Chapter Text
The war between Noxus and the Alliance was over.
After three years the soldiers finally returned home.
Last were those from the furthest fronts: Demacia in the deep west and Ionia in the east across the ocean.
Many were the fallen, especially among the zaunites: conscripted by force and threats to go into battle and used as cannon fodder by the rich and powerful in Piltover.
Entire families destroyed, homes and property foreclosed to "finance the war effort."
To what extent it was true was entirely to be proven.
St. Janna of Light Church had always been a landmark for Zaun, the less prosperous part of Piltover City, but after the war it became even more so.
The medium-sized church stood out on a grassy knoll on the western outskirts of town, surrounded by an iron fence, now rusted in several places.
At the base of the small, crumbling stone staircase at the front was the square into which five streets converged: two leading to the limits between the inhabited suburbs, the forest and the countryside, while the other three led north and south and the main one straight into the center of Zaun, into the neighborhoods called the Lanes, the city's pulsating heart.
Father Nicholas Fernd, a tall, thin sixty-year-old priest with thick gray hair and bright green eyes, opened the church for those who had nothing left, offering shelter, food and keeping contacts to find work for those who needed it, trying to keep his herd safe from exploiters, who paid a pittance by taking advantage of the crisis.
Many were single women with young children, widows and war orphans who filled the church.
Slavers and procurers were always lurking, and the poor priest and the few able to fight could not stand up to them.
Women and children were kidnapped, their defenders beaten and killed.
Even Father Fernd had been beaten to a pulp a few times....
Piltover's government and curia didn't care about what was going on in Zaun, and the priest's prayers and contentions fell on deaf ears.
He was losing faith.
Then she returned from the war.
The first time she fought alone against six slavers: a flame haired, ice eyed fury!
She cracked heads and broke limbs with a furor that Father Nicholas defined divine!
The next day the warrior busied herself and recruited other veterans she found in town to defend the church people, forming a small army that she led each time against the criminals who eventually desisted, leaving dead and wounded on the ground.
The veterans were offered a place to live and a hot meal.
But Most importantly, they found a new purpose at a time when they needed it most.
They found one who led and inspired them by example: an indomitable warrior, a strong, just and compassionate commander whom they would follow to the gates of hell and beyond!
In no time the magenta-haired warrior earned everyone's love and trust effortlessly, it came completely naturally to her: a rare quality that few have innately!
Thus the church once again became a safe place, a sanctuary offering protection and help.
The veteran's name was Vi.
And Father Fernd was not at all surprised that her name was as unique as her look.
She was tall, six feet and six inches, with a strong, athletic build.
Magenta hair on the sides of her head was cut very short, like cat hair, while behind were long, tightened into a ponytail at neck level by a curious cobalt and gold ribbon embellished with floral motifs. Perhaps a reminder of the distant lands in which she had fought.
On her forehead a thick tuft fell to the side of her right eye.
A handful of ephelids embellished her cheeks, covered on the left by her name tattoo.
She also had other tattoos on her neck and forearms and could be seen continuing beyond, hidden from view by her clothing.
Vi wore dark brown pants and similarly colored leather work boots.
Over a white shirt, whose sleeves were rolled up to the elbow leaving her forearms free, she wore a brown-gray vest.
One day he found her in the backyard of the church planting a vast vegetable garden, teaching the faithful and refugees, who were mostly women and children, how to plant and care for it.
It was an unexpected scene!
Seeing the serenity and care with which Vi taught contrasted the fury and violence of her warlike appearance.
As Father Nicholas discovered shortly thereafter with his heart swelling with admiration, Vi was taking care of them all.
"We can only count on ourselves."
She told him as she flipped in her hands a curious leather bag in which were crammed labeled glass jars containing various seeds "The vegetables we harvest will serve our livelihood and we’ll have enough to sell at the local market. In addition, I have planted some medicinal herbs: they will be useful for lending cures."
Vi closed the bag again and looked up at the sky of the early spring days that threatened rain, her eyes shining a bright pale blue.
"Since the situation is stable from tomorrow I will remediate a cart and a horse: I’ll begin to lead expeditions to the junkyard, father." she said as she turned back to look at him.
" One always finds something to resell at the black market in the Lanes, what’s left of it anyway: we need money. I’ll take some people with me, to teach them the trade."
The old priest was at a loss for words!
She defended them and looked after them....
Father Nicholas was certain that Janna heard his pleas and therefore sent one of her own daughters in answer to his prayers.
A beautiful angel, strong and kind hearted.
When he had occasion to speak to her about it she laughed bitterly.
A dry laugh, without the slightest hint of joy, the scar on her upper lip and the larger one cutting her eyebrow in two, both on the left, accentuating the veteran's sarcastic and bitter expression.
