The Fall: 16. For the dawn is bright for those who fight

For the dawn is bright for those who fight

Aatrox was nowhere to be seen, and Aalcox was feeling weaker than ever. Malcolm asked himself what was going on, but he could find no answer; a bright light blinded him, and something was tying his feet to the ground.

-This is him Quinn! -shouted a distorted voice.- I can't contain him for long!

The thought of having been caught was started to annoy him, but that phrase made his day; the mage was scared. Some seconds later, he felt his feet breaking free of the chains that tied him, and the light that was blinding him suddenly weakened. Before the woman inlaid in armor could notice, Malcolm had her grabbed by the neck. After struggling a bit he felt that the armor was being torn to pieces; he then found the mage in front of him, wielding a wand whose end was shining bright. Only then Malcolm realized that he was facing the Lady of Luminosity.

She was well known within the Noxian ranks; countless soldiers had succumbed to her spells and sorceries. Still, that little girl was nothing more than a warm-up for someone like him. Malcolm avoided spell after spell moving rapidly through her missiles of what looked like solid light. Once he reached Luxanna's back, he grabbed her face and lifted the Lady of Luminosity from the ground; he wanted to read her before erasing her existence.

A dark and secret past. A family forgotten, another one planned. An explorer. A gift. A smile, hope. A lie. A secret kept. And a long life to live.

-She's the one! -shouted Aalcox and Malcolm at once.

Suddenly, Aalcox started to feel something that weakened him. The light chains had hit deeper than they thought, and he was now being confined to the deepest part of Malcolm's heart.

-Let her go! -shouted Aalcox using Malcolm's voice.

But Malcolm could do nothing because the hero's light was blinding him. Aalcox decided to interrupt the channeling ignoring the possible side-effects; there was no way he could survive such a force for so long.

...

Riven ran towards the last place she had seen the bird land as fast as she could; the wind she had felt was clearly the fruit of Aatrox's wings.

When she got out of the forest and reached the hill she saw them; Malcolm holding the Demacian mage known as Luxanna with one hand, and Quinn, the Demacian scout that she had been hunting, pointing her crossbow at Malcolm's head.

Riven had never liked Malcolm; he was a quiet man who always did his job in silence, ignoring everyone who tried to help or advice him. But her opinion didn't change a plain fact; Malcolm always suceeded. That was why she still wanted to save him; even if she was escaping Noxus, Riven was still Noxian. She wanted them to win this war, and Noxus needed Malcolm in order for that to happen.

-What's broken can be reforged. -whispered Riven to the sword that Malcolm gifted her when she was a child while positioning between him and Quinn.

She heard Quinn's crossbow fire a bolt. After that, Malcolm screamed in pain. Riven called the winds and slashed fiercely in front of her, directings the shockwave towards Quinn who disappeared downhill, falling into a huge rock's gap. And then she realized she was bleeding. She turn towards Malcolm, only to find him grabbing her by the throat.

-I knew you would do something important Riven. -said Malcolm.- I did right, you were the best recipient I could find for the sword that killed the last archmage.

-Why are you doing this, Malcolm? -whispered Riven while choking.

-You would never understand it, and I have no time to explain it. -answered Malcolm, feeling how Aalcox was weaker after every second that passed by.

Lux suddenly fainted, and Malcolm let go of her body, which then hit the ground doing no sound at all. With a strange smile on his face, Malcolm raised a foot and stomped Lux's neck until the head was separated from the body, which got kicked and fell where Quinn had ended up.

-You'll serve a greater good now, Riven. -said Malcolm, raising a fist that was glowing as if it was nothing more than solid light.

Both Riven and Lux screamed a word after that.

...

Quinn was crying; Valor was dead, Lux had been captured and she was going to die abandoned between some rocks lost in a small hill of Runeterra. Nothing could be worse than the certainty of being unable to do anything. At least that what she thought until Lux's beheaded body fell at her side.

...

Darius didn't know what to do; the alliance's army was marching, and they were not morally prepared to face them. His soldiers were afraid; not of death, because a Noxian never fears death, but afraid of going back home with the burden of a lost battle at their backs. The dead ones would be the ones considered lucky that day. A few hundred Noxians against the biggest army that Runeterra had ever seen.

-Malcolm's here. -said a timid voice, whose owner's hand was pointing towards the fading sun.

Darius could not believe what he was seeing; Malcolm and Riven were walking towards the Noxian soldiers, slowly, the man with a smile on his face and the woman hugging her broken sword. When Malcolm was in front of Darius, he showed him Luxanna's severed head.

