that my impression is one of the most beloved ones. Summary: Ekko has discovered time travel and has saved one of his friends from falling to his death. He comes home to his exhausted factory workers with the intention of telling them that he is not going to go apply to Piltover University, he wants to stay in Zaun instead. His parents present him with a birthday cake that they have saved all their money for. Ekko keeps rewinding time just so he can savor their moment of pride in him over and over again. 

You can also get the summary of his lore in the form of a short hand drawn fan video. (basically summing up the contents of the short story and the voice lines)

His voice lines of course are: 

The League ones where he calls out Cait and Vi (and Viktor and Jayce) and where it was revealed that he used to have a crush on Jinx. 

The Runeterra ones where Ekko’s lines revealed that Jinx’s name was Powder before the show aired. (also Benzo gets a mention)

Ekko of course (together with Jinx and various others) is confirmed to be part of the planned League of Legends fighting game. 

And of course Ekko is supposed to star in his own platformer game Conv/rgence.

This video showcases all the Skinlines Ekko has been part of so far (7) (he also has 2 skins on Runeterra, Gilded and Sandstorm)

[viking-raider]

Seals of the Lost - Prelude

Summary: An Order of Riders in the East and West, united in keeping the World harmonious, is fractured by greed and corruption. The survivors go into hiding to protect the world from the evil that wants to destroy it and rule all. But, nothing remains lost.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 7,648

Rating: PG - Language, Violence and Death, World-Building, Mythology, Lore, Magic, Historical and Modern Fiction

Inspiration: A mash-up of several movies and books I've seen and read.

Author's Note: Thanks to @wondersofdreaming for her support and encouragement and @firefly-graphics for the divider.

Tag List Blog: @viking-raider-taglist

Once, in bygone millennia, two groups and majestic creatures lived in true harmony with one another, and did for many centuries.

They had always been harmonious, the East and the West, even separated by the vast ocean between them, like they were. Both cultures took great pride in caring for the majestic creatures that inhabited the world with them. Even though in the beginning, when the creatures first appeared, it was not that way.

At first, the sightings were brushed off as nothing more than crack stories of drunks and attention seekers. But, more and more of them came in, then the first attacks started happening. Whole villages burned to the ground, all across the East and West, no side was shown special exception or spared; countless people displaced and killed.

Before, one man, Edward Williams, the East's best tracker, managed to follow one of the creatures back to its lair. But, when Edward sneaked inside, he found an entire world inside the earth, filled with every type, size and shape of the creatures, more than any of his people, East or West, could ever have imagined.

The creatures easily outnumbered all of the humans outside of their world-like cave, and it scared the life out of Edward.

What he hadn't expected was one of the creatures appearing behind him as he spied them, from what he had believed to be a hidden vantage point. Edward was sure his life was forfeit as it stood over him, caging him in with it mountainous body, thick and frothy drool dripping from its snarling, scaly lips and dagger-sharp row of teeth, puffing foul and hot breath from its nostrils into his face, like the great heat of a blacksmith's forge or a venting volcano. Edward trembled, squeezing his eyes shut and mumbling a prayer to himself, giving himself his own last rites, and lifting hand to his face to cross himself, when he felt a very gentle touch against the side of his palm, and dared to crack open one of his eyes.

“Well.” He dared to croak out, his throat dry, as the creature eased back from him. “That was an interesting turn of events.” He mumbled, blinking at the creature, thunderstruck by the fact the creature didn't either eat him or roast him, like something on a spit over a fire.

He flexed his fingers and slowly reached out and and touched two fingers to the creature's face, felt what he could only describe as a purr and relaxed, throwing out all the knowledge and preconceived notions he had about them.

Yes, they had attacked, blackened villages and killed, but he felt there had to be a reason for why this was, and endeavored in finding out why. So, Edward Williams vanished inside the creature's underworld, protected by his new friend and in the years that followed he became one with the creatures that lived and thrived inside of it, until he emerged and returned to the world of his own kind, with his friend, who he had named, Mavy.

Then, with time and many trials, the people of the East and West became harmonious with the creatures, protecting and caring for them, each group, each culture having their own way of doing so. They revered them and the creatures returned that sentiment in the same gratitude and measure. Many of the humans bonded to the creatures, becoming linked together, like one mind inside two very different bodies, even allowing the humans to have gifts, becoming what was known as Riders.

But, like all things, especially things of good and harmony, it did not last.

“The bond between us and them is a bond that should not be corrupted!”

“Aye!

“Who do you think you are!? This is not what we stand for, Christos!”

“This isn't what you stand for!” Christos roared back, slamming his fist on the stone table before him. “And I am sick of your do-gooier ways. The rulers gain riches from Riders protecting their borders, lands and people, and from what?” He hissed, looking around the table. “There hasn't been a war, a skirmish, not even a riot, in nearly four hundred years!”

“That's because of us, Christos!” One of the others at the table with him sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, exhausted and exasperated with Christsos's pettiness. “We don't do it for the money or the glory. But the greater good and prosperity of the world around us.”

“Both worlds.” Another agreed, nodding his head. “For humans and them.”

“Not any longer.” Christos growled under his breath, glowering at the table. “I'm sick of it. I demand a Rider's right, so I can get what's right; payment for protecting these greedy men's lands.”

The men around the table looked at each other, surprised at his demand to have the right to their lifestyle, their occupation and what had been passed down to them through birth and proof of passage. The leader of the group, who had remained silent during the arguments, stood from his chair, letting out a heavy sigh and shook his head at Christos as he leaned his hands against the table.

“No, Christos.” He told him, plainly. “You have no birth right to be a Rider, and you have not proven yourself worthy to become one either. Your greed and anger is plain to see, and even if it was not now, I fear it would be not too far in the future, corrupting your bond as a Rider, and as the head of this Order, I can not allow that.” He spoke honestly, meeting Christos's furious brown eyes.

Christos jerked out a stiff finger, pointing to the head leader. “You will regret this, all of you will regret this, from this moment to the very ends of time and your bloodlines!” He threatened, spitting on the table, before spinning on his heels and storming out of the hall, with a determination that would fuel the flames and tides of the war that would fracture and splinter the East and West into the world as people know it, in current times.

The Order didn't take Christos's word as a threat, in the beginning that is.

He vanished off the map, not a whisper on the winds or from the other Order Houses about his movements throughout the world. The leaders and rulers believed he had let out his hot air and ran off to pout and lick his wounded ego over his rejection. That was until people started disappearing all across the lands, of all statures and social standings, even the family members of the Riders, but that wasn't the worst of it, the evidence left behind the disappearances was damning, and damning for the Order and Riders.

“Sir, they're gathering outside!”

“Yes, Marcus, I can hear them.” The Order leader sighed, pacing the room, hearing the echo of the jeering voices in the stone room around him, causing the situation to weigh even more heavily on him.

“How could they think that we and our creatures are behind these disappearances?” Marcus asked, looking to his leader for comfort. “We've spent centuries in harmony, protecting them, keeping the peace and prosperity. We find what causes people to go missing, not cause them!” He roared, his temper overcoming him, and the room around him shaking.

“Calm yourself, Marcus, getting angry will solve none of this.” His leader sighed, resting his hands on his shoulders.

“But, it isn't fair, Alaric.” Marcus hissed, still angry.

“We will right this, Marcus.” Alaric assured him with a pat on the shoulder.

The doors to the Order house flew open and one of the other Riders came rushing in, out of breath and his clothing torn, from his struggle through the mob crowded outside, and skid to a halt before Marcus and Alaric, taking a moment to catch his breath again.

“What is it, Asher?” Alaric asked, with wide eyed concern.

“Whitewich has been attacked.” He wheezed, stumbling over to the table in the middle of the room to grab a tankard sitting on it and gulp down the remaining liquid inside, quenching his dry tongue.

“By one of our own.”

“What!” Alaric roared, flabbergasted at the news.

“Ronan, from one of the West Order houses, flew into Whitewich on his creature and attacked the village, torching the whole place. Nearly killing all the inhabitants within its walls, before denouncing the Order and the Riders, then flew off again.” Asher told Alaric, leaning against the table and mopping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

“What does Bowen say of this?” Alaric asked, lifting his brow at Asher. “He's the Western Leader for our Order there.”

“He and his Riders are trying to track Ronan down, to bring him to justice.” Asher replied, sighing heavily.

A door to the south of them swung open, admitting a bent back, severely bow-legged, elderly man, with long, thinning white hair, twisted into two braids, each resting on either shoulder. Alaric turned towards the old man and lifted a brow at him, giving him a patient moment to collect his energy and find the words in his senile mind, before letting out soft, but good-natured, sigh.

“What is it, Gilbert?” He asked in a gentle tone.

“Mess..enger—birds,..your..grace.” Gilbert replied in a shaky voice. “Many..of..them.”

Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose, not at all having a good feeling about the messenger birds appearing in their coop. “All right.” He groaned, and followed Gilbert very slowly out of the Order's central room and into the open air of a courtyard, where the angry voices of the crowd was even louder, and to a tall circular tower, dominated by the fluttering and flapping of bird's wings and their calls. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Alaric, Gilbert, Asher and Marcus entered the tower, where a group of four men were gently holding ravens and pigeons, removing teeny scrolls from leather tubes tied to one of their feet, before letting them go, to fly up into one of the empty cubby holes to rest from their long flights.

“What are the messages?” Alaric asked the workers.

“Mostly the same, sir.” One of the men answered, carefully unrolling the message he removed from the raven balanced on his forearm. “Several Riders across multiple Houses, in the West mostly, but three here in the East have joined them, have turned their backs on the Order, attacking villages, towns and cities all across the world.” He read from the scroll, also reciting several of the others he and others had read before Alaric arrived.

“They're flying under the banner of a Serpent and uttering the same one name.” He said, looking up at Alaric. “Christos Forebine.”

“So,” Alaric sighed, dropping into a nearby chair. “He's kept his promise.” He whispered, dropping his face into his hands.

“Alaric, we must do something!” Marcus barked at him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him violently. “You are the Leader of our Order, you can't not admit defeat and let this monster take over! Christos will not stop until he has destroyed us all and taken every last one of our creatures, then has taken control of the world!”

“He's right.” Asher agreed with Marcus, nodding his head. “Christos could corrupt more of them and the Riders to tip the world's balance into his favor, making himself supreme ruler of us all!”

“We need to stop him, before this gets fully out of our control, Alaric.” Marcus said softly, frowning down at his long time Leader and friend.

“You're right, we need to gather our Riders and get things in the sky and ground under our control again.” Alaric nodded, biting his lip. “Gilbert, Tomas.” He looked to the workers for the messenger birds. “I want you to send out birds to as many Riders as possible, the ones here in the East and any remaining from the West. I want them here as quickly as they can get here.”

Tomas nodded and got quickly to work, while Gilbert stood in place for a moment, before shuffling away somewhere.

“Asher and Marcus, come with me.”

The resistance of Riders gathered in the East Order House, only one of the Order Houses from the West was left not corrupted from Christos and by the time all of the messenger birds were sent out to the Houses, two of the Eastern Order Houses fell under him.

Alaric knew Christos would never again sit down and talk with the remaining Order Houses about peace and coming to an agreement to stop the conflict and unrest he was creating between the East and West. There was only one thing Christos knew, especially now that he had a league of experienced and seasoned Riders on his side, and becoming a Rider-in-training himself, and that was war and skirmishes. The two groups that had once rallied together, now fought on that same land wrecking havoc and leaving behind bloodshed and death, fighting family and friends, leaders and teachers to maintain a way of life or to create a new one where they could be the new masters.

“Asher is dead, as is his creature.” Marcus informed Alaric, wiping blood from the corner of his brow. “Two of Christos's Rider's dragged them out of the sky.” He frowned, the sight of Asher's death still fresh in his mind.

“Neither stood a chance at survival.”

Alaric, leaning against a table as he surveyed a map of the current battlefield, bowed his head, devastated by the news of Asher's death, his worn and cut up face pinched with deep emotion. “It's a heavy blow.” He mumbled, not lifting his heavy head.

“Alaric Saintwatcher.” A voice called across the makeshift war room.

Alaric looked up and saw Darius Simperwill approach him, limping rather badly, a bloody rag bound tightly around his thigh, with several of the other Riders, in no better shape than he was behind him.

“What is it, Darius?” He asked, rubbing his face and standing, groaning at the stiffness in his back and limbs.

“We can no longer sustain the fight against Christos and his followers.” Darius said, stopping at the table. “More of our Riders either join his forces or die. We need a better plan.”

“And you have one?” Alaric replied, lifting an exhausted brow at him.

“There has to be somewhere we can take our creatures and people, where Christos and his filthy traitors can't get their hands on them.” One of the Riders with Darius grumbled behind him.

“Don't you think, if there was such a place, genius, we would have gone there already?” Marcus retorted, scowling at him.

“It might not exist now, genius.” He belittled Marcus back, huffing at him.

“Speak plainly!” Alaric roared, tired of the nitpicking and petty squabbles of late.

“We all know that our bonds with our creatures can give us power, aye?” Darius said, looking around the room.

“Aye.” Alaric sighed, nodding his head and dropping into his chair.

“Well, Edward Williams believed that Riders and their creatures could combine their powers together and open a door, creating a completely different world, only they could open and close.”

Marcus's head reared back, his laughter filling the room with a thunderous boom. “Open a door to create a totally different world, where we can all have a merry little jaunt into, while Christos stays here, in this world, and rules?” He continued to laugh, shaking his head and held his stomach.

“That's a marvelous idea, Darius.”

“Marcus, hush!” Alaric snapped and rolled his eyes at him, then looked to Darius. “How do you expect me to take those I now have under my care into this world we could possibly create for safety and leave those Christos has under his corruption here?”

“They are already lost!” Darius hissed at him, slapping his hands on the table.

“And the innocent people that wouldn't be able to cross this door with us?” Alaric demanded, angrily. “I've read of this theory in the old texts before, only a Rider and the creatures can cross the doorway. Regular humans would be trapped on this side of it.” He said, jabbing his finger into the table top.

“Leaving them to Christos's fury, when we vanish into it. I won't do that. I won't leave them to that fate, it's against everything we stand for.”

Darius huffed and pushed away from the table, frustrated and at his wit's end.

“What about an ambush?” Marcus asked, biting his lip.

“What kind of ambush?” Alaric asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Set Christos and his traitors up in an ambush of some type that allows us to kill them and their creatures. Then, once they are gone, we can open the door and take the remaining Riders and creatures through, protecting them, so no others are able to do such a thing like what he has again.”

Darius turned back towards Alaric, holding his gaze for a long moment, before they nodded at each other.

“Gather all those we have left.” Alaric said, his eyes never leaving Darius.

Within the hour, the remaining twelve were gathered in the war room and were told the plan on how they intended to put an end to the war.

“How do we open this door?”

“It takes five of us to create and open the door to the world we make for ourselves, but three of the five, must stay behind.” Alaric explained to the group.

“Why?”

“Three Seals will be forged within the door, when it is created. To lock the door behind us, the three Seals must be removed from the door.” Darius picked up explaining. “We can't allow just anyone to watch over the Seals once the doors are closed. It has to be three people out of this trusted group, or all will be for not.”

“I'll be one of the three.” Marcus spoke up, standing up from his seat. “It would be my honor to guard the door that gives my people safety.”

“As will I.” Another Rider vowed, standing with Marcus.

A soft murmur went through the room.

“Aye, I'll be your third.” said a man in the back, raising his hand above his head.

“Then, those two, Marcus, Alaric and I will open the door.” Darius said, nodding his head as the plan came together. “Now,-”

“I won't be going.” Alaric interrupted him.

“What?” Marcus and Darius snapped in unison.

“We need someone to set the ambush.”

“Absolutely not!” Marcus hissed, stomping over to Alaric's side. “You can't! Take my place, protect the Seal. I'll set up the ambush with Christos, it was my idea after all.”

“No, Marcus.” Alaric shook his head, sighing softly at him. “Christos won't go anywhere without just cause. He's always been suspicious and paranoid, so for him to be led into a place for any reason, has to be for a good reason.”

“Am I not a good enough reason?”

Alaric smirked at Marcus and lifted an amused brow, his face getting the point across that he certainly was not good enough to lure Christos anywhere, making Marcus's shoulders slump.

“You couldn't lure him out of the loo.” Darius teased him.

“Oh, shut it.” Marcus hissed at him, angrily. “I can't let you do this.”

“Marcus, I am the Leader of the Order, it is my job to protect it and all those inside of it.” He told him, sincerely. “I am also the only one Christos will deem valuable enough to meet.”

