For the night is dark and full of whispers (Noxus)
-Go after her Malcolm. -said Darius.
-I know that we need every sword we may have, but it's pointless. -answered Malcolm.
-What's that thing that you find pointless? -arrogantly asked Darius. - Your fear?
-Going after another soldier that leaves is pointless Darius. -replied Malcolm. -Riven is nothing but another sword leaving our ranks. I won't waste my time chasing her.
Darius grabbed his axe and left. Malcolm heard a familiar voice in the dark in the very moment that the Hand of Noxus was out of sight.
-This battle will be our masterpiece, Aalcox.
Without Darius knowing, Malcolm left the temporary military base in the search of Riven. He could not leave loose ends.
The ones of his kind had a proficiency for finding the right person in the right time; Riven was one of those special people whose destiny is carved in stone, but Malcolm didn't want Darius to change her destiny. She would die in a fight worth her sword, not a silly suicide skirmish.
Even though... as Aatrox had told him, today's battle didn't have to be a skirmish. With his power, this day could be remembered as one of the greatest strikes that Noxus had ever accomplished. A battle worthy of leaving it's trace in Runeterra's history.
But Malcolm had other plans. Yes, the Darkins had all been created with the same purpose; war of yesterday, war today and war for tomorrow. But that didn't mean that their goals were the same. Different powers, different ambitions and different destinies awaiting them, having in common nothing more but the power to change history as if they were the ones writing it; the irony was that theirs was the only fate they could not rewrite.
He was diving deep in his mind when he suddenly saw a spark light up in front of him. A bird attacked him, blinding Malcolm for a second until he understood what was happening; an ambush planned by one of the Demacian reconaissance squads.
In the blink of an eye the bird was back at him, but now there would be no surprise for the darkin. He'd grab that bird on flight and squeeze it until blood ran as is they were on the Noxian arena. He could feel the bird approach him. It was fast, but Malcolm's control over time let him know when to strike.
Unless another one of his kin intervened; the butterfly that had been flying around him suddenly bursted, and Aatrox, the Darkin of Glory, appeared in front of him. His blade didn't hesitate and swiftly cutted through the bird's head; now it was no more than dust, laying on the ground.
Another spark shone in front of him in the very moment that Aatrox turned his face towards him. Malcolm could not even hear him saying goodbye.
-I know that we need every sword we may have, but it's pointless. -answered Malcolm.
-What's that thing that you find pointless? -arrogantly asked Darius. - Your fear?
-Going after another soldier that leaves is pointless Darius. -replied Malcolm. -Riven is nothing but another sword leaving our ranks. I won't waste my time chasing her.
Darius grabbed his axe and left. Malcolm heard a familiar voice in the dark in the very moment that the Hand of Noxus was out of sight.
-This battle will be our masterpiece, Aalcox.
...
Without Darius knowing, Malcolm left the temporary military base in the search of Riven. He could not leave loose ends.
The ones of his kind had a proficiency for finding the right person in the right time; Riven was one of those special people whose destiny is carved in stone, but Malcolm didn't want Darius to change her destiny. She would die in a fight worth her sword, not a silly suicide skirmish.
Even though... as Aatrox had told him, today's battle didn't have to be a skirmish. With his power, this day could be remembered as one of the greatest strikes that Noxus had ever accomplished. A battle worthy of leaving it's trace in Runeterra's history.
But Malcolm had other plans. Yes, the Darkins had all been created with the same purpose; war of yesterday, war today and war for tomorrow. But that didn't mean that their goals were the same. Different powers, different ambitions and different destinies awaiting them, having in common nothing more but the power to change history as if they were the ones writing it; the irony was that theirs was the only fate they could not rewrite.
He was diving deep in his mind when he suddenly saw a spark light up in front of him. A bird attacked him, blinding Malcolm for a second until he understood what was happening; an ambush planned by one of the Demacian reconaissance squads.
In the blink of an eye the bird was back at him, but now there would be no surprise for the darkin. He'd grab that bird on flight and squeeze it until blood ran as is they were on the Noxian arena. He could feel the bird approach him. It was fast, but Malcolm's control over time let him know when to strike.
Unless another one of his kin intervened; the butterfly that had been flying around him suddenly bursted, and Aatrox, the Darkin of Glory, appeared in front of him. His blade didn't hesitate and swiftly cutted through the bird's head; now it was no more than dust, laying on the ground.
Another spark shone in front of him in the very moment that Aatrox turned his face towards him. Malcolm could not even hear him saying goodbye.
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