"There are no gods, father: no higher entity to watch over us or chastise us for our sins," she replied, her voice hoarse and low.
"There’s only men's folly, the evil they cause and the consequences that someone will have to pay."
Her eyes were steel cold, dull and tired, no longer that pale blue vibrant with life that Father Nicholas admired so much.
On that occasion, for the first time, the priest began to sense the depth of Vi's wounds.
…
When things got more stable she began to wander restlessly away from the church, looking for something or someone.
Always returning of course.
Father Nicholas understood that the woman would never abandon those who trusted her.
The first time she returned with a small, dusty, ragged old backpack and showed only him the contents: coins of various denominations that she would use to continue buying food and clothing for the church's growing herd. It was her own money, which she saved in her pre-war life, stashed away in a safe place.
Her face was brimming with sadness...
But she did not want to talk about it, as usual.
Father Nicholas privately welcomed in his small room all those who needed to talk for trying to give them comfort, listening to their problems, the grief over the loss of their loved ones and the impossibility of having their bodies buried worthily and visiting their graves.
Piltover had denied Zaun even this: the bodies of fallen zaunites were all left where they died since it would cost effort and money to bring them back. The city-state council simply decided that the zaunites were not worth the effort.
So it was zaunites themselves who buried their fallen comrades directly on the battlefields, with the hope of bringing them home someday.
On a beautiful, typically spring evening Father Fernd sat with Vi on a bench in the church's back garden talking about just that, in front of a striking sunset.
Vi's crimson hair was ablaze with the intense light of the dying sun.
"In Ionia..." she said as she loosened her ponytail, releasing the magenta locks that fell back behind her shoulders "The priests, soldiers and villagers always helped us retrieve and bury our comrades. The unjust social class system that crushes us here does not apply to them."
Her voice was filled with admiration in a tone of utmost respect
"They are a wonderful people father, spiritual and nature bound. What matters to them is what's in our hearts, honor and compassion, not earthly possessions..." her face lit up and it was the first time Father Nicholas saw her smile happily.
She brought the ribbon that tied her hair to her mouth and kissed it, then took it to her heart, with a care that moved the priest because he sensed its importance.
"The priests performed funeral rites for us, blessing our sisters and brothers, decorating the burials with beautiful flowers and planting a sapling, so that one day a forest would grow to protect the fallen, to erase the madness of war."
Vi shut her eyes and took a deep breath.
Then she opened them and looked straight into the old priest's eyes.
"Life that takes death's place."
So serene was Vi's appearance in the warm light of the sunset....
The way she spoke greatly struck the clergyman as it revealed once again that there was much more to her than what appeared.
"It sounds like heaven on earth from the way you describe it, my child," he said, squeezing her shoulder sympathetically "But, if I may say so, why did you come back here that looks more like hell now than anything else?" she became serious, patted him on the shoulder and stood up
"That's a story for another time, old man."
She said goodbye to him and set off on her usual evening rounds, leaving Father Nicholas alone with himself, marveling at the poetic glimpse of Vi's life she shared with him, in one of her rare moments of openness.
The red-haired warrior remained stubbornly enshrined in her own mystery.
Four days later Vi returned from one of her wanderings, gloomy faced.
She shut herself in for whole days without anyone being able to know what happened.
She never missed duties she committed herself to, shrugging her shoulders and pretending it was nothing, but something bad did happen, and it became clear one evening a few days later.
She came back from one of her sorties and was shattered.
She didn't show it, she kept it all inside as usual, but the old priest was good at picking up details and had learned a thing or two about Vi. And how seriously she took the leadership burden, forbidding herself to show weakness.
Late at night the priest found her in the backyard, a portable oil lamp strung on the low branch of one of the trees in the grove illuminating her with its warm light.
She had her back turned to him, looking down at the ground "Welcome Father Nicholas. I've been expecting you." the priest gave a half-smile as he approached, evidently he was not the only one with a honed spirit of observation: the woman knew he would be looking for her.
He reached her and followed her gaze to the ground, where she planted a simple wooden plank cross bearing three names, decorated with many beautiful flowers.
"Do you know what this is?" she said, drawing the priest's attention, pointing to a nameplate pinned to her own left chest: it was a military ID tag and the name had been scratched off, except for the first two letters.
"Vi." he read "It's your military nametag..." he arched his eyebrow
"You scratched off your full name?"
She nodded then reached out her closed hand in front of Father Fernd's face and opened it, revealing three more similar nametags.
She squeezed them so tightly that the edges had marked her hand and fingers to the point of almost cutting her.
Three names... Mylo, Claggor and Vander.
"My adoptive brothers and father." she said in a low, flat voice.
"They are all dead."
Horror and consternation were painted on the old priest's face as Vi continued to explain
"Spoke to veterans who were their comrades." the warrior's eyes were pure ice, showing no emotion or perhaps she had already exhausted them all.
