Chapter Text
ORESTES: Where have I seen you before?
MOIRA: In a dream.
ORESTES: A thousand years ago.
— Dacia Maraini
Vi’s hands felt exposed and unprotected. Her wrists were bandaged like usual, she still bled like a mortal when struck, but the bleeding had subsided at present. She flexed her hands, examined the bruises. They would fade with time, but it was still strange to see them lingering on her skin. Usually when she was outside of her chambers, she donned her favorite pair of Malphon gauntlets—ruby red and terrible, created by the cyclopses in their forges long ago.
The gauntlets were a gift from Vander decades ago; Vi preferred to fight her enemies (various shades, louts, and the occasional hydra) up close. That wasn't typical behavior for most gods, Vander had said. But her favored technique impressed him, so on her two hundredth birthday, he gave her the most priceless gauntlets of the Underworld, once used by Vander himself in a war.
But the gauntlets were lost to Vi now. She gave them to Huck, the Underworld's ferryman, as an exchange. Ancient gauntlets for safe passage across the River Styx, and ultimately out of the Underworld. Vi didn't want to part with them, but she didn't have another choice; they were the only thing Vi had that were valuable enough to tempt Huck to break his oath of never rowing anyone to the other side of the river. Vi wasn't even sure if it would work.
But it did.
Vi had done the impossible by escaping the Underworld in one piece, many shades had made the attempt, and lost their souls in the process. But Vi wasn't a shade, she wasn't dead. She was a god—and for once—she felt like it. She stood tall above the surface, greeted with frosty earth and cold air and a dark sky. It was nothing like the darkness Vi was used to seeing, even through the trees' branches, Vi could make out starlight. Ironic that she'd never seen it before, considering her own mother was Nyx, the Goddess of Night.
An icy breeze blew by, brushing against Vi's hair, and she shivered for the first time in her five hundred years of living. The surface was colder than Vi had anticipated, she didn't dress to prepare, donning her usual red top, the sleeves ripped off at her shoulders. She was a literal child of hell after all, used to the heat, never experiencing a real winter down below. She welcomed the change, and smiled as she shivered again—it meant that she made it.
Snow crunched beneath Vi’s bare feet as she made her way through the woods, taking in the sight of frozen juniper trees—real juniper—and other trees she couldn't name. Vi never thought she would actually get the chance to see them.
Part of Vi was tempted to turn around, to see how far she traveled in the span of five minutes, to see if the door she escaped through was still there. But Vi grew up with bedtime stories of tragedy and loss, and she knew better than to look back. Doing so might summon her back to Zaun, and she wasn’t going to give her father the satisfaction of her defeat. So Vi pressed forward, heading towards an open clearing. A meadow, she thought it was called, with clear skies above it.
She had a better view of the stars now. They were beautiful, Vi could understand where the word celestial came from. And there were so many of them, Vi had heard of stars, but she never could have imagined the way they made the entire sky glitter.
There was a rustle in the distance, something was moving. Vi wasn’t alone.
She squinted and gasped when she saw the creature, she knew it not by name, but she didn’t care. Vi had never seen a living creature before, those in the Underworld were already dead. She swore she could hear its heartbeat from where she stood. It was large and it was winged, with glowing yellow eyes. Steam rose from its nostrils. Its tail thrashed slowly.
“Hi,” Vi said, walking towards it cautiously. It didn’t look particularly friendly, but Vi wasn’t afraid of monsters. Whatever this thing was couldn’t harm her, she was more concerned of the opposite; she was the daughter of the God of the Dead, it was possible her hands were cursed with death. One touch from her could be the creature's demise.
But Vi didn’t have a chance to get close enough to the creature, it startled before she was able to take another step. An arrow flew by out of nowhere, gleaming silver in the moonlight. The creature screeched and spread its wings, flying into the night sky.
Vi whipped around to see where the arrow came from, and swallowed. She couldn’t get a good look at the figure who approached her, tall and cloaked in blue. The figure carried a purple bow. It looked regal, and if Vi didn’t know any better, she’d say it even looked godly. Certainly finer than something a mere mortal should be carrying.
“You,” the voice said, angry.
Vi held her ground. Of course she’d make an enemy within the first ten minutes of her escape.
The figure removed the hood of the cloak, revealing her face to Vi. She was striking, despite the frown she wore, the blatant anger in her eyes. Still, Vi wondered what she’d look like when she smiled.
“You got in my way,” the woman said. “You made me miss my shot.” Her eyes were a fierce blue.
“Sorry?” Vi said, as unapologetically as she could. She had nothing to be sorry for, and she was still riding the high of having successfully left the Underworld. “I’m new here,” she added, with a smile.
The archer in front of her wasn’t impressed. “And that gives you the excuse to interrupt me while I’m on a hunt?”
At this, Vi frowned. She’d seen enough of death, or at least, its aftermath. If this woman was a huntress, well, she only contributed to that. For a hobby.
“I could forgive you for merely interfering with my perfect record, I’ve never once missed a shot.” Vi was about to open her mouth and say that’s impossible, but the woman continued, “But that was a dragon. And not just any dragon, but a mountain drake. Do you know how dangerous they are? The havoc that's about to be unleashed now that it's loose?”