“He's right.” Darius agreed, sadly nodding his head. “What do you have in mind, Alaric?” He asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Just leave that to me.” Alaric replied, his mind already working on it.

“All right, then we need one other for the door.” Darius sighed, looking around the room.

“I'll help.” A soft voice in the back answered.

Heads turned and looked at the timid face of Tomas.

“I know the history behind it.” Tomas said, gulping and looking around the room.

“Thank you, Tomas.” Alaric said, smiling at him.

Tomas smiled shyly at him, nodding his head and shuffling his feet.

“There has to be someone else.” Marcus whispered into Alaric's ear.

“I chose Tomas, he'll do well.” Alaric replied, dismissing Marcus's notion.

“Where do we make this door?”

“We need a safe place. We'll scour for it, while preparations are made for the refugees to go through the door, once it is opened. Make sure to gather as many supplies as possible, for all those that cross the threshold. There's no telling what will be found there, once on the other side.” Alaric said, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room.

“I might have a place, as well.” Tomas spoke up, lifting a pointer finger.

“Where?” Darius demanded, narrowing his eyes at the younger man.

“The original world cave is nearby.” Tomas started to explain to them, moving over to the table, where several maps were laid out. “Here, this was the original world cave, where Edward Williams discovered our creatures.”

“It's unmarked and very few actually know where it is.”

“How do you know where it is?” Marcus asked, looking at the map where Tomas's finger was tapping.

“I've spent my life studying the ancient texts.” Tomas answered, looking up at him. “He described the specific world cave countless times, and I've explored several of them myself, and this is the one that fits the description of it.”

“You're sure?” Alaric asked, leaning forward to look at the map.

“On my creature.” Tomas nodded, sure of himself.

“Then, what?” Marcus asked, lifting a brow at Tomas.

“We go to the world cave, open the door and those going can enter through the doorway. Once that is done, the Seal Keepers remove the Seals and the door will lock behind them.” Tomas explained to the room. “I do propose, once the door is closed and the Seals removed, that the three of us Keepers collapse the entrance of the cave, preventing anyone from finding it again. So, anyone that would wish to take Christos's cause up after his demise can not find it and do so.”

“That is a solid idea, Tomas.” Alaric replied, stroking his chin and nodding his head. “I want the five of you to go there and start the preparations to open the door, the rest of you will start gathering supplies to go through it.” He said, standing up.

“And you, Alaric?” Darius asked, standing up with him.

“As I said, leave that to me.” Alaric replied, before leaving the room.

The five who agreed to open the door arrived at the world cave discovered by Edward Williams all those centuries ago, finding a small path that laid to a shelf and a reasonably flat enough rock face.

“This'll do.” Tomas said, pressing his hand against it. “It's perfect for what we need.” He nodded, then turned to the others. “Do you all know the words?” He asked them, hopefully.

“I know them.” Darius spoke up.

“Darius told me about them after the meeting.” Marcus added.

The two others just glanced at each other and back at Tomas.

“Right, so.” Tomas sighed, pressing his fingers into his eyes and paced the narrow shelf. “The words go like this; 'Through our shared bond, with we and them. We call upon it, in this time of need, to open this door, so that we may soar into a new world and be free, once more'.” He recited the words.

“Understood?”

“Aye.” the four other men nodded their heads.

“Place a hand on the stone.” Tomas motioned for them too.

The four approached the wall, reaching out a hand to touch the cool wall alongside Tomas.

“Now, tap into your bond with your creature.” He instructed them. “Let the bond flow wide open and free, like the flowing of a river.”

They all took a deep breath, opening themselves and feeling the tingle and hum of their bonds strengthen to their fullest potential, making the air around them shimmer with it.

“All together now, say the words.” Tomas said. “And push it into the rock.”

“Through our shared bond, with we and them. We call upon it, in this time of need, to open this door, so that we may soar into a new world and be free, once more.” They all said in unison, squeezing their eyes shut.

They repeated the incantation over and over, the words slowly getting muddled as they did, but their meaning and purpose was not lost with them. With each completed pass of the incantation, thin glowing blue lines cracked through the face of the wall, tracing and weaving the outline of a mighty door, making the cavern around them rumble and quake, then slowly scrape open.

“It actually worked.” One of the men huffed, stepping away from the door, mouth hanging open.

“What did you actually expect, you daft monkey?” Marcus snapped at him.

“Calm down, Marcus.” Darius sighed. “Ian doesn't mean anything by it.”

“Yeah, I don't.” Ian replied, making a smug face at Marcus.

“Ian, come with me, we'll go and tell Alaric that the door is ready. The rest of you stay here and make sure no one comes that shouldn't, and set up the explosives for us to close the cave entrance, when the time comes.” Darius said, motioning for Ian for him to follow, making for the mouth of the cave and returning to the sanctuary, where the remaining Riders were holed up.

“Alaric, we're ready.” Darius said, entering the Leader's private chamber.

“Good, excellent.” Alaric nodded, standing near the fireplace in his chamber. “I'm leaving soon, Darius.” He said, staring into the flames. “But, before I go, I have one more thing I need to do. To ensure.”

“All right.” Darius nodded, frowning at Alaric's back.

“Will you help me with it?” Alaric asked, turning towards him.

“Aye, tell me what I can do?”

Alaric touched a pendant hanging around his neck, then took it off. “Come here.” He said, motioning Darius closer to him.

Darius regarded him for a moment, before approaching him, and Alaric held the pendent out to him, both of them holding it together.

“I, Alaric Saintwatcher, give you, Darius Simperwill, the pendent of the Order of the East-” Alaric began.

“Alaric, wait.” Darius began to protest. “You can't do this.”

“I can and I will, Darius.” Alaric growled back. “Those remaining will need a Leader.”

“Marcus is the second in command.”

“He's one of the three Seal Keepers, he can't be the Leader of those who go through the door.” Alaric barked at him, agitated that Darius was causing them precious time with foolish protests. “You are the only one it can be. You're the only one I trust enough, with enough experience and respect for those going.” He argued.

“Now, shut up and let me finish.” He huffed, squeezing their hands around the pendent. “I, Alaric Saintwatcher, give you, Darius Simperwill, the pendent of the Order of the East to take responsibility for all those that the Order encompasses, for their safety and well-being.” He recited the oath from heart, remembering from when he had taken it, all those decades before.

“Do you take this oath, Darius Simperwill?” He asked, meeting his eye.

Darius stared at him for a long moment, conflicted about taking the oath, of taking his place, knowing Marcus would lose his mind when he found out. But, it was what Alaric wanted. “Aye, I'll take the oath, Alaric Saintwatcher.”

“Then, I pass this on to you.” Alaric said, letting the pendant go. “Wear it with pride.”

Darius stared at it for a moment, rubbing his thumb over the raised symbol on the pendant, before hanging it around his neck by the worn and frayed leather cord. “I'll do you proud, Alaric.” He said, a lump in his throat.

Alaric clasped him on the shoulder. “I have no doubt otherwise.” He smiled. “One last drink?” He asked, grabbing an emerald green bottle off a nearby table and held it up.

“Aye, one more drink.” Darius nodded, tears burning in his eyes.

“To the Order, to the Riders, to our Creatures and to our ways of life!” Alaric declared, holding up his glass in salute.

Darius nodded, holding up his glass. “To true friends.” He added, holding Alaric's eye with a soft smile.

“To true friends.” Alaric agreed, quietly choked up, before both of them swallowed their drinks in one mouthful.

Alaric watched as the Order's refugees silently funnel out of the sanctuary, carefully vanishing into the dark hills that surrounded it, making their way towards the mouth of the world cave that secreted the door to their refuge, led by Darius, their new Order Leader.

Sighing, he turned to his creature and mounted, flying off to do his last bidding. He took a deep breath of the cool night air streaming past his head, his eyes falling shut and letting the free and weightless feeling take over him, an ocean of inky purple clouds and sparkling stars and constellations all around him.

“Our last ride, Tila.” He murmured, resting forward and wrapping his arms around his creature's thick, scaly neck.

His mind flitted back to the message he had sent to Christos in his own battlement, giving him a place to meet, under the false pretense of peace between both sides. He arranged for them to meet inside a world cave, claiming it was Edward's world cave, what perfect place to set him up in, making him think it was the cave that started it all, the cave that would give him all the power he wanted.

The mouth of the cave came into view and Alaric could see a few of Christos's Riders standing outside, waiting for him to arrive and join them inside. Letting out a heavy breath, he and his creature landed, ignoring those already on the ground and entered the world cave, those outside following him inside, closing in around him and Tila.

“Where are the rest of your brats?” Christos's voice echoed over to Alaric.

“Back at our sanctuary.” Alaric replied, slipping off of Tila.

“Doing things on your own, as always, Alaric.” Christos mocked him. “Keeping your pups cowering behind your walls.”

“Do you want to talk or throw insults, Christos?” Alaric sighed, rolling his eyes, feeling antsy.

“Peace!” Christos screamed, throwing his arms out wide, and turning in a circle, making every one of his followers laugh. “The great Order Leader, Alaric Saintwatcher wants peace, in exchange for what, exactly?”

“You stopping this crusade, this needless bloodshed of our kind.”

“Ha!” Christos hissed back. “Now, I'm one of your kind.”

Alaric sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose, knowing there was no real way to get through to Christos Forebine, unless it was on his own terms.

“How about I take my Riders and torch your precious sanctuary and Riders?” Christos suggested, pandering to his riled up followers. “Then, there will be true peace!”

“With you as the ruler of us all?” Alaric replied, lifting a brow at him.

“Exactly.” Christos grinned at him, impishly. “But, that starts with getting rid of you.” He growled, narrowing his eyes at Alaric. “Kill him!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.

Alaric's heart started to pound against his ribs, he rested his hand on Tila's neck as Christos's followers started closing in on him. He waited, calmly, before it was almost too late for him to make his move.

“Now, Tila!” He shouted, patting her on the neck.

Stretching her long neck and letting out an ear splitting shriek, Tila opened her mouth and shot a blueish-purple flaming orb into the dome of the world cave, causing the entire cave to quake, huge pieces of the ceiling came crashing down and hitting Riders and Creatures alike, startling them. As they started to recover again, Tila let out another blast to a separate part of the world cave's ceiling, causing

even more of the ceiling to collapse on top of them.

“Alaric, what are you doing!?” Christos shouted over the noise of crashing rock and panicked voices.

“What I must!” Alaric roared back at him.

With one alarming rumble and strong tremor, the rest of the world cave's ceiling gave way, crumbling away on top of them. Many of Christos's followers attempted to escape, to get to some kind of safety before it was too late, but it was too late, the mouth of the cave fell in on itself, closing them in, with no other way out, leaving them to their deaths.

Meanwhile, Alaric's remaining Riders and creatures, now under the watchful leadership of Darius, felt the ground shake as they ascended deep into Edward's real world cave towards the Seal Door. Darius and Marcus glanced at each other as they stood beside each other at the door, knowing what was causing the shake.

“Well, I'll assume Alaric was successful.” Darius sighed, watching the last few remaining Riders funnel in.

“We'll soon find out.” Marcus replied, biting his lip and felt a sharp heaviness in his chest. “Still can't believe he made you the new Leader of the Order.” He huffed, folding his arms over his chest, dejectedly.

Darius sighed again, rubbing his fingertips into his tired eyes. “I told him, it should have been you who took his place. But, he said, since you were chosen to be a Seal Keeper, it had to be me.” He said, dropping his hands to his sides and looking over at his long time friend.

“I know.” Marcus answered, lightly jabbing his shoulder into Darius's and gave him a teasing smile. “Still can't believe it.” He chuckled.

“Do me one solid favor, though?”

“Anything, Marcus?” Darius nodded, his brow pinching with sincerity.

“Will you take care of Icarus for me?” He asked, looking at his creature, with a loving, but sad, smile. “She's a good ol' girl, spits ice farther than any I've ever met.” He reminisced, petting her incandescent blue wing.

“You have my promise.” Darius swore, resting his hand on Darius's back. “I'll take care of her, like I care for Elio.”

“I appreciate it, Darius.” Marcus sighed, clasping him on the arm. “I really do.”

“Everyone's here and ready.” Tomas said, approaching Darius and Marcus.

“Ian and Coda, are you ready?” Marcus asked, looking at his fellow Seal Keepers.

“We are.” Ian nodded and glanced at Coda.

“All right, that just leaves the rest up to you, Darius.” Marcus said, respectfully bowing to him.

“Oh, don't go giving me any of that bullshit, Marcus Cuillen.” Darius huffed at him, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and pulled him into a bear hug. “I'll miss you.”

“Don't go soft now.” Marcus roared, squeezing him back, before they broke apart, and he stepped away from Marcus to stand beside Coda and Ian.

“Riders!” Darius called out, his voice reverberating off the stone walls.

“We are all that is left. We and our creatures, who we are tasked with protecting, but we are also tasked with protecting the way of our life, of our Order.” He shouted, meeting the eye of as many Riders he could. “For that reason, we will enter this door, into a new world, where it is safe for us and them. I do not know, if ever, we will return to this world, or what we will find, when we do.”

“But, for now, this is what we must do, and as your new Leader, I will step through first, to show to you, it is safe!”

Taking a deep breath, Darius turned towards the open stone door. He couldn't see what was on the other side of it, because of a shimmering, dark purple membrane stretched across the opening stood between the Order and their new world. So, squaring his shoulders and fortified by what he was doing was for the greater good of his people and the world at large, Darius strode forward with his head held high and confident. He reached his hand out, touching the membrane with his fingertips and found it to be cool, as the rock face itself, before pushing his hand through it, making it ripple, like water.

Darius looked over his shoulder and smiled at the group behind him, then stepped through, vanishing on the other side. A gasp rippling through the group left behind. A moment later, Darius's creature, Elio, stirred its scales and approached the door, slipping through it without a thought or hesitation.

“It must be safe.” Ian spoke up, after a minute of nothing. “Or he wouldn't have summoned his creature to follow after him.” He pointed out.

“True.” Marcus nodded his head. “Okay, everyone!” He shouted, getting the group's attention as they all stared at the doorway, wide eyed and astonished. “Single file, start going through. No pushing or shoving! Nice and easy, that's it.” He nodded his head, as the group started to trail in, somewhat hesitatingly at first, through the door with what belongings and supplies they could carry, as well as with their creature.

Once all of the Order was inside, the three Seal Keepers said their last good-byes to their own creatures, knowing for their safety, they had to also go through the doorway, and sent them on their way; Ian tearing up a little bit as his creature's tail disappeared through the membrane last.

“Now what, Marcus?” Ian asked, looking at him, as a lonely feeling starting to spread inside of his chest.

“We close the door.” Marcus replied, having a similar feeling. “Help me push it.” He said, moving around and planting his hands on the door.

Nodding their heads, Coda and Ian joined him, then with grunts and groans, they pushed the door closed, slotting it back into the rock face seamlessly, except for the eerie blue glow it still had to it.

“Right.” Marcus sighed, dusting his hands on the thighs of his pants. “I'll take the top Seal.” He said, reaching up for the object slotted into the front of the door, and after a moment of figuring it out, gave it a half turn to the left and popped it out, feeling the hefty weight of it in his single palm.

“I'll take the right one.” Ian replied, grabbing it and with a quarter turn to the right, had it out in his hand as well.

Nodding his head, Coda removed the left Seal with a full turn. The three of them stood together for a long while, staring down at their Seals, each with a different symbol on it. They could feel a faint hum of power slowly fading out of them, as the magic that opened the door vanished into the thin air around them, causing the glow of the now closed and locked doorway to dull and darken, leaving a pale outline of where they had once been, the only evidence of their existence, other than the Seals.

“How about a pint?” Ian suddenly suggested, looking up from his Seal.

Marcus heaved a sigh. “I could use a drink.”

“What about you, Coda?” Ian asked, lifting a brow at him.

Coda stared at his Seal a moment longer, then looked up at the other two men, shook his head and started making his way back out of the world cave. Marcus and Ian shrugged their shoulders at each other, but followed him out of the cave as well. They stopped outside of the cave, tucking the Seals away on their person for safety, before lighting the fuses to the explosives they had laid, then put several yards between them and the cave as the muffled explosions went off and the earth around it folded in on itself. With a respectful bow, Coda took his leave of Marcus and Ian, going off into the night, on his own.

“I think it's best we also part ways, as well.” Marcus said, setting down his pint, as he and Ian sat in an ale house in the nearest town. “We're no longer Riders.” He sighed, staring into the foam of his drink. “Even if we still had our creatures, we couldn't do anything with them, it would be too dangerous.”

