Chapter Text
Violet liked to pretend that their lives were normal. Perhaps her family wasn’t on the brighter side of the incoming war, but they still lived decently, compared to others in Zaun. Her mother always tried to be there for them, even when she and her father were called to discuss war plans, or weapons. Violet was young, but knew how hard it was to bring food and water to a table that was half rotten, and half broken down. Nevertheless, a functioning table, able to support two or three feedings every day.
But the streets of Zaun were unforgiving. The air always carried a stench - a mix of chemicals and decay that never truly left. It was a city where the shadows seemed to grow thicker every day, creeping into every corner, every crevice of their home, of their lives. Violet watched as her father’s hands became rougher, his voice harder, and the once soft tone her mother used began to carry an edge, a subtle undercurrent of fear.
Their neighborhood was alive with the sounds of distant machinery, the hum of factories that never slept. Violet had always known there was something wrong with the world around her, something deeply unfair. But in her youth, she had believed that if they kept their heads down, if they followed the rules - whatever those rules were - they would be safe.
Violet’s younger sister, Powder, had a different outlook. She saw the world not through the lens of survival, but with a strange, almost naïve wonder. She would talk about the stars that couldn't be seen through the smog, about dreams of flight and machines that could change the world. Powder believed in the stories their mother would tell, stories of heroes and inventors who once made a difference. But Violet knew better. Heroes didn’t exist in Zaun, and surely not for people like them.
The only person who seemed to share Violet's cautious realism was Mila, a girl the same age as Violet who lived a few doors down. Mila was Violet’s best friend, the one person who understood the weight she carried. Mila had her own burdens; her father had disappeared years ago, and her mother worked long hours in the factories, leaving Mila to fend for herself most of the time. Together, they learned how to navigate the dangerous streets of Zaun, watching each other's backs and sharing what little they had.
Mila had a toughness to her that Violet admired. Where Violet was thoughtful and strategic, Mila was quick and decisive, often acting on instinct. She had a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue, which got her into trouble more than once. But Mila was fiercely loyal, and Violet knew she could count on her, no matter what.
Their lives became a balancing act, teetering on the edge of a blade as tensions between Zaun and Piltover escalated. The divide between the two cities grew, a deep chasm that swallowed hope and spat out anger. Violet's father spoke less and less about work, and more about "the cause." Words like revolution and freedom became common in their household, whispered late at night when Powder was supposed to be asleep.
Violet tried to shield her little sister from the harsh realities of their world, but even she couldn’t protect her from everything. Powder’s wide eyes would stare at the maps her father left on the table, dotted with marks and symbols that meant little to a child, but everything to those who understood the war that was coming. Powder would ask questions, her voice tinged with innocence, questions that Violet had no answers for.
Mila would often join them in these quiet moments, offering a distraction for Powder when the weight of their reality became too much. She’d bring trinkets she’d scavenged from the streets - broken gears, bits of wire, and discarded machinery that she and Powder would try to piece together into something new. Violet would watch them from the corner of the room, her mind always half on the maps, half on her sister, and always worrying about what tomorrow would bring.
One night, after their parents had left again, Violet found herself staring at the same maps. The lines and symbols were a mystery to her, but she could feel the weight they carried. Each mark was a decision, a life, a future that hung in the balance. She traced a finger over the routes marked in red, wondering if her family’s path had already been written on one of them.
A loud crash from Powder’s room jolted her from her thoughts. Rushing in, she found Powder sitting amidst a mess of gears and springs, a prototype of something new she was working on. Powder looked up at Violet, eyes shining with a mix of fear and excitement.
“It’s going to work this time, Vi. I just know it.” Powder said, her voice trembling with determination.
Violet knelt beside her sister, picking up one of the twisted pieces of metal. “Powder, you need to be careful. You can’t keep doing this. What if someone finds out? What if something goes wrong?”
