Chapter Text
1 week after the Hexgate Disaster.
The water that rippled around Ekko’s ankles was cool, but there was no sound of splashing as he made each step forward. He waded through it, slowly approaching the mural at the center of the courtyard, with his hands outstretched like a kite gathering wind.
The Firelights’ base was always quiet this early in the morning. Most people were asleep, but many windows were illuminated by mellow orange lamplight. The firelight bugs were wide awake, though—flitting through the Tree’s huge, looming branches like little green shooting stars. The sun had not yet risen, but the sky was a gentle grayish-blue as it faded out of the darkness of night.
Ekko knew where he was—he knew when he was. But something sorrowful in him sank through his body when he looked upon the Firelights’ mural. He remembered this feeling years ago, when he was suspended high up against that wall and mixing shades of cerulean and cyan to capture the brilliant blue of Powder’s hair. He felt it every time he looked upon it since. But the water that swam around his boots and seeped into his socks was telling him the mural should have just been of Vi—a tribute to her for a girl he loved, not a memorial to every other life he’d watched slip from his fingers.
He closed his eyes, lowering himself to the ground. He tried to let the sorrow in his heart remind him of which body he was in. Which life he was living. He waited for space and time to align again.
Ekko could never get used to the feeling of stopping time—to bending and reversing it. To reliving life, even briefly. It was like stretching a rubber band over and over again: each individual moment got longer, then bounced back into place, but the band got less elastic every time. He escaped the vying mouth of space and time a different person. A worn person.
Ekko left an alternate dimension and came back home, but part of him was still… back there. The feeling of being stretched would creep up on him every so often—he’d stop in the middle of what he was doing, thinking he was in a world where things didn’t hurt so much. He’d come out of a spaced-out daze expecting to be surrounded by people that he knew were dead in his reality.
He knew Scar was getting worried about him, but he’d been through the process of reintegrating from one reality to another already. The dissociative episodes would grow less frequent as the days went on. All he needed to do was wait them out.
The feeling of the wading pool ebbed away quickly. Instead of water, Ekko’s hands brushed the dry green grass of the courtyard. The rustling of approaching footsteps behind him grew louder as Ekko rose to his feet and dusted off his hands.
“What are you doing out here, Ekko?”
He turned to face his second-in-command, Scar, who was cradling his daughter in one arm and holding a bottle to her mouth with the other. His black hair was disheveled, and his massive shoulders were more hunched than usual. He had a scowl on his face, but Ekko had known the guy long enough to differentiate between a look of anger and a look of really wanting to go back to bed.
“Uh, meditating. Like you suggested,” Ekko answered. He rolled his own shoulders, both to ease the cramps growing in his traps, and in anxious anticipation of the conversation they were about to have. Mainly because it would be the fourth one they’d have about it this week.
“Ah.” He nodded, then bounced his baby in his arm as she grew fussier. “Did it work?”
“It helped, I guess,” Ekko said. “They’re getting better anyways. I’ve laid off the time travelling, so the strain’s not as severe. I’ll be back to my good old self soon.”
Scar hummed, not meeting Ekko’s gaze. Ekko didn’t get the sense that he was convinced. If he had anything more to say about it, though, he didn’t voice it. Small mercies.
Wanting to change the subject, Ekko asked, “So… what are you up to? How’s Tulip?”
“Tulip doesn’t want to go to sleep, as usual,” grumbled Scar. “She gets one taste of what standing on her own is like and suddenly she can’t stop moving. She’s been fussy all night. I’m probably not gonna be able to sleep for the next year.” Despite his obvious exasperation, he brushed Tulip’s chubby cheeks with extreme gentleness. The baby kicked her legs, babbling in agitation.
Ekko beamed, smacking Scar’s shoulder excitedly. “Really? She’s standing already? That’s amazing, man!”
“No, it’s not. I just told you why.” Despite himself, Scar couldn’t quite suppress his grin. “She likes being outside when she’s colicky, that’s all. But since you’re out here and, uh… in this reality… I wanted to ask you something.”
The smile on Ekko’s face cracked a smidge. “Yeah?”
