Chapter Text
Loud. It had been so loud; far away, but still easily rising over the white noise I’ve grown accustomed to and learned to manage. Distressed, angry, in pain. It was there only for a moment, then stopped as suddenly as it began. But it had been enough for me to need to know, and understand.
My footsteps echoed the grungy alleyways that mazed throughout the tall Piltovan buildings. The dirty shadows of the prim and proper establishments of northern Piltover, far from the clangers that carried folk down into the Entresol and even deeper into the greyed belly of Zaun. I’d grown up here, I knew all the shortcuts just as much as any other child and they led me true towards the gates to the city.
I mentally thanked myself for dressing into the workshop overalls and accompanying boots that I would normally wear whenever I helped my father with his hexcoustics. Not that I had been doing that today. I had actually been planning on taking a break today and the clothes were just surprisingly comfortable. But right now, they certainly allowed me to run that much faster than if I was wearing my performance outfit. A shudder ran through me at the thought of doing this long sprint in those heels.
Already, however, my breath was running short, my lungs heaving air and my legs burning with lactic acid. The distance from my home to the gates wasn’t short, and I certainly wasn’t an athlete. Even so, the fact I had worn down so soon was embarrassing.
Maybe I shouldn’t use the platform as much as I do outside of performances…
The closer I came, the city’s voices were slowly matched in volume by the chaos of whatever had occurred. Hearing that gave me the determination to push through my early-onset exhaustion, round the last few bends and cross a final few roads. Finally, I reached the marketplace that was set up either side of the wide road that led to the gate.
Or, what was left of it.
I nearly stumbled to a stop after I laid my eyes on the puncture in the thick, towering metal doors. Looking as if it had been ploughed through, or blown inward, the hole was seemed large enough for most Piltovan vehicles to pass through. Properly gauging it’s size was difficult, though, with one of the gates dangerously hanging from a single, struggling hinge. Wreckage littered the road for several metres leading from the impact point. Panes of curved metal - some dented and others holding their shape - as well as rubble from where gouges of the road had been brought up.
Up ahead where a group of enforcers, already having cordoned off the scene. Understandable, considering it took me easily over a quarter of an hour to run here. It didn’t stop a crowd from gathering, though. The market would be a busy place at peak hours after all. I stepped into a brisk walk and approached the chuntering crowd, using the moment to calm my heaving chest and reacquaint my poor muscles with their much needed oxygen. I could hear voices deliberating on what could happened.
A pair of aristocratic gentlemen were ranting about ‘Brutish Noxians’. A married couple swore it was some kind of new vehicle. A child insisted that she saw… a metal horse? That’s just ridiculous.
With a few apologies, I nudged my way to the front, stood by the barriers, now able to see more than scattered metal. I had been to the precipice of Zaun plenty. I had seen crimes be committed and I had seen degrees of violence to recognise the extra detail I could make out with my closer proximity.
Blood. Small drops at first, until the lines of deep red reached the end of the debris, at which lay a settled puddle. Whoever had broken through must have stopped there, by how much had collected, and they much have been severely hurt.
“Pain…” I whispered to myself. It didn’t take much brainpower to connect that whoever had caused this mayhem was-
“Seraphine, dear?”
I started and spun in the direction of the well-spoken, elderly voice. I recognised the old woman as the market vendor that my father and I would visit on weekends when he needed to replenish cheap parts for his craft. She wore a curious expression, likely wondering why I was here, and alone.
“It is you!” She exclaimed with surprise, then frowned. “Then again, who else colours their hair so garishly. You and your youth…”
I offered a forced smile, any greeting on my tongue faltering at her comment. “As always, Aynee, it’s natural…”
“Hmph.” The aged vendor shrugged dismissively, not believing my claim, much like the other umpteenth times she had brought my hair up. I’d likely be able to sense her mind’s cynicism from across the city. “Anyway, this is a bad time if you’re here to buy. That being said, you don’t normally come during the week. And where’s your father?”
…Called it.
“I’m alone, Aynee. I was nearby and heard some commotion.” I answered with a half-truth and looked back to the sectioned area of road, namely the blood. “What happened here? Did you see?”
“Tch, how could I not? My stall faces the damn gates.” Aynee grumbled under her breath, then inclined her head towards the murmuring crowd, the young girl in particular. “Believe it or not, that child is speaking the truth.”
My turn to be skeptical. It was evident in my tone. “A metal horse..?”
“It’s the truth, Dear.” Her serious tone gave me pause. “And not just that. There was a girl riding it, maybe around your age. Barged right through the gates and crashed. It was the most peculiar thing.” I watched her ponder her thoughts. “It were as if the gates gave way before she’d even reached them. Quite a few officers appointed there have already been taken to the medical tower.”
My mind raced trying to imagine what was being described. It seemed nonsensical but, then again, I could hear people’s souls. Fewer things make sense than we all think.
“The girl.” I collected myself. “Was she hurt too? Where did they take her?”