“I believe you're right.” Ian burped, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “We would be daft to be in the same town, let alone the same city with our Seals, should anyone come looking for them.”

“No one should even be alive, other than the three of us and those that crossed the door, that know about the Seals either way.” Marcus commented, flicking his hand to motion to the full room of patrons. “If Alaric's plan went off like it should have, all of Christos's followers should be dead.”

“You know, there has to be some low life, wanna-be, Rider that followed that madman out there.” Ian huffed, lifting a brow at Marcus. “You would be an idiot not to be slightly paranoid about it.”

“I am.” Marcus barked, lifting his tankard back to his mouth and took a deep drink. “That's why I suggested we separate too. Just like Coda did.”

Ian bit his lip and pushed his jaw forward, nodding. “All right.” He huffed, rubbing at his face and feeling the weight of his Seal in his pocket. “I've always loved it across the sea, the land is nice.” He mumbled. “I'm sure Coda is going back to his corner in the far East.”

“Why don't you stick around here, we'll all three cover those bases.” He suggested, lifting a brow.

Marcus cleared his throat and thought it over. He wasn't opposed to staying in the part of the world they were in, but he still wanted a change in scenery, just like Ian and Coda did. “I might wander up North a bit. I'm sick of this area, nothing but heartache and bad omens.”

“That's up to you.” Ian replied, shrugging his big shoulders.

“I doubt the three of us will ever see each other again.”

“Good.” Ian chuckled, hoarsely. “I'm sick of your face and have been for years.” He said, cracking a smile.

“The feeling's mutual.” Marcus grinned, lifting his cup and knocked it against Ian's, when he lifted his. “To the Order and, hopefully, a better world.” He toasted, before they both gulped down the rest of their ales, shook hands and took leave of each other, their Seals safe with them as they went.

“Yes, Mum. I just got the box delivered ten minutes ago.” Henry replied, pressing his phone to his ear with his shoulder and pulled a steak knife out of the drawer, to cut the packaging tape off the box his mother had shipped to him from Jersey.

“How are you liking the new place, love?” Marianne asked her son.

“I really like it.” He answered, pulling open the cardboard flaps of the box. “It's quiet out here and there's a ton of yard for Kal to go wild in.” He grinned, twisting his upper body to look out the kitchen window in time to see a Kal sized blur bolt across the backyard and into the side yard. “He's already dug five holes.” He chuckled, turning back towards the box.

“Anyway, what's in this thing, mum?” He asked, peeking inside.

“Just some stuff from your room and things I didn't know what else to do with.” She answered him.

“Ah, I see, it's my turn to house some of the family nick-nacks.” Henry laughed, pulling out a few things that had been in his childhood bedroom, smiling fondly at them.

“Oh, I have another call, Henry. I'm glad you love the new house! I'll call you later”

“Thanks, mum!” He replied and hung up with her, then put his full attention on the things in the box. “What's this?” Henry frowned, pulling out an old, round disc that had a bit of weight to it and a worn marking on one side. “Weird.” He mumbled, turning it over and looking for any marks that could tell him what it was, the nerd in him interested and drawn to it.

“I wonder if there's a place I could get you checked out at.” He said, biting his lip and set it down on the kitchen counter, but he wasn't even sure where he would start to look. “I'll have to do some research later on tonight.” He decided, then finished unpacking the box and putting the things inside of it away in various places around his new house in the English countryside.

[pantheon-god-of-war]

If possible, are there any Pantheon skins that you wish to be Canon?

Just give us a Legendary The Warrior skin of Pantheon reborn.

Lore wise it could be after the Ruination. Atreus has expelled Pantheon from his body with his own gritty resolve, Pantheon requires a vessel to take form in mortal shape but the war of the Ruination has caused so much havoc and strengthened him so much that he manages to keep a corporal form for a brief while. He retreats to the peak of Targon and to spite Atreus revives his long-dead friend Pylas to possess and mold his flesh to the war gods needs. Pantheon is fully in control because Pylas has long since died, only using the body himself.

Now Pantheon pursues the interests of Targon and his own dark desires while Atreus tries to actively counter the War god. Both will still fight the darkin, but for different reasons. Pantheon will do so because they threaten Targon Prime and Atreus does so to save the humans that's would undoubtedly die in the wake of the darkin.

VOICELINES

Pantheon differs from Atreus in a few key aspects (heh) where Atreus is noble and stalwart, Pantheon is deliberate and ruthless, where Atreus anger towards the gods is a cold and determined hate Pantheon's contempt for mortals, darkin and all those who would face him is clearly made evident, he speaks with pride, being condescending to everyone he encounters, thirsting for another challenge to vanquish. His LoR voice lines already highlight his personality quite well and I think the sound effects work perfectly for him, that could all be ported from LoR into league to replicate the sound effect. Voice line wise he could have interactions with the following:

Pantheon (Atreus) - While Pantheon does not outright hate Atreus like let's say Aatrox for example he sees the mortal man as a failure of a warrior, knowing only defeat his entire life. Interactions would be more condescending.

Ascended Pantheon - Here Pantheon would see Ascended Atreus as a worthy challenge, something along the lines of "Perhaps now you can prove yourself worthy." Or something more condescending. "No matter the cosmic might you hold, you will always be a mortal."

Aatrox - He loathes Aatrox with a passion for what he did to him, but also realizes that the Darkin might be his only true equal combat-wise.

Leona - Pantheon would be fond of Leona, applaud her for her fine work, call her the daughter of Targon, and that the sun is proud of what she has wrought upon the Mountain. He would tell her that she is right, that she needs to defend her people from the coming darkness and not grow careless upon her golden throne. He would support the militaristic order of the Solari and goad on their zealous witch hunt as in the end all he cares about is war and the more carnage Leona causes on the mountain in the name of the sun, the stronger he gets.

Diana - Diana is the same as Leona, he would tell her to keep fighting, to hold on and think of her people. That he can see the cracks in the Solari foundation and that soon the moon will triumph. Much like Leona, these are sweet lies to goad both of them onward to fight harder and grow more reckless in their pursuit of victory.

Taric - Taric is the antithesis to Pantheon, championing love and life against his war and hate, He would call out Taric and try to kill the noble hero because he spits on the ideals Taric protects.

Soraka - Pantheon would be disappointed in Soraka, to have forsaken the stars for these mortals, he would never understand and while he is not hostile he also tells her that she is dead to him. Just another mortal.

Zoe - He would want to know how Zoe sealed the Darkin away, and if there is a way to make them disappear forever. He would also be annoyed by her childish appearance/demeanor since Myisha was a lot more mature than Zoe.

Aurelion Sol - He would remind Aurelion Sol that with his return the tether locking him to Targon grows stronger again. It has been Pantheon for ages to bind Aurelion to Targon and now with him returned Pantheon will make sure Aurelion is put back in his place.

Other Darkin - He would simply tell them that their end is nigh, that Pantheon has found them, and that they are about to expire.

Other Gods/Demi Gods - here it depends on how many interactions would be wanted, he could comment on the powers of the sun disc being borrowed from the Sun/Solari/Leona's aspect or challenge Volibear to a fight. Lots more here if interactions need to be stretched out.

Sion - Pantheon looks kindly on Sion, a beast revived for war, its very humanity dull and eroded where only violence and anger remain. Pantheon would call Sion his champion of War and tell him to go slaughter in the name of war.

Other Warriors (Garen/Tryndamere/Darius/Olaf/etc) He would salute them and challenge them to combat, noting how a death at his feet is the greatest honor they can wish for.

A cool idea for VO would be that he gets a Taunt like normal champs but then you get different voice lines for ally champions when you hit taunt.

Example

Enemy Pantheon - "Atreus, you come before me again, with my very own spear. Kneel boy. A dog should recognize it's better."

Ally Pantheon - "You feel the power, let loose Atreus, show me your rage and perhaps you will be worthy of my favor."

Enemy Aatrox - "Another one of your flesh puppets for me to rend Aatrox? Pathetic!"

Ally Aatrox - "You and me against them?! Who can stand against Aspect AND Darkin?"

Enemy Leona - "You say you burn as the sun does! So then, show me your fire girl!"

Ally Leona - "The daughter of Targon and War eternal who could hope to stand against such a phalanx of spear, sword, and shield?"

I always wanted to have more interaction with allies, since you only see enemy champions every now and then, and even if you do they mostly attack you and never let you enjoy the interactions. Whereas if you play with friends you can actually enjoy this content of ally interaction. Idk why Riot has not done this before.

MODEL

The base design doesn't have to differ so much from the Legends of Runeterra Warrior design. (KEEP IT RED) Red stands for hot-headed aggression, red stands for fire, red stands for blood. Red is a color much more fitting to war than blue and the argument that Pantheon's cape is blue to show his allegiance with the stars is null and void since LoR showed us all HOW GOOD red looks on Pantheon. It fits so much better.

Some small tweaks here and there perhaps but overall the base model looks great. If the cape would be longer and more flowing like Yoric it would be great, aside from that there could be small visual design changes for reaching levels 6/11/16. Also as a longtime Pantheon main I really love the aesthetic of his face being shrouded, I dislike the new post rework Pantheon skins for that very reason. Pulsefire, Ruined and even Ascended Pantheon are all marred by the face that they show his face, when his facelessness was something that made him stand out. In this skin he should absolutely not have a face since he is a divine being that helmet should be his face, the face of war, nothing else.

The colors get brighter and hotter, to signal that Pantheon is getting supercharged with the psychic energies of war, colors would go from red-orange to bright yellow, additionally, the number of spears in his cape could also increase from 2/4/6 at levels 6/11/16 with small edits like the passive fire on spear and shield and the fire plume increasing in sizes slightly.

ADDITIONALLY

There could be a number of smaller tweaks to make the VFX stand out. Like pulling a new spear from his cape after Pantheon throws it. Or that Pantheon doesn't even throw the main spear but shoots a spear forward from his cape as he can manifest them. Voicelines like "Unstoppable, War eternal an Invincible!" could be added to his E whenever he uses it as if he mocks whoever dares attack him. "Here mortal, or just Heel!" when he stuns you.

His ult could be Pantheon coming straight down where the spear lands, instead of in an angle, and the angle is then covered by either a spear storm or meteorite shards. The straight-down Pantheon landing being a homage to Grand Skyfall. He does not land sooner and he still shoots down a spear first, but this time he just lands from above.

As for the dance, either you give him some workout to flex on people or you give him the Ricardo Milos dance. Which let's be honest, everyone wants to see.

Lore wise I think Pantheon is very important. Currently, we have Pantheon (Atreus) Diana and Taric who are all outright heroes. Aphelios serves under Diana and Zoe does not really care she does whatever she wants. Soraka while a hero lives secluded. Targon only has Leona as a villain and the celestial Pantheon would fill that slot very well. He is the god of war, he would try to rouse them all against one another and also give them a reason to unite against him. To fight together, and perhaps even be incentive enough for Leona and Diana to lay down their weapons and join forces.

Additionally, all it takes is a skin to create a champion's worth of impact on the league universe. There doesn't need to be a new champion from Targon to push the narrative forward which means less time that needs to be invested on Riots part.

Thank you for your time, I will be sitting here on my mountain top, waiting and hoping that I started a fire.

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons 1: Thresh

This is something that I did today. I plan to make this an on-going series (might even take it to YouTube someday if I get the nerve to share my voice), but for now have it as a tumblr post.))

The world of Runeterra is one of the most interesting and complex fantasy settings in modern gaming; a fictional realm bustling with fantastical beings, characters, and a wide variety of plot points offering near endless potential for story-telling. The story of League of Legends is not, in fact, a singular narrative, but rather a collection of different stories spread out across a variety of fictional countries, continents, and even dimensions.

Runeterra as we know it today wasn’t always like this, however; in 2015 Riot Games opted to effectively reboot the lore of their world to be rid of the more restrictive plot elements like Summoners and the Institute of War to allow themselves more wriggle room to tell the stories they wanted to tell. While the decision to effectively make League of Legends non-canon to its own story was initially controversial, the writers of Riot Games have effectively proven themselves extraordinarily capable of using this newfound freedom to its full potential… For the most part.

With a retconned world came the need to retcon characters; Riot has made a substantial effort in the last few years to reimagine and redefine the backstories of the iconic Champions to make them fit into the new narrative, albeit with mixed results. Let’s face it: no writer is perfect and hindsight is 20/20, so a number of characters throughout the years have been left with less-than-stellar backstories compared to most of the roster.

Welcome to Runeterra Retcons, a series in which I’ll be analyzing some of the more controversial champion bios in the game to pick apart the good, the bad, and the horribly missed opportunities. With all that out of the way, let’s begin, shall we?

Episode 1: Thresh

Thresh is at once both an interesting and a bland character. He’s arguably one of the more iconic characters in the game, to the point where he’s practically become the unofficial mascot for the Shadow Isles. In-spite of this, I’ve long felt that Thresh is one of the most awkward fits into the region; before we can discuss the problems with his current lore, however, we first need to address Thresh’s backstory pre-retcon and see if we can analyze the core of his character.

Insert original lore here

So, we can see the concept behind Thresh’s character pretty easily: he’s a jailor who loves tormenting his charges, so much so that he continues to do so even after death. If you were to describe Thresh in a single word, it would probably be “sadistic.” Unfortunately, the original lore doesn’t give a lot beyond that; not where he’s from, not when he died, not even where his prison was located. The bio itself literally says that no one knows the details, and while that does add a faint air of mystery to the character, it doesn’t do much to tie him into the faction he’s supposed to represent: The Shadow Isles.

With that out of the way, let’s now take a look at Thresh’s new bio and see how Riot decided to change him after the retcon.

Insert new lore here

Alright, so, there’s a lot to unpack here. Perhaps the most notable change is that Thresh went from tormenting people to… Tormenting “living relics.” The relics are offered no further explanation in the lore or given any prior context. There’s just… A mirror with a soul in it. There’s a sentient book hidden down in the vaults. For some reason, the monks of the Isles even decided to stash a living person down there because he infused his body with raw magic. Why? Who was this person? What did he do to end up in chains? If this was a dangerous mage, wouldn’t it be better to build a proper prison for him rather than stuff him in a vault full of powerful, dangerous artifacts?

There are so many mysteries here, but perhaps biggest one is this: why was Thresh changed from a warden of people to a warden of relics? Why did they feel the need to turn him from a jailor who enjoyed tormenting his inmates to a curator that was slowly corrupted by the very magics meant to help him do his job? Well, I believe that’s meant to tie into the change made to the Shadow Isles themselves, or rather, the Blessed Isles.

While we never had much info on what the Isles were like before becoming an undead haven, a lot of the lore suggests that they were effectively a paradise, hence the name “Blessed Isles.” This was a place without war, without starvation, without corruption. Naturally, there would be no criminals in paradise, and so this of course means that to make Thresh a warden of things that are inhuman… At least, this is the thought process one might have until they introduce the mysterious regenerating mage, but I guess he’s meant to be one bad egg amidst the crowd, assuming he even came from the Isles at all. Again, it’s never really elaborated on.

So, while the change does make a degree of sense, it kind of feels… Flat. I mean, a guy who enjoys tormenting prisoners in their cells to hear their screams sounds a lot more terrifying than a guy who just stops his sentences halfway through to spite a book. Also, the fact that his lantern just becomes a seemingly endless vessel for souls because of the Ruination is a little silly; like, I know the Black Mist does all sorts of nonsensical things to matter, but the fact that an ordinary lantern gets turned into a relic arguably far more dangerous than anything Thresh was ever guarding seems kind of backwards, at least in my opinion.

So, how can we change this? How would I, personally, retcon Thresh if given the chance? Well, there are a lot of base elements that I would keep, but also some key components I’d like to alter. I’ve written up a short bio of my own for you all to enjoy, so without further ado…

In an age all but forgotten to history, there existed a realm known as the Blessed Isles. Hidden away from the world by a veil of magical mist, the Isles were a place of peace and prosperity; a land free of war, corruption, plague and misery. This paradise was ruled by an order of sacred monks devoted to learning and enlightenment. It was within this paradise that Thresh was born and raised by a pair of humble farmers, growing up surrounded by nature’s bounty.

Though expected that he might follow in his fathers’ footsteps, Thresh showed an aptitude for learning from an early age. In-particular, Thresh seemed fascinated with matters of philosophy; the nature of the soul, morality, and other complex subjects were frequent on the boy’s mind. This attitude quickly earned Thresh the attention of the brotherhood, who invited him to join their order as soon as he was of age. Thresh agreed without hesitation, leaving the farm behind to study at the Isles’ monastery.