“You hear that Topside’s gonna be opening the ports again soon?” When Ekko shook his head, Scar kissed his teeth and said, “I didn’t expect you to. Word came in only a couple hours ago. We need to prep for the influx of people that’ll seek refuge here. Again.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here. That’s what we do,” Ekko reminded him. “We can start today, then. There’s space in the fifth and seventh sectors of the Hideout; we’ll just make more.”
Scar narrowed his eyes at him. It seemed that behind his gaze, there was a deliberation happening. “Ekko, what are you gonna do when we don’t have the space?”
“We’ll have to make it,” he asserted. It seemed that Ekko had managed to dodge the Interdimensional Brain Fog conversation and walked right into the Turn Refugees Away or Risk Collapse conversation. “Look, Scar, I know you don’t like—”
“Please don’t start. It’s not that I don’t like the idea of opening ourselves to the people of Zaun and protecting them.” Scar’s shoulders sagged as he let out a sigh, and Tulip giggled at the abrupt movement. “I’m worried about the plausibility. If we’re still doing this years in the future—helping people, I mean—it’s either not gonna stay here, or we’ll have to consider other ways to avoid piling people on top of each other. And I don’t know where you’d find any other giant air-purifying fruit trees lying around the Sump.”
Ekko’s face twisted, and he turned his back to Scar in irritation. He knew Scar was right. The Undercity fell into tribulation after tribulation and the Firelights did not have the capacity to sustain it, especially so soon after a war.
But it was not possible for Ekko to consider abandoning people.
One way or another, they’d have to figure it out, because Ekko knew in the utter depths of his soul that he would never be able to stomach the consequences of not protecting every Zaunite he could. Every face painted on that mural was someone that Ekko couldn’t save, and that was a reminder that there was always work to be done. If the Firelights stopped being a haven for everyone, there would be no walls vast enough to depict the face of every person who’d suffer because of it.
Ekko dragged his eyes back to the mural—to every individual smiling face. He thought back to his alternate life, where this wall had once been empty.
“In another world,” Ekko started solemnly, “it was possible. We were happy.”
“So I hear.”
Ekko turned to his second-in-command, whose brows were still deeply knit as he let his daughter toy with the long, sharp claw on his index finger.
“It’s possible here, Scar. I know it.” Ekko told him. “The Firelights are a miracle to begin with. This life we’ve carved out for ourselves wasn’t plausible, but we did it. We can do it again.” He patted Scar’s shoulder, watching as his friend’s grimace softened minutely. “I’ll look into the ports opening now. You need to get some rest, though.”
Scar snorted. “You know that’s not my choice.” But then he glanced down at the infant he was holding, who had miraculously fallen asleep in his arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Ekko chuckled. “See? Anything’s possible.”
2 weeks after the Hextech Disaster.
The wooden floor creaked beneath Ekko’s boot as he stepped over the threshold of a room at the end of the corridor. Following close behind him were three people: a man in his forties, and two young boys who probably weren’t older than ten.
As the four of them filed into the small room, the man—named Zekiel—let his eyes drift slowly over every corner. There was a soft, mournful expression on his face that bled through his hardened features—the thick, jagged scar that traced a pink path down the deep brown skin of his cheek, or the rugged salt-and-pepper beard that suggested many, many nights without shaving. His two young boys, who had closely orbited him all morning in fear of the strange, new environment that was the Firelights’ base, clung to each of his patched-up pant legs like a lifeline.
The room wasn’t much—very few of them were, especially as the Firelights were becoming more cramped. There was a window on the right wall, and a massive cot on the left, with enough room to fit another small bed for the boys. Maybe two, if they squeezed.
Ekko coughed a bit as he adjusted the dusty pink curtains that framed the window. “It’s a little cramped, I know, but—”
Before he could finish, Zekiel dropped himself on top of the large cot, put his head in his hands, and immediately broke down sobbing. His children dug their fingers into his shirt, burying their faces into his trembling shoulders.
Ekko stepped into the corner of the small loft, averting his eyes as the man continued weeping. He didn’t mind at all; Ekko had been present for tons of situations like this. It was rarer that refugees didn’t get emotional when they realized that the Firelights weren’t just shielding them from the torment of Undercity gangs and enforcer brutality—they were offering them the chance at a new life. They deserved the dignity of not making their expressions of grief and relief a big deal, and Ekko was more than willing to provide that.