“A dragon?” Vi asked. “Those are real?” Like many of the stories Vander had told her, Vi wasn’t sure what was real and what was myth. Don’t go above the surface, he would say, that’s where the real monsters roam. Vi had just assumed he meant his godly brethren who he abandoned when their values changed.
The woman scoffed. “Of course dragons are real, why wouldn’t they be?. And if I don’t kill it—” she faltered, sounding defeated, and that surprised Vi, seeing a moment of vulnerability. “The point is, I’m supposed to kill it. Today”
“It’s not too late, is it?” Vi asked. “I’m pretty sure it went that way,” she said, pointing up to the sky where it flew off to. It was still visible, it didn't seem to be particularly fast.
The woman sighed. “No, it’s out of bounds for me now, I can tell. I’ll have to start over.”
Vi wasn’t sure why the guilt spread all over her, but it did. “I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to get in your way.”
“It’s fine,” the woman tells her, sounding like it was very much not fine. But then the woman’s expression softened, mostly around her eyes, but her lips remained tight. “What are you doing on this land, anyway?”
“Like I said, I’m new here,” Vi said, figuring it would be best not to frighten this woman with the fact Vi was an immortal. Mortals worshipped the gods, but they were also fearful of them, and Vi didn’t want to fill her with unease.
“But that still doesn’t explain how you’re here, this is supposed to be private. There are barriers in place.”
“The dragon didn’t seem to have a problem with that,” Vi said.
“That’s different, monsters and other creatures of the Underworld work differently,” the woman said, eyeing Vi. “That’s why my parents summoned it, so I can prove my skill.”
“Wait, what kind of parents—” Vi faltered as she fell to the ground, heavy suddenly, as if hell was trying to pull her back. Maybe it was. “But I made it out,” Vi said—a protest, a plea. “This shouldn’t be happening!” She groaned in pain, clutching her side as if that made a difference. She was already starting to fade, she could feel it.
The woman knelt next to her, undeterred. “I don’t understand,” the woman said, panicked. “I’ve never met a mortal before, so I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Wait,” Vi said. “You’re not—”
And then everything went dark.
*
When Vi regained consciousness, she was in a pool of blood—the Styx. This wasn’t new, Vi grew up swimming in blood, apparently swimming in water was easier, it was thinner. Vi wouldn’t know.
On the other side of the blood, a figure peered down at her, with blue braids. That also wasn’t new.
Vi’s sister changed forms a lot. She was born a few years after Vi, what Vi deemed her “true form” was a teenage girl named Jinx, whose long braids draped over her feet. When she was feeling small, insecure, or a bit manipulative, she took the form of a child, Powder.
Today, she was Powder. It was Powder who spoke to Vi, her words warped as they reached her through the thickness of the blood. But Vi could make them out anyway. “You tried to escape?”
As Vi emerged from the pool, wading ankle deep, Powder repeated the question. “You tried to escape?”
When Vi didn’t answer, Powder transformed into Jinx, her eyes were pink and wired, probably from Shimmer, the poison of the Underworld. Jinx was less reserved after drinking it, unafraid to tell Vi how she really felt. Jinx shoved her.
“Did you tell Vander?” Vi asked, resenting the way Jinx glared at her. Of course Jinx wouldn’t tell Vander. Jinx might be mad, but she wouldn’t betray her sister. She shouldn't have asked.
Jinx crossed her arms. “I didn’t need to tell, Vander, genius. He figured it out the second he realized Huck was off his schedule. He’s waiting for you.”
Vi should have known. She sighed. “Can we talk about this later?”
Jinx became Powder again, eyes wide, quivering. “Aren’t you going to try to escape again later?” she asked right back.
“Not tonight,” Vi said. “I used up all my energy.” That wasn’t a lie. Vi would need time to recover before attempting to leave the Underworld again. She wasn’t used to feeling this much pain, her bones ached, and she couldn’t tell if the blood dripping down her skin was hers or if it belonged to the Styx. Likely it all mingled together.
Powder started singing and she vanished, leaving Vi to walk out of the river by herself. She dreaded what was to come.
It was no easy task trying to seek mercy from the Lord of the Dead, most mortals had begged and failed. Vander had rules he had to follow as their caretaker; none of the other immortals would follow them, could stand their crying, their pleas, their desperation to live again. Vander tried to be fair, but the dead could not return to the world of the living, and neither, apparently, could Vi.
Vander had forbidden her from leaving his realm centuries ago, under the guise of “it’s dangerous.” But Vi had seen the surface world for herself now, and it didn’t seem any more dangerous than the Underworld. Even though it was frozen, there was so much life up there, so much wonder. Vi wanted to see more for herself.
And maybe she wasn’t a fully fledged goddess yet. Her mother liked to tease her and Powder, calling them her little godlings. Vi had been around for centuries. She was ready to see what existed outside of her father’s domain, even if he disagreed with that idea. She needed outside help to do it—the Targon Council had their own rules, and she wasn’t acquainted with them, her father refused to tell her, and her mother never paid attention to Targon's politics. Nyx didn't frequent the Underworld long enough for Vi to ask her anyway, and she thought that was intentional.