The Noxian soldiers were silent at the beginning, until they understood what that meant. The whole army singed that day while they marched towards their enemies. No one would believe what happened that night. Not even the protagonists of the unfolded events.

...

-We did it Darkwill. -said Aatrox. -The Darkin of Glory and the Darkin of History crowned the alliance as the victors of the battle and the war, but they had nothing but tears to share. The Noxians were the true victors; theirs was the glory and they rewrote a story that otherwise would have already finished, granting themselves another chance to live.

-But you couldn't stop Jax. -answered the Ziraoth.

-I didn't even find him, and Aalcox thinks he's dead. -replied Aatrox.- As far as we know, he might be dead, his corpse laying in a frozen tomb of the Freljord.

-If that's the case find the body and bring it to me, Aatrox. Stop fooling around.

The Fall: 15. For the night is dark and full of whispers (Noxus)

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.

The Fall: 14. For the night is dark and full of whispers (Demacia)

For the night is dark and full of whispers (Demacia)

-Vayne will lead your squad today. -said Garen.

-May I ask for the reason behind the change? -asked Ezreal without understanding why Quinn would not be leading her squad.

-You may ask that question; that doesn't mean I'll answer it. -replied Garen while inviting Ezreal to leave his tent.

When he was out he understood why he was being dispatched that fast; Quinn had also been cited. Ezreal had only hated two things in his life; Noxians and the lack of a plan. The flash meeting with Garen counted as one of the latter and annoyed him quite a lot, but there was nothing he could do but to accept it and follow the orders he was given.

...

They had left way before the sun had risen; they didn't really feel comfortable scouting so deep, and if we added the lack of trust Ezreal had in his new leader the situation becomes as awkward as it can be. To add on, the rain had not stopped since they left the encampment; it was probably the worst day Ezreal had lived since the war started, and it was only the beginning of it.

The trees felt like torn apart even, the whole forest was empty. Not a soul could be heard, and not a single life showed up around them. The only living being they saw from time to time was Valor, who was scouting for both reconnaissance pairs. Vayne and Ezreal checking the forest and its surroundings, Quinn and the steel legion technician being in charge of the plains.

The day earned a positive point when their scouting finished without a trace of the Noxian army and a message from Quinn that confirmed their presence around the plains. That was the last time they heard about Quinn and the steel legion technician until the night.

...

Ezreal had been waiting long for Lux, but she hadn't arrived. As he was tired, it didn't take long for him to fall asleep in the very same place where he had seen her the day before.

The encampment's chaos woke him up later on; the Noxian army was marching. He went to Garen's tent and found him about to leave.

-Take care of Quinn, Ezreal! -shouted the Might of Demacia.- Jarvan IV shall lead the charge, and I'll be there covering him! I need you to take care of her wounds!

Ezreal had no time to answer; as big as Garen was, he had vanished into the chaotic crowd that was the Trinity army. It didn't take long for him to hear a groan and Quinn's voice calling for him. He ran towards her and prepared some painkilling medicines. After Quinn's pain faded away, she started to talk frantically.

-I'm sorry Ezreal, I'm so sorry, it wasn't meant to be that way.

-Calm down and rest Quinn, you're hallucinating because of the medicines. -answered Ezreal trying to get his squad leader to sleep.

-No I'm not, I wish I was... That wasn't meant to happen Ez, we got caught... -continued Quinn.

-What happened to the steel legion technician that was with you? Couldn't he protect you? -asked Ezreal nervously.

-She won't come back Ezreal... -whispered Quinn before fainting.

Ezreal couldn't believe what he was thinking. He needed to be wrong; she had to come back.

The Fall: 12. Farewell, my friends, pt. 3

Farewell, my Friends, pt. 3

Quinn could not calm down. The execution was something she was clearly against, but she could not disobey Garen. Not now, not during these days.

Also, the weather didn't help at all; the storm was lasting way longer than usual, with lightnings causing several fires around the city. The climatic anomaly had taken more than thirty victims, and that was without counting the casualties of the governments repression system that were hidden behind such an unnatural incident. To add up, Valor was nowhere to be seen.

She couldn't understand how Lucian was so calm. While she and Vayne shivered nervously, Lucian was nearly falling asleep besides the platform's small stairs; with his gun at his feet, he used Senna's as a pillow by laying it on his knees and his head on it. Meanwhile, countless citizens gathered in the square; they had come to see Poppy's execution.

Dark times bring dark thoughts to people's mind and dark needs to their hearts. They were not mean or evil; they were just scared. Propaganda and missinformation had widely spread a feeling of insecurity that had deeply digged its way through the Demacian hearts and infected every feel with hatred and misstrust; that was the only explanation she could find, the only way to justify their actions. Poppy's death would be a bless for them; the execution's duration was time that they wouldn't be using to try to face their own problems, the execution's reasons were the nonsense that helped them to find someone who blame for their misfortunes and the spitting they were giving to and old friend like Poppy was no more than their desperate wish for something to change.