For many years, Thresh studied under the tutelage of the order, distinguishing himself from his peers for his ability to grasp complex philosophical issues. Though acknowledged by his teachers, Thresh was met with looks of envy and scorn from his fellow students; rather than let himself be disheartened, however, Thresh instead took an interest in the root of their envy in scorn. Upon approaching his elders with such questions, Thresh found himself being led to a secret chamber deep beneath the monastery, guarded by powerful wards and runes. It was here that Thresh learned the truth of the Blessed Isles.

Thresh watched as one of his fellow pupils stood surrounded by figured in ominous robes, chanting an ominous spell in unison. Thresh’s teacher explained to him that this was ritual had been used by the order for ages to ensure that the Isles flourished. Evil was present in all humans, and so the only way to ensure it did not corrupt their paradise was to extract it from the soul, and seal it away. As the ritual drew to a close, Thresh saw the essence of all the other student’s hatred, envy, malice and warped desire ripped from his body, and placed into a special lantern made to contain it.

Thresh was intrigued. He approached the lantern without hesitation as the other boy was escorted from the chamber, and to his surprise, he heard voice whispering to him from within. The monks explained that though the evils of humanity could be removed, they could not be truly discarded. They needed to be contained, and more than that, they needed a warden to watch over them. Thresh volunteered in a heartbeat, and the monks smiled, pleased by their pupils’ devotion.

What they did not know, however, was that the whispers in Thresh’s mind had already begun taken root. From that day forward, Thresh vigilantly stood guard over the lantern, watching each successive cleansing as it took place. Each time, the wicked essence in the lantern grew stronger, as did the whispers in Thresh’s mind. He began to dream of enacting twisted torments upon the monks, the other disciples, and even his own parents. Slowly but surely, the brotherhood noticed a change in Thresh’s behavior. Fearing that he himself would be subjected to their cleansing rite, Thresh stole the lantern and fled the monastery.

The monks chased Thresh for days, but their search was brought to an abrupt end when strange ships arrived on the Blessed Isles: something Thresh thought impossible. From the safety of the cliffs, Thresh watched in delight as a soldiers led by a foreign king massacred his fellow monks. Their screams were music to the warden’s ears, and as the chaos spread, Thresh found himself reveling in the suffering of all who fell to the foreigners’ blades. Even at the cost of his own life, Thresh dared to move about the battlefield, searching for survivors left in the king’s wake only that he may snuff out the remnants of their lives himself.

Finally, as the screams of his victims began to subside, Thresh turned his attention to the heart of the Isles. From there, he saw a cloud of pure darkness rushing to meet him, and opened his arms wide to embrace it. In that moment, all the wickedness trapped within Thresh’s lantern was freed, bound to his soul through the power of the Ruination. Thresh emerged a being of pure maliciousness, and his lantern, now empty, would serve as the perfect vessel to enact his twisted fantasies.

Thresh now roams Runeterra as an avatar of sadism, bringing pain and misery to all unfortunate enough to cross his path. He stalks his victims and torments them by slowly stripping them of their sanity, before finally prying their souls from their bodies with his wicked sickle. If you hear the sound of chains in the dead of night, run… Though it may already be far too late.

So, what did you think? Now, it’s at this point I feel I need to clarify something: I’m not trying to bash on Riot’s creative team, nor am I saying that I can definitely make a better version of someone else’s character. Hell, I’m not even really saying that my version of the story is flawless; it would probably need to go through several more rewrites before I’d ever consider publishing it as canon, not that I have the power to do so, of course.

Rather, I wanted to take a closer look at Thresh’s character and how well his current lore represents him. I said earlier that Thresh is at once and interesting and a bland character. I consider him a little bland because you can sum him up in a single word: “sadistic.” He has no goals and no motivation other than to cause pain and suffering. Even the other undead of the Shadow Isles typically have some kind of agenda, even if it’s only to spread the Black Mist’s influence. Thresh doesn’t care about that; he just wants to see you writhe in agony, both before and after death. I’d argue he has more in common in with League’s demons than the other specters of the Isles, but it’s BECAUSE Thresh is undead that he has so much potential for an interesting backstory.

The main points I wanted to emphasize in my rewrite are: expanding on the magics that corrupted Thresh into being so sadistic, giving his lantern some greater significance in the story, and replacing the vault full of otherwise pointless macguffins with something a little more sinister that gives the Blessed Isles a hint of dichotomy. Riot loves adding a little morally grey to all their characters and factions, after-all.

Anyways, what do you all think? Could Thresh’s lore be improved, or do you all like his story the way in currently is? Lemme know down below, and I’ll see you all next time!

[burden-and-truth]

I'm probably making a bigger deal out this than I should be, and for that I'll apologize. I just gotta get this off my chest, if anyone even cares to entertain my borderline psychopathic ramblings.

I've been trying to organize my thoughts about Riot's unique choice to target Demacia as the "first to fall" to Ruination. Not going to lie, I was really upset at hearing it. I still kind of am, but I wanted to take some time to cool off before just saying "RIOT U DUM DUM" and not having any substantial points to justify my distaste for it all. So, for the sake of keeping this semi-rant contained, the rest is going under the cut.

1. I'm going to get my personal reasons out of the way first: It's another thing I, as a canon divergent RPer, have to deal with. I try to make it abundantly clear to anyone that wants to RP with me that they aren't playing with Riot's Demacia. This is a place I've cultured and nurtured well before they tried to add more detail the world, and I'm not willing to let it go, as selfish as that sounds. So I have to go on this whole tirade with RP partners, jumping through hoops and complicating things. I feel bad doing it. That's on me.

2. Another personal: It clashes with my Fallen AU severely. I've had this AU for YEARS. Once again, at risk of sounding selfish, all of this I've made is very near and dear to me due to how long I've been working with it. I just don't see myself being able to work it into my narrative like I did with the Mage Rebellion.

3. These next few are less personal and more from an overall narrative standpoint, and I'm gonna copy/paste a previous rant I had when there was discourse over The Black Rose having impostors in Demacia's ranks: "Handling a whole fantasy world with so many moving parts takes even more time. Riot does not function on that kind of time due in part to their focus being on game content, while just making up lore along the way that “sounds good” within that small timeframe the content comes out and is relevant… before the next “new” thing hits. It then results in this broken mess of plot holes, questionable reasoning, and other issues that won’t be touched upon because Riot is too busy promoting their shiny new toy." This Ruination plot just feels like more of the same.

4. Is the Ruined King game just being ignored, now? I feel like this angle is going to clash with that game.

5. With Viego's lore, there's been confirmed lands on Runeterra well beyond Valoran (Viego put his previous kingdom into shambles trying to do everything he could for Isolde before Thresh recommended invading the Blessed Isles). So we don't know how the world is setup beyond what we see. Slapping the entire world on a globe would more than likely mean that the Shadow Isles are not right beside Demacia. Did Viego really travel across an entire continent, unnoticed, to strike Demacia first? I can understand the logic of wanting to dismantle a place that could very much challenge the undead and the Mist... but he's not a very conspicuous traveler, as we've previously seen. Geographically speaking, it just doesn't make sense to me.

6. Where are the Darkin and the Void? Last I checked, Aatrox still very much wants to raze everything to the ground, and the Void still very much desire to consume everything and turn Runeterra inside out. Are these factions just chilling, right now? Do they take turns on when its time to terrorize civilizations?

7. Garen: First Shield ends on heavy implication that Noxus' attempts to invade Demacia are beginning, which would obviously lead into the Noxian/Demacian war. Guess that's gonna be put on hold, now. Kind of frustrating because, even though I'm canon divergent, I try to follow the world Riot creates on my own time, not in the sense of following it in my lore. This all has a feeling of cheap shock value. Is that due to my ravenous desire for Demacia to be a good place? More than likely. I'm not blind to my personal bias.

That's all I got, right now. Am I making a huge deal out of this when I really shouldn't? Probably. Am I selfish for not wanting this? Absolutely. I couldn't let myself remain silent, though, as this event really does hit close to home, for me. I'm not mad at anyone who might be excited for this. Hell, I'm not even mad at people who just hate Demacia and are getting a huge kick out of it. At this point I can't even say I'm outright mad, anymore. Just thoroughly disappointed in it all.

[ladyleahcat]

Seraphine’s Lore Rework

So.. I have to say that I was really hyped for Seraphine. I followed her in social media and I really liked her design. But, after her lore and abilities were revealed, it just felt... out of place in Runeterra. Her in-game abilities don’t make sense with her natural gift. She doesn't have a grand purpose, or breaking point in her story that motivates her to be... you know, a champion. So, I tried to fix the lore. Please be kind, and let me know what you think (English is not my native language, so there may be some redaction mistakes). 

I don't have an extensive knowledge of the LoL universe, so here goes nothing! (I took the official one and changed a little bit too much... I kinda throw away the dream of unity between Zaun and Piltover. And knowing that the Brackerns communicated through MUSIC it´s a fact too rich to ignore. I did a little reseach and took some terms and ideas from Skarner’s short story).

As a child, Seraphine always loved music, especially her father’s lullabies. The songs were beautiful, but sad. He and Seraphine’s mother—two lifelong Zaunites—always dreamt of a better life in the City of Progress. But poor as they were, they did everything they could to give their only child a decent life in Zaun.

Leaning out the window of their hexcoustics workshop, where broken sound tech was made to play again, Seraphine sang along with the dark streets. The constant sound of the leaking pipework, working machinery and wispered conversation was her companion.

Over time, Seraphine realized she could sense songs too private, too personal, for any ordinary person to hear. And as she grew, so did the intensity of her gifts. She heard every person’s soul, loving or cruel—turning the streets she’d once loved into an overwhelming cacophony of conflicting desires. How could she make sense of the voices if none of them harmonized? Some days, she hid shivering in a corner, hands over her ears, unable to hear herself above the chaos and feeling her sanity slowly escape.

Seraphine’s parents couldn’t bear seeing her struggle. Even scraping together their savings, they knew it was not enough to help her. Risking their own safety, they made a deal with powerfull mechants in Zaun´s black market to purchase a shard of a rare hextech crystal. And so, they crafted a device that dampened her magical hearing. For the first time in years, there was silence.

Within that quiet, though, Seraphine heard something—someone. The crystal had a consciousness. But it was hard to hear, and harder to comprehend. Seraphine, awed, asked for guidance. But the crystal refused communication. She made her goal to achieve understanding of this rare soul, but her attempts were interrupted by tragedy.

The debt of the crystal was greater that what her parents could pay, and the mechants, tired of waiting, decided to claim the price in their own way. On the darkest of the nights, the rumbling sound of incessant knocking on the door accompanied by violent threats awoke the family. Taking their few possessions, they intended to flee, but, Seraphine´s father knew they would be followed. Giving his wife and daugther one last kiss, he ordered them to run and never look back, while he faced their attackers. They did, and in the distance the sounds of gunshots rang out. Seraphine was ten when she saw her dad for the last time.

Full of sorrow, the broken family got to Piltover with almost nothing. There were difficult days of cold and hunger until Sera´s mother could grab a job at a hextech workshop, as she refused to sell the crystal, see her child suffer, and let her late husband´s sacrifice go to waste.

Seraphine refused to sing the first months in Piltover, as it didn´t feel like home anymore, and it hurt to much to remember, while she also felt all their disgrace were her fault. One day, through her pain, she finally heard a distant voice. The lethargic soul hidden in the crystal slowly opened up to her. It told her stories and songs of the old brackern race. About how it once was big and respected, and how the greedy softskins destroyed it to gain the power of the crystal namestones hidden within their bodies. Horrified, Seraphine realized how the city that surrounded her was powered by the brackern, and so, she asked the voice why it had decided to share all that information with her. With a kind voice, it answered that she had a unique talent to hear souls and songs, and, that she could understand the pain of loss after what she had been through, just like it had lost its kin a long time ago. Then, the soul inside the crystal proposed a way to help them both.

The brackern knew Seraphine had a gift, and he could teach her to amplify it with magic. To give her voice power, potency and purpose. She could ease, enchant and thrill the crowds, gain fame and fortune, and give her mother a better life. But she could also inflict pain, make suffer and bring death to those who took her father away. The soul only wanted something in return.

There was an old ritual that brackerns knew about. The content of their namestones was to precious to get lost, and they designed a way to bring their race back if something ever went wrong. The proccess requiered to gather a great amount of brackern crystals in a hidden temple within the deserts of old Shurima. But it demanded a great price. The same amount of souls of a single different race in exchange for the awakening of each soul of the dormant one. The brackern wanted them to be human, as it seemed as a fair exchange. The enchanting dreamsong to fulfill the process had to be sung by a representative of each of both races. And she was the perfect candidate of her kin to do so.

Seraphine felt dread all over her body and refused, at first, to cooperate with the crystal; imagining the amount of people she would be required to slay. But as the weeks passed, and she and her mother keep on struggling to survive each day, Seraphine decided to agree to the plan. The brackern teached her a melody to seal their agreement, and with it, theirs souls were bounded to commitement, while allowing their magic to flow and combine. Their practice together begun. Each night, Seraphine grabbed her crystal and escaped to the superficial sewers of Zaun to rehearse. Slowly, she learned to manage the noise. Seraphine felt the crystal´s influence as it helped her understand how to resonate with a crowd, to sing with them, using her dampener less each day. Soon, she realized her full potential, and started to develop dangerous skills as well as the brackern teached her magic enchanting melodies of old. It took them years of practice. When she felt ready, Seraphine asked her mom for help to turn her dampener into an amplifier to test her full abilities.

The first time she performed in front of an audience, testing her skills, she was sixteen, and nervous beyond words. She choose a poor street of Piltover to start. With simple clothes and just her amplifier made of old recicled hextech, she started singing. And soon, a crowd gathered enchanted with her lovely voice and bewitching melodies, as she could take all of their personal songs and hopes to turn them into heart touching harmonies. The first day she collected so many coins that her mother and her were able to buy new things for the first time. With each passing day, the crowds were getting bigger, the profit was growing, allowing her little family to slowly achieve the life they always dreamt of. Still, something was missing—in the crowds, and in herself. She knew her father’s crime was still impune and with each song, his memory was painfully revived. She wanted justice.

Using her newfound richness, Seraphine located the merchants that took her father's life and (by her crystal's indication) collected a vast amount of a very special type of mineral, native from the Shadow Isles. Taking advantage of the cloak of night and her growing abilities, she descended into Zaun to make them pay. She infiltrated their place, lured the group of men and their leader with a beautiful melody and then took their lifes with one of the most complex ancient songs the brackern had teached her. Following the elaborate instructions, she absorbed the bodies and souls of the criminals into some shards of the minerals she brought with her, trapping them forever. These were the first souls she would need for the ritual. Taking advance of her accomplishment, she took all of the remaining brackern crystals keept by the band, and then, her mission started.

Although she felt guilty about her actions, she knew that, finally, she had made justice by her own hand, and had found a purpose for her gifts. The brackern's namestones had been waiting for a long time for someone that could listen their dreamsongs and help, and that was exactly was she was about to do. She was born for it. Seraphine knew there was no way she could take all of the brackern crystals in Runeterra, and that not all human souls are aware of the horrors behind the powerfull fuel of hextech, but there were enough gilty ones that she could execute.

Armed with a platform to keep her precious brackern crystals hidden and safe, and also her trapped human victims, she has become the premier star in both Piltover and Zaun. In the public eye, she uses her playful apearance and beautiful voice to enchant the crowds and win their hearts and favor, while she listens for the brackerns old voices slowly awakening inside their cores and calling out for her, singing gladly their dreamsongs. In the shadows, it´s her duty to retrieve them to safety and trap the souls of those who are greedy enough to collect them. She knows one day, she will gather enought of them to make the journey into Shurima´s desert, looking for the one called Skarner that the ancient spirits talk about and being able to, at last, fulfill her destiny.

(I know it’s not that great, but let me know your thoughts and suggestions :3 ) Disclaimer: These characters belong to Riot Games. I don’t own them, I just did this for fun.

[libralita]

Title: Dawnshard

Author: Brandon Sanderson

Summary:  Dawnshard follows the story of Rysn, the Thaylen merchant whom we've seen before in the Interludes of the first three books of the Stormlight Archive series.

Rating: ★★★★★

Review:

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Anyways.

DAWNSHARD!

I feel Rysn’s pain. I too find stuff most unimaginably boring interesting.

Oh no, something is wrong with Chiri-Chiri.

“A few anxietyspren, like twisting black cross shapes, appeared around Rysn.”

Huh, interesting.

“She’d already sent a request via spanreed to someone she thought could help with Chiri-Chiri.”

*Narrows eyes* Who?