But if Vi could learn of the old laws, and promised that she would follow them, she might be granted the option to leave the Underworld freely.
She mulled this over as she made her way to the House’s kitchens. When he wasn’t performing his godly duties, the God of the Dead had a tendency to spend his little free time standing behind a bar. Mylo and Claggor were already seated, but when Vander noticed her arrival, he motioned for them to leave.
Mylo and Claggor each gave Vi a look of sympathy before they scurried off, half transparent as shades are likely to do when they’re nervous, as if they’re about to disappear altogether.
“Was that really necessary?” she asked. “I don’t see why they can’t be here while you lecture me.”
Vander laughed. “It’s good to give them a healthy dose of fear now and then.”
“They’re already dead,” Vi protested as she slumped into her seat. “You must have a good lecture planned if you can’t yell at me in front of them.”
“I’m not going to yell at you,” Vander said.
“I escaped the Underworld against your will, of course you’re going to yell at me,” Vi said.
“It wasn’t a real escape though, was it?” Vander asked.
Vi frowned. “Did you know it wouldn’t work? That I couldn’t stay away for that long without being pulled back?”
“I had my suspicions,” Vander said, solemn. “I just hoped you wouldn’t have to find out the hard way.”
Vi scoffed. “How else was I supposed to figure it out? You’ve never even given me the chance to try!”
“It’s not safe for you out there, Vi. Earth is no place for Underworld dwellers, you know that.”
“I don’t see why not,” Vi said.
Vander gave her a look, one she was all too familiar with. It said, she was too young to understand, it said, I have millennia on you so I know better. Vi couldn’t help when she was born.
“I was named after a flower,” Vi said. Violets were her mother’s favorite, but they couldn’t grow in the Underworld. There wasn’t any sunlight. “And I’ve never once seen them in bloom, I’ve only seen them as a gift, a bouquet, when they’re already dead.”
“And?” Vander asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s not fair,” she said, aware of her juvenility, of the wavering of her voice. Vi thought of the woman with the fierce blue eyes, and how at Vander’s insistence, she’d never have the chance to see her again, to learn her name.
“I’m sorry, Vi,” Vander said. Sternly, he added, “And Huck won’t be tricked into your schemes again.”
“I’ll find another way out,” Vi insisted.
“There is no other way out,” Vander said.
But it was a lie, and they both knew it. Vi would find the true way out, no matter how little time she actually had to spend on the surface, she would seek it out. One day, Vander would be powerless to stop her.
Vander looked tired, as though he could read her thoughts. Vi knew he wasn’t cruel. Mylo and Claggor both died in an accident when they were young, and Vander took pity on them. Instead of standing in the fields of Asphodel forever, they were allowed to live in the House, same as Vi and Powder. No other god would have done that, Vander said. As Vi grew older, she found out that the boys died directly by the hands of a god on the Targon Council, and never cared for the casualties.
“We’ll see about that,” Vi finally said. And she left.
“You let the mountain drake go?” Cassandra asked. She sounded disappointed, but there was the curve of a smile hiding itself. Caitlyn knew that her mother hoped that Caitlyn would fail her first trial, thinking Caitlyn was better off hidden from the world, from Targon.
“It’s not my fault,” Caitlyn insisted. “I'm an excellent hunter, Mother. You know this. I was interrupted by an unforeseen disturbance. It won't happen again, I promise.”
Her mother, though, simply clicked her tongue. “You told us you were ready. If you were, you would have been prepared for anything, not faltering at the first thing to get in your way.”
“I am ready, Mother,” Caitlyn tried, but it wasn’t of any use. The Goddess of Winter was cold in that respect, and naturally over-protective. How her father, the God of Spring fell in love with Cassandra was sometimes beyond Caitlyn’s comprehension. “There was a woman who got in the way, and then she disappeared before my very eyes. She wasn’t a mortal, Mother. At least, I don't think so. But I’ve never seen her on Targon before, either.” Caitlyn was permitted to visit Mount Targon twice a year, for both the winter and summer solstices. The rest of the time, she was confined here in Piltover. Cassandra called home, Caitlyn called a cage. She was meant to hunt, not be trapped here for eternity, displayed like a great set of antlers.
“She might have been a wood nymph then. Silly that such a creature would get in the way of your hunt.”
Caitlyn had to stifle a laugh. The nymphs she’d met in the past were all docile, and steered clear of Caitlyn when she was on the hunt. They weren’t very fond of violence, or the snow. Late spring and early summer would be the time to find one. “It’s winter.”
“And?” her mother asked, as if she were unaware of the wood nymphs' habits.
“Do you think I wouldn’t recognize a nymph if I saw one?” Caitlyn asked, offended. "Or a monster, for that matter?" She had a knack for finding them. Her father thought it might have been her godly gift.
“My dear,” Cassandra said. “You are young. You’ve barely seen five centuries.”
“What has that to do with anything?”