...

Something woke Lucian up again. ¿A noise? ¿A step? No, it was different this time. People were silent. Even Garen was staring at the skies. They all looked charmed, as if a witch had forced them into an hallucination or something like that. ¿What were they looking at?

It took him a bit longer to realize; the air was glowing lightly. Small lights floating around, as minuscule as you might see the stars, but at the reach of his hand. Time felt slower around him; he could feel more than ever. The air through his lungs, the wind trying to wave his hair. The weight of Senna in his hand, the lack of something deep in his heart. And then the gust came.

Most people fell to the ground. Those who were not lucky elevated to the skies and fell onto those that were besides them seconds ago. Even Garen was lying in the ground, his sword soaked in blood and nailed on the ground, with a small hand laying at its side. Lucian felt his kings anger for short; once he realized Poppy was not there, he smiled to himself and run out of the square. He knew that Garen had seen his face; without a head to chop off, he'd look for someone to blame.

He had to leave the city.

The Fall: 10. Farewell, my friends, pt. 2

Farewell, my Friends, pt. 2

When Sona woke up, the ground was softly trembling. Usually that would have scared her, but this was different; it was a calm tremor, one that could remind you of the shore being buffeted by the soft waves of the Ionian coast. She opened her eyes and looked for Taric in the dark, but there was nothing to see.

 -Don't worry. -whispered Taric's voice.- We're advancing slower than expected, I didn't expect this part of the mountain to be this way.

Sona was worried about her sleep; how many time had she been lying in the sapphire bed? The last thing she remembered was Taric working onto a wall that annoyed them. How much time had passed after that? She felt as if she had slept for years.

-You looked really tired. It's been three days and two nights since you fell asleep. -answered Taric, as if he could feel Sona's doubts and fears.- Don't worry, I can't read your mind. But the gems... they transmit your feelings. Your fear, your anguish... There's no reason for it, Sona.

Then she felt something warm over his hand. Taric's strength made her feel safe. His calm reached her through the sapphires, and even when drowning in the deepest of the darks she could feel that hope that warmed up her heart. A light glow shreded some light into Taric's face, where a broad smile laid. She knew she was safe.

The Fall: 10. Farewell, my friends, pt.1

Farewell, my friends, pt. 1

-These evil creatures are the ones that killed our king! -shouted the herald.- Whoever sees or captures one of them, contact the guard immediately! You'll be rewarded!

No one stopped to listen to him, but there was no need to do so. The hatred for everything that wasn't human had extended through Demacia in the blink of an eye. Yordles, mages and other magical beings were escaping the once home of the just, looking for shelter wherever they could. But there was no easy way out of Demacia.

All gates were closed and the whole army was in charge of one of the most aggressive reconaissance missions ever planned internally. Investigating, chasing, torturing, killing... History books would never mention this side of the story, that's for sure. But that didn't mean it was not happening.

Yordles who had found a home in the old Demacia were now being betrayed by their own friends and neighbours; few were brave enough to help them hide or escape, and even less were left unpunished after doing so. The government's lies had been nailed to the deepest place of their hearts, being an irrational fear the most common feeling in the streets. Meanwhile, Galio flew peacefully over the city, waiting for his persecutors to reach him.

Then he heard a female voice and felt a burning fiery breath at his side.

-You know it, right? -said Shyvana.

-Now you confirm it. I only expected it. -calmly answered the Sentinel's Sorrow.

-The cycle has accelerated itself. This war is going to kill a lot of people, Galio.

-Most will die fearing a monster. And those who don't will probably live long enough to become one. You have seen it as many times as me, Shyvana.

...

Sharp crystals of beautiful colours surrounded them while they advanced through the caves. What was the real nature of that place? Sona couldn't tell, since she didn't get to see no more than the floor of it.

Taric's gems protected them from anything that could try to enter their range. Looking as hard as diamonds, those huge opal crystals moved with them, always keeping the same distance from Taric. Was that the real power of the Gem Knight or the mine was the one that was granting Taric such an ability? Whichever was the answer, she thanked the gods for having gifted her the chance to be accompanied by him. Without her etwahl there wasnothing she could do on her own.

-¿Are the boots comfortable Sona? -asked Taric, his hammer shining brightly with the warm bright of rubies.