“her eyebrow jewelry tinkling softly”

Roshar is so weird. (Edit: Understatement of the goddamn decade)

“The king wants to meet this Dalinar Kholin and see these Knights Radiant for himself.”

Man I should have reread these books. Oh well. Goodluck Dalinar.

It’s very interesting that now Navani is Queen of Urithiru. So Dalinar is King? WAIT WE’RE IN URITHIRU! AHHHH!

“She was an intimidating woman with her Alethi height, her black and grey hair done in intricate braids atop her head and woven with glowing sapphires.”

Nah, she’s a mom. I wouldn’t be surprised if she tries to mother you.

Rysn Ftori. Did we know her last name?

“Finally the queen stopped, focused on the chair at the rear of the room, then pulled her chair over and sat before Rysn. It was a small gesture, but appreciated. Rysn didn’t mind when people remained standing in her presence, but there was a certain thoughtfulness in the way Navani situated herself so they could discuss at eye level with one another.”

As stated, Navani is a mom.

Oh, I think we read about this in Oathbringer.

The Prince of Liafor???

The Rock of Secrets. I see Brandon wasn’t trying too hard with this name.

“As the months had passed, Rysn had begun to truly grasp the strategic importance of Stormlight as a fuel both for fabrials and for the Knights Radiant. Beyond that, the enemy had creatures—known as Fused— who used the Void’s own Light. Chiri-Chiri fed on that just as eagerly as Stormlight.”

Hmmm…yeah…

…………………I kind of ship Lopen and Talik. I don’t know how to feel about this. Brandon is creating some very odd ships this year. (If you haven’t read the RoW previews, trust me, there’s a weird one)

““It’s politics. The annoying kind.”

“There’s another kind?”

 No.

YAY RUSHU IS COMING ALONG!

“She owned it. She commanded it. But at least according to maritime tradition, it was not hers”

This reminds me of how Navani sees herself as not an artifabian (I’m not even going to bother look up the correct spelling for this)

“Radiant the Lopen”

PFFFFFFFFFFFT

““Lopen,” Rushu said as she worked, “you should not be tormenting Brightness Rysn with your prattling.””

Rushu! How dare you question the Lopen!!

““Brightness Rysn shouldn’t have to crack jokes at her own expense in order to make other people comfortable with their personal insecurities.”

“Yup, true,” the Lopen said. “She shouldn’t have to.””

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

“Two halves of a ruby, containing two halves of the same spren, can be made to move in tandem with one another”

…TWO HALVES OF THE SAME SPREN. PARDON?!?!!

I’m assuming that if you can get a ship to move fast enough then a spanreed will work. Much like Brandon has said that time bubbles can work at a certain speed. Plus y’know, Roshar is constantly moving, we just don’t feel it.

“It’s why the motion and curve of the planet don’t influence spanreeds.”

Or y’know, I’ll just be fucking WRONG.

“That  .  .  . didn’t make much sense to Rysn.”

Same.

I’m guessing that Nikli is a worldhopper. From where though? I don’t really trust Nikli right now though. Hmmm.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NIKLI IS ONE OF THOSE CREMLING THINGS NONONONONONONONONONONONOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

WHAT MEAN YOU ONE OF THESE…SWARMS KNOWS DALINAR “I know he will destroy us”

From the dustjacket of Way of Kings:

“The last is the highprince, a warlord whose eyes have opened to the past as his thirst for battle wanes.

The world can change. Surgebinding and Shardwielding can return; the magics of ancient days can become ours again. These four people are key.

One of them may redeem us.

And one of them will destroy us.”

So Dalinar will Destroy the Sleepless.

“Plus, Yelamaiszin said, we should have compassion for those we must cull. It is good you like the humans.

Must we cull them though? Nikli replied.”

Oh, the Sleepless gotta cull humans. Fucking great. AHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Is it just required that every single novella is going to have these fuckers in them?

“When the swarm that had become Nikli had been Separated, it had already contained hordelings evolved for this subterfuge. Nikli had further evolved them, and was now certain that the body didn’t need the tattoos to cover the seams in its skin”

Wat.

Also who’s Arclomedarian? Now I need to go reread Edgedancer to see who that guy was. Oh? Who are the true traitors? It’s probably Hoid.

“where they would either fall to the winds or enter the realm of the Sleepless.”

Man, if I was on that ship, I’d take drowning over finding that. Let’s notttttt.

“This was sent to another vote, and Nikli’s bodies— the distant ones, not on the ship—all vibrated with anticipation.”

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

“Can block a Shardblade, Rua tells me, if it’s thick enough. They get it from Soulcasting, though only a few can make it, so it’s pretty rare”

Y…you can soulcast aluminium? Holy fuck.

No Lopen! You belong with Talik. He can capture that Tsundere heart.

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?

As someone who has read Mistborn, you don’t want a dramatic end of the world. It causes essential crisis.

“More spren than animal, they were somehow able to magnify peace and confidence.”

Like…rioting?

““No,” several voices said from the crowd—but she couldn’t see who. “That’s bad luck!””

Nikla…

“Storms. It was as if . . . as if the body had been made up of cremlings.”

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

“no more real than things like the gloomdancer or sea hags from Thaylen mythology”

Well, I’m sure these things don’t exist.

“Hmmm? Oh, no I was napping during that.”

I do love Rushu.

So…Huio…created…flying machines. Motherfucker.

I can’t believe Roshar has hove chair before cars. Also HOVER BRIDGES LET’S GOOOOOOOOO.

Nikli…what are you doing?

Rushu is a soulcaster! Wild.

“Regardless, I demanded that Navani send me with either a Shardblade or a Soulcaster to get through.”

You fucking what mate?

“Strange, to think how optimistic she’d been only a short time ago.”

That tends to happen with Brando Sando books. One moment the characters are on top of the world and next everything is crashing down.

The sun being shattered into pieces? Well that can’t be good.

“She counted the shards in her mind, over and over, feeling a reverence to the number.”

Ten or sixteen?

“It looked vaguely like an enormous grub with a wicked beak of a face. It had spindly arms running all the way along its body, and had reared up so it was mostly vertical, using its pointed limbs like spears to try to skewer the sailors beneath.”

Again. Roshar. Fuck off.

“The Mother of Machines,”

Thirty emerald broams says the back of the book has something about the Mother of Machines on it.

“I . . . have no idea what any of that means,”

Me reading half of this book.

“And in truth, those treaties were made with other gods. I had hoped the Gods Who Sleep Not would be similarly bound, but now I am not certain.”

OTHER GODS? WHICH ONES?!

GOOD JOB HUIO!!!

“We wish to avoid losing control of a force that could destroy the cosmere.”

Odium? Just don’t let any love struck teenagers near it and you’ll be fine.

“As I and my kind are not native to this planet, we prefer the term ‘hordelings.’”

W…Where are you from?

This reminds me of Skyward.

I am sure that Rysn will not be able to employ it. How many books do we have left?

“And then eventually, they were used to undo Adonalsium itself. . . .”

YOU FUCKING WHAT?!

Rysn, you’re going to get a visit from an asshole. Be prepared and good luck.

I can’t for Arc 2 where we get so BIG CHIRI-CHIRI.

Interesting so Rysn will never become a Radiant.

“Regrettably, there has been a conflict on the beach with some of our more  .  .  . specialized hordelings,”

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

“You have Remade yourself.”

Remade? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Oh no. Lopen noooooooooooooo.

Who needs a Hover chair when YOU CAN RIDE A CRAB DRAGON! SUCKING ALL THE STORMLIGHT! WIELDING THE DAWNSHARD!

“Was it . . . brighter than usual? Why did the colors in her room look so exceptionally vivid all of a sudden?”

Idos Domi! What heightening are you?

I was not expecting this. My thoughts are currently just on the floor, screaming. Brandon, you cannot just drop lore on me like this.

[fatebreaking-a]

Sorry to bother you but i am out of the loop. What did Riot do with seraphine?

// @crying-elf-lass // First of all - excellent choice in pfp, Marcille is great.

Now, trying to keep as much bias out of my post as possible... ( though there will be some, and I will miss some things! )

There are three parts to consider. Gameplay, narrative, and niche in the world.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

First, we need to talk about the history of Sona in League of Legends.

Narrative & Niche: Sona, as a champion, has existed for many, many, many years. Her lore was 2 paragraphs and she had no short story. Her canon appearances ( excluding an Odssey short story which I will take about later ) were limited to other champion’s stories ( her adoptive mother, Lestara, helped Quinn to become a ranger-knight, she helped Ryze secure a World Rune in Call of Power ). Several years ago, Riot changed the lore of Demacia ( Sona’s current home ) to be one that denies magic. With the addition of petricite, a magic nullifying material, and several changes in lore, Demacia became the host of several magical problems ( dragons, Evelynn, Nocturne, Fiddlesticks ) and a unit of anti-magic specialists ( mageseekers ).

Throughout that time, up until 2 months ago, Sona’s lore did not receive a single meaningful change or update. This is a period of over 5 years, in which one of Demacia’s only mages / magical creatures ( Poppy, Lux, Sona, Shyvana, and later Sylas ) did not get any sort of answer as to what is happening with her. Several other champions did get an explanation of sorts, with some manner of handwaiving - for example, minotaurs are part of the Demacian army, so magical creatures are not out and out excluded. Yordles are known to be seen differently by different people, so Poppy’s existence is also possible to explain ( we learned this with an interaction between Ziggs and Jinx in Zaun ).

This left Sona writers in a general state of confusion. Is Sona in jail? Is Sona a registered mage? Not to mention that Sona left Ionia ( where a war between Noxus and Ionia occurred ) and the timing of that was unspecified.

Which led to a giant gap in terms of “what is this champion doing and what is her situation”. And each of us tried to fill that gap in our own ways. Some of us had Sona leave Demacia, some had her retreat into her mansion and play less music, some had her be defiant, and so on. Because the last thing we learned was that she was in Ionia, helping Ryze with the World Rune, some people put her in Ionia semi-permanently.

And we also had to contend with the existence of Sylas, who flipped Demacia on its head and caused something of a mage hunt. The finer details of that I exclude, it’s enough to say that certain mages were rounded up and put in prison where once they were exiled, and Lux helped some magically inclined individuals escape. There’s a nuanced conflict there between several members of Demacia ( Garen, Jarvan, Lux, Xin Zhao, Tianna, etc ) but getting into that is not the point of this.

We still didn’t know anything about Sona. So Sona writers and players and enthusiasts tried their very best to fill in the gap with what we did know, often incidentally. We did know that Sona was once in Ionia, that the Ionia-Noxus war happened, that she moved to Demacia, and that she is a famous musician with a magical instrument. Prior to the removal of the Institute of War ( a part of lore which said that ‘summoners’ were real and nations used Summoners + Champions to settle conflicts ), Sona was known globally and was basically Runeterra’s #1 musician when it comes to the etwahl, perhaps more. We also know that Sona is an extremely empathetic person, and her music is borderline spellbinding, to the point where it was easy to guess that she could affect people’s emotions and was an empath. None of that was out and out confirmed, but it was easy to make that logical conclusion.

Very recently, Sona’s lore changed. In it, a lot changed. We learned that she left Ionia with others, rather than just alone and with her etwahl, and it was to escape the Ionia conflict ( not because Lestara, her adoptive mother, wished to possess the fabled etwahl ). Essentially, this new lore painted Sona far more as a war refugee, and painted Lestara in a far better light as well. Along with this lore update/rework, we also got a short story ( that still left what she’s doing now up in the air!) 

However, this came after a several year wait. And in that time, Sona enthusiasts had no choice but to come up with answers to all their burning questions by themselves. One Sona writer followed the ‘Sona is the aspect of harmony’ track, another followed the ‘music as a means of community togetherness’ track, another put her as an oversensitive empath who uses music to heal the pain of her people - and we all tend to agree on one point - Sona is an extremely empathetic person who uses her music for the good of others.

And as we waited, several other champions appeared, some of them overlapping with Sona’s music theme. Bard, the wanderer who listens to the songs of creation itself. Jhin, the murderous theater performer and assassin who believes the world his stage. Rakan, the battle dancer who uses the songs and rhythms of people to fight and move before they do. And Sona’s niche, what was unique about her, grew smaller and smaller.

Finally, we had something that felt unique about Sona.

Gameplay & Design: 

Sona as a champion has existed a very long time... And is the aura and music champion. Her q does some damage, her w shields and heals ( and reduces damage with her passive ), and her e speeds people up ( and slows with her passive ), while her r is a rectangular ult wave - thinner than Nami’s, but still relatively wide. The kit as a whole is pretty simple, but it has a history.

Sona players are... innovators. They like to do things like buy Kirchei’s shard because it’s most efficient, or take Sona mid, top, jungle, and adc. And over the last two years, Sona has received nerf after nerf after nerf saying, “No, stay in the support role”. You can still pull off certain lanes, but it’s extremely difficult because her aura abilities give you mana back if you tag an ally... making them difficult to use in a solo lane, or to roam alone.

Also, as one of the older crew of champions ( pre Jinx when Riot started using other body types for women ), her figure is... well, she’s got an hourglass figure, and her dress does not hide her breasts much at all. And it’d been like this for ages and ages, which meant that in League’s toxic culture, being a Sona one-trick led to a variety of hateful comments which I won’t repeat here.

Sona has a history of being treated like either an overpowered support or a terrible one, in part because she lacks any form of CC before 6 ( barring her e chord passive ).

So if you’re a Sona enthusiast, a big part of you wants Sona to have agency and not just be a pretty face damsel in distress. Even I, who have a second blog where I write Sona as an extremely soft character, don’t have her be a damsel in that interpretation of her. This is made worse by the community and a lot of art that ships her with men who treat her badly, along with an endless slew of adult images that degrade her, and often make fun of her disability - that she can’t speak. It’s sad and it’s degrading. And even within the last few years, she was written in a story in the Odyssey skin line...  as a prize for Kayn to take. That is an official Riot story which essentially treated her like a prize to capture for Kayn’s own goals - not as a person, but as a carrier of a key, as an object, and she lacked agency. Thankfully over the last few years, Riot has started giving women more agency, but... it’s been a problem for a long time.

Recently, along with the lore rework, we got Sona in a skin that makes her look and feel like a badass - PsyOps, her legendary skin. She breaks free of her confines and rages against those in her way in a very Syndra-like fashion, uncaged. And this was very cool.

And now, we have Sona where she is now.

---------------------------------------------------

Seraphine as a champion has recently been revealed, along with her abilities and lore.

Narrative & Niche: 

Seraphine’s lore is essentially this.

She, born of Zaunite parents, went up to Piltover. She was able to hear the souls and songs of people ( magical empath ) and hoped to unite those around her with her music. Then, she went down to Zaun, a city full of impoverished and disenfranchised peoples, to try and do the same thing.

In other words, “This champion uses music as a means of bringing people together. She aims to aid the disenfranchised.” There is nuance there, and it’s not the exact same as Sona, but the similarity is striking.

Furthermore, several key points in her lore are things that Sona writers have already imagined for themselves. A hypersensitivity to others, for example. Having such a strong sense of hearing that she can hear things others can’t. Sona is known to be able to essentially echolocate ( or at least, she had been known to do so in her older lore ). 

I will admit that the idea of ‘hypersensitive hearing or empathy’ is not the sole domain of Sona writers. Athena Cykes of Ace Attorney has a similar problem ( as revealed in her backstory ). And similarly, she wore a special device to help her filter that out. It’s not a completely unique idea, but again - the problem is striking. Sona, a highly sensitive and empathetic person, was often interpreted to be too sensitive to others. And now it’s on Seraphine, in her lore.

Seraphine’s whole lore is that she’s essentially an extremely popular and famous musician who brings people together with music... and that’s what Sona was.

She was all those things.

So to some people ( myself included ) it feels as though Riot has reworked Sona’s lore so they can give some of the overlap to Seraphine. Empathy / soul-seeing ( a Morgana, Kayle, Neeko, and Sona special... ) and the whole music thing...

And this is leading people to say, repeatedly, “This is just Sona 2.0.”

For Sona enthusiasts who have been waiting for Sona to get content or lore for years and years, this feels like a slap in the face.

Gameplay & Design:

Seraphine’s abilities are as follows.

When she uses 3 abilities, her next ability is empowered with additional effects ( essentially repeating ). Her q does damage ( based on missing health ) and is a skillshot, her w shields and speeds up people ( and heals herself if she’s already shielded ), and her e slows people ( and roots if they’re already slowed ), while her R is a rectangular ult that charms those hit and makes them walk towards her briefly.

That’s really similar to Sona.