“Whoever, or whatever, that woman was, is of no consequence to you. You’re safe here, and that’s what matters.”
Piltover was nothing but a bubble of earth, forever wrapped in spring. Violets bloomed perpetually, the juniper and cypress trees were a permanent lush green, and the deer never had to fear for their safety. Neither did Caitlyn.
“And what do you think I’m in danger of?” Caitlyn asked. “I was born with the gift to hunt, Mother, I can take care of myself. Let it not be wasted, please. I can prove it to you and every god on Targon."
She met her father’s eyes with the hopes that he would agree with her, but he didn’t. Caitlyn knew she was defeated, today. She knew her parents wouldn’t allow her to leave this place without a chaperone any time soon, save for the winter solstice tomorrow. Caitlyn was supposed to have killed the mountain drake, and present its body to the Targon Council. In doing so, she would have accepted the honor of being fully tried as a goddess, and once she succeeded in that, her parents would have no control over her any longer.
Now her opportunity would be pushed back another year. It wasn’t fair.
Cassandra smiled weakly. “Perhaps next year,” she said.
Caitlyn sighed and made her way to her chambers, staring at the flowers through her window. They were lovely, but they made the air far too sweet. Caitlyn was starting to grow sick of them.
Even her excitement to visit Mount Targon had dwindled. She was almost resolved not to go, even though that would upset her parents. Cassandra was part of the Council, and she loved showing off her daughter, as she was so rarely allowed to make an appearance.
So Caitlyn devised a plan, she wouldn’t be dissuaded so easily. She would attend the solstice celebration on Mount Targon, and then she would sneak out, go back to where the woman she met had suddenly disappeared. Caitlyn needed answers, and if the woman were mortal, it would need to be sooner than later. But she had a feeling that the woman wasn’t mortal, that something else was in motion.
*
Everyone on Mount Targon was donning fine gold robes. The gold shine radiated off the other mountain peaks, and above them, the golden aurora contrasted with the bright blue of the night sky. It was as celestial as ever, but most didn't look up, it was nothing they hadn't seen before.
The grand pillars were covered with floral wreaths, undoubtedly a gift by Caitlyn’s father. There was a feast fitting for the gods, ambrosia flowing through the place, like a real river. Too much of it would make Caitlyn sick, no matter its divine qualities.
For once, Caitlyn kept to herself, only spoke when spoken to, trying to figure out the best means of escape. After a few more chalices of ambrosia, Cassandra wouldn’t notice her disappearance, not until it was time to return to Piltover. If Tobias noticed, Caitlyn could only hope he would give her the benefit of the doubt, he was always the most understanding of the two.
Just as Caitlyn thought it might be a good time to leave, Jayce caught her.
Caitlyn always admired Jayce, he was a mortal before he achieved godhood. Not everyone on Mount Targon accepted him, but Caitlyn did, and in return, Jayce accepted Caitlyn as well. It helped that they were both young in comparison to the others, Jayce was offered immortality only a thousand years before Caitlyn was born.
“You look down,” Jayce said, holding two ambrosia-filled chalices.
“Ever the observant one,” replied Caitlyn, holding back a smile.
“I came over with ambrosia and this is the thanks you give me?” Jayce asked knowingly.
“Correction,” Caitlyn said, taking the ambrosia but not drinking it yet. “You came to make conversation with me because you’re lonely. Mel has finally gotten tired of you, though I must admit I'm surprised it's taken her this long.”
“Ow,” Jayce said. “That hurts."
“I’m just saying,” Caitlyn added, with a shrug. “The Goddess of War and Wisdom deserves better.”
“That might be true,” Jayce said, giving Caitlyn a playful shrug before sitting next to her. “But she’s busy. Targon Council members need to be available to everyone tonight.”
“So you thought to bother me instead,” Caitlyn teased, finally taking a sip. The ambrosia was as sweet as she remembered, and she wrinkled her nose.
“Your mother told me you failed with the mountain drake the other day. I’m sorry. I know you were hoping for your goddess trial this year.”
“Of course she told you,” Caitlyn groaned. “I’m sure it’s all over Targon by now.”
“I don’t think she wants to promote your failure,” Jayce said. “But I do think she’s glad to have you home."
Obviously, Caitlyn thought. Cassandra would do anything to ensure Caitlyn was safe. It was humiliating. Caitlyn wasn't a mere mortal girl—she was aware of her strength. She was a better fighter than both her parents, and she had a hunch that they were aware of this. Why they were so insistent on keeping her in Piltover, she couldn't fathom. It wasn't as if she couldn't protect herself if the occasion ever called for it. She was tired of being tucked away from the world.
Concerned, Jayce asked, "What really happened? I thought it was impossible for you to miss a shot, that every arrow you touch gets blessed.”
“It should be impossible,” Caitlyn corrected. “Did my mother not tell you the reason I didn’t succeed?”
“All she said was that you weren’t ready for such a trial yet.”
Caitlyn scoffed at that. “Of course that’s what she said. So she didn’t tell you about the woman I met?”
“What woman?” Jayce asked.