"The ship Mylo was on was sunk off Bilgewater by an enemy vessel. Claggor died fighting in a fortress in the snowy mountains of the Freljord... Our father Vander died fighting on the border of Demacia."
She stared into his eyes "Now you must do two things for me, father." she said terribly calmly, drawing closer, almost threateningly "You must allow me to leave this cross here as a reminder of my family."
There were no words to describe the void that was ripped inside her.
The thought that the remains of her loved ones were scattered halfway around the world was a blade twisted in her open wounds.
"Please..." she added almost in a whisper.
"Of course my dear! You don't even have to ask!" exclaimed Father Nicholas, his heart breaking for Vi "Even if not present here physically with us, I will be honored to give them last rites so that St.Janna herself will lead them to the Elysian fields, my dear child!"
He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze and she nodded, grateful: even though she did not believe in any religion or divine being.
She sighed gravely then...
"I have a sister..."
"Blood of my blood. Her name is Powder."
"When they forced us to leave they took her hostage, to prevent us from fleeing the front, just as they did with thousands of other families. She would be eighteen now, then only fifteen."
In her own mind Vi tried to visualize her little Powder as a young woman... How much had she changed?
How did she wear her unruly blue hair?
And more important: What happened to her?
Was she still alive?
Vi saw so much death!
Horrible, grotesque and terrifying.
So much that it left deep wounds in her mind that gave her nightmares!
And those memories plagued her mind making her imagine her family, her Powder, reduced in unspeakable ways....
Coldness gripped her heart and she forced herself to banish those terrible thoughts from her head!
She sighed again, trying to calm down, as Father Nicholas squeezed her shoulders again, looking at her with sincere, reassuring eyes as green as the moss that decorated the church.
"Since I came back I haven't gotten any news about her... I know the city council released the hostages as the troops returned, but at the gendarmerie offices they couldn't tell me anything about my sister." gray eyes narrowed becoming two menacing slits
"Piltover cares nothing for the fate of rats like us!"
She turned sharply and struck the trunk of the tree with a punch " Fucking bastards!" she shouted in anger, as the lantern swung violently on the branch from the blow.
"Vi, placate yourself for goodness sake!" worriedly intervened the old priest "You'll only hurt yourself that way."
She struggled to calm herself, taking deep breaths.
"Our home has been razed, except for the hiding place in the foundation where I hid the money. If Powder is free... if she's alive, surely she must have been there: but without a home and family left to take her in, I just don't know where she could have ended up!"
So saying she clutched the priest's frail shoulders, her gaze filled with despair
"You have contacts, Father Nicholas, help me find her!" she implored.
Then her eyes went dead, her arms fell to her sides "I lost everything…"
"If she too is dead then I have no reason to go on living."
And Father Nicholas then hugged her tightly, promising that he would help in every way, begging not to give up hope, trying to motivate her by saying that so many were counting on her and that she could not abandon them by taking her own life.
The old priest was frightened because he understood that Vi's were not empty words and feared that he would lose her for real the moment that even the last hope of finding her sister alive abandoned her.
Inside he prayed to the holy mother to bless this lost daughter of Zaun.
…
Weeks went by, but despite all their efforts neither Father Fernd nor Vi could find out anything about Powder.
Vi never neglected the leadership duties she imposed on herself, but she grew gloomy and the priest worried about her.
Fortunately, a golden opportunity arrived from a Piltovian contact of Father Nicholas: a job offer for three laborers to be sent to the renowned Kiramman vineyard, attached to the summer mansion of the rich and powerful Piltovian family.
They would be housed on site with the other laborers, as the vineyard needed constant care and the harvest was not so far off.
The priest immediately thought of Vi!
"No way!"
She protested when he suggested it, reluctant to leave the church and her role.
"My dear Vi..." replied the old priest patiently "Thanks to your teaching and training things here at the church are going as well as ever! Garan can replace you in charge for a while: I know you trained her for this along with others, we will not have any problems, you’ll see."
He stared into her eyes, smiling reassuringly and understandingly "We are safe. Now it's time for you to start thinking about yourself, my dear child. You are fading away here and we are worried about you: a change can give you new strength and perspective!"
Vi met the gazes of everyone present, and they all agreed and begged her to accept.
She heaved a big sigh...
So, after initial reluctance, Vi decided to accept the offer, wrenching Father Nicholas and the others into a promise to keep in touch and notify her immediately if any problems arose.
And to continue searching for Powder, just as she would do in her spare time.
On the day of her departure they all warmly embraced her, to show her once more how much she was loved and important and that they would miss her.
Tears of commotion shone in her winter sky-blue eyes.
And for the first time in a long time Vi allowed herself to have some hope.