Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It is said some lives are linked across time. Connected by an ancient calling that echoes through the ages.

Destiny.

Long ago, the Shuriman Empire stretched throughout the southern desert wastes, and all the way beyond. Fierce in battle and wise in victory, the Sword of the Empire brought order to many kingdoms.

The Shuriman King, Vander, was a firm but noble man, ruling over his people with fairness beside his younger brother, Silco, upon the principles of loyalty and brotherhood.

For many, many years, the people of Shurima thrived in peace and prosperity.

King Vander was blessed with two sons, Claggor and Mylo, and his heart swelled with joy. But in the eyes of the Gods, his family was not yet complete. Not until the day he witnessed an act of great bravery, from a orphan boy in the streets of Faraj, capital of Shurima.

"Run, Scar, run!"

A young boy's voice rose above the crowd in the market square as he hurled an apple at a guard who had seized his friend by the arm. The guard, stunned by the insolence, unsheathed his sword, ready to strike. The children had disrupted the King's march, causing one of his guards to fall from his horse—a serious offense, even for children.

But the boy didn't flinch. His eyes blazed with defiance as he scooped up a handful of sand and flung it into the guard's face. Grabbing his friend, he darted towards a nearby house, scaling its walls with practiced ease.

Up on the roof, the two kids hid themselves among the robes and curtains. "Stay here." Whispered the brave kid, as he circled back to check if the guards were on their tail. 

And of course, they were.

He took off again, deliberately leading them away. Vaulting over wooden beams and navigating narrow rooftops, he taunted them with a cocky wave of his fingers. The guards, relentless in their pursuit, charged after him—only to crash through a weakened section of the roof, tumbling into the house below.

The boy didn't wait. He leapt from beam to beam, moving like the wind. When he finally misjudged a jump and tumbled into a pile of cotton bales, the guards were upon him. They dragged him up as he thrashed and shouted, his spirit undimmed.

The poor would always get the sharp end of the sword, it was a lesson he learned from birth.

"In the name of the King!" The guard barked, stretching the boy's arm on the chopping block and lifting his sword, oblivious to the black stallion adorned in gold and silk standing right behind him.

"Stay your blade, soldier."

The King's voice was calm but commanding, as he gestured with his hand for the man to stand down, and barely half a second later, the guard had thrown his sword to the ground and put his head on the dirt. Vander gazed from his horse down towards the defiant child. Though fear flickered in the boy's eyes, his courage burned brighter.

A strong kid, no stranger to the roughness of life.

"What's your name, child?" King Vander asked, a faint smile on his lips.

"E-Ekko, sir." The boy replied, his voice trembling and shy. He had never once stood in the presence of the King of Shurima, and certainly not that close.

"Your parents?" The King inquired and Ekko's face fell down, his silence speaking volumes. Vander's own heart sunk a bit, familiar with such pain.

His parents died when he was still a young man. Vander was meant to be King from the day he was born, and though his grandfather cared for him as best he could after they were gone, the man still deeply missed his father and mother.

"You put my soldiers to shame." Vander chuckled, pulling an apple from his extravagant robes. "Boy!" He brought the kids' attention to his hand, before throwing the apple towards him. Ekko, freed from the guards' grip, caught it mid-air, his eyes wide with astonishment, relieved to see a fresh fruit after several days.

"Brother, take him up." Vander ordered, nodding toward Silco, his younger brother who approached on his horse. Despite the scar marring one side of his face and the unsettling red-and-black hue of his left eye, Silco's smile was seemingly genuine and kind. He extended a hand to Ekko, who hesitated only a moment before accepting. Silco pulled him onto the saddle with ease.

Moved by what he saw, the King adopted Ekko into his family. A son with no royal blood, but with a noble heart.

And so it was, that a boy from the unlikeliest of places, became a Prince of Shurima.

--

A decade later, Claggor, Mylo, and their uncle Silco stood on the crest of a hill, gazing out at a vast valley. Beyond it lay a city of breathtaking beauty, its architecture soaring with elegance and endless value.

"The Holy City of Zaun." Claggor murmured from atop his horse, his voice tinged with awe. His keen eyes roamed the distant spires, eager to take in every detail. "Even more stunning than what the stories told."

Silco rode on his horse, coming to a halt next to the prince. The years had etched wisdom into his sharp features. "Beauty is deceitful, nephew." He said, his tone measured. "It's a city like any other."

Mylo, perched on his horse with his helmet slightly askew after the long ride, let out a hearty laugh. "And every other city has knelt before the Empire." He said, his grin crooked and confident. "Zaun will be no different."

Claggor admired his younger brother's fiery spirit, even as he found it reckless. Mylo's heart was that of a warrior, his sword ever hungry for battle. But Claggor knew the weight of leadership was not carried by the blade alone.

The air around them hummed with the tension of what was to come. Yet, the hour of battle had not arrived. Much remained to be done before they could raise their banners against such a fabled place.

"Father has made it clear," Claggor said, his voice firm but respectful, "Zaun is not to be tarnished. Some consider it sacred." As the eldest son of the King of Shurima, Claggor bore the heavy mantle of heir with solemn pride. He strove to honor his father's legacy, aspiring to one day rule with the same wisdom and fairness.

"We'll rest here for the night. Let us put up camp, and consider our approach."

Claggor spoke with authority, turning his horse away from the sight of the city in the distance.

In the absence of his father, Prince Claggor led the King's Council, and his decision would be final. And as such, he carried a great responsibility, though he always looked to share that burden with his brothers.

When the moon reached its peak, the soldiers of Shurima had already spread across the mountain, their campfires casting flickering light against the darkness. The faint glow of torches lit the winding paths, painting the mountain in shades of amber and shadow. In the largest tent at the heart of the encampment, the War Council convened.

"Our spies intercepted a caravan leaving Zaun a few days ago." Silco began, his voice sharp and commanding.

He stepped to a nearby cabinet, unfastened its latch, and let a cascade of steel spill onto the ground. The metallic clatter silenced the murmurs in the tent. Silco crouched, picked up one of the blades, and held it aloft.

"Swords," he declared, turning the weapon so its gleaming edge caught on the moonlight, "of the best craftsmanship." The runes etched into the steel glimmered faintly, their meaning a mystery to all present.

Mylo stepped forward, his expression darkening as he plucked a lone arrow from the pile of weapons. Silco continued without pause, his tone steady. "Steel-tipped arrows."

A surge of anger rippled across Mylo's face, the memory of his horse pierced by such an arrow still fresh and raw. It had been taken down in a skirmish with Tosh, a ruthless warlord whose raids had disturbed Shurima's peace for months.

"And a promise of payment from the warlord Tosh to Zaun." Claggor interjected, unrolling a scroll and holding it up for his brother to see. The parchment bore the unmistakable evidence of Zaun's dealings. "They're selling weapons to our enemies, Ekko."

Mylo's grip on the arrow tightened. "An arrow such as this slew my horse in Toshkhen. Blood will run in Zaun's streets for that!" He spat, his voice brimming with rage before he threw it away, toward Scar.

Scar caught it in the air, without trouble. The man examined the arrow, his Chirean eyes glinting with curiosity, but he remained silent.

"Or our soldiers will fall from its walls." Ekko spoke out in protest, rising from his seat to stand in the middle of the Council, as a voice of reason. "Our orders were to subdue Toshkhen—not to march on Zaun."

Now a grown man, Ekko stood tall, his demeanor calm yet resolute. Though he now bore the title of Prince of Shurima, his ideals remained unchanged.

Killing was never the solution, to any dispute. It bred nothing but pain, leaving children orphaned in the streets.

Claggor watched his younger brother with quiet pride, a smile softening his features. Ekko's words reflected the compassion that had always defined him, a conviction that grew stronger throughout the years.

"Wise words, little man." Claggor spoke, his tone warm as he took Ekko's side. A good king should know when to wield mercy, instead of a blade, as his father taught him.

"Words won't stop our enemies once they're armed with Zaunite steel."

Silco's voice, cold yet firm, cut through the tent like a blade. Vander's sons had grown up revering their uncle—his sharp intellect, his unwavering conviction, and the endless tales of cunning and triumph he shared had made him a figure of awe.

"A good king shows mercy," Silco continued, his tone steady, deliberate, "but a great king strikes before his enemies have the chance to draw blood."

He let the sword drop, the clash of steel reverberating through the night air. The sound lingered, challenging the heavy silence that followed. Deep in their hearts, the men knew that he was right.

They couldn't afford to let their enemies gather strength.

Claggor closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with a troubled sigh. The weight of leadership pressed down on him, heavier than ever. He knew the path forward would demand a choice—one that would leave disappointment and death in its wake, no matter the direction.

Heavy is the crown that would sit upon his head one day, yet it was a burden that Claggor was destined to carry.

In an effort to steady his nerves, he played with his chain, its links crafted from tiny, polished stones. His fingers traced each one with care, a ritual that brought him solace. It was a cherished gift from his late mother, a fragment of her memory he carried close to his heart.

"We attack at first light."

His decision had been made. It carried the authority of a prince, the heir to the Shuriman throne, and the others had no choice but to respect it. Silco gave a subtle nod of approval, his expression unreadable but firm. Mylo allowed himself a triumphant smirk, while Ekko shook his head, disappointment shadowing his face.

Ekko stepped forward, his hand gently clasping Claggor's arm. His voice, calm but resolute, broke through the mounting tension. "If that's your decision, then let me go in first."

He knew the risks, but Ekko's heart had always been guided by compassion. If there was even the faintest hope of avoiding needless bloodshed, he would take the gamble. The soldiers of both Shurima and Zaun didn't deserve to suffer for the decisions made by those above them.

Mylo laughed, a sharp, derisive sound that echoed across the tent. Ekko turned to him, his gaze steady, though a flicker of frustration danced behind his eyes.

Claggor, sensing the tension rising, stepped in. "Thoughts to share, Mylo?"

Mylo, ever the warrior, moved closer, his hand already resting on the hilt of his sword, but Ekko remained unimpressed. His brother could never intimidate him.

"I ride at the head of Shurima's army. Ekko leads a company of street rabble!"

Mylo's voice was sharp, laced with disdain. Though he loved Ekko as a brother, he wasn't particularly fond of his roots. Mylo saw the poor as weak, unworthy of survival in their unforgiving world—a belief that had caused countless clashes between them.

Ekko, unfazed by the barb, folded his arms and replied in equal fierceness. "They're called Firelights. They may not be much for manners but they're pretty handy in a fight."

He cast a glance toward Scar, who stood a short distance away, observing in silence. Scar had been Ekko's closest friend since childhood. Together, they had survived the harsh streets of Faraj, bound by the shared struggle of having no one but each other. Even after Ekko was taken to the King's Palace to be raised as royalty, he never forgot his roots—or the people he left behind.

In their youth, and with permission from King Vander, Ekko and Scar had roamed the deserts of Shurima, passing through cities and villages, recruiting beggars, orphans, and the forgotten souls who had been cast aside. With ingenuity and determination, they turned their motley group into a loyal band of fighters, ready to stand with Ekko whenever the call came.

A brotherhood rising above poverty and scorn. That's what it meant to be a Firelight.

Mylo sneered, his pride unwilling to yield. "The honor of first blood should be mine." His voice carried the stubbornness they all knew too well.

Claggor sighed heavily, already anticipating the endless back-and-forth between his younger brothers.

Ekko, ever quick with a retort, leaned in just enough to provoke. "Then try not to fall on your ass this time, brother."

The words hung in the air for a moment before Mylo's face darkened, fury flushing his skin. The veins on his forehead seemed ready to burst. "Care to repeat that, little brother?" Mylo challenged.

Scar, sensing the rising tension, took a deliberate step forward, his own hand falling to the blade at his waist. The air in the tent thickened, crackling with unspoken challenges.

Before their simmering anger could ignite, Claggor stepped between them. Calm and composed, he strolled past his brothers, plucked a handful of grapes from a nearby table, and began eating.

"Oh, my brothers! Always so eager." Claggor exclaimed with a hearty laugh, breaking the tension in the tent. The rest of the men joined in, their laughter echoing off the mountains, easing the charged atmosphere. "It's said that the Princess of Zaun is a beauty without equal."