“She's the reason my arrow didn't pierce the dragon's heart," Caitlyn answered, sullen. If the arrow hadn't missed, she'd be undertaking her true trial right now.
“Sounds like she conveniently left that out,” Jayce said. “So tell me, what really happened?”
Caitlyn told him everything, and when she finished, Jayce frowned. “So you’re not even sure if she was mortal?”
“As far as I know, mortals aren’t able to disappear like that. I don’t think she died, either, Jayce. Her body would still be there if that were the case. Something else happened, and I need to figure out what. I’d like to find her.”
Jayce smiled. Caitlyn knew that smile, he often gave it to Caitlyn when she spent too long looking at a nymph or the Goddess of Love.
“It’s not like that,” Caitlyn insisted.
“Of course not,” Jayce said. “You only want to find her because…?”
Caitlyn sighed. “Her circumstances are different. I’m intrigued by the way she vanished. And her—okay, maybe it’s something like that. She was attractive, I can admit that. But I don’t want to pursue her, I just want the chance to know her. In some ways, she reminded me of myself.”
“There we go,” Jayce said, clapping Caitlyn on the back. He shut his eyes and repeated Caitlyn’s description of the woman: “Red-pink hair, blue eyes, wrists wrapped in bandages?”
“That’s right.”
“She doesn’t sound like anyone I’ve ever seen.”
“Not even a demigoddess?” Caitlyn asked. “Maybe one that doesn’t come to Targon for the solstices?”
Jayce shook his head. “I think if she were a mortal, it would have been obvious to you.”
“I’ve never met one before,” Caitlyn admitted. “So I wouldn’t know the difference.”
“Really?” Jayce asked. “Actually, that makes sense, knowing your mom. But I can guarantee it, you would have noticed her heartbeat, like the deer in your gardens.”
Caitlyn considered that. “I didn’t notice, but I was distracted.” Jayce gave her a look. “I was angry! She’s the reason I missed my shot! I didn’t think to pay attention to her heartbeat, or the lack of one.”
Jayce hummed. “So what are you going to do?”
“If I tell you I’m planning to leave Targon tonight, will you cover for me?”
“Of course.” He glanced around, and added, “I’ll talk to Viktor for you too.”
“What could Viktor do to help?”
“You know he’s from the Underworld, right?”
“But he’s the God of—”
“Come on Caitlyn, even gods have to come from somewhere.”
Caitlyn didn’t think about that possibility. “Are you implying that the woman I met… might be from down there?” Talk of the Underworld was taboo for the gods. Even discussing Vander, the god who lived there, was thought of as unlucky. But Caitlyn’s never once seen him all these years, he’s denied his right to attend the solstice celebrations for centuries, and no one knew why.
“It's not likely, but it’s not impossible, either,” Jayce said. He glanced around. “If you want to leave Targon, looks like now is a good time.”
“And if my mother asks where I went—”
“I’ll tell her you went back to Piltover.”
Caitlyn hugged him. “Thank you, Jayce.”
“Don’t mention it. I hope you find something out there.”
Caitlyn didn't have an alternative, especially since she wasn't sure when she'd have the chance to explore again. She'd might have to wait till the next solstice, months away, and even that would be lucky.
*
The field hadn’t been covered with fresh snow yet.
When the woman first disappeared, Caitlyn had searched the ground endlessly for a sign of why she left. She didn’t have much time, her mother appeared, worried for Caitlyn when she noticed the mountain drake had fled, and took her back to Piltover before Caitlyn had the chance to explain anything.
So Caitlyn stepped back, followed her tracks to where she approached the woman in the first place.
She scanned the path through the woods the woman must have taken, and tracked her footprints deeper into the woods until she found a cave. At its entrance, there was a single footprint with frozen blood coated on the ice. But it wasn’t human blood, not entirely. It was mostly red, yes, but there were golden flecks of ichor, gods’ blood, within it.
“I don’t understand,” Caitlyn muttered. She stood up, walked deeper into the cave. “Hello?” she called. There was no response save for the echo of her own voice. As she took a few more steps inward, she noticed the sleeping figure of a bear. This beast was mortal, she could tell what Jayce meant with the heartbeat now. In all her years of hunting, she had never noticed.
Her shoulders sagged. This was just a regular bear, not a shapeshifter.
“Where could you have gone?” Caitlyn whispered, not wanting to wake the bear.
She exited the cave, dejected. Save for the footprints in the snow and Caitlyn's own vivid memory, there was no other sign the woman existed.
Still, she had time to return to Piltover before her mother noticed she wasn’t home.
*
Caitlyn lay awake outside, looking at the stars. They weren't full of Targon's splendor down here, but in some ways, Caitlyn preferred that.
Her mother didn’t notice her absence. That was fortunate.
The woman was also, clearly not mortal. That was also fortunate.