But Powder was already lost in her own world again, tinkering away, chasing dreams that Violet could no longer afford to believe in. As Violet watched her sister, a pang of guilt twisted in her chest. She wanted to believe in Powder’s dreams, to share in that innocence, but the reality of their world was too heavy, too crushing.
Mila, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing with one of the metals, looked up at them. “Vi, I know you're worried. But Powder has a knack for this kind of thing. She might just be the one who figures it out.”
The red-haired girl’s brows tensed for a second, turning around to face her friend. She couldn’t make sense of the situation they were in - how they even ended up in that room, playing with metal from discarded weapons. But she didn’t say anything.
The nights grew longer, and the days more uncertain. Violet knew the storm was coming, a storm that would tear their world apart. She could feel it in the air, in the way people spoke in hushed tones, in the way her mother’s hands trembled when she thought no one was looking.
And then, one day, everything changed.
One day, Mila had come to their house earlier - saying something about her parents leaving her a note and two full cogs. One of which Mila had given to Powder. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for her parents to leave early - but it was unusual why they would leave so much money to a child. That same day, Violet’s parents didn’t go to work, saying they wanted to take a break from all the toxic fumes in the factories. But to Violet their faces didn’t look like they were taking a well deserved break.
Violet and Mila exchanged a glance, both sensing that something was wrong, but neither said anything. The unease lingered in the air, thick and oppressive, as they tried to go about their day. Powder played with her new cog, completely oblivious to the tension that gripped the adults.
It was barely lunch when her mother called all three of them to eat together. There was some eerie silence among the five of them, like there were so many words left unspoken, but not nearly enough time to start saying them. The table was full to the brim of food, something that Violet had never seen before, or not to that extent. Everyone’s plates were full with different types of meats, salads, and everyone had their own designated cup of drink of their choice.
And yet, her father’s plate remained unfinished, and her mother’s barely touched. Powder had eaten as much as she could, and then excused herself to go and rest in her own room. Mila had taken quite a few bites of her plate, but not nearly as much as she otherwise did.
Violet looked down at her plate, picking up a fork and carefully moving some of the meat around. She couldn’t find her appetite and barely managed to shove two bites in her mouth, before placing the fork back on the cut-up paper towel next to her. Her mother looked around, as if she were paranoid, and constantly urged everyone to finish their plates. But Violet and Mila knew something was wrong, something that they couldn’t shake away just like that.
And their fears were confirmed, when the older man stood up from the table, said goodbye, and left the house without any explanation. He hadn’t said where he was going, nor when he was coming back. The older woman soon did the same, but hugged all of them equally as long, then apologized, and left the house. The three girls were left alone, with the full of food table behind them, and a total of 5 full cogs in a little, beaten up leather bag.
The house felt eerily quiet after Violet’s parents left, the heavy door creaking shut behind them. The three girls sat in stunned silence, the remnants of their uneaten meal cooling on the table. The reality of their situation began to settle in, a cold weight that pressed down on their shoulders.
Violet finally broke the silence, her voice a whisper, almost as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile calm. “What do we do now?”
Mila looked at her with a mixture of determination and uncertainty. “We survive, Vi. We do what we’ve always done.” Her voice was steady, but Violet could see the flicker of fear in her eyes.
Powder, who had been quiet since their parents left, suddenly stood up and walked over to the small, beaten-up leather bag that sat on the table. She opened it and stared at the cogs inside, her small hands trembling slightly as she lifted one out. “Why did they leave us this?” she asked, her voice filled with confusion and a touch of sadness.
Violet walked over to her sister and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know, Powder. But whatever the reason, we’ll figure it out together. We’ll be okay.”
Mila stood up, her usual confidence starting to return. “We can’t stay here. If they left us this money, they must have known something was coming. We need to get out of here before whatever it is catches up with us.”
Violet nodded, agreeing with Mila’s assessment. “You’re right. But where do we go? Zaun isn’t exactly full of safe places, especially now.”