When Zekiel eventually stopped crying, he pulled his two children into a tight embrace. The smaller of the two boys sneezed when a couple of his father’s long braids tickled his nose. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you. I can’t say it enough.”
Ekko smiled. “You don’t have to. This is what we’re here for.” He stepped away from the wall, shuffling towards the door. “Uh, I’ll help you bring your things up here, alright?”
“No!” Zekiel shot up from his cot, adjusting his clothes and prompting his kids to stand as well. “Amos, Sebi—we’re gonna help this man get our bags, alright?”
Ekko held up a hand politely. “No, really, it’s fine—”
Zekiel shook his head, and his expression was so intense that Ekko didn’t try to continue fighting him.
“Thank you,” he said again. His tired, deep brown eyes still glittered with a sheen of fresh tears. “It’s the least I can do. Thank you.”
Ekko didn’t know what to make of Silco’s former right-hand woman.
Scar, who was notoriously distrustful of people, didn’t so much as bat an eye whenever Sevika was around. According to him, Sevika had worked tirelessly alongside the Firelights to revolt against the Piltie occupation and Noxian militants. He swore up and down that half of the riots they’d pulled on the Bridge had been Sevika’s idea. He told Ekko he had brought Sevika to back him up at the war briefing at the Piltover Council building—he’d trusted her that much.
Ekko spent all of that time in another dimension, so he hadn’t been there to witness any of it. For him, hearing recounts of Sevika helping people, rather than devoting all her time to poisoning the Undercity with Shimmer, made him feel like he was still living in that alternate reality. But, credit where credit was due: she came through when it came to leading that ground assault on the Noxians. That was something, at least.
The days passed sluggishly after the end of the war. In that time, Sevika had begun frequenting the Firelight campus more, which fascinated Ekko as much as it concerned him. She always stayed on the fringes—never interacting with anyone outside of him and Scar, and almost exclusively visiting in the early morning or during the night. That was probably for the best, because if Ekko had been the one poisoning and displacing people to make more space for violent Chem-Barons, he’d sooner take a swim in the polluted Harbor than show his face around a camp of refugees.
Today, however, Sevika and Scar were going to meet at Ekko’s workshop in broad daylight, which was an…interesting change. They needed to discuss how they were going to accommodate the Zaunites that were flooding back into the Undercity—which deeply complicated both Sevika and the Firelights’ efforts, and was not a conversation they could continue to sideline by having clandestine meetings. The threat of strain in both the Lanes and the Firelights was eminent now that the ports were fully opened, and many evacuees were coming back to the Lanes in disarray and their homes still smoldering. Rebuilding the Undercity was looking to be far from an expedient project. Ekko couldn’t even believe the amount of damage a Noxian cannon could do until he’d seen how the top of the Chem-Barons’ headquarters had been blown clean off during the battle.
Well, that in and of itself couldn’t have been all bad, but the Chem-Barons weren’t the only ones in the Undercity that suffered collateral. Overall, Sevika and the Firelights had their work cut out for them.
When Ekko’s pocket watch struck twelve, he waved goodbye to Zeke and his two boys and booked it towards his workshop. Taking his hoverboard probably would’ve been faster, but he’d left it next to his bed that morning and couldn’t be bothered to grab it. The only problem was that the younger children loved playing in the courtyard, and they also loved Ekko, so the sight of him huffing and puffing across campus had the potential to spark a very inconvenient game of tag. Kids were great and all, but being tackled by twenty or so of them was definitely not.
Luckily, Ekko made it to the base of the Tree unscathed, and sprinted up the steps towards the small house that rested on the second level. Scar and Sevika hadn’t beaten him there, but over the platform’s balcony he could see the two of them walking through the crowd of people side by side. He saw people gawking at her as she and Scar traveled through the courtyard.