That made her feel safer than she had ever been. Sona shook a bit her hair and then answered with a shy smile which Taric understood as an affirmative response. She couldn't remember the last time she had walked that much. but Taric had been really sympathetic and had thought about every single detail. Planned pauses, food and drink... and his magic.

Suddenly, the opal crystals were at her face. She had dived way too deep in her mind, and she wouldn't have realized that she was about to hit the opal crystals if not for Taric's hand on his shoulder. Their protection was no longer centered at the Gem Knight, and Sona had no idea of why that was happening.

-A wall, Sona. -pointed out Taric.- Stay back, I've got work to do. You should take some rest, you look tired.

Sona walked to the opposing side of the enclosure just to find out that a sapphire bed was being created there. 'Sapphire for divinity.' she remembered. She laid on the bed and closed her eyes. The last thing she saw was Taric hammering the other side of the opal wall. No noises, no tremors. His work was always calm and quiet, and so were the crystals. Everything was that way with Taric.

The Fall: 8. The Cleanse Begins

The Cleanse Begins

-You will start to work after the arrest squad fails. -pointed out Garen.- Your job will be to hunt down and bring back to Demacia those people that haven proven themselves to have parted ways with their humanity in favour of power. Dead or alive, I'll have enough with their heads.

-Why should the arrest squad fail? -arrogantly asked Lucian.

-You have worked with the likes of them, Lucian.-answered Garen, clearly annoyed by the Purifier's behaviour. -The Gem Knight, the Sentinel's sorrow, the Half-Dragon... they should not be underestimated. The rebellion we're facing is serious business. This is not like hunting for silly monsters about Runeterra with your chick; remember that your...

Lucian turned and walked out of the room, closing the door silently, leaving Garen mid-talk. The new king's anger could be felt in the room, but he didn't stop.

-...enemies know you as much as you know them. -he stopped and breath deeply while turning for facing Quinn. -You'll lead the team. Those monsters won't doubt to chop your head off, don't give them the chance to. You may leave now.

...

Quinn couldn't understand what was going on. King Jarvan had died, adn the noxians had been blamed for it at the very beginning. Garen was already preparing an army to march against their eternal nemesis, but something tore those plans down to pieces; a Noxian letter had arrived. It talked about traitors in their own ranks and about Swain escaping with the one in charge of single-handedly causing the death of hundreds of Noxians. As a side note it talked about Xin Zhao, the Seneschal, being kidnapped by the Chain Warden. No more details concerning the letter were made public; the only thing that the Demacian common folk knew was that Noxus was not an enemy anymore.

Officially, the army was going to march against the Shadows Isles in the search of Xin Zhao, while other scout squads were being prepared to look for Xin Zhao around Runeterra; as said by Garen, "they could not be sure what a twisted mind like Thresh's could beplanning". Only a few knew the truth; their new king was lying to the masses.

As far as most people were concerned, they had to find Xin Zhao to uncover the truth of what had happened to Jarvan IV; the truth was that the Noxian-Demacian alliance wanted to change the world how the had once known it by cleaning the human race. Yordles, dragons, mages... if something made it different from the standars they had settled, it had to be erased.

Who were the monsters now?

...

The drink was way too cold that night. Even for a heart as frozen as his, the drink was way too cold. He looked at the bartender, who immediately took his jar and emptied it, pouring its content into the sink and diving deep into the kitchen.

That was why Yasuo had always preferred that place among the rest. He needn't talk, he need't listen to anything, he didn't even think. If he wanted something to drink he payed, and when he couldn't pay the bartender never complained; he knew that the man he knew as Yone would pay his debts. Yone had always payed his debts, even though he had never given in to drink.

He had never liked to use the name of his dead brother, but when he had to come up with a name that was not his, Yone always came to mind. Ten years had passed, yet ten more wouldn't have been enough for Yasuo to get free of his burden. Unable to prove his innocence, old friends were still hunting him down day and night. Bilgewater had been his personal heaven; you can't draw attention when you're surrounded by freaks even stranger than you. That had given him the chance to be reborn as Yone, the Ionian fisherman. The only one that got to fish now matter how strong the winds were those days, a hero among the common folk. Yone was the one that saved the hungry and the poor. The silent man that had saved countless lives.

Without a word, Yasuo left the bar and walked towards the docks, where home was waiting for him. He was covering himself with the blankets and coats that children from the neighborhood had gifted him when he heard a familiar voice whispering in his ear.

-It's been long since we last met, brother... -said Yasuo, before swiftly unsheathing his blade and cutting twice through the shadow's throat. -And I do not plan on sharing a drink with you soon.

The Black Mist was back. Year after year, always arriving some weeks earlier than it did the last year. Always colder, always stronger. But it is not yet time to die. At least not for the unforgiven.