Mila thought for a moment, her sharp mind working quickly. “We could head to the lower levels, the old undercity. It’s dangerous, but it’s where people go when they don’t want to be found. We might be able to lay low there until we figure out what to do next.”
Powder looked up at them with wide, fearful eyes. “But what about Mom and Dad? What if they come back?”
Violet’s heart ached at the thought, but she knew they couldn’t wait around. “They’ll find us, Powder. They’ll know where to look. But right now, we have to make sure we’re safe.”
Suddenly, the ground shook beneath them, a low rumble that quickly grew into a deafening roar. The walls of the house shuddered, and a sharp, acrid smell filled the air as the first explosion rocked the neighborhood. The girls froze, their eyes wide with fear as they stared at each other, the realization of what was happening dawning on them.
Violet grabbed Powder’s hand, pulling her close. “We need to move, now!”
Another explosion ripped through the air, this one closer, the force of it sending a wave of heat through the house. The windows shattered, and the sound of splintering wood filled the room as parts of the ceiling began to collapse. The once familiar walls of their home now seemed like a death trap, closing in on them with every tremor.
Mila sprang into action, grabbing the beaten-up leather bag and shoving it into her pack. “This way!” she shouted over the cacophony, leading them towards the back of the house.
But the path was blocked by debris, chunks of the ceiling that had fallen and furniture that had been overturned. Violet’s heart pounded in her chest as she realized they were trapped. The explosions outside were growing louder, the shockwaves shaking the very foundation of their home.
“Back! We have to go back!” Violet yelled, dragging Powder towards the front door, her mind racing as she tried to find a way out.
Just as they reached the door, another explosion hit, this time right outside their house. The force of it blew the door off its hinges, sending it crashing into the wall. The girls were thrown back, hitting the ground hard as the world around them seemed to disintegrate.
Violet struggled to her feet, her ears ringing and her vision blurred. She could barely make out the shape of Powder next to her, crying out in fear. “Powder! Mila!” she called, her voice hoarse as she reached for them.
Mila was already pulling herself up, her face pale but determined. She grabbed Violet’s arm, helping her to her feet. “We have to go, Vi! We can’t stay here!”
They stumbled out of the house, the air thick with smoke and the scent of burning metal. The street outside was a scene of chaos—flames licking at the sides of buildings, people running in every direction, and the constant, unrelenting sound of explosions and gunfire.
Violet clung to Powder’s hand as they pushed through the chaos, following Mila as she led them through the narrow alleys that wound through Zaun. The once familiar streets now felt like a war zone, every corner hiding new dangers, every step fraught with uncertainty.
As they ran, Violet’s thoughts turned to her parents. Where were they? Had they known this was going to happen? The questions raced through her mind, but there was no time for answers. All she could do was focus on keeping Powder safe, on getting them out of this nightmare alive.
They turned a corner, only to be met with a scene that made Violet’s blood run cold. A massive explosion had torn through the street ahead, leaving a gaping hole where buildings once stood. And in the middle of the destruction, she saw them—her parents, caught in the blast, their bodies lying motionless among the rubble.
“No!” Violet screamed, her voice breaking as she tried to run towards them, but Mila held her back.
“Vi, we can’t! It’s too late!” Mila shouted, her grip firm as she pulled Violet away from the scene.
Tears streamed down Violet’s face as she fought against Mila’s hold, her heart shattering with every step they took away from her parents. But deep down, she knew Mila was right. There was nothing they could do.
They had to survive.
And then they saw a figure - of a tall man, beating someone to the ground, then standing up and turning around. The smoke before him soon cleared, his face emerging first from around them, his body following after. Violet noticed the gloves on his hand - made from the same metal Powder plays with daily - yet somehow stronger. He looked down at them, then at the rubble next to their parents. Mila wasn’t sure if he knew who they were - if he knew where her parents were, but she didn’t ask. And he didn’t say anything, he just grabbed Powder and Mila, placing them on his shoulders, then holding Vi’s hand. They weren’t sure where they were going, but everywhere would be better than here.