Claggor leaned back, a playful glint in his eye. "We'll march into her palace and see for ourselves." He tossed a grape into his mouth with a grin, drawing another wave of chuckles from the crowd.

But as the laughter settled, Claggor turned to Ekko, his demeanor softening. Taking his younger brother's hand, he led him to a quieter corner, away from the others.

"Ekko," Claggor began, his voice low but earnest, "your heart is pure and noble, and your courage is undeniable." Draping an arm over Ekko's shoulder, he pulled him closer, his tone growing somber. "But you're not ready, little brother—not yet."

Ekko's brown eyes searched his brother's face, but he said nothing. Claggor gave him a firm squeeze on the shoulder before stepping away, his expression resolute.

Returning to the center of the tent, Claggor addressed the gathered commanders and captains. "Mylo's cavalry will lead the way."

Mylo straightened, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. As Claggor passed, he bent forward in a gesture of respect, but his gaze darted smugly toward Ekko. The younger brother ignored him entirely, his jaw tight as he turned and strode silently toward his tent.

Silco, Scar, the Firelights, and the other officers began to disperse, each retreating to their own tents to prepare for the battle ahead.

The night before a battle was never easy. 

The air carried an almost tangible weight, a mixture of anticipation, fear, and determination. In the stillness of their beds, each soldier braced themselves for what dawn would bring.

--

A delicate brush traced the edges of light blue clouds painted on her soft, pale skin. Another servant drew a silver star atop her feet and upon the palm of her hands, while a third draped a pristine white cloak over her shoulders. Nearby, a fourth servant carefully wove the final strands of her voluminous blue hair into two long, intricate braids.

The silence in the chamber was both comforting and oppressive, like the calm before a storm. Every soul in the room was acutely aware of the formidable Shuriman army stationed just beyond their city's gates, yet their faith remained unshaken. 

As long as the Zaunites held steadfast in their devotion, the Gods would shield them from harm.

Lady Janna would never let her servants perish.

The heavy doors creaked open, breaking the stillness. A woman entered, her short, pink hair framing a face that bore equal parts defiance and worry. Her arms and back were adorned with artistic markings, etched like battle scars upon her skin. She surveyed the room, her presence commanding, and without a word, the attendants quietly filed out, leaving the two alone.

"They haven't left?" The Princess asked, her voice barely audible beneath the hood of her silk cloak. Her hands trembled slightly, hidden within the folds of her robes. The Shuriman army's presence this deep into Zaunite territory was as unprecedented as it was unsettling.

The other woman moved closer, settling beside her sister with the calm resolve of a seasoned warrior. "They haven't." She replied. "The tunnels are ready, if the worst comes to pass."

Jinx flinched at the thought, her blue eyes clouded with unease. "I can't leave you all behind, Vi." She whispered, her voice disquiet and fearful.

Vi's lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile. Gently, she placed a reassuring hand on her sister's shoulder. Protecting the Priestess was not just her duty—it was her purpose. For Vi, there was no higher calling than ensuring her sister's safety, no matter the cost.

After all, she was a Guardian, and there was no better warrior than her.

"It's our duty, Pow. As long as you live, so does Zaun." 

Vi said softly, but determined. Zaun would endure, as it always has.

Jinx turned to her sister, her usually daring and rebellious gaze softened by emotion. "You haven't called me that in a long time." She said, a wistful smile breaking through her worry.

Vi chuckled, the sound tinged with nostalgia. "True. I miss those days." She admitted, her voice carrying the weight of their strong sisterhood.

Lighting a candle beside her sister, Vi watched the tendrils of smoke curl upward, disappearing into the air. Those days of innocence—when they were simply Powder and Violet, unburdened by titles and destiny—felt like a lifetime ago. Now, they carried the weight of their people's hopes, and the knowledge that neither could fail.

The Calling of the Gods could never be ignored. Zaun was all that stood against their wrath.

Vi had accepted it a long time ago, and so did Powder, as she became Jinx, the Priestess of Time.

"I will pray to the Lady tonight. Come morning, those soldiers will be long gone." Jinx said, her tone tinged with a hope she didn't fully believe. Her eyes filled with tears, as her heart braced itself for the coming storm.

Vi looked at her sister, her own eyes glistening. Both of them felt it—the subtle shift in the sand, the way time itself seemed to quiver. Change was coming. It was inevitable.

But for now, they had each other.

Chapter Text

As the first rays of sunlight bathed Zaun's towering walls, the fields around the city were consumed by the might of Shurima's army. Legions of soldiers stood ready, their golden armor gleaming in the morning light, weapons poised to bring war.

The city was surrounded, its fabled defenses tested by a force that would accept nothing less than victory.

Claggor and Mylo commanded the assault, their voices rising above the chaos as they signaled the catapults to fire. Stones crashed against Zaun's walls, but the unyielding barriers showed little sign of giving way. Frustration mingled with the heat of battle, spreading like a fever among the ranks.

Meanwhile, not far from the main battlefield, a shadowy group moved with precision and silence. Hidden among the bushes, a dozen men awaited their moment, cloaked by the lingering darkness of dawn. Above them, Zaunite archers patrolled the walls, their sharp eyes scanning the horizon.

At the head of the group, Ekko raised a hand, signaling a halt. His sharp gaze followed the movements of the sentries, watching intently as one finally turned his back to the wind. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, Ekko darted toward the wall, his footsteps barely disturbing the earth beneath him.

Behind him, Scar signaled two men to fire large crossbow bolts. The projectiles shot through the air with a dull thrum, embedding themselves into the wall and anchoring ropes for their ascent. As the patrol moved on, Scar joined Ekko, their backs pressed against the cold stone, hearts pounding in unison.

Ekko and Scar were no strangers to risk, their bravery forged in the slums in which they fought to survive.

And they weren't alone now.

The Firelights were right there with them, waiting in the dark.

As the latest patrol passed, Ekko motioned to the Firelights, signaling them to prepare for the infiltration. With a swift glance to ensure the coast was clear, he and Scar began their ascent. Halfway up, a Zaunite soldier's gaze nearly caught their movement, but luck and shadows were on their side.

Reaching the top, Ekko and Scar moved quickly, dispatching two sentries before either could sound the alarm. Their motions were silent and swift, like ghosts slipping through the cracks of Zaun's tight defenses.

As they waited for the rest of the Firelights to join them, Ekko crouched low, scanning the city's intricate fortifications. His sharp eyes found their target: the eastern gates. Two imposing barriers stood between the Shuriman army and the conquest of Zaun.

"That's our way in." Ekko pointed toward the square, his breathing uneven. His mind was already racing with ideas, evaluating risks and possibilities. "There are two gates. The outer one's easy, it's the inner gate that'll be a bit tricky."

Scar chuckled, amused. Tricky wasn't enough to describe their predicament. Infiltrating a holy city with barely a handful of men, going against Prince Claggor's orders and possibly facing certain death.

Surveying the area as well, Scar's keen Chirean eyes took in the defenses. He quickly spotted the reason for the lack of patrols on the square below. "The inner gate's mechanism is secured in those two guard towers. If we try to breach it, they'll be on us in seconds. It's suicide."

Ekko's determination didn't waver. He straightened slightly, his gaze never leaving the gates. "I'll handle it. You and the others focus on the outer gate."

Scar hesitated, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. His heartbeat quickened as he imagined the worst. "Your brother will have our heads for this," he muttered, shaking his head. "Assuming we survive long enough for that."

Ekko smirked, his confidence unshaken despite the odds. "Come on, Scar. We've faced worse!"

Though the tension was palpable, Ekko's words carried a weight of familiarity and trust, a reassurance forged in countless battles. Scar nodded reluctantly, his resolve steeling as the Firelights gathered, ready to follow their leader into the heart of danger.

Prepared, Ekko nodded for his men to move. With quick feet, he leapt from the wall to a nearby ledge, scaling it swiftly toward the first guard tower. A Firelight archer eliminated the first sentry with a clean shot, but the second was slower.

"Sound the ala—"

The guard's warning cry was cut short as another arrow struck true, piercing his chest. Yet, it was just enough. The sharp clang of bells began to echo across the city, reverberating through every street and alley.

In the palace, surrounded by her loyal guards, Princess Jinx was torn from her prayers and meditations by the piercing sound of the alarm. Chaos had spread like wildfire through the streets, carried by the frantic tolling of the bells.

A guard burst into her chambers, his face pale with terror. "Princess, they've broken through!"

Jinx froze, her mind refusing to accept it. Zaun hadn't been breached for hundreds of years. Lady Janna had promised protection!

Fear gnawed at her heart, and her wide blue eyes sought Vi's steady gaze. Her sister, unfazed, was already directing soldiers to collapse the hidden passages leading to the palace, sealing off all paths save one: the secret route Jinx would need to escape.

"Vi..." Jinx's voice quivered with protest, but her sister's iron will cut through the air like steel.

"You have to escape, Pow. Promise me!"

Vi cupped her sister's face, caressing her gently. Their eyes locked, Vi's unwavering determination clashing with Jinx's rising defiance.

Even if the storm had come, Jinx refused to give up on her city, on her sister.

With swift, calculated strikes, Ekko incapacitated the guards stationed in the mechanism room. Grabbing a nearby sword, he slashed at one of the thick ropes connected to a wooden wheel. A satisfying crack echoed from below as the portcullis began to shift.

Peering through one of the holes in the room's wall, he spotted Scar and the Firelights holding their ground in the square, dispatching the reinforcements sent to stop them. A grin crept across Ekko's face. 

The Firelights had things well under control. Not bad for a ragged group of misfits.

Spotting a rope coiled nearby, Ekko acted on impulse. He tied it securely to one of the unconscious guards, testing its weight briefly. "Hope you've been eating well!" He quipped, grabbing the rope and leaping through the window.

The rope strained under the guard's weight, pulling him towards the wall as Ekko swung gracefully toward the second tower. His feet landed lightly on the ledge, and before the guards within could react, he moved like a blink, dispatching them with ease.

"This better work." Ekko muttered under his breath, the enormity of his gamble weighing on him. Drawing his sword, he swung with all his might, severing the second rope holding the mechanism in place.

A deafening clunk reverberated through the air as the wheel splintered. Below, the portcullis groaned before beginning to rise. Relief washed over Ekko as he watched his plan unfold.

Scar was already at the gate, his powerful frame lifting the heavy wooden bar by himself while the Firelights worked to push the doors open. One of the men waved a torch high, signaling toward the distant horizon.

And there, cresting the hills like an unstoppable tide, stood Shurima's army.

It didn't take long for Claggor to spot the distant flame of the signal torch, his eyes widening in disbelief. "That's… That's Ekko's man. He broke through!" His voice carried over the battlefield, equal parts shock and excitement.

The words cut Mylo to his core, frustration twisting his face. His hands gripped the reins of his horse tightly, knuckles white as the realization set in—his little brother had succeeded where his soldiers had failed, making him look weak.

"Redeploy to the eastern gate!" Claggor's command rang out. From his horse, he gestured toward the newly opened entrance. His troops ceased their assault on the front walls, forming ranks and marching toward the gate, their morale bolstered by the prospect of imminent victory.

Meanwhile, inside the city, Scar delivered a crushing punch to a Zaunite soldier, sending the man sprawling. Ekko leaped from the tower above, landing beside him with a triumphant grin.

"See? That wasn't so hard." Ekko quipped, brushing off some dust from his sleeveless tunic.

Scar chuckled, but their camaraderie was cut short by the blare of Shuriman horns. The ground shook as the first wave of the army charged through the gate, a living tide of soldiers pouring into the streets.

Blocking their advance, however, was a small Zaunite force led by a fierce warrior with short, pink hair. Vi stood at the front, a gleaming sword in one hand and an ornate box in the other.

Ekko's eyes locked onto the box, shining at the prospect of putting his hands on some valuable loot. Without hesitation, he surged forward to face Vi, his blade drawn.

Steel met steel as their swords clashed, each strike sending sparks flying. Despite fighting with only one hand, Vi deftly parried Ekko's attacks, her movements fluid and precise.