When Sona uses 3 abilities, her next auto-attack is empowered with additional effects. Her q does damage. Her w shields and heals people ( and reduces damage output from an enemy if her passive is up). And her e speeds allies up ( and slows an enemy if her passive is up ). And her R is a rectangular ult that stuns those hit and makes them dance in place.

The similarity is striking. Seraphine does lack the ability to heal allies ( on first glance, I may have misread ), but she looks extremely similar to Sona... which is a frustration.

This year, we got Yone, Yasuo’s brother. And the reasoning behind this, when most other champions are written to give unique inputs/outputs, is that this is an alternative choice for Yasuo players when Yasuo is banned and will improve game health.

However, I suspect the same logic does not hold for Sona and Seraphine. Sona is in a class of enchanters, where several champions can do things similar to what she does already ( with some differences, of course! ). If you can’t play Sona, you can play Karma, you can play Taric, etc - not the same, but similar. It’s my suspicion that with the introduction of Seraphine, we will instead have the problem of Akali/Diana several years ago - these champions are so similar that whichever one is stronger will be played while the other one will be ignored completely.

Furthermore, Seraphine got a lot of attention. A lot of attention. She has a fake twitter account. 

And she is releasing with two skins, one of which is an ultimate. Release. For Sona players who only just got their legendary ( with the understanding that DJ Sona exists ), this feels like a slap in the face. It’s easy to feel overshadowed, and as much of the community is saying right now, this is ‘Sona 2.0′

Now some people are saying, ‘maybe Sona gets reworked’, but that will not be a great answer. If you like playing Sona’s current playstyle, swapping to Seraphine because Riot changed Sona completely will be alienating, and only exacerbate the feeling that Seraphine is replacing and overshadowing Sona.

But it gets a little worse than that too. Seraphine is designed for mid/support, to be played in both lanes. However, Sona enthusiasts have received nerf after nerf to Sona in other lanes, which only makes this hit that much harder. There’s a theory that Seraphine’s kit is essentially a scrapped Sona rework kit. If Seraphine’s build is the same as Sona’s, it will be... tragic. It will be disappointing...

And it’s already exhausting.

Neither Sona nor Seraphine enthusiasts are without the metaphorical gutpunch, and this is likely to divide the community even further. And heaven forbid you like both.

For Sona enthusiasts, this is a slap in the face. Our favorite champion being overshadowed and overhyped by another who gets so much on release, when we’ve longed for content for years is hurtful. 

For Seraphine enthusiasts, this is a punch in the gut, for seeing their champion essentially be treated like a clone of another is unkind. Any nuance or effort put into Seraphine will be drowned underneath ‘Sona 2.0′. And the overlap between both champions and their respective abilities and character traits will wear anyone out.

And that’s not fair to anyone.

( Disclaimer: I wasn’t able to stay 100% unbiased, but if you read all of that, thank you. )

[vampiresuns]

The Best Way To Predict The Future, Is To Invent It

For @arcana-echoes‘ day 14: In Another Life. While the prompt description is “What would have happened if they never went to Vesuvia? If they didn’t die from the plague, or if they had left when Asra asked them to? Who would they be?” I realise that this wouldn’t materially change anything that my OCs did.

Anatole would simply not leave Vesuvia. Unless he never decides to take the Consulship after Valerius, there’s very little way he wouldn’t end up where he is. He would’ve end up in Vesuvia either way. As for Amparo and Milenko they were both born in the City, and even if they left during the Plague, they would come back to resume their careers afterwards.

However, this is what we know, in the Cassanoverse:

1. In Absence of the Count, the Consul rules.

2. The Cassano have held the Consulship for 500 years.

3. What if the former Consul didn’t give the city to Lucio, what if he handed it over to Anatole’s grandfather instead?

4. What if it wasn’t Anatole’s/Amparo’s/Milenko’s choices that changed, materially speaking, but substantially, because history before them changed?

This is the story of the Cassano of Vesuvia, an old, wealthy family, whose distinctive characteristic is being that which stands between Vesuvia and whatever wishes to bring it harm. This is the story of how an old family with no titles and no claims of Nobility became the family who ruled Vesuvia. 

* Lore masterlist coming soon.

Vitale Cassano was a smart man; whatever intelligence he didn’t naturally possess, he had trained himself to have. He had excellent guides along his way and he was nothing if not resourceful. More so than the current Count, for example. The Countess before him had been his friend, but her successor gave Vitale the feeling he would gamble the city away, one day, if left unsupervised. He was too fond of his mercenaries, too fond of the ways of the sword, and not enough of the ways that would actually position Vesuvia as untouchable, when standing against Cities, Nations and Empires which bigger forces and more resources than them.

He could not let that happen: the Count might outlive him, but when Vitale is gone (and he will be gone one day) his family will remain.

He revised the letter he’s been writing once more, paged of his inking going through them, reflecting years of work unravelling the mysteries of Vesuvia, of the origins of the City and its Canals. Because Vitale Cassano, son of Mirabel Cassano, grandson of Agripina Cassano, great grandson of Stelarius Cassano, one day would be gone, but the Cassano would remain. 

He thinks of the words engraved in the gate of the Palazzo, inscribed in old Vesuvian, old enough to now become a quirky dialect of those who have seen the city live and die, over and over again. For The Road To Glory is Steep and Hard, Rise Vesuvia and Feed On Those Who Subdue Us. 

When the letter was finally done, he wrote on the envelope: For my successors, if they are even in need. This will give you back your City.

Vitale Cassano will die at 95, with his son, Iovanus Cassano having already replaced him as the Consul 17 years prior. He will die, inevitably, but the Cassano and his beloved Vesvuia would live on. He had made sure of that, through whatever means necessary. 

That letter would be studied by historians, centuries later, as the first attempt to record the actual origin of Vesuvia, once the knowledge was fully undisclosed to the public. It wouldn’t remain unopened for that long, however. It would only do so until a condottiero named Lucio, and his mercenaries tried to take the City, as the Count in seat, to the Cassano dismay had taken a liking to his mercenary — he was old, and had no appointed successors. It seemed as easy as ABC. 

Iovanus Cassano did not negotiate with such folk. Political and administrative talent could come for anywhere, origin did not determine it. However, the Cassano thought Lucio had no such talent, and Iovanus, poked by Agrippina, decided he was not going to give him the benefit of doubt. The stake of maintaining peace was too high.

The Count’s decision to make Lucio his successor weren’t hazard, it was something he had been ruminating on for years. When Iovanus first knew, some years prior, he did not want to open the letter yet, unsure of whether or not the contents of it would help them. But Lucio, while having great fighting capacities and indeed some organisational and leadership skills, was no politician, and was definitely not very careful.

Grandiose met a big mouth with a bragging complex. He was easy to anger, and when he was angry, he ran his mouth even more.

Iovanus had plans for the City, and little wish for unpredictable people, with their interest above anything else, to meddle with them. It didn’t matter what this Lucio person claimed, or how certain circles of Vesuvian High-Society, or wealthy merchants, were easy to convince (also for their self-interest). Brute force could vanquish, but doubt could poison. If he had anything in his favour, it was that he knew the Count better than Lucio ever would. All Iovanus and Agrippina needed was to find the right people, enough support, and wait.

“You heard him talking to Lucio about the City’s origins, didn’t you?”

“More or less yes— I’ve also heard him talk his fair share with the Quaestor.” 

“The Eastern ends do not really like him, nor does Goldgrave, apparently. The Centre City is undecided. Apparently he’s already parading himself. He causes as much fear as he does fascination, it’s very peculiar to see.”

“Do you think the letter will help, then?” 

“I know Papa’s letter will help. After all,” Agrippina smiled, “unluckily for him, we’ve been the City’s champions for centuries.”

“That we have been.”

Together they opened the letter, together they followed the instructions. They had waited years for this, secretly campaigning against the Count wishes — rumours spread doubt, and doubt poisoned. They decided to confront Lucio directly, which didn’t end up as well as they expected — not that they expected it to go well, but they did not expect the complete riot the City would turn itself into. 

Doubt, still, did its job. When Lucio said apply more force, Iovanus said “but they will resent you.” When Lucio advised the transition to happen earlier, he said “but they will not trust you, they do not know you beyond what you’ve showed them and—”

“What, what has he shown them?” The Count asked. 

When the City saw unrest, Iovanus calmed and soothed, and when Lucio (smarter than the Cassano siblings were willing to admit) caught on, accusing them of wanting to take the Count’s seat for themselves, it was the Count who looked at him confused.

“Lucio, my boy, everyone knows that in the absence of the Count, the Consul rules. If they wanted to take this from me, they would’ve done so years before. My mother and his father were friends, and their parents were friends. Tell him the saying, Iovanus.”

“Vesuvians say that Counts who are prosperous have the Consul as their friend, and Consuls who are memorable have a happy marriage in their beds.” 

“Besides, Lucio, you know what it is needed to be the Count—”

“Right, right of course I know it!”

“No,” Iovanus said, “no you don’t.”

Because Vitale died, but the Cassano would remain, Iovanus trusted his father one more time and did what he was instructed to do. He lied, or at least he lied to the Count. It was true that the former Countess feared her son would have bad counsellors, so she entrusted him to Vitale, however it wasn’t true that said Countess had ever given Vitale any information about the origin of Vesuvia — that had been Vitale’s own digging, not out of distrust of his friend and boss, but because it had been a long project, handed down from Cassano to Cassano, to find out the true origin of the City, not even for the sake of political power, but for the unglamorous purpose of city chronicling. 

The Library in the Palazzo was of public access, and many intellectuals had come to it, all of them disappointed to find out little was known of Vesuvia as it existed before every given set amount of centuries. The Cassano simply dig, and Vitale — unknowingly — hit the jackpot. 

Iovanus lied, handed him a letter from Vitale to himself, about taking good care of the Count, and beware malicious advisors, written vaguely enough to suggest sedition and a long running conspiracy. An apologetic Vitale wishing the best to the Counte and his own son, and with an outrageous suggestion, as only old Vitale could ever make them: what if the City stopped belonging to the entity roaming the Palace, but it belonged to itself? What if the Death and Rebirth of Vesuvia did not destroy their people, but lived on in it’s people. Magic embodied in each and every single Vesuvian to ever live. The Count prayed to the Gods this was not Hubris but a service to the City. 

After an expulsion, a battle, and three minor canal changes to rewrite the Glyph upon which the City dying and being born again laid, Vesuvia had a new Count and a new Consul: both of them Cassanos.

[cautelous]

arcane bellyaching & whatnot feel free to look away it’s mostly rambling and the result of me being up early for other reasons. also talking about politics i guess if that isn’t your thing

damn they really did pull the “what side are you on? the oppressors or the oppressed? both sides are weighted as the same by this statement, and also here’s some animated police brutality!” thing huh

like yeah sure of course i’m not saying that piltover pre-the-present-day has to be perfect and whatnot (nor does present-day piltover have to be perfect either, but... idk, not a fan of this direction!) and of course that is me speaking about old, independent, single-city piltover - i guess this new one can be as corrupt as it wants for as long as it wants - but like, insanely uncomfortable to have just talked about the way that caitlyn’s outfits and abilities and general thing have become less “detective” and more “militarized cop” and how everyone is eating that up because it’s hot that she has more clothes and it’s hot that she has a SWAT outfit only for. ok here is our trailer with a scene of policemen physically breaking up protests! (of course people do seem to be cringing somewhat at that, which is good, and i am not saying that a work of art/piece of media can’t talk about such things, but like. do we trust riot to?)

like even if that scene is from the past (which considering that arcane seems to be both in the past and present, eh, 50/50) then the implication is just that current piltover hasn’t solved whatever issue caused said protest and also hasn’t stopped brutalizing, because current piltover lore has such delightful color stories as “caitlyn electrocutes someone with a bola net” and “vi lectures rich pilties and physically threatens them for breaking windows for the ~zaunite cause~”. the latter is literally just repeating the message that all property damage in protests is the work of outside forces and actually good real actual protesters are completely peaceful :), you see, and so any property damage during a protest immediately discounts its legitimacy. so like. (and secondarily, child of zaun portrays zaunites as easily swayed by a demagogue, unlike those Very Smart Piltovians and Vi, Who’s Not Really Accepted As Fully Zaunite Anymore You See And That’s Her Character Struggle.)

so either a) nothing has gotten better since however many years in the past that scene in arcane was or b) this is the present, and the present in this work of fiction is just. mirroring reality’s present, which is just... i dunno. i think that a fictional world so apart from our own (to the extent that there’s no homophobia, at least from word-of-god, but idk i also have thoughts on that declaration) can do better than 1:1 mirror our world’s police brutality and class struggles. but i’m always an idealist who’d like to see media do more than darkness for the sake of darkness, or repeat reality for the sake of repeating reality and nothing more.

anyways idk man hope they don’t impart absolutely horrid themes in their multi-million-dollar project (or however much this ended up costing) but considering this starting point i am not very sure of that!

anyways idk x2 there’s totally a way to do a piltover-zaun "cities at war” narrative in old lore framing that shows both the struggles of piltover and zaun and compares and contrasts them. piltover “wins” in that framework because zaun is a hypercapitalist hellhole and old piltover’s implications are closer to a steampunk utopia than anything else, but i think the point of that narrative wouldn’t be “see, both sides are bad! and good! equally! just a big old moral perfectly-balanced scale!” like this seems to be shaping up to be, but like. showing that there is goodness and good people even under the most soul-crushing of states (zaun. and also a narrative that i think is important, considering how often we confuse being a citizen of a country for being a follower of that country’s government’s ideology) and that a good nation* and good lives for its citizens has to be worked for with blood, sweat, and tears - and even then it is so easy to fall back into old patterns of behavior and fall upon old prejudices and backslide into a “more comfortable” (for some), but worse society (piltover. and, again, also a narrative that i think is important).

*i have many thoughts about if a nation can be “truly good”, but i would be mad if i thought league or most media would touch the idea of a stateless society with a ten-foot pole. so we’re just working within reason here.

i dunno. tl;dr not very excited at riot choosing to tackle police brutality in their fun animated series for fans when their track record with revolutionaries is what it is. (yes xayah and rakan are portrayed in a positive light yes that’s the gottem everyone uses for when people bring up how xerath and sylas are treated. there are multiple types of revolutionaries and the lovebirds are of a stripe (a feather?) that is easier to market.) not very excited (still, what a surprise) about zaun being squeezed into entirely being the poor underclass, because i feel like that nukes a lot of narratives you could have done with old zaun that would, you know, be directly critical of capitalism and whatnot. there are very interesting stories to tell with these two cities, and i’ve told some of them and my friends have told some of them, and i am just tired of this... bottom-of-the-barrel gritty-to-be-gritty low-hanging-fruit take that riot has chosen. i think that a company, even one making a mass-market game, who tries so hard to convince everyone that they have serious lore for serious people can and should do better than this.

what do i close this ramble with. go play disco elysium? yeah. let’s go with that. go play disco elysium. i like it and think it does a variety of complex themes that other works can only dream of.

[shy-magpie]

RQG 154

Wherein red stringing occurs. Liveblog under the cut:

 Not much hype this week, just a lot of being quietly thrilled RSB got the beginning of the episode dedicated to us. I hope the rest of the fandom doesn't feel like Bryn plays favorites. Its sweet he back reads and answers questions but its nothing he wouldn't do in official. Last week was such a gift that I think it cut down on hype for this week because even if (Alex forbid) they immediately time skipped to the end of the week, quarantine still got us amazing backstory and character moments. Unless Alex gets truly desperate and has someone attack the inn or infects both the new kids, the characters are safe from physical danger so no fear hype either.