Still, Caitlyn couldn’t help but wonder who she could be. The woman was no nymph, no known demigoddess. Jayce’s suggestion that the woman might be from the Underworld troubled her. Gods feared death, even though they couldn’t greet it. If the woman was truly from the Underworld, a realm forbidden for those of Targon, Caitlyn wasn’t sure when or where they could possibly meet again. Vander denied entrance, and Viktor himself had never mentioned his origins, Caitlyn never thought to ask. She wasn't well acquainted with Viktor, not like Jayce was, and she wondered if it would be appropriate if she asked why he left, when he last visited, if he ever saw a woman with hushed red hair, pale blue eyes.
The good news was, since she was no mortal, even if it took decades, a century, centuries plural, Caitlyn would see her again. She swore it to herself.
Vi was lucky her first escape attempt worked. She didn’t have to navigate the labyrinth paths of the Underworld. She didn’t have to fight anyone. And Vander personally saw that Vi’s beginner’s luck would end then and there.
Escape attempt number two was futile. When Vi snuck around the dark corridors of Zaun, Sevika was waiting for her in a battle chamber. Sevika was a fighter, the most powerful of the furies, relentless and tactile. And infuriatingly smug.
Sevika never cared for Vi, and the feeling was mutual. Now, Sevika had the chance to tell Vi how she really felt.
Vi lost.
When Vi fought Sevika for the second time, she lost.
After Vi’s third defeat, it was Jinx who greeted her outside of the Styx, offering Vi a towel. A white one that stained quickly with blood—mostly Vi's. Vi would have to burn it later.
“You know, I never really pegged you for the romantic type,” Jinx said.
Vi scowled. “What do you mean by that?” She wrapped the towel around her head, trying to squeeze the rest of the blood out. Vi was many things, but she never once thought of herself as romantic. She’d never once fallen for anyone. Romantic love was nothing but a concept to her, a story that ended in tragedy. Sure, every now and then she’d meet a beautiful shade, but Vi wasn’t going to fall in love with someone dead.
“I mean,” Jinx said, repainting her nails. “You don’t even know this woman’s name. Look at all you’re doing for her. Fighting Sevika over and over for the chance to see her again?”
“I’m not doing this just for her, Jinx.”
Jinx gave her a disbelieving look. "Loves in your life live ever on," she sang.
“I do not sound like that,” Vi said. She mentioned the woman to Jinx once. “You know it’s not right that I’m trapped here against my will. You are too, even if you haven’t realized it yet.”
“This is your home, Vi,” Jinx said, as if Vi needed the reminder. After every failed escape attempt, Vander had the same little speech for her when she would wallow in the bar. Vi was growing sick of it. “Our home. We’re creatures of the Underworld, we don’t belong anywhere else. That’s what Vander says.”
“Do you think that everything Vander tells us is the truth?”
“What would he gain by lying?” Jinx asked.
“Uh, keeping us trapped here for all eternity?”
Jinx’s eyes started to water, and she transformed back into Powder. Vi sighed. Gently, she said, “I’m not trying to leave forever, Powder. I promise. I just wish I had the option. You know, to come and go as I please. To be able to explore the world out there and then come home.”
“I don’t believe you,” Powder sniffled. “I bet as soon as you figure it out, you’ll stay on the surface forever and never come back.”
“I promise I’m not abandoning you,” Vi said. “You could come with me. I bet together we could take Sevika in a fight no problem.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I mean it. Don’t you want to see what else is out there?”
“Not really, no.” Powder returned to Jinx. “And if you know what’s good for you, neither will you.”
*
It took losing to Sevika twenty more times for Vi to start to wonder if escaping really was hopeless. If Vi couldn’t get past Sevika, she would have to find another way out through Zaun.
No way presented itself, and Vi had wandered for weeks, sullenly sitting at the bar with Mylo and Claggor, ignoring the looks of pity Vander gave her as if it wasn’t his fault she was stuck here in the first place. As it all wasn't his plan.
“Sevika’s good at what she does,” Vander told Vi one day, when Vi was particularly bruised up. She couldn't see out of her right eye. “It’s why I hired her. A blood oath thousands of years ago, it’s not easily broken.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t beat her one day,” Vi said.
“Sure it doesn’t,” replied Vander. “Another drink?”
“Absolutely not,” Vi said, and she made her way back to her chambers. She stood still, one foot bare on the carpet, the other on stone. If it really was impossible to leave the Underworld and remain on Earth, Vander wouldn’t be so determined to keep Vi from leaving again. Furies had better things to do than to make sure godlings stayed in hell, as Sevika often let her know.
So Vi wouldn’t give up. Not when she knew there was still a cause to fight for.
But after bleeding and bruising after her thirtieth escape attempt, Vi groaned as she bandaged herself up again. When they were younger, and Vi got into fights for fun, not her future, Powder used to help tend her wounds.
Vi hadn’t seen as much of her sister these days. After the first ten escape attempts, Powder got bored of greeting her at the Styx pool, and she stopped sitting at the bar if Vi was there. Jinx denied that it was on purpose, but Vi didn’t believe her, she knew her too well. They hadn’t gotten in a fight this big since… maybe ever. They were lucky that way.
And then one day, just as Vi was about to return to her chambers and sleep for what she hoped would be a peaceful century, Jinx surprised her.
“You need a better weapon,” Jinx said, blue-eyed.