"Stand down, Shuriman!" She shouted between blows. "You don't understand what you're doing!"

Ekko smirked, pressing forward with another flurry of strikes. "Sorry, not my call!"

The streets filled with chaos as Shuriman soldiers overwhelmed Zaun's defenses, the small army that fought to defend their homes proving no match for the invading, well-organized force. 

Fires began to spread, and realization kicked in as the embers reflected in Vi's eyes. Her home was burning.

But in that moment, all that mattered was the safety of the Hourglass. The Sands would save her sister, her city, and all would be whole again.

Her grip on the box tightened. "Let me through, and the gods will spare us all!" She pleaded again, desperation creeping into her voice. The Prince had no idea what was at stake.

Ekko hesitated for a moment before lunging at her again, but before his blade could connect, Scar blindsided Vi with a heavy blow to the back of her head. She crumpled to the ground, her sword slipping from her grasp as the ornate box tumbled from her hand.

The young Prince blinked in surprise as Scar shrugged, unapologetic. Not the most honorable of moves, but in a fight, honor mattered little.

"I had this, Scar!" Ekko snapped, frustration lacing his voice as he turned toward his friend.

Scar, however, had already moved on, engaging two more Zaunite soldiers with swift, powerful swings of his sword. His towering frame and battle-hardened skill made him a force to be reckoned with.

Even Mylo had once suggested recruiting Scar into the Shuriman army as a commander, impressed by the Chirean's natural prowess on the battlefield. But Scar had no interest in titles or glory. His loyalty was to his friends, and that loyalty often meant stepping in to shield them—even when they didn't ask for it.

Ekko glanced at Vi's fallen form, her face pressed against the dirt as she struggled to remain conscious.

Frustration quickly gave way to curiosity as Ekko turned his attention to the ornate box lying on the ground. He knelt, using the blunt end of his sword to smash open the iron seal. The lid creaked as it came loose, and a brilliant light spilled out, momentarily dazzling his eyes.

"Is this… an hourglass?"

Ekko's brow furrowed as he lifted the delicate object from the box. Its golden frame gleamed, and intricate designs etched into the surface seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly energy. The sands inside glowed faintly, shifting unnaturally as if alive.

The Prince was confused. Though its craftsmanship was stunning, Ekko couldn't understand why that woman fought fiercely to protect it.

Well, at least he could fetch a high sum for such a trinket. Ekko grinned, satisfied.

His gaze drifted back to Vi, now bound and being dragged away by Shuriman soldiers. Her defiant expression had been replaced with grim resignation. Around them, horns blared, signaling Shurima's decisive victory. One by one, Zaunite soldiers surrendered, casting their weapons to the ground in the hopes of mercy.

Ekko allowed himself a small smile, relief washing over him. The battle had ended with minimal bloodshed. Of course, Claggor would fill his ears with endless lectures, and Mylo would glare at him for days with those big eyebrows of his. But those were small prices to pay for avoiding even more unnecessary deaths.

After tending to a few of the wounded Firelights, Ekko began making his way toward the Royal Palace, where his brothers were surely awaiting him. They'd want to see the legendary Princess of Zaun for themselves.

But as he walked through the city's once lively streets, his relief turned to discomfort. Everywhere he looked, civilians—men, women, children—were being herded by Shuriman soldiers like cattle. Their faces bore a mix of fear, anger, and despair.

Their eyes met his, brimming with silent accusations. To them, he wasn't a savior. He was a conqueror, an invader. A monster who had brought war to their homes.

Ekko's smile faded, replaced by a heavy sense of shame. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet their piercing stares, and quickened his pace toward the palace.

Bound by duty to his family, he had no choice but to carry the weight of their disdain. And yet, the young Prince couldn't shake the growing unease in his heart.

The soldiers of Shurima formed lines outside the grand palace of Zaun, ready to attack. But Prince Claggor and Mylo had already led a smaller unit inside, carving a path through the palace corridors, their heavy boots echoing ominously through the sacred halls.

At last, they reached the Princess' chambers. Resistance awaited them, fierce and desperate, but the Shurimans quickly overpowered the defenders. Claggor's men subdued the Zaunites, forcing them aside as the Princes stepped forward. 

There, kneeling before a luminous monument of a deity neither Claggor nor Mylo recognized, was Princess Jinx. Her serene posture contrasted sharply with the chaos around her, her head bowed in solemn reverence.

Without hesitation, Mylo strode forward, his arrogance on full display. He kicked over candles and scattered sacred artifacts as he went, his mocking laughter filling the room.

"Hah! Perhaps if you spent less time praying to some dead god and more time training your soldiers—"

Mylo's taunt ended abruptly, his words catching in his throat as a blade pressed sharply against his neck. The room fell silent as a woman emerged from the shadows, her movements swift and lethal.

Jinx lifted her gaze, remaining calm even though every fiber of her being screamed and demanded blood. Her voice was steady, though it carried the weight of authority. "Gert."

The name alone was enough to stay the woman's hand. Gert was one of Jinx's ladies-in-waiting, standing faithfully by her side for years. And if Mylo dared to press further, she wouldn't be afraid to kill him.

Claggor, ever the diplomat, raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Please, let us remain civil."

He nodded to his men, and a moment later, two soldiers entered the room, dragging a captive between them. Jinx turned sharply, her composure breaking as her eyes fell on Vi.

"Vi!"

The sight of her sister in chains struck Jinx like a physical blow. Her breath hitched, her body trembling as she took a halting step forward. The serenity she had maintained moments ago was gone, replaced by a storm of emotion.

"Gods, the stories were true." 

Prince Claggor's voice was low, filled with awe as his gaze fixed on the figure before him.

The room fell into stunned silence as the silk cloth that once concealed Jinx's face slipped from her head, her sudden motion causing it to flutter to the floor. For the first time, her visage was fully revealed: her delicate, pale features framed by an ethereal cascade of blue hair, her striking azure eyes burning with hate for the men that had tainted her city and threatened her family.

Claggor couldn't suppress the smile that spread across his face. Victory tasted even sweeter now.

Princess Jinx was truly a beauty without equal. And by right of conquest, she now belonged to him.

"Your Highness, I am Prince Claggor of Shurima." The Prince said, his tone polished and his movements deliberate as he stepped forward, extending a hand toward her. But before he could touch her, Jinx recoiled violently, pulling her hand away with a sharp motion and glaring at him with unrestrained disgust.

"Please," Claggor continued, unperturbed by her reaction. "There is no need for further violence. Zaun's... indiscretions in supplying weapons to our enemies can be overlooked—"

Jinx's eyes widened in shock, her expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "Weapons? We have no forges here!" She exclaimed, her voice trembling with equal parts anger and bewilderment.

Claggor chuckled softly, a patronizing tone lacing his words. "Don't insult my intelligence, Princess. We intercepted a shipment leaving your city just days ago." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as a sly smile played on his lips. "That said, all of this can be forgiven, if..."

He allowed the moment to linger, his gaze raking over her with unveiled interest.

"If you agree to marry me."

The words hung heavy in the air, each syllable crashing into Jinx like a thunderclap. Her heart stopped, her breath caught in her throat. The sheer audacity of the demand was enough to fill her with revulsion.

Marry a Prince of Shurima? The thought was as repugnant as it was unthinkable.

"I'd rather die!" Jinx's voice lashed out, trembling with fury as she recoiled from Claggor's extended hand once again. Her defiance sent a ripple across the room. Claggor's soldiers instinctively stepped forward, hands on their blades, while Gert pressed her dagger tighter against Mylo's neck, drawing blood. The air in the chamber grew heavy with the threat of violence as Claggor's men turned their weapons toward Vi, whose bindings left her defenseless.

The tension reached its breaking point when a voice rang out from the hallway.

"Brother, enough!"

The words carried authority and weariness in equal measure, and barely a second later, Ekko stepped into the room. He pushed past the gathered soldiers, brushing them aside with an air of quiet confidence. Behind him, a few Firelights followed, Scar among them, their presence intimidating enough to make Claggor's men hesitate and lower their weapons.

"Claggor," Ekko began, his voice firm, "the city is ours. There's no need for more bloodshed."

Though his words were directed at his brother, Ekko's attention wavered as his gaze fell on Jinx. He stopped suddenly, his breath catching in his throat. For all his travels across Shurima, for all the marvels and masterpieces he had seen, none came close to the vision before him. The Princess of Zaun stood like a living embodiment of beauty, her eyes meeting his.

For a fleeting moment, the room felt still, the chaos suspended in an unspoken exchange between the two. Ekko, struck by her radiance, struggled to find his words, while Jinx's eyes remained locked on him.

But as her gaze drifted lower, her breath hitched. The sight of the Hourglass dangling from Ekko's waist like a cheap trinket sent a shiver down her spine. Its golden surface caught the dim light, but to Jinx, it glowed with a sinister aura.

Her body trembled, images flashing through her mind—visions of the Gods casting vast oceans of sand over the world, burying everything she knew and loved. Her chest tightened, panic threatening to overwhelm her.

Vi, bound and gagged, noticed the shift in her sister's demeanor. She squirmed against her restraints, desperate to reach Jinx, to comfort her little sister. But Jinx, with trembling hands, steadied herself, suppressing the screams that clawed at her throat.

Her blue eyes, now blazing with an unsettling mix of fear and determination, flicked back to Ekko. She spoke, her voice slicing through the fraught silence like a blade.

"Prince Claggor, I agree to marry you."

The words left Jinx's lips with reluctance, though not a single glance was spared for Claggor. Her gaze remained locked on Ekko, whose expression shifted from surprise to something more sorrowful, disappointment flickering in his brown eyes.

Vi struggled against her bindings, her muffled cry reaching Jinx's ears, but the Princess remained unmoved, her determination hardening like stone. Gert lowered her knife slowly, uncertainty written across her face. Mylo, however, was greatly satisfied with the outcome, and for being threatened by a beautiful woman.

That morning, Zaun fell to Shurima's rule, and its Princess along with it.

But as the silence stretched, her mind burned with an idea. And much to Jinx's pleasure, it would involve the daring Prince Ekko.

Chapter Text

Zaun was a city of deep mystique, where countless cultures thrived in harmony.

Nestled between a lush green expanse and the golden embrace of the sprawling desert, it looked more like a delicate painting. The structures, adorned with elaborate details, gleamed under the sun's rays, casting a mesmerizing glow over the bustling streets. Markets brimmed with life, and houses stood shoulder to shoulder, creating a captivating labyrinth of energy and vibrancy.

It truly was a marvel of civilization, a popular destination for traders, pilgrims and explorers alike. For generations, Zaun stood proud and tall, earning great admiration and respect from empires such as Shurima, who hailed it as a sacred haven of peace.

But peace is often fleeting.

Now, the streets echoed with measured steps of Shuriman soldiers, their watchful eyes scanning over their new subjects. The people of Zaun, ever resilient, struggled to reclaim fragments of normalcy. Days after the conquest, grief lingered like a shadow, yet life pressed on. Shops reopened, conversations hesitated before blooming again, and people fought to stitch together the tattered fabric of their daily lives.

There was a popular saying in Zaun: Time never stands still.

At the heart of it all was the Royal Palace, once the seat of the Princess of Zaun, chosen of Lady Janna, now an embassy for the leadership of Shurima, who waited the arrival of King Vander in order to discuss the next steps in chartering a future for both Shurima and Zaun.

The Princes had already gathered, two of them at least, eager to see their father after their victorious campaign, to entice him with details of grandeur. Ekko, however, was of a simpler mind, his heart belonging to the streets, to the hum of the marketplaces and the rich stories of calloused workers that entertained him far more than any courtly debate.

Though Ekko greatly missed his father as well, Vander always understood that his son came from a different world. The young Prince preferred the company of his men, his Firelights, than listening to the same old gibberish about expanding the horizons of the Empire.

That was Claggor's job to worry about, a very tedious one, but such was required from the future King.

"Are you sure you're not already in love, my Prince?" Scar teased, a sly grin on his face as he tossed a pair of dice onto the board. His smirk quickly dissolved into a groan when the roll betrayed him. Around them, the Firelights filled the air with the lively strumming of instruments, the clinking of wine cups, and the boisterous cheers of onlookers enjoying the games of chance.