She was making a good attempt to hide it, but the discomfort in Sevika’s demeanor was clear even from where Ekko stood. Her posture was straight and her broad shoulders swayed with an air of confidence, but her gaze remained trained on some fixed point in front of her, like she didn’t want to acknowledge she was being watched by the curious crowd. Ekko knew that the attention of a throng of people could be nerve-racking—it unnerved him sometimes, too—but he couldn’t help but feel a bit vindicated at the sight of Silco’s former henchwoman squirming.
Ekko met the two of them when they reached the top of the stairway, clasping forearms with Scar and nodding briefly at Sevika.
“Follow me,” Ekko said. He led them through the door to his workshop, which—oh. He hadn’t bothered to clean it this time. His tools were strewn haphazardly over his desk, and several aborted projects gathered dust near his sparsely decorated bookshelf. The high-noon sun glared through the glassless windows, illuminating the room well despite the lack of any other light source.
Sevika was the last to enter the workshop, and her dark grey eyes swept over the room critically. Before their recent series of meetings, Ekko hadn’t ever gotten the chance to get a close up look at her—he’d been too busy sabotaging Silco’s Shimmer shipments and kicking her ass. Still, she looked different than he’d remembered her. Of course, her hair was shorter now and fell in a disheveled curtain over her cheeks, and her terrifying Shimmer-powered mechanical arm was missing, and the circles around her eyes were darker, but she also seemed…elsewhere. Ekko hadn’t quite pinpointed what had changed yet, but frankly, solving that mystery was very low on his list of priorities.
Ekko took a seat at his desk and steadied the harsh swivel of the chair with his heels. Scar leaned against one wall, crossing his arms, and Sevika merely stood where she was, still taking in the environment around her.
The air in the room was tense and awkward until Scar finally sighed and said, “Honestly, if things keep going the way they are, the Undercity is doomed.”
“Well—okay,” Ekko sputtered, but Scar raised a thick eyebrow at him, daring him to disagree. So instead, he segued, turning to Sevika: “What’s the state of the Lanes right now?”
Sevika cocked her head at him, her expression grim. “What do you think? A hundred of us are dead, several buildings have been demolished, and the business sectors have been vacant for weeks even before the war started, thanks to our overlords upstairs.” She grumbled, squeezing her eyes shut as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m trying to organize reconstruction efforts as best I can, but… well, it’s one thing to get a bunch of people to wanna fight something; it’s another to get them to wanna build. The Undercity’s looking real ‘dog-eat-dog’ at the moment. It has been for a while, honestly.”
“Yeah, no thanks to a certain somebody,” Ekko scoffed. It was before he could think to stop himself, but it still felt good to say. Scar groaned in the corner—it was not the first time he’d have to play mediator between the two of them, but it was clear even he was getting tired of discussing Silco’s enterprise. And Scar hated Silco more than anyone else he knew.
Sevika’s eyes flicked up to the ceiling briefly, like she was looking towards some sky god for guidance on how to keep her temper. “Say what you want about the Shimmer factories—doesn’t change the fact that without them, more than half of Zaun is without a job. People in and outside of the Lanes need money to survive, and they can’t make it anymore.” Then, she stepped towards Ekko and tacked on, “But I wouldn’t expect you to know about that, huh? Do you forget what the world outside is like, with all your fresh air and food?”
Ekko’s face twisted, and the wheels of his chair squeaked as he shot in it. “We only have that in spite of you and your little Chem-Baron friends, Sevika! The Firelights exist because outside of it, Zaun’s a hellhole. People suffer and die left and right every day—people you can barely stand to look at. Because of you. Because of Silco. Because money is more important to you than people’s lives.”
Sevika’s jaw tightened, but her steely, bottomless gaze didn’t waver at Ekko’s words. “So, what am I doing here, then? Do you wanna save the Undercity, or just the Firelights?”
When Ekko’s face scrunched in perplexed offense, she shook her head and said, “Outside of here, money matters. There’s no circumventing that. The people of Zaun can’t fit in your little pocket of paradise, kid—get that through your head. Silco’s enterprise was a lost cause, I admit that, but it was also Zaun’s only option if we wanted a real chance at getting Piltover off our backs. If things had stayed the way they were, Topside’s stranglehold on us would’ve become permanent and we’d all suffer. Now you’re our best chance, but you guys seem to think fixating on this sewer-pipe borehole is gonna save the Underground somehow.”