Yes I want follow up on that Hamid & Zolf conversation: I am so proud of him for calling Zolf out on being patronizing (I can't believe I didn't see earlier with his family, of course that's the aspect that got to him) and they need to figure out how to deal with the chain of command. Zolf already seems more willing to get input on his decisions so its mostly losing the attitude when things happen like Hamid casting lights. Yes I also want Cel to talk about themself more, but I am fine with waiting until they aren't locked up with no privacy. Azu's backstory is coming out at a decent pace and Helen spoils us so not even worried about not hearing more about her becoming a paladin. I am curious if Alex thinks its worth bonding with the new kids and this better not be a set up for splitting the party. So enough pre episode babbling, final bets on if they play with the brorb now or wait until they can take it to Cel's? Gotta love that music. Oh they do want to get back to things! Listen to how fast they're talking. That's nice I wouldn't have thought they'd be as excited about the pure RP backstory and character bits as they get about a boss fight. No Alex neither players nor fans want to skip anything. I will concede that further conversation was unlikely to be productive that night so the morning makes sense. There was only one corridor! Barnes is still using the stairs to get some space. Some might see it as a sign he is infected or afraid of infection but honestly not wanting to puppy pile with a group as tight knit as the party especially while they are shaking out their issues is valid. Azu checks on Carter who passed out drunk face down. Zolf is sleeping in. With Hamid's family issues, Bryn being so careful to specify he has a healthy relationship with alcohol every time makes it a lot easier to not tense up listening. Oh My God thanks Bryn! I know he said the beginning of the episode was dedicated to us but I was expecting a throw away line not a proper red stringing scene! I am grinning so big right now. Azu is watching Hamid Cel is sleeping curled up with the sealed bottle of elvish mead. Because Lydia is as much a criminal as Bryn just plays a longer game. Speaking of criminal, Ben really plays up this rivalry from Azu & Zolf covering similar roles and its a really close second to the rank thing between him & Hamid in character arcs I'm interested in. I think both are aiming towards a happy ending but no idea how the middle is going to play out. I don't think it's aiming for a "this party isn't big enough for two of us". Alex is encouraging this. This is great just going to get a clip of this rather than attempt to transcribe on first listen. Bryn/Hamid is laying this out so clearly: The knowns, assumed, and questions are being labeled nicely. (I wonder if our little discord helped him refresh his memory so he'd be able to match how much Hamid would remember in character.) Bryn also goes 3rd person? Hope it isn't a stress tell like Alex. Yes Bryn is obsessed and as a listener its is utterly charming when he shows up in RSB or Official and is unabashedly as big a fan of the show as us. Zolf wakes up to Hamid red stringing. Thank goodness he isn't letting security concerns lead him to putting the brakes on. I know there was some concern that if one of them was infected sharing they could pass on anything they talk about. As long as they don't get too specific about classified info, using the time and frankly just having a project to distract them is a good idea. Plus in my mind Hamid always looks so hurt when Zolf pulls on the reigns. Lilliana is not allowed to be the connecting thread. Oh seed is finally being addressed. Aw Hamid handed Cel a glass of water. It really is the little things I love about this show: 1)told you he has a knack for leadership: anticipating the needs of team members even as they diverge from his own 2)He does see Cel as a team member not just someone he worked with, you don't hear him cooing over Carter 3)does it quickly then moves on, because as a gentleman he thinks it's what anyone would do. 4)speaking of, I wonder that Azu & Zolf haven't done rounds. its not like they have anything to save the spells for and the field is only in the cell.

Svalbard! Do not taunt us, does Ben have any idea how much we want to see the science dwarves of the north? Um hmm, vindi-fing-cation. I know it wasn't exactly a huge insight but the mixture of science and various schools of magic is key to my theory on what “Erasing The Line” refers to. Oh Frankenstein in this world is such a concept. Plus it makes Mary Shelley canon. Aw Alex thought we'd never get to this bit of lore. Thank you Blue Veins info being given as whole instead of bits & pieces.  Ooh and Barnes is taking it. Time to get a sense of who he is when he's not swinging a sword. Navel engagement with Blue Veins? Hive mind! Minimize harm? Not dead. Paladins are complicated, maybe a rumor, maybe transfer of allegiance. Cyborg kraken Cyborg Zolf Oh splitting the kraken to make more Barnes just checks out as the conversation goes over his head Called it I told you it was a sensible test. (ETA Zolf’s fart test) (ETA: Re: people with Blue Veins) No lies, no embarrassment, very literal. Other instances? Riots London->Paris->Europe Not safe to go to London If you're in their presence you are highly likely to be infected, mass infections,  not passed by corpses? Memetic effect? Tick tock. Ben and Alex have one of their friendly tussles as Carter decides its a me may Yes he did! And Helen name dropped us! I know I'm just a little part of the brigade but I'm going to to be smug for at least a week that we are so good at what we do one of the actual players looked to us. Hey Lydia is welcome too. Paperwork time! Yeah yeah I knew security was going to be used to undermine Hamid. At least it isn't Zolf and they aren't trying to make him look rash for the whole idea. Getting new info from the paperwork is a bit different than talking about what they already know. Make the place bigger? Nice spell Zolf. If this leads to Animorphs again... Oh I was thinking more like a big horde somewhere you could check stone in & out of a stone plane of existence ties in with elemental lore right? Seriously "Cure Hangover" isn't a spell? Or do Zolf & Azu just not approve of using their magic that way? Intoxicants have to fall under mild poisoning, right? Do the studying later in the week? That's a fair compromise; even if Zolf is still presenting it as an order he is explaining instead of giving his advice or IDK putting it to a vote. I'm not positive but I think Lydia is suggesting they go over their character sheets in character. Alex is not amused. Lydia sounds pleased with herself. Perception check? Azu hears someone knocking something over upstairs. Azu tries to not wake Carter as she listens at the door. It had to be her foot in his mouth. Multiple people in the inn. Carter tries to pick the lock. Azu & Carter start bickering. Carter is perception penalty. The inn is being searched Zolf suggests they wake Wilde up by making a racket. Cel hears the door being unlocked. Voices speaking muffled Japanese. Cel just shouts "Hey what's going on?". Zolf joins in. Azu uses her armor to make noise. Thump of someone hitting the floor! Wilde's voice! Lots of feet? Yes Helen, what if it is the kobolds? Oh god what if Skraak checked on them and found out they were in cages underground? Poor guy would think Wilde is their Shoin. Bryn clarifies Hamid shouts out to Wilde Zolf forbids them leaving the basement Cel shields themself. Azu goes for her armor Barnes is keeping Carter from going for the lock again. Hamid casts Fear (!oh that’s a new one isn't it) I assume #jail is already full of angst criminals connecting Hamid's bully days and him going from S1!Hamid scared of every fight to now casting fear as a way to control his enemies). Also these better be his enemies because I still don't put it past Alex to set us up for a tragic misunderstanding. Dragon roar and dragon face is how he casts fear Ok Rusty Quill LOTR night sounds awesome Zolf helps Azu put on her armor The other feet flee Zolf cries out for Wilde as loud as he physically can but still won't let them risk infecting Japan by leaving quarantine early. Oh if that ain't a fic and a half. A set of small claws! It is a kobold End the episode with the kobolds?  

[luatemusic-blog]

The Diaspora is Mourning: this issue isn’t just American

In the past week or so all the conversations I've been having with black friends and my family have reminded me why the issue of police brutality and the deaths of Black folks in America never feels like an American issue to us. Out here in Brisbane, Australia, I feel the entirety of the diaspora mourning. We're not mourning the loss of a single life but the loss of a little more faith in a future where in our humanity will be fully acknowledged and respected.

I feel my humanity being questioned, every time I'm reminded that these public executions of black folks are happening every day. I was born in Cairo, Egypt and the racism that I experienced and witnessed there varied anywhere from kids teasing you on your walk home from school to being attacked and killed in the streets at night and having your organs harvested; something that is still happening to sub-saharan African refugees in Egypt now. There are new cases every day and these deaths and disappearances are not being investigated.

I was lucky. I didn't experience most of the things that lie in that spectrum of abuse. Beyond this, the lore and history of my family was an important part of my education, that made it so I never felt like my entire identity is inherently attached to or could be reduced down to the colour of my skin. However, at some point every black person realises that even if that isn't how you see yourself, to other people, this is the first thing they see and unwittingly or otherwise, it is the first thing a black person is judged upon. 

In my experience, the singular story that exists out there about black folks maintains these 4 codes at the forefront of the image of blackness: that 'dark' equates to 'scary', that black folks are exotic creatures, that they are uneducated, and (to some, yes) that they are inferior. For these reasons black folks find themselves living tentatively, educating youth on how to avoid confrontation with authority or anyone really, at all costs. Ringing home over and over the message that you are not afforded the luxury of a second chance and that to you, the world is unforgiving. And yet, often, even that cautiousness cannot protect folks from the heavy and at times lethal hand of prejudice, unconscious-bias and systematic oppression. Cautiousness doesn't protect folks from the codes people read when they see a black person.

I understand that, to some, what has happened in Minneapolis and what continues to happen all through America is just another upsetting story about 'America's Bad Cops'. As Australians we're afforded the privilege of saying, "Isn't it terrible how America treats its citizens," as we neglect the fact that Australia shares a very similar history of getting away with the murder of black folks, starting with our First Nation citizens. In fact, in our case the systematic oppression is arguably more insidious because as a culture we refuse to acknowledge the history upon which this country is founded. 

All this is to say that the problem may feel like it's far away - it isn't. Black people all over the world feel the weight of these deaths. To us these incidents flood light on what little regard our lives have been held in, historically and presently. It reminds us that if nothing is said now out of self-preservation or apathy then we are damned into a future devoid of the simple freedom of feeling safe and we will continue to feel trapped in our own bodies. So for those who are concerned, the following are some steps you can take to help.

For the case in Minneapolis:

Many small businesses (including black owned businesses) were destroyed in the Minneapolis riots. The website https://www.welovelakestreet.com/ has been taking donations to support all those small business get back on their feet.  

Here is a gofundme for George Floyd's family, to help them in managing legal support through this trying time https://www.gofundme.com/f/georgefloyd

Also there are petitions all over the internet at the moment that you can sign to make sure that the officers who perpetrated this offence are charged. Here's one: https://www.change.org/p/change-org-the-minneapolis-police-officers-to-be-charged-for-murder-after-killing-innocent-black-man?recruiter=false&recruited_by_id=20f8a0c0-a0f8-11ea-ac37-8bee58d836d7

For the case of Australian Racism and Indigenous deaths in custody:

Since 1991 there have been over 400 deaths of Indigenous folks in police custody around Australia. Here are some links to donate funds for families currently navigating this situation: https://www.gofundme.com/f/day-family-fundraiser, https://www.gofundme.com/f/justice-for-yuendumu-inquiry-on-police-shooting, https://www.gofundme.com/f/d9qkb6-justice-for-david

Get Educated! Anyone who has grown up in Australia knows that school units on Australian History are not nearly as comprehensive as they need to be. To get you started, here is the list of massacres that started the nation: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_massacres_of_Indigenous_Australians

Let's start having some vulnerable and honest conversations in our safe spaces about what racism actually means and in what ways we are practicing it. As Reni Eddo-Lodge put it, "If all racism was as easy to spot and denounce as white extremism is, the task of the anti-racist would be simple."

Also, just get out there! Join rallies and elevate voices of Indigenous folks as often as you can.

For the BLM movement:

Once again, get educated on black history, not just African-American history  but the history of the colonisation of Africa, Australia, the Pacific and the Caribbean islands. All these stories are the histories of a currently dispossessed people.

There are lists all over the internet of what people can do to be active allies in the fight for racial justice. Here's one: https://medium.com/equality-includes-you/what-white-people-can-do-for-racial-justice-f2d18b0e0234

Remember that all the issues our world faces are intersectional, even if it isn't immediately apparent, this matter affects all of us. So, if you don't know to say, use whatever privilege you have to amplify voices of Black folks and POC on this subject.

Here are some other interesting resources:

Really good read on how Australia views racism - https://humanrights.gov.au/about/news/speeches/institutional-racism

Insight into current institutional oppression of Indigenous Australians: https://redflag.org.au/node/7003

A comprehensive list of resources on American Black history: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/folders/0Bz011IF2Pu9TUWIxVWxybGJ1Ync

The BLM website https://blacklivesmatter.com/

Information on BLM protests across Australian in the month of June 2020 https://www.elle.com.au/news/black-lives-matter-protests-australia-23578

If you've indulged me thus far, thanks for listening and I hope you found the sharing of my thoughts, feelings and resources helpful. 

[wistfulcynic]

Self-Promo Sunday: The Very Witching Time

Tomorrow I’ll be posting The Sleep of the Sun, my contribution for @cspupstravaganza​ and a continuation of The Very Witching Time, which I wrote for the Supernatural Summer this year. It isn’t necessary to read TVWT to read the TSotS, but just in case, here it is! 

Though it starts in summer the main action takes place in October, and there’s an eerie, witchy vibe throughout. It’s a modern setting, because I love witch!Emma as a modern woman who wears jeans and watches Netflix and uses her magic to keep her drinks hot and make her pancakes perfectly circular. But of course when she’s threatened by ancient evil she can use her magic for far more than that. Or when she meets an injured dog in the forest and needs it to heal him. 

I love this verse so much, and these versions of Emma and Killian, AND the next chapter of their lives, beyond The Sleep of the Sun, which I hope will appear next year for the Supernatural Summer! I just can’t let it go. 

SUMMARY: Emma Swan is a hereditary witch, last in a long line of wise women who for centuries have guarded the coast of Maine and the small village of Storybrooke with their homemade cures and their ancient magic. She holds the delicate balance between magic and mundane, but now that balance is threatened by a new foe, one capable of bringing an end to everything Emma is and everything she loves. To defeat it she will need all her power, help from her friends and neighbours, and the loyalty of a very unusual dog who answers to the name of Killian. 

Words: 35k Rating: M (for violence and mild sexy times)  Tags: modern AU, magical AU, witchcraft AU, witch!Emma, cursed!Killian, witches, witchcraft, witch lore 

On Tumblr: One | Two | Three | Four  | Five | Six

On AO3

CHAPTER ONE:

Emma Swan lived atop a jagged cliff in a house that seemed an extension of it, rising up from the wind-hewn face into pointed towers that stood stark against the sky. The house was of the same stone as the cliff itself, great slabs of it, slabs too large to be used for construction, slabs that, observing them, one felt could have been formed only by the hand of nature and never that of man. It was a part of the landscape, that house, as old as the earth and only slightly younger than the sky, perched at the edge of those perilous cliffs in a way that made it impossible to imagine them without it.

The back of the house, or rather the front, as that was where the door was set, however, presented an altogether different aspect; one of a delightful cottage of typical grey Maine clapboard, squat and cheerful with a steeply sloping roof trimmed in white and a low stone wall surrounding a tumbledown greenhouse and a garden where bushes, trees, and flowers jumbled together and neither rhyme nor reason appeared to play any role. On the casual observer the effect was charming in an artless way, yet a keener eye would note method behind the garden’s seeming madness, an ancient wisdom in the randomness of the tumbling riots of colour that shifted and transmuted with the seasons. Where in spring it boasted bright red poppies and purple larkspur, delicate white anemones and pink blossoms on the apple trees twisting around each corner of the wall, summer brought fragrant freesia and heather for the bees, its warm breezes rustling through the tall irises and lilies. Autumn ushered in the muted oranges and yellows of chrysanthemums and the fluffy white of Queen Anne’s Lace, salvia and yarrow and berries from the rowan tree. Even in winter the garden provided: the glossy green leaves and red berries of the holly bushes brightened the snowy vista as pansies and orchids flourished in the greenhouse.

Beyond the garden wall a forest sprawled, dark and wild and perilous, from the very edge of the cliff where trees clung by their gnarled roots to the borders of the village where it dwindled into fenced yards and tidy houses. Here your casual observer would feel a shivering prickle on the back of his neck, that uncomfortable sensation of being watched by things not quite of this world that is more commonly reserved for graveyards at dusk and abandoned Victorian houses. He would move quickly through the dense woodland —yet not so quickly that he appeared to be hurrying— and upon emerging he would feel the sunshine as a balm on skin grown far colder than he’d realised.

The keen observer would, of course, not go into the forest at all.

Emma was as keen an observer as anyone could be but the forest, for all its determined menace, posed no threat to her. She relied on it, in fact, for ingredients she could not or did not wish to cultivate in her garden or greenhouse, just as it relied on her to keep a rein on its magic. Emma and the forest had an understanding.

That understanding failed to extend to the village which separated the forest from the lush farmlands which this stretch of Maine coastline boasted; the richest soil in New England it was said, guarded closely by the residents of Storybrooke who despite their distrust of it were prepared to put up with creepy forest at their backs in exchange for prosperity at their fronts. And though they rarely ventured into the woods themselves they were broad minded and mercenary enough to appreciate the labours of those who did, of Emma and the generations of witches who had come before her; wise women who kept the forest in check and the villagers placated with potions and tinctures, candles to encourage love or drive away evil spirits and balms to soothe every ailment from a bumped head to a broken heart.

And so, just as witches had done in Storybrooke from the time of the earliest settlement of her ancestors in this land, Emma kept an apothecary shop in the village, stocked with the wares she blended and brewed herself, travelling to and from it each day along the very same forest path that had been daily trodden by so many powerful women over the course of the centuries.  