Ekko, lounging comfortably on a wooden crate in an alleyway near the central markets, waved Scar off dismissively. "The Princess pledged herself to my brother," he said, his voice even, though a trace of irritation lingered, "she's his problem now." With a swift flick of his wrist, he hurled the dice onto the board.

A very beautiful problem, no doubt.

Two sets of four. Ekko's lucky number. He grinned, his expression full of smug satisfaction as yet another victory fell on his lap.

"Blast it!" Scar growled, his face contorting in frustration as he reached into his tunic for another pouch of coins. With a disgruntled sigh, he tossed it toward Ekko, who caught it effortlessly mid-air before casually handing it off to one of the Firelights nearby.

Life was good. They'd managed to thwart an attempt against Shurima's dominance, earning praise as heroes among the Empire's legions, and now they basked in the spoils of their glory.

And yet, for all the triumph, Ekko's heart was restless. 

His thoughts kept drifting back to her—Princess Jinx. He could still see her eyes, burning into him with an intensity that unsettled him. It was maddening. He hated himself for letting his imagination wander, for conjuring up images of her beauty when she'd already promised her hand to Claggor.

There was something... different about her, something that Ekko couldn't quite grasp. It gnawed at the edges of his mind, a feeling that she was no stranger to him, somehow.

As if they were both connected, inexplicably.

Or maybe she had cast a spell on him. She did have plenty of odd statues in her chambers. Maybe the famous Princess was secretly a witch?

Ekko chuckled at the absurdity of the thought, shaking it off as he returned his attention to the game. The dice were in his hands again, and Scar was already grumbling about his next inevitable loss.

--

In the palace, two guards stationed at the grand chamber doors straightened their stance, their spears drawing back as the sound of heavy boots echoed through the vast hallway. A retinue of soldiers emerged, armor gleaming against the fragmented sunlight that streamed through tiny openings in the roof. A golden crown shone brightly among them, like a beacon of authority.

Silco stepped forward, his arms clasped neatly behind his back, exuding an air of composed pride. He watched as the soldiers approached, and soon the sharp eyes of Mylo and Claggor shifted to the figure they had been longing to see.

"Father!"

Claggor's voice rang out, unrestrained in its joy. His face lit up with almost childlike excitement as King Vander came into view, his presence larger than life after months away from his sons. With a subtle nod, Vander dismissed his retinue, leaving the room empty of soldiers. Now, only Vander, his sons, and his brother remained.

Vander's usual warmth was replaced by a searing glare, his eyes blazing with disappointment as he strode toward his sons. His voice, low and thunderous, carried the weight of a thousand unspoken reprimands.

"Invading a holy city? Disrespecting a Priestess of Janna?"

Claggor swallowed hard, his earlier joy crumbling into dread. He could already feel the weight of the lecture about to befall him.

"My sons," Vander growled, his hands suddenly gripping the arms of both Claggor and Mylo with the strength of a man who had wielded power and discipline his entire life. His gaze bore into them like fire, "have you lost your minds?!"

Vander was a deeply caring and loving father, but he was also a King. A man of tradition, principles, unwavering morality. He had raised his sons to rule with honor, not recklessness. The very thought of their actions set his jaw tight with barely contained anger.

As his gaze softened briefly in thought, Vander glanced around, noting the absence of one more. The one who was being hailed around the city as a conqueror.

"Where's Ekko?" He demanded, while Mylo and Claggor exchanged desperate glances.

Breaking the tense silence, Silco cleared his throat, drawing his elder brother's attention. "Your Grace," he began, his voice measured and deliberate, "your sons acted swiftly and quickly to put a stop to a plot that would endanger the realm, while you were... secluded to your prayers in Nazumah."

There was a venomous edge to Silco's words, subtle yet unmistakable, a tone Vander had grown accustomed to over the years, and despite his anger, the King knew his younger brother was right.

The weight of age had been catching up to Vander. He'd spent increasingly long stretches in Nazumah, a sacred oasis of atonement. It was a place for quiet reflection, where pilgrims sought to reconcile with the gods and atone for their past mistakes. For Vander, it had become a retreat—perhaps too often.

Weary from the long journey, Vander sighed deeply, releasing his sons from his grasp. Turning his back, he paced the room, his boots echoing against the polished floor as he tried to gather his thoughts. Since their youth, Silco had a knack for arguing his point in a way that even Vander's resolute ideals struggled to resist.

Finally, the King spoke, his voice softening just enough to reveal a flicker of understanding. "I suppose my sons acted out of bravery, believing they were doing what was right."

Mylo and Claggor's faces lit up, pride swelling in their expressions, silently celebrating their father's acknowledgment.

Silco plucked a folded letter from his pocket and tossed it toward Vander. The parchment fluttered briefly in the air before the King caught it. "The warlord's uprising will be finally dealt with once our reinforcements arrive from the north. Mylo will see to it."

At the mention of his name, Mylo bowed out of respect, before leaving to find his soldiers. Claggor stepped forward, eager to show his father that they were right to invade Zaun over their deal with the warlord Tosh and his mercenaries.

"And I will personally uncover more evidence of Zaun's treachery, Father." Claggor declared, his voice firm with resolve. "The Princess claimed there were no forges in the city, but our men have already found traces of collapsed tunnels, presumably leading somewhere deep underground."

Whatever secrets the Zaunites were hiding beneath the earth, Claggor would stop at nothing to dig them out. The young Prince wanted nothing more than to show his father that he would be worthy of becoming King one day.

Not long after, Vander found himself alone with his brother. For the first time since his arrival, he allowed himself to take in the intricate beauty of the palace's room. His steps slowed as his gaze landed on a painting—a portrait of a woman with hair the color of a midnight sky, her eyes holding a wisdom that seemed to pierce through time.

"This isn't at all how I imagined visiting Zaun, brother." Vander murmured, his voice heavy with nostalgia. Memories long buried began to surface, bringing with them the bittersweet sting of the past.

Silco's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. His own thoughts wandered back to those same days, distant yet vivid. "She was taken from this world far too soon," Silco said, his tone unusually gentle as he moved to stand next to his brother, "but her legacy endures. The Princess and her sister are all grown up."

For a moment, the weight on Vander's shoulders seemed to lift. He smiled, a genuine warmth touching his otherwise weathered expression. Though much damage had been done in the wake of Shurima's attack, at least one promise had remained unbroken.

Destiny, it seemed, had a funny way of revealing itself.

--

Ekko was busy tightening the red cloth around his waist, securing the Hourglass so it wouldn't slip free. He was so absorbed in his task that he didn't notice his brother's approach. Nearby, the Firelights worked alongside local merchants, helping them organize their wares—a small but meaningful gesture in a effort to slowly build trust with the people of Zaun.

"Ekko!"

Claggor's voice rang out, making Ekko jump slightly. He spun around, already bracing himself for the lecture he expected for not showing up at the palace to meet Vander. But to his surprise, Claggor greeted him with a broad, cheerful grin.

"They're calling you a hero, you know?" Claggor said, slinging an arm around his younger brother's shoulder. With a playful nudge to Ekko's chest, he added. "You should be proud of yourself, brother!"

Ekko managed a shy smile, though his heart wasn't in it. The thought of being celebrated for invading a city that barely had an army to defend itself felt hollow. "I should, but… I can't shake the feeling that we were wrong, Claggor."

Claggor's grin faded, replaced by a more serious expression. He glanced around before gently steering Ekko away from the bustling crowd, toward a quieter spot where they could speak more freely. But as they walked, something caught Claggor's eye—the glint of a shiny relic dangling from Ekko's waist.

"Found yourself a prize?" Claggor asked, his tone lighthearted as he motioned toward the Hourglass. "I'd be honored to carry such a gift."

Instinctively, Ekko placed a hand over the relic, pulling it closer to his side. "You've got enough prizes already." He replied with a chuckle, deflecting his brother's playful attempt to claim it.

Claggor laughed awkwardly, realizing the moment had grown tense. He stepped back, letting out a heavy sigh before raising his gaze to meet Ekko's. "Father feels the same way you do." He admitted, his voice tinged with something between regret and resignation, referring to the attack on Zaun. "That's why I'm leaving on an errand."

The news took Ekko by surprise. Of his brothers, Claggor had seemed the least likely to pass up the opportunity to revel in their victorious campaign at a grand feast before their father.

"You're leaving?" Ekko asked, the disbelief clear in his voice.

Claggor nodded, his expression firm. "At once." He added, the weight of his decision evident in his tone.

"Uncle Silco mentioned a group of mercenaries from Toshkhen planning to meet with Zaunite emissaries. We'll be the ones to greet them instead."

Claggor explained the nature of his mission, and Ekko quickly pieced it together. If this revealed Zaun's role in the uprising, it could finally justify their actions and ease the doubts that lingered in everyone's hearts.

For both brothers, they needed to believe that the invasion was the right decision, that they had done the right thing.

"There's something else I need from you, brother." Claggor continued, stepping forward as he gestured to one of his men. The soldier approached, carrying a carefully wrapped bundle cradled in his arms. Beneath the cloth lay a mantle, its design breathtakingly intricate, unlike anything Ekko had ever seen.

"Our father will be honored at a feast tonight," Claggor said, unwrapping the cloth to reveal the shimmering fabric inside. The details were exquisite—woven patterns of gold and emerald thread, every stitch a testament to the craftsmanship of Zaun's finest artisans, "and since I know you haven't prepared a gift, you can give him this."

As the guard held it up, Prince Claggor looked on, proud. "The Prayer Robe of Zaun's Regent."

Ekko studied the robe, its magnificence undeniable. It was a gift fit for a King, something that would undoubtedly please their father. Ekko didn't ask how his brother had obtained it—he already guessed it must have taken a considerable amount of effort.

"Gladly, brother." Ekko replied, nodding with approval. He waved for one of the Firelights to take the robe for safekeeping, while Claggor's man marched away. "And the other thing?"

Claggor hesitated for a moment, his voice lowering. "My… marriage to the Princess."

The words hit Ekko like a blow. His face faltered, the easy composure he had maintained slipping away. He didn't want to think about Jinx—or the fact that his brother had claimed her. Yet, curiosity over what Claggor might say next held him in place.

"In case we're wrong, Zaun must be united with the Empire." Claggor said, his voice low but firm. "That marriage could seal the alliance. Otherwise..." He trailed off, his brow furrowing as he carefully chose his next words. "Alone, the Princess is a symbol. She could rally Zaun and the rest of our enemies against us. She might even seek the Shuriman Throne as retribution."

Ekko listened in silence, the weight of Claggor's fears sinking in. As much as he tried to distance himself from the tangled web of politics, he understood its complexities. The distrust of the Zaunites was palpable, evident in the sharp glares he's been receiving from the people.

"Sera is my one, true love," Claggor admitted suddenly, his voice softening as he stepped closer to his brother, "but she isn't of noble birth, and Father would never approve of such union if I'm to be King. The court wouldn't allow it."

Ekko's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Seraphine. The traveling minstrel who had arrived in Shurima months ago had quickly captivated Claggor's heart with her melodic voice and gentle soul. Ekko had long known the depth of their secret relationship, a bond that Claggor had trusted only him to keep.

"I won't marry the Princess out of love, Ekko," Claggor continued, his tone laced with pain, "but out of duty. And I need your support in this. You have to convince Father to approve our marriage."

Claggor's gaze was earnest, almost pleading, his eyes searching his younger brother's for understanding.

He had exchanged only a few letters with Seraphine after the campaign started, and he wasn't sure how well she would take the news. But his greatest duty was to the Crown, to his father.

Ekko's chest tightened as he took in his brother's words. As much as it pained him, he knew Claggor was right. The love between his brother and Seraphine was as beautiful as it was doomed—a fragile jewel that couldn't withstand the weight of Shuriman expectations. To reveal it would invite scandal, perhaps even chaos, throughout the kingdom.

But the thought of Claggor marrying Princess Jinx unsettled him deeply. The mere memory of her gaze stirred a strange, inexplicable restlessness within him, one that Ekko couldn't ignore no matter how hard he tried.