“Watch it,” Scar warned, pulling himself from the wall and halving the space between Ekko and Sevika with his arm. “Look, the Firelights want to help. There’s no use arguing over why things are the way they are; it’s not gonna change anything. What we should be talking about is how we’re gonna allocate our resources in the coming weeks.”
Ekko huffed through his nose, but drifted back from Sevika begrudgingly. “For the record, our priority is everyone’s survival. We’re stretched thin, that’s the problem. With all these people coming in, we have to focus on how to make sure everyone can eat and sleep with a roof over their head.”
“I’ve noticed,” said Sevika. “I’ve also noticed that your doors are still open despite that. You both realize that making sure everyone has a roof over their head and continuing to cram even more people in are opposing strategies, right? You guys live in the sewers.”
“We’re aware,” Scar muttered, sparing Ekko a glance. “We’re figuring it out.”
“Oh, yeah?” she said, raising her eyebrow. “What have you figured?”
Neither Firelight spoke for a moment, which seemed to tell Sevika all she needed to know. She groaned under her breath and turned towards the door.
Suddenly, Scar blurted, “We might start closing ourselves off.”
Ekko’s eyebrows shot up as he objected, “Uh, no—”
At the same time, Sevika hissed, “What?”
Then, both she and Scar turned towards Ekko, and their expressions demanded explanation and validation, respectively. He straightened with discomfort, his eyes flitting between the two of them. “We’d been…we’re considering it. Because of our capacity issues. Like you said, cramming people in is counterintuitive.” His shoulders slumped at the admission. Because despite the stakes, he still didn’t want to consider it. “It’s going to be our last option, though. We still have time before it’s absolutely necessary.”
Scar seemed satisfied enough at that response, but Sevika’s lips twisted ruefully.
“That’s a terrible idea. You don’t have the capacity, but closing yourselves off helps no one but yourselves—if that.”
“We have both ourselves and the rest of Zaun to think about,” Scar told her. “We won’t be completely secluded; we still have the means to help and we’re still going to. But if we collapse due to the strain, we can’t help anyone, and everyone is doomed. As you said.”
“There’s more than one way to avoid that,” Sevika argued. “You won’t guarantee the Firelights’ safety even if you do consolidate yourselves here. You’re weakened now. You’ll only preserve what’s broken.” She looked down at Ekko, and though her expression was hard, it was clear she was trying to appeal to him. “You need to strengthen your efforts. Expand. Take the Firelight movement out of the sewers.”
Ekko blinked at her. He glanced at Scar, who looked just as perplexed as he felt, then went back to Sevika.
“And go where?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
Sevika’s mouth twitched. “There’s a power vacuum in the Promenade.”
Scar coughed in shock. “Are you crazy? That’s not what we’re here for!”
“You’re here to get rid of the Chem-Barons,” she retorted. “Congrats, you succeeded. Now, if you really want to protect the entirety of Zaun, you gotta have holdings at the top. If you don’t want a repeat of Silco, or be stuck with someone worse, you have to make sure someone you trust has a seat there. And we’re low on time.”
Ekko backed away from her, his face the perfect picture of disgust. “You just want the Firelights to become the next Silco.”
“No, I don’t. Silco wasn’t going to save Zaun. He got close—”
“Silco destroyed lives!” Ekko snarled. “Do you realize how fucking insane it is to come in here and say that?”
“Silco got us closer than we’ve ever been to independence since Zaun first fell into this godforsaken cesspit. But he fucked it in the final hour, which is why I’m here now.” Sevika sighed heavily through her nose, letting her shoulders sag agitatedly. “I know what you both think of me. I know what you think I want—and you’d be wrong. Neither of you were here to see what Zaun looks like when Piltover gets its hands on us. I refuse to let that happen again. That’s my goal.”
“Sevika, please. I worked alongside you during the occupation,” snapped Scar. “I know what it looks like; we all do!”
Sevika leered at him. “No, I mean when the only thing any of us had to look forward to was suffocating in a cramped mine shaft. I mean when Piltover could massacre over a hundred of us on the Bridge without batting an eye. When all that death was the only thing our lives were ever going to amount to, and we had to just take it. Do you really think that if given the chance, Piltover wouldn’t try to force us down there again? Especially after that fucking catastrophe two weeks ago?”