The path was so familiar to her she could follow it in her sleep, which she almost did on the August afternoon when our tale begins, lulled by the muggy weight of the late summer air. The sunlight that shone so brightly on the village barely penetrated here; just a few slender shafts of it reached the forest floor, encouraging the growth of the rare plants on which Emma’s livelihood relied but doing little to alleviate the atmosphere made dense by damp heat and malign magic. Emma was blinking heavy eyelids, her mind on the cushioned bench in her garden that was so well suited to afternoon naps when the sound of an animal in distress wove its way into her drowsy consciousness.

It sounded like a dog, which caught her attention. Wilder, less domesticated creatures like cats and witches may feel comfortable enough with the forest’s demeanour to venture within, but dogs, being the keenest observers of all, tended to avoid it with the same diligence and for the same reasons as their humans did.

The noise came again, one that hovered somewhere between a whine and a growl, pained and frustrated. It tugged at Emma’s mind, clearing away her sleepy haze as from the corner of her eye she caught a quivering in the leaves of a hawthorn bush that twisted up from the undergrowth to the left of the path and the flash of a black tail just beyond it.

Without hesitating Emma plunged into the bracken, drawing on her own magic and that of the hawthorn as she went, wrapping threads of both around the bush’s thorny branches and pulling them aside to reveal a large black dog crouched at an awkward angle behind it. The dog looked up and when it saw her it stilled for a moment, staring at her with blue eyes that were almost shocking in its black face, a deep, clear blue she’d never seen on a dog before, bright and intelligent. It blinked and shook its head then looked at her again this time with a plea in those remarkable eyes, giving three quick, deep barks.

{Please help me.}

An affinity with animals was one of Emma’s gifts, and she was not surprised to hear the dog’s voice in her head. She smiled reassuringly and offered her hand.

“Hey, puppy,” she said in a low, soothing voice. “What’s the matter?”

The dog sniffed her hand then gave it a lick, its tail wagging furiously. She petted its head and scratched its ears as she slowly inched closer. It seemed remarkably calm given the circumstances but Emma had seen enough injured animals to be wary, knowing how abruptly their pain and fear could overcome them. She knelt on the ground next to it, murmuring gentle words and stroking its back, and took stock of the situation.

The dog’s front right leg was deep in what was likely a gopher hole, buried up to the middle of its shin, and though the sounds she’d heard and the state of the ground around the hole bore witness to the dog’s attempts to free itself, it was clear to Emma as indeed it would be even to the casual observer that the dog was thoroughly stuck and also that the leg was broken.

“Oh, poor baby,” she murmured. “That must hurt. I can help, if you’ll let me. Will you trust me?”

The dog looked right at her and she could see her answer in its extraordinary eyes, filled with pain but also hope and what she would swear was comprehension. It whined and gave her chin a single, gentle lick, then nodded its head.

“Well, that’s clearly a yes,” said Emma. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here.” She hunched closer and examined the dog’s leg, well and truly wedged into the gopher hole, and winced. “I’m really sorry pup but this is going to hurt,” she said, looking up to catch the dog’s gaze again, marvelling at how calm it was despite its distress. She grasped its leg as gently as she could below the break and gathered her magic. “Ready? One… two…”

On three she pulled the leg from the hole, using her magic to ease its way. The dog whimpered at the pain but did not bark or growl and when its leg was free it licked her chin again.

“Okay, that’s step one,” said Emma. “Now let’s see how bad this is.” She probed the leg as delicately as she could with her fingertips, feeling the fractured bone beneath the fortunately unbroken skin. The break felt clean, with no jagged edges. “It’s not as bad as it could have been, I should be able to heal it,” she said, wondering briefly why she was explaining herself to a dog, though the animal in question was watching her intently with those intelligent eyes looking for all the world as though it knew exactly what she was saying. “I’m gonna have to set the break so there’ll be pain again and then I’ll heal it right after. Okay?”

The dog gave a short bark followed by another nod.

{Ready.}

“Okay, then,” said Emma. She gathered her magic, pulling it from the forest flowers and the leaves of the trees for backup, then as quickly as she could she snapped the broken bone back into place and wove her magic into it, knitting it together and soothing the pain in the damaged tissues.

When she finished she sat back on her heels with a sigh and closed her eyes. That was more magic than she’d used in some time and she felt a bit woozy. When she opened them again they fell immediately on the dog, who was staring at its leg in wonder.

Could dogs stare in wonder? She frowned, realising she didn’t actually know very much about the canine species. As a witch she’d always considered herself more of a cat person.  

“Give it a try,” she told the dog. “It’s all better now.”

The dog stood up and began to walk, tentatively at first and then with greater confidence. After a few loping steps it spun around and barked excitedly before trotting back to her with a delighted expression, tongue lolling from the corner of its mouth.

Emma, however, was still frowning. Despite the dog’s obvious pleasure its gait had a distinct limp and when it moved quickly it used only three legs, forgoing the left one entirely.

Its left leg… when she had healed the right.

“Hey,” she said. “Come here. Let me see that other leg.”

It limped closer and placed its left leg in her lap, a leg which she was now able to observe did not end in a paw.

“Oh, no!” she cried, bending to get a closer look at what was evidently an old injury and a badly healed one, with rough scar tissue and signs of wear where the dog had walked on it. “Oh poor you. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hurt, is it? How do you walk?”

The dog tilted its head in what was plainly a shrug.

“I guess you manage the best you can, huh? Well, I can’t give you your paw back but if you come home with me I should be able to fix you up with something to protect the end of your leg and help you walk a bit better. How does that sound?”

The dog licked her face enthusiastically and barked, and now that the press of emergency had passed she noticed the peculiar cadence of its cry.

“Aye!” barked the dog.  

Emma blinked. She may not be the world’s foremost authority on dogs, but even she knew that they were supposed to say things like “woof” or “arf.” She’d never heard of a dog saying “aye” before.

“Aye?” she repeated with a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s pretty obviously agreement.” She stood and brushed the dirt and twigs from her legs as the dog stood patiently in its slightly off-kilter way. “What should I call you?” she asked it. “I don’t suppose you have a name.”

Killian.

The name sprang into her mind, though the dog hadn’t barked. “Killian?” she repeated, startled.

“Aye!” barked the dog.

“Really?”  

“Aye!”  

“You sure? It’s not Spot or Buster or Joe or something?”

The dog looked affronted, and she laughed again. “All right, Killian it is then. I guess that means you’re a boy.”

“Aye!”

“Well okay, Killian, let’s go. We can have some dinner and then I’ll see what I can do about that paw.”

Killian bounded in an excited circle around her, his tail a blur. He moved remarkably well, considering, she thought, even as she laughed at his antics, and soon he’d settled into a limping trot alongside her as she headed home.

When they reached her garden gate she opened it and went straight in but Killian halted with a short bark of distress. She turned in surprise at the sound to see him pacing to and fro in front of the gate, whining softly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

He whined louder and gave two short barks.

{Not welcome.}

“But why wouldn’t you be—” Emma frowned. The wards around her garden were designed to keep humans away, permitting none to enter without permission. But they shouldn’t have any effect on a dog.

Should they?

She really needed to learn more about dogs, she thought with mild irritation. This was clearly a gaping hole in her education.

In the meantime she called to the magic in the ancient warding spells, and spoke the age-old words to quieten them. “I see thee, Killian, and I name thee friend,” she said, in a voice that echoed through the open air. “Be welcome in this place.”

The magic of her garden surged and she held out her arms as it rippled and danced around her, ruffling her hair and gilding her skin with tiny sparks of light. Killian stared at her with wonder in his eyes again, and when the sparks faded away and she lowered her arms he cautiously stepped through the gate. The moment he crossed its threshold the garden’s magic… sighed, a soft exhale that sang of enduring hopes fulfilled at too long last, and curled itself around him, ruffling his fur as it had her hair.

Now it was Emma’s turn to stare. Her magic had never done that before. She gaped as Killian seemed to smirk —could dogs smirk?— at the unseen attention he was getting before rolling onto his back and letting the garden’s magic rub his tummy.

“Seriously?” cried Emma. “That’s enough of that, from both of you, Killian, come inside.”

She marched over to the cottage door and pulled it open. Killian leapt to his feet and ran after her, pausing just at the doorstep to wink at the garden before trotting into her kitchen.

Could dogs wink?

Emma made a mental note to dig up a book on canine behaviours later that night. There must be one in her library. Somewhere.

“I don’t have much that’s suitable for dogs,” she warned him as she opened the icebox. “But I think I’ve got some hamburgers in here if that’s okay—”

“Aye! Aye!”

“Okay, let me just heat them up.”

She defrosted the hamburgers with some gentle warming magic and put them on a plate for him. The minute she set it on the floor he dove in, gobbling up the meat with enthusiasm bordering on frenzy.

“Wow, you were hungry! How long has it been since you ate?”

He looked up at her and licked his chops, tail wagging vigorously, and barked twice before digging in again.

{Long time.}

“Well, don’t eat too fast, it’ll make you sick.”

Emma made herself a sandwich and munched it as she watched him diligently try to eat more slowly. When the last morsel was gone he lapped the plate clean then came over to her and licked her hand in thanks, wagging his tail as she scritched his ears before relaxing back onto his haunches and giving her the opportunity to observe him.

He was, as she had noticed in the woods, a large dog, though not a bulky one, with long slender legs and lean muscles. Standing, his head reached her waist with his shoulders around the middle of her thigh. His fur was thick and shaggy and a deep, light-absorbing black, though a v-shaped tuft right in the centre of his chest was bright white and fluffy and so soft-looking that her fingers itched to pet it.

He watched her examine him with a twinkle in his blue eyes that she was certain couldn’t be normal for a dog, as though he knew what she was thinking. She popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth and when he pouted —did dogs pout?— she gave him a small smirk. “You had your dinner,” she said firmly. “You can’t have mine too. Now what do you say we go and see what can be done about that paw.”

She stood and left the kitchen, Killian at her heels, and headed past the living room and the closed library door, through a dark and narrow passageway towards the rear of the house. As she approached, the solid-seeming wall at the end of the corridor began to shimmer with the same sparking light that had surrounded her in the garden and a doorway appeared, wrought from the same stone as the slabs of the house itself, curving elegantly to form a pointed Gothic arch and frame a door of solid wood, thick and heavy and older than anything that surrounded it.

The door swung open as Emma drew near and she breezed through it without a thought. Killian, sensing the darker energy emanating from the other side, hesitated as he had at the garden gate. Emma turned, her smile understanding.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “It’s not dangerous, just old. Old things are sometimes… indifferent to younger ones. But it won’t hurt you. Nothing will hurt you here.”

Hesitantly he came through the doorway, moving slowly to allow the magic there to get a sense of him. It was less welcoming than the garden had been, but not hostile. As Emma said, it was simply indifferent. This magic had seen too many mortal creatures come and go in its time to care overly much about yet another one.

Emma led him into a large stone room with no windows, the tall, thick candles lining the walls its only source of light. These she set burning with a wave of her hand and the illumination they produced flooded the room with a golden glow despite their modest number. Stone stairs curved up the walls on either side of the room, leading to the towers that flanked the house, their twin helixes twisting up and disappearing into a darkness too dense even for the candles to penetrate. A heavy and cluttered wooden table spanned the length of the far wall, and this Emma approached, producing a thick, soft blanket of deep midnight blue scattered with stars from a woven wicker basket beneath it.

She spread the blanket carefully over the centre of the otherwise bare stone floor, placing at each of its corners a small silver bowl filled with sea salt and thyme and a few dried violet leaves, murmuring a short incantation over them as she did. “Sit here,” she instructed Killian, indicating the centre of the blanket. “I’ll need a few minutes to get my things together.”

Obediently, he sat and watched her in fascination as she rifled through the jumbled collection of bottles, jars, and bags on the table, frowning and muttering to herself as she did.

“…comfrey and rosemary and a bit of peppermint, sage to infuse and to burn…” she intoned as she gathered the named ingredients together. When all were assembled she snapped her fingers to light a fire beneath her copper kettle, then carefully weighed out the herbs on her silver scales while the water inside it came to a boil. She blended the herbs in a large mortar, crushing and grinding them with the pestle to blend them well and draw out their essence before tipping them carefully into a painted ceramic pot and pouring the boiling water over them. Stirring them gently with her magic, with her fingertips she traced arcane symbols through the steam as it rose from the pot into the cool, still air.

When she judged the herbs sufficiently infused she strained their liquid through a clean cheesecloth into a wide copper bowl. As it cooled to a comfortable temperature, she removed a lump of pure silver from a leather bag, holding it up to observe its gleam in the candlelight. The lump was large but to complete the healing properly would require all of it, and it was also precious. Glancing behind her she saw Killian sitting patiently, watching her, his eyes wide and curious but not afraid. Trusting.

He was worth it. She felt sure of that, and though she had no idea why she did not vacillate. Emma had long since learned to trust her instincts.  

She took a bundle of dried sage and held it up to a candle flame until it caught —some fires needed to be started in the mundane way— then blew the flame out with a quick puff of breath and waved the smouldering herbs around the blanket and over the copper bowl before dropping them into the potion. Carefully she lifted the bowl and carried it to the blanket, kneeling down upon it and placing the bowl in front of Killian. Closing her eyes she muttered a brief incantation before taking his damaged leg and bathing it in the warm liquid, her fingers gentle but thorough, making sure to clean away all the dirt and debris from the gnarled scar tissue. He growled softly, deep in his throat, and she shot him a smile, knowing it was a growl of pleasure.

“Feels good, huh?” she said. “Soothing.”

“Aye.” His bark was as low as his growl.

{Good.}

When his leg was clean she dried it with a linen cloth and set it in her lap, then took out the lump of silver, placing it at the end of his leg and cupping both loosely in the palms of her hands. Closing her eyes once more she focused her powers and drew forth the metal’s own magic, its primal properties of health and healing, her hands beginning to spark and glow with light as she kneaded the silver, stretching and weaving it back into itself, moulding the lump into the shape of a dog’s paw and then knitting it into the damaged flesh of the leg. Killian watched with wide eyes, whimpering slightly as the metal sank into his skin and fused to his bones. The light from Emma’s hands burst into a sudden blinding brightness, flickered out, and the silver paw was part of him.

Emma slumped back on her heels, exhausted. “Whew,” she said. “Done.” She patted the metal paw. “Give it a try.”

Killian sniffed the paw, licked at the seam where it joined his leg, then tentatively placed it on the floor and leaned his weight on it. He took a few careful steps followed by bolder ones, then turned to Emma with an incredulous expression. She laughed, happy he was happy. “Go on, stretch yourself,” she encouraged.

“Aye!” he barked, frolicking joyfully around the room, spinning in circles and leaping through the air. He ran to Emma and jumped on her, putting his paws on her shoulders and licking her face until she pushed him away, grinning through a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m glad you like it,” she told him as she rose unsteadily from the floor. “I gotta get to bed. Um…” she swayed on her feet and Killian was there immediately at her side, pressing firmly against her leg and letting her brace herself with her hand on his neck as she stumbled from the stone room and out the doorway.

It disappeared behind her, the magic within whispering far more warmly than before, no longer so indifferent to Killian as it had been.

Emma sank her fingers into his thick fur, clinging to him as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Her head felt heavy and woozy, her fingers and toes numb. Moving clumsily she kicked off her shorts and unhooked her bra, pulling it from beneath her tank top with jerky movements and dropping it to the floor before collapsing into bed, sinking deep into the pillows. Dimly she was aware of Killian moving around the room, his fur soft against her skin as he pulled the blankets up over her, the warm weight of him curling up at her back, his chin resting on her hip. With the last of her energy she reached up to stroke his head then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

                                                    ~~🌺~~

Some hours later Killian was awoken from his doze when the magic from Emma’s garden called to him. He lifted his head from where it still lay on her hip and gave a low growl, staring through the bedroom window into the pitch blackness of the night.

Something was out beyond the garden wall, moving around its perimeter, methodically testing the magical boundary in search of weaknesses. Killian could sense it there, could feel its cold determination and intent even without the garden’s warning.

Threat, whispered the garden magic in his mind. Danger. Stay with her.

Killian flexed his new silver paw, feeling the power that still thrummed within it, feeling the absence of pain in his left limb for the first time in many a year. He looked at the golden haired woman still sound asleep, drained to exhaustion by the act of healing him, of selflessly giving him this invaluable gift. He recalled her warm green eyes and kind smile, the strength and gentleness in her touch.

He lay back down, pressing tighter against her, curling his neck around her hip and placing his silver paw gently over her waist. He closed his eyes again and answered the garden’s plea.

{Always.}

Tis now the very witching time of night,

When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out

Contagion to this world.

                                   —Hamlet, Act III Scene 2

Continue to Chapter 2