How could a simple look have left such a mark on him? Ekko's fists clenched at his sides. He hated himself for it, for the unbidden emotions that lingered in his chest.

Shaking off those thoughts, Ekko squared his shoulders and offered his brother a reassuring smile. "You don't need to ask, Clag. We're brothers, I'll always have your back."

Since they were kids, the Princes had sworn to always look out for each other, no matter what happened. That would always remain true, even if Ekko's heart yearned for something—or someone—that was now far from reach.

Claggor's expression softened with relief, and he pulled Ekko into a firm embrace. The brothers said their goodbyes, with Claggor leaving for his errand while Ekko made his way toward the palace, focused on the celebration.

--

After hours of holding back tears while the girls tended to her, Princess Jinx was finally ready.

As ready as she could, at least.

She stood before the ornate mirror in her grand, elaborately adorned room, her gaze falling on her own reflection. The sadness in her eyes was no surprise. She remembered the stories and prophecies that her mother used to tell, and it all seemingly came true. Brutes had stormed Zaun's sacred grounds, defiling it with their greed.

Lady Janna was silent. Jinx feared the worst... that the Gods would unleash their wrath at any moment.

And yet, there was hope. At the hands of that handsome Prince she had seen earlier, there was a fragile flicker of hope.

Tales always spread quickly around the continent, and even Jinx had heard stories about the Sons of Vander, and especially Ekko and his Firelights. They spoke of his daring exploits: liberating slave colonies, vanquishing mercenaries, and protecting innocent pilgrims from thieves.

He seemed like a noble man... but a man, nonetheless. And men cared only for power, fame and coin, ambitions that led them to invade her city.

And now, he had the Hourglass too. The relic created by the priestess Zhonya to hold the Sands of Time, the one thing that could prevent the Gods from unleashing hell on humankind.

Jinx had a plan. But that plan stood in the shadow of a formidable obstacle: her marriage to Prince Claggor.

She wasn't a fool. Jinx knew the marriage was little more than a political ploy, a carefully crafted alliance meant to strengthen ties between Zaun and Shurima. She understood the game well and knew how to play her part. She would bow, smile, and feign affection, as any woman in her position is expected to do.

But there was far more to the Princess of Zaun than met the eye, and she would show them.

She would show them all.

"I'm ready, Gert."

Jinx spoke, and in an instant, her trusted lady-in-waiting emerged from the shadows, draping a delicate cloak over her shoulders. But as soon as they stepped into the corridor, soldiers appeared from every corner, surrounding the Princess and forcefully shoving Gert aside.

Ekko, who had been leaning casually against a nearby pillar, stepped forward with a confident stride, his eyes locking with hers.

"Hello, Princess." Ekko said, a broad grin spreading across his face. Maybe he was a little too happy to lay eyes on her again.

Jinx took in the sight of the soldiers around her and let out a soft chuckle, tinged with bitterness. Her gaze, fierce and unrelenting, shifted to the Prince. "Am I to be escorted by the illustrious Prince Ekko, Conqueror of Zaun? Must feel wonderful winning such praise for laying waste to an innocent city."

At first, he tried to downplay the anger in her words. Zaun was mostly unscathed, save for a few houses on fire during the battle. Still, her evident bitterness stung a bit, even though Ekko had no illusions about her sentiment toward him.

"I was just fulfilling my duty to my King. I'm sure you'll understand, eventually." He replied, his voice colder than he intended.

Jinx's laugh was laced with scorn. "Oh, how very noble of you, Prince. I'm certain you had nothing but the best intentions in mind when you chose to ransack my city."

Her words cut deeper now, digging into the conflict that had been festering in Ekko's heart since the invasion. He'd tried to rationalize the actions, to convince himself that they were necessary, but standing here now, facing her burning gaze, the truth felt like a weight he couldn't bear.

And worst of all... she was right. There was nothing noble about what they had done. There was no honor in it, no glory. It was a brutal act of conquest—and as much as he wanted to justify it, he couldn't escape the guilt that had taken root within him.

All he could do now was hope that Claggor would uncover whatever secrets Zaun was hiding and give Shurima a reason for their harshness.

Ekko could feel the searing intensity of the Princess' gaze, her mesmerizing blue eyes filled with fury. He couldn't help but wonder if, for even a moment too long, they would swallow him whole.

"A pleasure to meet you too, Princess." He said jokingly, finally forcing himself to look away.

Shaking his head, Ekko turned and signaled for the men to follow, moving briskly ahead. The Princess was to be presented to the King of Shurima at the upcoming celebration—an important formal meeting between the two leaders, still pending.

And yet, Ekko couldn't take his eyes off her. He noticed she was wearing a different dress this time—white, like the one before, but adorned with more intricate jewelry woven into the soft fabric. 

She was stunning. Almost dangerously so.

Claggor was right. That woman was a force. She could rally the whole of the rebel kingdoms against Shurima, and every men would follow her without question.

As they approached the grand doors that would lead them into the heart of the celebration, Jinx spoke again, her voice softer now, tinged with emotion. "Can I at least see my sister?"

Ekko paused mid-step, glancing back over his shoulder. For just a fleeting moment, he saw something in the Princess—a crack in her otherwise unyielding composure. Her usual fierceness faltered, replaced by a vulnerable edge. It was clear she was worried about the fate of her sister, Vi, who was imprisoned in the dungeons below.

Vi, as Ekko had seen firsthand, was too dangerous to be left free. If given the chance, she could rally whatever resistance remained in Zaun and turn the city into a battleground once again, risking even more bloodshed.

"She's safe, I can promise you that." Ekko said, his voice calm and reassuring. His gaze softened, and though he didn't relish the idea of keeping Vi confined, he knew it was for her own protection. "I'll speak to my father and make sure you can see her."

Jinx was taken aback by his words. There was sincerity in his voice, a promise that felt genuine. Her eyes flickered briefly, the slightest hint of hope glimmering within them, as she now carefully captured the form of the man in front of her.

His white locs loosely down. His shirt, open at the chest, revealing a large glimpse of the toned muscles beneath, naked arms marked with the scars of past battles. His right bicep bore a tattoo, the meaning of which was lost on her.

His lips, almost beckoning her to reach in closer.

A flush of heat rushed to Jinx's cheeks, and she quickly chastised herself. No. He was her enemy. A brute. The very man who had disrupted the peace of her homeland. And yet...

He was standing there, promising that Vi was safe, telling her that he would arrange for her to see her sister again.

He couldn't be that... bad. Could he?

"Thank you, Prince. Perhaps you're not as brutish and without honor as the others." Jinx said, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she stepped closer to him. The proximity, however, made Ekko uneasy. Standing this close to her was dangerous.

Ekko shifted nervously, trying to brush off her comment. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you know me, Princess."

Yet.

"No?" Jinx raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what else is there?" 

Jinx was familiar with men like him. The annoyingly bold princes that dreamt of wearing a crown one day.

Fools, the lot of them, she thought.

Ekko refused to indulge her curiosity, turning to one of his Firelights with a brief command. "Wait here with Her Highness, Tabid."

With a measured smile, Ekko turned his attention back to Jinx. His earlier unease was gone, replaced by a sharp focus. The celebration was important to his family, and he would make sure it went down perfectly.

"If you can manage it..." Ekko stepped closer, his gaze shifting between her eyes and her lips, the desire to seize her almost palpable. But he held back, maintaining control. "I suggest a hint of humility when you're presented to the King. For your own good."

While his words seemed meant to intimidate, Jinx's courage remained unshaken. She was focused on something far more dangerous than his attempts at dominance. Her eyes drifted to the Hourglass at Ekko's waist.

The object of her true attention, the relic that would save them all. Well within reach, but it was still too soon to act.

Jinx forced an awkward smile, pretending to agree with Ekko before he turned away to open the grand doors, revealing a full-blown party, alive with energy. Nobles from countless kingdoms danced gracefully, raising their cups in shared toasts.

Soldiers patrolled the room with vigilance, their eyes scanning for the faintest sign of trouble, swords at the ready. Servants wove seamlessly through the crowd, balancing trays of delicacies and ensuring every noble's glass was perpetually filled.

The air buzzed with whispers, muffled by the minstrels' songs. Gossip about Zaun's conquest and its implications for the remaining independent kingdoms darted from ear to ear, each tale growing more elaborate than the last.

Ekko weaved through the sea of guests, until he reached his uncle, Silco. The older man stood calmly, a glass of wine in hand, his expression unreadable as always. Following Silco's gaze, Ekko's eyes fell upon his father, seated at the center of the hall on a grand, intricately upholstered chair.

King Vander was sharing a hearty laugh with Scar, their wine glasses nearly brimming. Ekko could only guess they were recounting battle stories. His father, a warrior at heart, had always loved the thrill of combat, though the years had gradually forced him to set aside his sword and keep to the tales instead.

"The King seems... pleased." Ekko remarked to Silco, a note of relief in his voice. He had expected his father to still be furious with him and his brothers for advancing on Zaun.

Silco chuckled, his lips curling into a sly grin as he took a slow sip from his glass. "There's a simple secret, my boy, to tempering the anger of any king."

Intrigued, Ekko leaned closer. "And what might that be?"

"Keep his wine glass full."

Silco answered without ceremony, waving his fingers toward a servant to pour more wine in Vander's cup, before slipping away into the crowd to join a cluster of counselors.

Moments later, Vander's gaze settled on Ekko. The King gestured for his son to approach, his booming voice cutting through the hum of chatter and the lively melodies of stringed instruments.

"Ah, I've heard that the youngest of my sons has joined the ranks of great Shuriman warrior!"

Vander's words carried pride and humor, his presence rising high above everyone else.

Cheers erupted across the room as Ekko became the center of attention. The young Prince made his way to the King, kneeling beside him to speak more intimately amid the festive chaos. Around them, the celebration carried on.

"We've missed you, Father!" Ekko said warmly, a genuine smile lighting his face as he clasped his father's arms.

Vander's expression softened, the joy of seeing his son again apparent in his eyes. "I was praying for you and your brothers, Ekko." Placing a firm hand on his son's shoulder, the King looked him square in the eye. "The bond between brothers—that is the sword that defends our Empire. If that sword breaks, we will all suffer."

Ekko's thoughts wandered to Claggor and Mylo, the brothers who had embraced him as family from the very beginning. They had always treated him as one of their own, and he loved them fiercely. He would do anything for them.

"I was hoping my actions would spare our men unnecessary losses." Ekko said after a moment, already anticipating the direction of their conversation. He knew his father would ask why he had agreed to the attack.

No one understood the brutal cost of war better than Vander.

Taking an apple out of his robes, the King held it towards Ekko. "A good man would've done as you did, Ekko. Acted boldly and couragerously to bring victory and spare lives." Vander's voice was calm, measured, but Ekko could sense the weight of a lesson in his words. 

Still, the young Prince remained silent, respecting his father's wisdom.

"A great man would've stopped the attack from happening at all." Vander continued, his tone sharpening slightly. "A great man would've stopped what he knew to be wrong... no matter who's ordering."

He slowly handed the apple to Ekko, his eyes warm yet tinged with disappointment.

Ekko hesitated, taking a deep breath before reaching for it, but Vander pulled it back at the last moment. "The boy I saw in that square..." the King said, remembering the day he took in Ekko as a son. "He was capable of being more than just good. He was capable of being great."

The words hit Ekko hard. His mind flashed back to the moment Vander spoke of, when he had risked everything to protect Scar and the other children in the markets of Faraj. Since then, he had fought slavers and warlords, standing against injustice with unshakable resolve. But now, he had failed to stand up to his own brothers, to stop what he knew was the wrong decision.

In that moment, Ekko wished he had the power to turn back time, to fix his mistakes. But he knew such things didn't exist.

Ekko cleared his throat, eager to shift the topic of conversation as he stood up. "In the meantime, I've a gift for you!"

The Prince signaled with a wave, and Scar reappeared, carrying the cloak that Claggor had entrusted to Ekko. Approaching his friend, Ekko carefully unfolded the exquisite garment, revealing it to the King.

"The Prayer Robe of Zaun's Regent!"