She threw her hand in the direction of the door, towards the throng of people going about their day in the courtyard below. “The entirety of Zaun is in jeopardy if we don’t do something. We need to act!”
Ekko’s heart was beating fast, both because of the stubborn anger that was brewing in his stomach and the recognition that yes—things were dire, and they could very well get worse. Trying to provide a safe space for the people of the Undercity was hard enough without having to consider Piltover’s bullshit as a factor. For now, all he could hope was that Topside was too busy focusing on their own problems to break the wire-thin truce between them and Zaun. Ekko was not so naïve as to believe that Piltover would discontinue decades of violence just because some Zaunites helped them win the war against Noxus. However, he also held a healthy suspicion of Sevika and her motives, seeing as the Promenade is where the late money-hungry Chem-Barons used to roost.
“Why are you coming to us with this, Sevika?” he spat. “If you’re so hellbent on getting somebody to lead the Undercity from the Promenade, why don’t you do it yourself?”
“If I thought that I was the best option to leading Zaun into freedom, I would’ve tossed Silco’s body into the River years ago and taken over myself. Gods know I’ve had every opportunity.” Ekko’s lips pursed shut at her bluntness. “I’m not the one who’s gonna save Zaun, but I am gonna fight for the people who will. That’s why I’m asking you. Because you’re are our best hope. And if I’d known that before…”
She trailed off, and for a millisecond, the cold steeliness of her face cracked a smidge. But then, she squared her jaw and stared Ekko in the eye again. “Well, Silco might’ve been tossed into the River sooner. But either way, it needs to be you now.”
Ekko wasn’t sure what to believe. It wasn’t just that he didn’t completely trust Sevika. He didn’t, but he knew from talking to her that she believed everything she was saying wholeheartedly. While it was disorienting to have her come into his workshop and plea with him to take over Zaun, the feeling in his heart that had guided him his whole life kept thrumming persistently. He couldn’t abandon the Firelights. He was for the Firelights. But the Firelights weren’t for the decadent, depersonalized commercial hub that lied above the Lanes. The Promenade and the Zaun that Ekko fought for felt like two different places: one for money and the other for people. Or at least, it had been before Silco had gotten his hands on it.
When Ekko had lost everything—when Silco had taken everything—Ekko could only cling to the memories of the people he loved. The people who had inspired him and taught him; the people who had given him a small pocket of space to grow within the tumult that was the Undercity. Of course Ekko knew things could have been worse than what he knew; he’d heard all sorts of stories from Benzo and Vander. But the Firelights were to Zaun what Vander and Benzo had been to Ekko—a refuge. A place to grow. An place to remind people that no matter what they’ve lost, there was still somewhere safe to keep going.
Regardless of all the other issues that made keeping the Firelights afloat so much harder, all of that paled compared to the thought of turning his refuge into some vapid hub of business. He couldn’t do it. It was an affront to everything he’d founded it for.
Ekko looked to Scar for guidance. He shook his head, and Ekko immediately knew Scar was thinking the same thing he was thinking.
“You’re not just asking us to take over the Promenade,” he said, drifting over to the window to lean against the sill. “You’re asking me to leave my duties as the leader of the Firelights, which I can’t do. My place is here—or if it’s not here, it’s in the Lanes. But all the way up there…it’s too far from where I should be. It can’t be me.”
“It has to be you,” Sevika urged.
“It won’t be.” Ekko said. “I’m sorry.”
For a moment, the atmosphere of the whole room felt like a stifled breath. Slowly, Ekko could see his words sink into her, and as they did, Sevika’s melancholic eyes began to glisten with a broiling rage. For the first time, Ekko did not feel steadfast under her gaze.
“You’re making the wrong choice,” she growled. Her hand curled slowly into a fist, but she made no move to advance.
Ekko looked out the window to the courtyard below, where the Firelights continued their usual goings-on—playing, talking, laughing, eating. He did not meet her eyes again.
“I hope you find someone who can make the right one.”