Aynee nodded and clicked her tongue again. “Very much so. She still stood and tried to threaten the one poor sod who she didn’t send flying. Collapsed almost instantly, mind you.”
“Where would they have taken her, Aynee?” I repeated, failing to disguise the urgency in my voice. I was becoming antsy, having just missed the person I was certain had drowned out everyone else’s song with her own.
“Well, not the tower, certainly. I’d imagine the nearest Police Station a few streets away.” Aynee pointed down a street to the right of the gate, blustering in that way I’ve come to notice only old people manage. “Why? What’s gotten you so interes- Sera!?”
I was already gone, pushing and weaving my way back through the curious masses. I’d imagine Aynee would only see a glimpse of my completely natural hair by this point. Bursting free of the crowd, I willed by aching legs to once again carry me away, ignoring their throbs of protest. Thankfully, there was far less distance to cover, only a couple of blocks before rounding the corner onto the street on which the northern-most precinct resided.
Just in time to witness the doors to the building burst off it’s hinges, an officer having been sent through it with some force, careering into the - fortunately quiet - road. I only spared a moment to inspect his groaning form as I passed him (was he holding bandages?) while crossing to reach and peer inside the ruined threshold.
Inside, the first thing I locked onto was a destroyed holding cell directly opposite the entrance on the other side of the room. The bars that once made up it’s door were scattered on the floor, the cell’s barred walls bent and warped. The occupants of the precinct, both police and civil servant alike, were staring in muted shock at the girl that had just stepped out of it.
A shocking truss of sunny hair topped her head. It contrasted brilliantly with her dark complexion. As did her eyes, a pair of amber orbs that glowed angrily at people around her. Angry, confused, distressed. She had one hand held out in warning, but failed to look intimidating thanks to the way she was nearly doubled over, shaking uncontrollably. Her other hand clasped her left side tightly, and the shimmer of blood that leaked between her fingers in the light of the room’s hextech lamps made it clear that she was the same girl that had broken into the city. I recalled the bandages held by the downed officer outside. Had she awoken to him trying to treat her wound and panicked?
The officers still present eventually broke from their baffled stupor and careful attempted to surround the girl, keeping a wary distance. She didn’t care for their caution, her hand instantly whipping to the officer on her far right. Agape, I watched one of the twisted bars from the cell get torn off by an invisible force and sent slamming against the man’s chest, knocking him back several feet into one of the many desks. Did she do that?
The rest didn’t wait, charging at her in unison. Two more were knocked flying in similar manners before the remaining five were able to restrain her, forcing her to the ground.
Pain, distress, anger, confusion.
My knees gave out from beneath me in the doorway as my mind was assaulted by the deafening wails of the girl’s soul. I snapped my hands over my ears in the same, futile way I did as a child in the furthest corner of my bedroom. At a distance it had already stood out, and up close it almost hurt. It was unbearab-
Fear.
It barely reached me through discord, but it did nonetheless. And it wasn’t her, but everyone else. I forced my eyes open at that realisation, and I saw only mayhem.
It was a storm within the building. The bars of the jail cell, steel-framed chairs, stationary, lamps ripped from their fixtures in the walls, simple pieces of stationary. They all were crashing around the room in a maelstrom of metal, the occupants taking shelter the best they could. Only two officers remained in their efforts to pin the girl down, who was writhing and yelling uncontrollably.
There was an officer by the door. He was yelling… something? I couldn’t hear him over my own mind. Pointing away, telling me to run? I couldn’t pay him any heed if I tried, my squinted gaze locking back on the panicked girl. I could barely think, but I knew she needed help. I knew there was something I could do to end the chaos. The same way I’ve done through a hundred songs around the two intertwined cities.
I stood, wobbly, my body weak from my mind’s - that girl’s - anguish. The action managed to catch her attention and our eyes met. I took my chance, pushed back the pain in my head and took a deep, shaky breath.
“It’s okay. ”
I couldn’t even hear myself speak, but I could tell my words had an effect. Her struggles faltered, as did the debris swirling angrily around her, instead clattering to the ground. Confusion overtook her aggression, not understanding what was coming over her. I stepped into the building, not breaking eye contact, offering the warmest smile I could despite myself, offering a comforting tone. I took another step closer, stumbling and needing to support myself against one of the few surviving desks.
“You’re okay. You’re safe here.”
With my efforts, the girl’s song had lessened in it’s intensity, but I could feel it’s lasting effects. My vision blurred but I forced myself to look her in the eye as the officers managed a firmer hold on her limbs, others rejoining their efforts. I could barely tell that she was also struggling to avoid the lull of her fatigue, it having caught up with her both physically and mentally.
“ It’s o… you’re… ”
Again, my legs gave out from under me. I crumpled, unable to finished the words on my lips. Despite that, the painful song in my head had now dissipated almost completely. My breath left me upon impacting with the polished wooden floor and suddenly weighing what felt like tons, my eyelids had begun to flutter. I held my gaze with the now calmed girl for as long as I could until her eyes closed first, and I soon followed her into unconsciousness.