The gesture was thoughtful and deliberate. Vander was a man of deep faith, and Zaun, a city of devotion, held great spiritual significance. The cloak was perfectly suited for a King like him.

Pleased, King Vander raised his goblet of wine high, addressing the crowd now watching as the elegant robe was draped across his shoulders. "And some of you questioned my wisdom in bringing a kid from the streets into my house!"

Laughter rippled through the hall, hearty and unrestrained. Ekko remembered the skeptical looks cast by the old nobles back in Faraj when Vander announced his adoption. Even Ekko himself had questioned the King's decision more than once. Yet Vander's answer had always been the same, delivered with resolute simplicity:

'You are my son, Ekko. Always.'

Those words were seared into his memory, something he would carry forever.

"I saw a boy," Vander continued, his voice booming, "whose blood wasn't noble, but whose heart was. A King in spirit!"

He gestured toward Ekko, his words met with applause and loud cheers. Ekko, unable to suppress his shy grin, felt warmth spread through his chest. His father stepped closer, his presence commanding yet tender. "Now, what can I grant you in return?"

Of course, Vander already knew Ekko had a request. The King always knew.

Pausing for a moment, Ekko motioned to his men. "Tabid!" He called out, summoning the Firelight that was keeping watch over the Princess.

Moments later, Princess Jinx emerged, walking with an air of arrogance. Her head held high, she didn't even glance in Ekko's direction as she entered the hall.

Ekko, on the other hand, couldn't take his eyes off her, again. The way she moved, the way her dress clung to her form, her long, blue hair woven into a single braid. She was mesmerizing, even when her indifference cut like a blade.

Halting just a few steps from the Shuriman King, Princess Jinx bowed respectfully. Even Vander seemed momentarily struck—not by her beauty, but by the uncanny resemblance to her late mother, Felicia.

King Vander met Princess Felicia in his youth, back when Shurima was plunged into war with the northern kingdoms. Felicia and her husband, a fabled warrior known as Connol, saved Vander from an ambush by assassins. Though the King pledged to be in their debt forever, the pair asked for nothing in return.

Only a promise. That he would one day visit them, in more peaceful times.

Vander agreed, of course. He vowed that Felicia and her family would come to no harm under Shurima's protection, and yet...

Felicia and Connol died mysteriously, and the King was too heartbroken to entertain the idea of going to Zaun afterwards.

How tragic that his long-delayed visit had come under such grim circumstances, after all.

"Your Highness," Vander addressed the young Princess, his deep voice tinged with admiration, "in all my years of wandering, I've never laid eyes on a city more breathtaking than Zaun."

For a fleeting moment, Jinx's heart swelled with pride at his words. But the memories of her ravaged city quickly surfaced. Her gaze flicked toward the Shuriman soldiers dotting the grand hall, a bitter reminder of all the chaos caused by the invasion.

"You're very kind, Your Grace," She replied, her tone razor-sharp, "though you should've seen it before your horde of camel-riding illiterates descended upon it."

A stunned silence blanketed the room. The air grew tense as every pair of eyes shifted toward the bold Princess, dreading the King's response.

Vander smiled, discreetly. She was every bit her mother's daughter.

In the short time they had spent together, the King had come to consider both Felicia and Connol as great friends, and was greatly amused by Felicia's fiery temper, often cooled by her husband's more tender attitude.

Even as shocked as he was, Ekko struggled to contain his grin, though the slight twitch of his lips betrayed him. Beside him, Scar was failing spectacularly as well in keeping his composure, playfully nudging Ekko with his elbow.

"She would truly make a fine Queen!" Vander said suddenly, his booming voice breaking the silence. Then, to everyone's shock, he erupted into hearty laughter.

The tension in the room melted away as the King's laughter proved infectious, the crowd joining in as the musicians resumed their lively melodies. Vander, still grinning, turned to Ekko, who stood frozen, surprised.

"What?" Vander teased, his tone warm and playful. "You think I wouldn't know about your little arrangement with your brother to support his marriage? I'm a King, son, not a fool!"

Ekko cleared his throat, ready to defend himself, but his father raised a commanding hand to silence him. "An alliance with Zaun would indeed bring great benefits to our kingdom," Vander declared, his voice echoing across the hall, "but Claggor's heart already belongs to another!"

Ekko's stomach sank further. His father knew... He had known all along about Claggor's love for Seraphine and had chosen to remain silent.

"And as for you, Prince Ekko…" Vander stepped closer, draping his heavy arm over Ekko's shoulder, pulling him in with a mix of affection and authority. "You would take fewer risks, stop climbing walls and fighting bandits, with a lady waiting in your bed. You will be the one to marry the Princess!"

The words hung in the air, as if stopping time itself.

Both Ekko and Jinx froze, their wide, stunned eyes locking across the room. Their shock mirrored each other's perfectly—mouths open, minds racing. It felt as if the crowd, the music, the murmurs of nobles faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of them standing there, caught in a web of fate from which it seemed impossible to escape.

No. Absolutely not. 

There was no possible world where the Princess of Zaun would marry the very man who had led the invasion of her city. The thought screamed in Jinx's mind, her fists clenching instinctively.

Meanwhile, Ekko moved quickly, his chest tight with disbelief. Without a word, he approached a nearby servant and snatched a cup of wine, gulping it down as if it might wash away the weight of his father's words.

"I need to get drunk." He muttered under his breath, already looking for more wine to fill his cup.

Coming from his father, he knew that the decision was final. He would have to get married with the Princess.

But why did that thought seem so terrifying now, when only moments ago, he'd been consumed by thoughts of her beauty?

Before he could linger on the question, a sharp, acrid smell cut through the air, filling the room. The stench of burning flesh.

King Vander groaned in pain, his body convulsing as smoke began to rise from the cloak Ekko had gifted him. His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor, clutching at his chest, unable to speak as the poison spread through his veins, igniting his blood like fire from the inside out.

"The King has been poisoned!" 

The panicked cry from one of the royal guards sent the entire room into chaos.

Desperate, Ekko dropped to his knees beside his father, his hands trembling as he tried to pull the cloak away. But the searing heat scorched his fingers, forcing him to recoil in pain.

"Father! Please, someone help him!" Ekko pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. Tears blurred his vision as he watched Vander's face contort in agony and confusion, his mighty frame reduced to helplessness, while he tried to question why his own son would do such a thing.

Ekko couldn't process what was happening. He had done nothing, only gifted him the cloak. How could it have been poisoned when he had touched it earlier?

Jinx stood frozen, paralyzed by the scene unfolding before her. Chaos erupted around her as nobles shouted and guards rushed forward, but all she could see were the haunting images of destruction flashing in her mind—scenes of death and sand consuming everything.

The prophecy.

The Gods had started.

"TRAITOR! MURDERER!"

Furious voices rang out from the back, swaying the chaos toward a single direction.

Suddenly, every eye turned to Ekko. The son who had gifted the King the very cloak that was now killing him.

Tears streamed down Ekko's face, his lips trembling as he tried to find the words to defend himself, but none came. He looked back to Vander, his father's once loving eyes now lifeless.

The King of Shurima lay dead on the floor, murdered by his own son.

Chapter Text

Traitor. Murderer.

The words hung in Ekko's mind, sending waves across his entire body. The whole world seemed to stop in that moment, as his father lay dead before his eyes, and the blame fell on his shoulders.

In complete shock, the Prince saw himself unable to move as soldiers lunged forward, trying to seize him, before Scar sprang into action, quickly dispatching them with a brutal flurry of blows. The hall erupted into chaos—screams filled the air as nobles fled in terror, desperate to escape.

The nobles, fearing for their lives after seeing the mighty King of Shurima slain by his own son, called for the soldiers to cut off his head, branding him a menace.

But the Firelights would never turn their back on Ekko. He came from the gutters, same as them, and they knew it in their hearts that he was no traitor.

Scar growled, stepping between Ekko and the advancing soldiers, his blade gleaming under the palace lights. "Run, Ekko! Run!" He bellowed, before meeting the enemy head-on. Steel clashed as more Firelights leaped into the fray, fighting tooth and nail to protect their Prince.

Ekko stumbled backward, his gaze still locked onto his father's body, as if hoping this was all just some nightmare. His breathing was ragged, his heart pounding like a war drum. Then, from the other end of the hall, Mylo appeared.

The young General burst in, his soldiers close behind, drawn by the screams that had shattered the palace's peace. 

Then he saw it. His breath caught in his throat.

His sword slipped from his fingers, clattering against the marble floor. Tears welled in his eyes as he rushed forward, collapsing beside the fallen King.

"W-Who did this?!" Mylo's voice cracked with desperation, unaware of the cruel truth waiting to tear his heart apart.

"It was Prince Ekko!"

The accusation rang through the hall. Mylo's breath hitched as his eyes darted around in search of his brother. And there he was, Ekko, backing toward the balcony, cornered alongside his men.

"He killed the King!"

No. It couldn't be. Ekko was his brother, his little brother. No matter what kind of fights they got themselves into, he had always been by his side, enduring the harsh lectures that Vander gave them.

His little brother couldn't have slain their father in cold blood.

"EKKO!" Mylo's voice cracked with anguish, torn between fury and grief. "W-Why, brother?!" He picked up his fallen sword, his body moving forward on instinct, demanding answers.

Across the hall, Scar fought like a demon, carving through the soldiers in a desperate bid to clear a path for Ekko's escape. But sheer will wasn't enough against overwhelming numbers. Blades cut his back, his ribs, his chest. Blood spilled from the fresh wounds as he staggered, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"R-Run..." The Chirean choked, blood dribbling from his lips. His fading consciousness clung to a single thought—Ekko had to survive. But before he could say another word, the painful darkness took him, and he collapsed.

"Scar! Tabid!" Ekko's voice cracked as he watched his friends fall, horror twisting his face.

The other Firelights met similar fates, cut down one by one, their defiance no match for Mylo's elite soldiers.

Prince Mylo stood firm, his grief now armed with cold steel. He leveled his gaze at Ekko, his voice sharp, unwavering.

"Explain yourself, brother. I will not ask again."

The Prince-General pointed his sharp blade at him. Never before had Ekko seen his brother like that—eyes dark with fury, every muscle tensed, lusting for vengeance.

Mylo had never been as gentle or warm as his brothers, but he was not without kindness. Beneath the hardened shell of a soldier, hid a lack of self confidence and fear of disappointing others, but there was also a soft heart, yearning for love and acceptance.

But now, that heart was consumed by hatred. He didn't seek justice. He sought retribution.

From the shadows of the chaos, Princess Jinx watched, her sharp mind racing. She had no love for Prince Ekko, nor sympathy for his plight, but he carried the Hourglass. And that relic was far too important to risk. If he died, if the artifact fell into the wrong hands, then King Vander would not be the only casualty that day.

Her gaze flickered across the hall, searching for an opportunity. Then she saw it—a towering candlestick, standing precariously close to Mylo.

With a decisive shove, she sent it crashing down between the two brothers, flames and molten wax scattering across the marble floor.

Mylo instinctively leaped back, shielding himself from the falling embers.

"Come with me!" Jinx ordered, her grip already closing around Ekko's wrist. Before he could react, she was pulling him toward the balcony's edge.

Ekko hesitated, his mind still reeling, his heart still rooted in the tragedy he was leaving behind. But there was no time to dwell on it.

With one final glance at his brother, he vaulted over the balcony, disappearing from everyone's sight.

"After them!" Mylo roared, his soldiers surging forward in pursuit.

Ekko and Jinx crashed into a fountain below, water splashing around them as they scrambled to their feet. The Princess wasted no time, grabbing his arm and urging him toward the palace stables.

But the soldiers were already there, swords drawn, closing in fast.

Ekko's mind raced, then an idea struck. A reckless, desperate idea.

He bolted past the startled horses, slashing at their reins with his sword. The animals reared and whinnied in panic before bursting into a frenzy, hooves pounding against the sand and stone as they charged wildly through the soldiers. Chaos erupted. Guards stumbled, shoved aside by the stampede.

Wasting no time, Ekko swung onto the back of one of the horses and steered it toward Jinx, reaching down. "Come on!"