“You think?” Vi retorted. Her beloved Malphon gauntlets were still hung up on display in Vander’s throne room, a reminder of her worst mistake. They had lost their shine up there, collecting dust and taunting Vi every time she stepped into the room. There was no way she could retrieve the gauntlets without literally unleashing hell, though some days, she was getting desperate enough to consider it.
“You messed up giving your best weapons to Huck, Violet,” Jinx said, calling her by her full name to piss her off. It worked.
“Oh, I am well aware of that, Pow-Pow,” Vi replied, using her childhood nickname with the same intention. “Do you have any suggestions of what I could use instead? Clearly my fists aren’t cutting it here.”
Jinx crossed her arms. “That’s why I came, actually. I’ve been working on something new. It might be even better than a set of gauntlets, better than anything a cyclops has made.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Vi said. “They’re kind of known for being the best weapon makers save for the gods themselves.”
“And am I not technically a god?” Jinx asked. She made tons of makeshift weapons in their childhood, but none of them proved to be any good, so she dropped the hobby two centuries ago. “Besides, this is better than anything I’ve made before, trust me.”
Vi raised a curious eyebrow. “Somehow I find that hard to believe. I seem to recall your last weapon destroying mom’s statue?”
“I used the same weapon to fix it,” Jinx urged. “But that’s not the point. This one is good, I know it is.”
Vi wanted to believe her, but she had her doubts. She didn’t exactly want to blow up to pieces after setting off a faulty weapon, it wasn’t exactly fun being put back together. “Why are you trying to help me?”
“At this point it's a little pathetic watching you lose to Sevika. She’s starting to act a little too arrogant for my tastes. I think she deserves to lose once, learn a little humility.”
“Even if it means I can escape to the surface?” Vi asked.
“Even if it means you can escape to the surface,” Jinx repeated, quiet.
Gently, Vi said, “Thanks, Jinx. It means a lot.”
“Don’t thank me yet. It’s good, but I’m still not sure it’s good enough. I’ll have to make some adjustments if it doesn’t work the first time, and that might take awhile. If that woman you met is mortal, she might not be around by the time I get it right.”
Vi didn’t want to think about that. “So when can I see this new weapon?” Vi asked instead.
Jinx snapped her fingers, and in an instant, she turned back into Powder and next to her a strange device floated in the air, as large as Powder herself.
“Isn’t it awesome?” Powder asked, eyes bright.
“It looks a little intense,” Vi answered. She was never as mechanically adept as her sister. “And… what am I looking at, exactly?”
“I call it Exagryph, it’s like a mini rocket launcher.”
“It doesn’t look that small, Powder.”
“It was the best I can do,” she said. “Under such short notice anyway.”
“It’s been months since I first escaped,” Vi said.
“Exactly. It’s not as big as I wanted it to be, but for a god you’re pretty small. I had to be considerate. I wanted to make sure you could carry it all the way to Sevika’s battle chamber.”
Vi scowled. “I’m almost six feet tall.”
“You know gods average around ten feet—“
“I get it, I get it,” Vi said, not commenting how Powder was even shorter, especially in this form. “So, how do I use it?”
Powder beamed.
*
Miracles weren’t known to reach the depths of hell, but Powder’s weapon worked.
Sevika wasn’t prepared for Exagryph, or the alarming way its bullets launched and hit her. It was a close fight, Sevika nearly won again, but Vi was able to reload and relaunch another round just in time.
Sevika cursed Vi, which wasn’t anything new, but then she disappeared. Vi stood there panting until she was sure she could walk again without collapsing. There was a vial of Titan’s Blood left for her, and Vi took it greedily. It might come in handy if she ever came across Huck again. She had a feeling Vander commanded him to avoid her.
A set of stone doors appeared behind where Sevika previously stood. They looked ancient, about to fall apart. But they opened—too bright for Vi to see through them, but she knew what was on the other side.
Vi ran to them and with a blinding flash, she made it out of the Underworld for the second time.
It was a startling sight, but lovely at the same time. There was no longer any snow covering the earth—everything was green now. Vi was standing on a soft patch of grass, and it didn’t look like it ended.
She inhaled the scent of growing things, of lush juniper and flowers she couldn’t put a name to—she scanned nearby for violets, but didn’t see any.
Still, Vi was relieved. She believed this season was called spring. A lot of time had passed since she had been to the surface last—she couldn’t recognize the blooming trees, and wasn’t sure if these were the same dead things she witnessed covered in snow or not.
There was a cool breeze, and it felt pleasant against Vi’s battered skin. She felt a spike of foolishness—if she were to meet the woman with dark blue hair and light blue eyes again, she would certainly look like a mess.
Then again, maybe it didn’t matter. Vi didn’t know which direction to turn to, or how much time she had if the Underworld was going to pull her back down again. Mortals had gods to pray to, and Vi had no one but herself.
Wanting to enjoy every second, Vi moved forward.