She grabbed his hand, swinging herself up behind him, arms wrapping tight around his waist as they kicked off into a sprint.

"Block the exits!" Mylo's voice rang from the palace's entrance, his soldiers already moving to cut them off.

Jinx pointed toward a narrow alley snaking past the stables. "That way!"

Ekko didn't question her. She knew that city better than anyone. If there was a way out, she would find it.

With arrows whistling past and soldiers lunging to pull them down, they ducked and weaved, their horse kicking up dust as they sped through the streets of Zaun. Then, finally—an opening. One of the city's hidden roads, leading out into the vast desert beyond.

The moment they crossed the gate, their pursuers fading into the distant dust, Jinx looked back. Her city, the only home she has ever known, was disappearing behind her.

Her sister, in chains. Her people, at the mercy of the Shuriman brutes.

The only thing that kept her going was the thought of the Hourglass. It was only way to save everyone and prevent doom upon the entire world.

Ekko, however, never once looked back.

With each galloping stride, he felt the world he knew slipping away—his father's love, his uncle's wisdom, his brothers' bond.

Everything. Gone.

And worst of all?

He didn't even know how. Or why.

Tears slipped from Ekko's eyes, vanishing into the desert sand below—tears of grief, of loss, of a pain too vast to name. He didn't know what lay ahead, only that he had to uncover the truth behind his father's murder. He had to clear his name. To reclaim his honor as a Prince of Shurima.

And now, there was yet another surprise in his journey. A rather pleasant one, this time.

Her. 

The ever unpredictable Princess.

Jinx, silent behind him, wiped away her own tears, her grip tightening around his waist. Her mind was a storm—regrets, doubts, fleeting memories of the home she had just abandoned.

Ekko said nothing. He kept his focus on the endless sands stretching before them. He wanted to ask... Why? Why had the Princess helped him escape? Why risk everything for him?

But there was no time for questions.

If they were to shake off the soldiers still hunting after them, there was only one path forward.

Deeper into the Shuriman Wastes.

--

"T-This… This can't be."

Inside the dim glow of his tent, deep in the heart of the desert, Claggor's hands trembled as he unfolded the letter meant for his eyes alone.

With each word he read, his pulse pounded louder in his ears. His breath grew shallow. His vision blurred.

News was spreading like wildfire across the south—the King of Shurima had been murdered by his own son.

A choked gasp escaped him. His fingers tightened around the parchment, crumpling its edges as disbelief took over the Prince. 

His father was... dead. And the culprit was... his own brother?

The weight of it crashed over him, and before Claggor could stop himself, tears slipped free. Outside, the soldiers stationed by his tent flinched at the anguished screams that tore through the silence of the night.

Memories surged in his mind—bright, golden fragments of childhood laughter and friendship. But they clashed, violently, with the cold, merciless truth of the present.

His little brother couldn't have done that. Ekko was of a noble, gentle heart. 

It had to be some sort of cruel joke.

Alone in his grief, Claggor wished he had Seraphine's soothing tunes to calm him in that moment. She always had a way of making sure the world would stay still, peaceful and serene, even in the middle of a grand storm.

And to add to his misfortunes, the Princess of Zaun was said to have escaped with his brother.

Was that his plan all along? To slay their father, steal the Princess, and seize control of Shurima through her influence?

No. It couldn't be.

Claggor refused to think so. Ekko never cared for glory, for the Throne, only to please his father and brothers, and to show that he was worthy of wearing the mantle of Shuriman Prince.

That he was capable of making his family proud.

Family.

That was all that had ever mattered. Not the Crown. Not the Court. Not the wars.

That was the lesson Vander had taught them as children, when they clashed with wooden swords and dreamed of exploring the world together.

And yet, their family lay in ruins. Their father, dead. Their brother... disgraced.

Claggor knew what came next.

By tradition, the Crown would now fall to him. He would be King of Shurima. And with that title came a duty he never thought to bear—to hunt down his own brother.

Ekko had to be found. He had to answer for his crime. And Jinx...

The Princess of Zaun could not remain in the hands of a man so blinded by ambition that he would kill his own father to seize power.

But no matter how many times Claggor repeated those words in his mind, no matter how many times he saw his brother's name inked in betrayal, his heart resisted. 

He refused to believe it.

Before he condemned Ekko, before he put him to the sword as a traitor, he would look him in the eyes himself.

Only then would he decide.

Claggor's gaze hardened as he looked toward the tent's entrance. "Yusuf!"

Not a second later, a soldier clad in Shurima's golden mail stepped inside, bowing in respect.

"Gather the men and break camp. We will return to Zaun at once." 

Yusuf did not hesitate. With a swift nod, he vanished into the night, barking orders to the others as the soldiers rushed to prepare for departure.

The ordeal with Zaun's emissaries and the warlord Tosh's men would have to wait. The Shuriman Throne was vacant and order would have to be restored, or the rest of the world would see it as an opportunity to tear the Empire apart.

With barely a day after Vander's death, his uncle Silco and his brother Mylo would definitely still remain in Zaun and that's where Claggor needed to be.

For his family. For justice.

--

After an exhausting day of travel, Ekko and Jinx finally found refuge within the mountains. The howling winds had long since erased their tracks, shielding them from any pursuers. The night air was cold but welcome, contrasting the relentless sun they had endured while slipping through villages in search of supplies—always wary, always hunted.

The crackling fire between them was the only sound that filled the silence.

Ekko stared into the flames, his thoughts drifting like embers rising into the dark. Each flicker felt like a piece of his past, burning away, lost forever.

Ekko and Jinx hadn't spoken since their escape from Zaun. And neither had felt the need to.

Yet, even in the melancholic stillness, Jinx's gaze lingered on him. Once a proud, confident Prince... now weathered, broken.

For a fleeting moment, she almost pitied him. Almost.

But pity had no place in her heart, especially not for the man who raided her home and stole her people's most holy artifact.

Then, at last, his voice broke the silence.

"I didn't murder my father."

His words were quiet, raw, barely more than a whisper, yet they cut through the still night like a blade.

Ekko tossed a small branch into the fire, watching it turn to ash as he struggled to gather his thoughts.

"That robe was given to me by my brother. Claggor did this."

His grief was suffocating, a weight pressing down on him with every breath. He had no reason to explain himself to her. Jinx was the last person who would ever believe him.

And yet, a part of him hoped she would.

That someone would see him as something other than a murderer. That he wasn't a traitor to his country, to his family.

"And now he stands to be crowned King. Intriguing."

Jinx's voice was light, almost amused, yet laced with something sharper... calculated concern.

She had been raised in the heart of a court, learning from a young age that words were far more than dangerous than any blade. And even though Zaunite tradition enforced that the chosen Priestess of Janna would also be seen and respected as Princess of the city, she knew that men's hearts held something darker than any poison.

Ambition.

Ekko wasn't surprised over her accusative thought. But he couldn't agree with her.

Ambition had never been the driving force for him and his brothers. They would never commit such treasons to gain power.

Refusing to entertain such notions, Ekko shook his head and walked over to his horse, running a hand over its mane before checking their dwindling supplies. But even as he focused on the task, Jinx's words refused to leave his mind.

Claggor would never do such a thing. He could never.

He told himself that over and over, gripping the leather straps of his saddlebags a little too tightly.

Behind him, Jinx chuckled under her breath, almost mocking him and his stubbornness in facing reality.

Ekko's jaw tightened. She found that amusing?

"My brother would never do that." Ekko said, yet trying to protect his family's honor as it crumbled to ruin.

"All men care about is power, Prince."

Jinx said in reply, firm. If it were someone else, Ekko could see them as words of wisdom, but coming from the spoiled, stuck-up Princess of Zaun, he almost saw it as an insult.

Before he could fire back, Ekko felt it... her touch. Soft, warm, setting his heart ablaze.

A slow, deliberate glide of her fingers along his waist, tracing upward to his broad back and shoulders.

His breath hitched. A million thoughts went through his mind, but only one question lingered.

What was she doing?

Jinx moved closer, her presence brushing against him seductively, her voice dipping into a soft whisper, dangerously close to his ear.

"It's in your nature..."

The warmth of her breath sent a shiver racing down his spine. His lips parted, caught between shock and something else he couldn't quite name.

And then, with an almost gentle insistence, she turned him to face her.

Under the moonlight, her blue eyes gleamed like fractured sapphires, their beauty as mesmerizing as it was dangerous. Her smile, soft yet edged with something sinister, dared him to fall under her spell.

And Ekko, against his better judgment, almost did.

His gaze drifted to her lips, drawn to them as if by some unseen force. They were so close now—closer than they had any right to be.

Then, just before the moment could tip into something irreversible, he pulled away.

It took every ounce of his willpower to do so, and Ekko could feel his heart filling with regret afterwards.

Jinx's expression flickered with frustration. Was the Prince actually rejecting her? The Princess of Zaun?

Oh, the gall! 

"This is a mistake."

Ekko's voice was steady, but there was no missing the hesitation in it, the reluctance. He didn't want to say those words. And she knew it.

Jinx blinked, studying him. Was that concern in his eyes?

Did he fear for her safety? Did he think his brothers would show her no mercy for aiding the King's supposed murderer?

Or... had he sensed her true intentions?

The Princess of Zaun was no helpless maiden. She had been trained to defend herself if the need arised and her sister wasn't nearby.

Gert and the other ladies had told her many stories. Tales of kings, warlords, and noblemen, all of them powerful, all of them easily undone by a beautiful woman who knew exactly what to say, what to do.

Because in the end, men were simple creatures.

All they craved was power. Money. Pleasure.

And Jinx knew her own worth.

She had heard the whispers, the rumors that spread across the continent about her beauty—exquisite, untouchable.

And for once, she intended to use it to her own advantage.

"I believe you."

Her voice was soft, almost too soft, like a siren calling to him from the depths of his own turmoil. The words were meant to soothe, to ease his pain, to make him believe in her.

Ekko's eyes locked onto hers again, momentarily lost in the sincerity that laced her tone. Did she truly mean it? Could the Princess of Zaun, who had shown him nothing but hate and disdain, really believe that he hadn't killed his own father?

Her fingers slid over his skin again, light as a feather but piercing with intent. Each delicate touch clouded his mind, making his heart race and his body ache.

And yet, something felt... wrong.

His thoughts flickered to his conversation with Claggor, before the celebration. The promise he had made, the vow to see the Princess married to his brother, to avoid greater complications between Zaun and Shurima and the start of yet another war.

But there she was, inches from him, pressing forward. Trying to kiss him.

And though his body screamed for more, something in his chest twisted. This wasn't right.

"I never should have brought you with me." His voice was steady, but there was a tremor of uncertainty beneath it, a soft crack in his resolve.

Jinx's laugh was low, almost mocking, but there was something darker in it too... pleasure, entertainment. She didn't care about his hesitations.

"But you did."

Her words were dismissive, but her touch was insistent, like she had already won.

The Princess was determined, pushing forward with a single-minded goal—to seize the Shuriman Prince's heart for herself.

Ekko closed his eyes, the weight of the moment pressing down on him, his breath shallow as he tried to regain focus. Every part of him burned with the need to resist.

"My brother said you were too dangerous."

The words escaped him before he could stop them, a slip of the tongue, too revealing.

Jinx's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with a certain pride. She was dangerous, indeed. Especially to men like him.

The Princess glanced down when Ekko wasn't looking, her eyes momentarily flicking toward the Hourglass at Ekko's waist, hidden beneath the folds of his clothing.

Her fingers crept lower, deliberate, heading toward her prize.

"Perhaps the solution is to kill me, Prince..." She whispered, her voice smooth and dangerous, luring him closer and closer. Her gaze was now trained on something else.

Jinx's eyes burned with a quiet determination, her fingers brushing the hilt of a sword, hidden beneath the saddle of Ekko's horse. She moved slowly, carefully, trying to reach the weapon without alarming him.

"...but I have a better solution." The words escaped her lips like a promise as her fingers wrapped around the Hourglass, and Ekko, feeling relic shift against his waist, realized what was happening just a second late.