And the doors must have led her to the same space; as Vi walked forward, she recognized the clearing. Or rather, she recognized its outline. There were many more flowers here now, including patches of violets. And there was sunlight this time, actual sunlight on her skin. Vi closed her eyes. She had never seen anything so bright, never felt anything so deliciously warm. Daylight was new to her, and she wanted to savor the feeling, to remember it when she returned to the depths of hell, looking up to nothing but darkness.
“Is that really you?” a voice asked quietly.
Vi smiled. She didn't dream, but she imagined that voice often. “Who else could it be?” Vi asked, opening her eyes to see the same archer from months ago. She wasn’t wearing a cloak this time, or an outfit that looked like she could hunt in. She wore a long white dress, and her hair was down.
“How are you here?” the woman asked. “And where have you been? I’ve been trying to search for you.” That thought touched Vi in a way she couldn’t explain. “You vanished completely,” she added.
“Not completely,” Vi said. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“For how long?” the woman asked. She frowned. And that wouldn’t do. Vi wouldn’t let hell grab her until she saw this woman smile.
“I don’t think I have much time,” Vi admitted. She wanted to extend her hand forward, but she wasn't sure what would happen to the woman if she did. “My name’s Vi.”
The woman seemed to understand Vi's impulse, and before Vi could protest, the woman took her hand, cradled it with both of hers. She did not die or turn to stone or vanish.
“You don’t have a pulse,” the woman said eventually. Then she met her eyes. “My name’s Caitlyn,” she said. “And neither do I.” She smiled—mouth open—there was a gap in her front teeth. Vi was impressed—a goddess would have the power to get rid of it if she so desired, but Caitlyn didn’t.
“So you’re—” Vi began.
“Immortal, yes. But I’m not part of Targon’s council, not yet. My mother has seen to that. And you? I’ve not seen you around. And I’ve… asked around for you. No one knows of any goddess with your description.”
“It’s complicated,” Vi said. “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not sure what sort of ancient laws I’m breaking, but—”
“And why would you be breaking any laws?” Caitlyn asked.
“My father is Vander, Lord of the Dead,” Vi said, figuring it couldn’t hurt to tell the truth. “I’m from the Underworld, and it keeps pulling me back.”
To Vi’s surprise, Caitlyn didn’t appear shocked by this news.
“Well,” Caitlyn told her, smiling wide again. “We can’t allow that to continue, can we?”
Vi smiled back.
Caitlyn then eyed her, head to toe. “You know, you’re pretty short for a goddess,” she said. "I think that's why I initially suspected you were a mortal trespassing."
Vi half-laughed. “As if you aren’t shorter than average, either?”
“Oh trust me, this is a nice change for me. I’m used to being the shortest on Mount Targon.”
“So you’ve actually been up there?”
“You’ve never—”
“This is the second time I’ve ever left the Underworld,” Vi explained. “Vander's not... thrilled that I've made it to Earth. I can’t imagine how much trouble I’d get into if he found out I made it to Targon.”
“But it’s your birthright,” Caitlyn insisted. “As a goddess—or demigoddess—you have the right to your trial. Or at least to visit our kingdom. Who’s your mother?”
“Nyx,” Vi said.
“The Goddess of Night?” Caitlyn asked, looking intently into Vi’s eyes. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Nyx is… older than most gods. Even your father. I’ve never met her, I’ve never seen her on Targon. Most people haven’t. She might be the reason you—”
“The reason I can’t stay here?”
“The reason your blood is so different.”
“How so?”
“Most gods bleed gold, Vi. You bleed red. I’ve never heard of anything like it," Caitlyn trailed off. “I’m sorry. I forgot you’re wounded, right now. I know you can’t technically die but, what happened to you? Why are you injured?”
“Oh this?” Vi asked. “This is just a scratch. You should see the other guy.” Caitlyn’s gaze remained firm, unimpressed. “I had to fight to leave. My father has tasked everyone in the Underworld with preventing my leaving. I had to battle a fury."
Caitlyn's eyes widened at that. Now she was impressed. “I understand. My mother won’t allow me to leave Piltover, unless I’m hunting. I told her I thought the mountain drake had returned when I sensed you enter these grounds.”
“And who is your mother?”
“Cassandra, Goddess of Winter. My father is Tobias, the God of Spring.”
“Are you the next season?” Vi teased.
But Caitlyn couldn’t catch the joke. “I don’t know what I am. I’ve not had my trial.”
“I don’t know what I am either,” Vi admitted. And then she felt it, a twinge at first, a slight tug, and then a deeper pull. “Shit.”
“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” Caitlyn asked.
“I think so,” Vi said, buckling to the ground in pain.
Caitlyn knelt beside her. “Next time you come to the surface I’ll be here, I promise.”
Vi managed to crack a grin. “It might take me a while.”
“That doesn’t matter. Maybe by next time, I’ll know of something that can help you.”
Vi doubted that, but she appreciated the thought.
Everything faded to black.
When Vi came to, it was Jinx waiting for her outside of the pool.
“Exagryph worked,” Jinx said, sounding a little breathless for a godling.
“Exagryph, worked,” Vi repeated. She found herself still smiling, despite the pain. “Her name is Caitlyn,” Vi said.
"Good for you," Jinx said neutrally.