His eyes snapped open, survival instincts racing through him. Before he could react properly, Jinx swung the blade with great speed, aiming for his neck. The attack was precise, but Ekko was faster. He dodged, feeling the sharp edge skim past his ear, and in a blur of motion, he pushed her back and retreated, clutching the Hourglass protectively.

Confusion surged through him, his heart pounding, as the Princess, now armed, moved toward him again. 

Great, another person wanted him dead.

"Perhaps we can find another solution?!" Ekko called out, trying to reason with her, masking the fear in his voice with a bit of humor.

Jinx's eyes flared with fury. She didn't answer with words, only with a shriek of anger as she charged again, her blade slicing through the air with dangerous precision.

Adrenaline kicked in, and Ekko now ducked and dodged the Princess' flurry of slashes, leaping over the blazes of the campfire while struggling to keep a solid footing. Jinx attacked again, barely grazing his chest, but cutting off the necklace that Vander had given him on the day of his adoption.

She was relentless. A handful surprise.

Jinx moved with the grace and confidence of a seasoned fighter, her swordplay far from what Ekko expected from a princess. In his mind, she was still a pampered noble, someone who preferred her palace's comfort over the rigors of training and battle. But that certainly wasn't the case for her.

A flash of inspiration hit Ekko. He whistled, and his horse surged forward a bit. The animal collided with Jinx's back, throwing her off balance, just enough for Ekko to grab her arm and disarm her, sending the blade skidding across the sand.

But the battle was far from over. Jinx's fingers snatched the Hourglass as the Prince got close, and Ekko's heart skipped a beat.

He reached for it, but in the chaos of their struggle, the relic slipped from both their grasps, tumbling to the ground nearby.

Jinx quickly armed herself again, her fury palpable as she swung the blade toward Ekko. With barely enough time to react, the Prince ducked low, rolling across the ground and snatching the relic. But something was... different.

The Hourglass was glowing.

A small jewel had emerged at the top, its surface pulsing with an eerie, golden light. Ekko barely had a second to process this strange phenomenon before his thumb pressed against it, instinctively.

Despair washed over him. Jinx's sword was still descending, aiming straight for his throat, ready to put an end to his life.

But...

The strike never came.

Everything froze.

The world itself seemed to hold its breath. The Princess, mid-strike, her blade inches from his skin. The fire, its embers locked mid-air. The wind, the sand—all motion ceased.

Ekko felt his heart pound in his chest as a blinding light erupted from the Hourglass. And then, the sand came.

A swirling current of golden grains burst forth, engulfing his vision. The next moment, his breath hitched as he saw something impossible.

He was watching himself.

The scene unfolded before his eyes as if he were a ghost hovering over reality itself. He saw everything, as if standing outside of time—Jinx poised to strike, himself clutching the relic, his own finger pressing against the glowing jewel.

And then, the world rewound.

Ekko's pulse raced as his surroundings blurred into a hazy mirage of shifting moments. The sand curled around him, wrapping around his limbs, as though pulling his very soul backward through time, undoing every movement of the former battle.

In the next moment... stillness. His soul returned to his body.

Ekko was back. Standing close to the Princess again, as they spoke beside the horse.

His breath came in one short, panicked gasp.

He raised his hand, expecting to see the Hourglass, but it wasn't there. It was still fastened safely at his waist, untouched.

The moment that had just happened—the fight, the relic's strange power—none of it had ocurred yet.

And yet, he had seen it. Lived it.

"Perhaps the solution is to kill me, Prince, but I have a better solution..."

Jinx's whisper sent a shiver down his spine again. There was something eerily familiar about those words, but his mind was too clouded to grasp why.

Before he could react, Jinx's fingers brushed the hilt of the sword.

"Or I kill you and spare them the trouble of chasing you!" She shouted, her voice laced with fury as she swung the blade in a deadly arc.

Ekko barely registered what was happening before a sharp pain tore across his chest.

The Prince stumbled back, his breath hitching as he clutched the wound, his fingers now stained with blood. His knees buckled, the world spinning around him as he fell to the ground, lips parted and trembling with shock.

"Give back what you stole, Shuriman!" The Princess demanded, her voice enraged, her sword pointing toward him.

Ekko's gaze drifted downward. The Hourglass. It was glowing again.

The jewel at the top pulsed like a beating heart, its golden light intensifying, almost calling to the Prince.

What would happen if he pressed it again? Would his soul leave forever this time, never to return?

Ekko didn't have time to doubt, to fear. It was either that or dying right there, at the hands of Princess Jinx.

The Prince grabbed the relic with shaking fingers. He pressed the jewel, eyes trained on the sand as they burst from the Hourglass.

"NO!"

Jinx lunged, her sword slicing through the air, aimed for his neck.

But she never reached him. The world stopped again.

A rush of sand swirled around him, bright, golden threads weaving through his skin. Time bent and twisted, his vision flooded with a strange blur.

Ekko gasped, watching in disbelief as the scene of Jinx's attack was unmade, the pain in his chest vanishing. His wound was... gone. Not a scar, not a single drop of blood left behind. Even if his shirt was perfect again, as if it hadn't been cut in the first place.

He had just... gone back in time. How was such a thing even possible?

His mind began to clear, and then, just as suddenly as before, he was back.

Standing in front of Jinx once again.

The Princess was poised as before, her hand reaching for the Hourglass while the other slowly approached the sword, but something felt different. This time, Ekko knew.

And this time, he was ready.

A slow grin spread across his lips, his heartbeat pounding with exhilaration.

Jinx frowned, taken aback by his sudden shift in demeanor.

"Did you just see that?" Ekko asked, eyes gleaming with marvel.

"See what?" Jinx asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

Ekko didn't answer. He was already one step ahead. The Princess lunged for the sword, but this time, he knew it was coming.

His hand snapped forward, catching her wrist in a tight grip.

"Go for that sword again, and I swear I'll break your arm."

Jinx froze.

Her pulse pounded against his fingers, her breath caught in her throat. But it wasn't his strength nor his threat of breaking her arm that terrified her.

It was his words. 

Again.

Her eyes widened, heart plummeting as realization sank in.

The Hourglass.

"Again?!" She blurted out, desperately.

Ekko didn't bother responding. His fingers curled around the Hourglass, pressing the jewel once more.

Nothing.

The relic remained dull. The golden glow was gone and there was no sand coming out.

Jinx gasped, her voice trembling. "You've used up all the sand?!"

Ekko's brows furrowed. He turned the relic in his hands, eyes scanning every inch of it.

She was right.

The sand inside was gone, every last grain. The Hourglass was now nothing more than a pretty, empty trinket.

And strangely, Ekko couldn't help but laugh. A breathless, disbelieving laugh, holding the relic as if it were the most precious thing he'd ever touched.

He raised his eyes to the Princess, his expression wild with exhilaration. 

"What is this?" He demanded, curiosity seizing his heart.

The young Prince brought the Hourglass closer, admiring the intrinsecate set of unknown runes carved all over it.

Jinx snarled, pushing him away while refusing to answer. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

But Ekko didn't care for her theatrics now. His gaze was glued to the set of intricate runes carved along the surface of the Hourglass, ancient symbols whispering secrets he had yet to understand.

"Incredible..." He murmured, almost reverent.

He had always thought the legends of hidden powers in the desert were nothing more than the ramblings of madmen and lying merchants, seeking to rob people of their hard earned coin in exchange for some stupid secret.

But this? This was real.

This was time itself, resting in the palm of his hand.

"Releasing the sand... turns back time." He spoke the words as if tasting them, piecing together the puzzle in his mind.

His eyes gleamed with realization. He was beginning to understand the powers that artifact held.

"And only the holder of the relic is aware of what's happened!"

Jinx felt sick to her stomach. Not just with disgust, but with fear.

The sacred relic, the one she was meant to guard with her own life, was now in the wrong hands. And worse? All its sand had been wasted.

Without the Sands, there would be no way to return the Hourglass to where it belonged. No way to prevent the catastrophe it was meant to stop.

But the Prince didn't understand, or didn't care to. He didn't know the holy duties of a Priestess of Time. He didn't know about the sacrifice that Lady Janna did in order to stop the Gods from punishing the whole of mankind.

"You can go back and alter events, change time... and no one would ever know." Ekko continued, entranced, his brown eyes gleaming with dangerous fascination.

That relic could change everything. It could give him back his life.

An idea ignited in his mind, a wildfire spreading through his thoughts.

He had to know more. And the Princess was the best person to know about the Hourglass and its powers.

"How much can it rewind?" He demanded, stepping forward.

Jinx instinctively backed up, pressing against the horse, her breath catching in her throat.

To her, every step he took was a threat. He was an invader, a thief. He didn't care for her customs, her faith.

"Answer me, Princess!"

Ekko had meant to plead, but the words came out like an order—sharp, commanding, almost desperate. And in that same instant, he regretted it.

Jinx's lips curled in a snarl, but at first, she said nothing. Then, spite took hold of her tongue.

"You destroyed my city!" She spat, her voice poisoned with rage.

Ekko froze.

Her words cut him like a blade, slicing through his excitement. He met her gaze, searching for her eyes, feeling the weight of her despair as if it were his own.

For a moment, he forgot the relic in his hands.

But then, another thought struck him.

Zaun. The invasion. Claggor asking for the relic as a gift before he left...

It all made sense now. Ekko's breath caught.

If Claggor had been so bold as to frame his own brother for his own malicious deeds, Ekko wouldn't put it past him to have staged an invasion in order to get the relic.

"Our invasion was never about weapon forges. Or about Zaun's dealings with Toshkhen…"

Ekko paced, his thoughts racing, his heart sinking deeper with each piece of the puzzle snapping into place. He couldn't believe that his own brother would betray him.

This had never been about territory or alliances.

It had always been about the relic.

"Claggor planned this." His voice was low, almost disbelieving before picking up, anger starting to become evident. "With the relic, he could change the course of a battle, to see his mistakes and fix them before they even happened!"

All that Claggor ever wanted was to prove that he was worthy of wearing the Crown. But this... This was something else—someone else. That man couldn't be the brother he once knew and loved.

Oh, brother... What have you become?

Ekko thought to himself, sadness and disappointment gripping his heart.

And with the Prince's every word, Jinx felt herself spiraling deeper into despair.

How?

How could anyone outside of Zaun know about the existence of Zhonya's Hourglass?

No... That secret had never left their walls before.

It was impossible.

And yet, there Ekko stood, unraveling everything. Declaring that his own brother knew about the relic and sought to use it for his own gain, unaware of the calamities he would unleash.

The Prince stepped closer, too caught up in his own revelation to notice the panic in her eyes.

"With this, Claggor wouldn't just be King... He'd be the most powerful man in the world. Greater even than my father!"

Fools.

Jinx's hands curled into fists, nails biting into her skin.

They were both fools.

Claggor, Ekko... all of those Shuriman bastards. Fools that would endanger the whole world in their search for power.

That relic wasn't some tool for glory. It was what preserved the world's balance, what kept the Gods in check.

But if its existence was no longer a secret... Then humanity itself hung by a thread.

"Ekko..." Her breath was shaky when Jinx finally whispered. "You have to return the relic. Please."

For a moment, the Prince just stared at her, stunned.

Then, he laughed. It was lighthearted, almost mocking.

Of course.

The beautiful, clever Princess, the cunning little snake. She must have thought herself so brilliant, weaving some grand, noble tale just to trick him into handing it over.

But Ekko believed he had seen right through her game. And he knew what had to be done.

That Hourglass would be the key to undoing everything, all he had to do was get it to work again.

And as for Jinx... She knew that the Prince now held her destiny in the palm of his hand.

Chapter Text

Amid the dark, a faint light flickered to life.

The heavy groan of iron echoed through the chamber as the door creaked open. A lone figure emerged from the shadows, his steps slow and deliberate.

Inside her cell, a pink haired woman lifted her head, eyes narrowing in confusion as the man settled into a chair with a weary sigh. His face remained obscured, save for the eerie red glow emanating from his eye.

"Violet, isn't it?" His voice cut through the silence, deep and unnerving. "Do you understand why we've come here, Guardian?"

There was no room for pleasantries. No patience for games.

The King of Shurima, his brother, had been killed before his very eyes, and the balance of the entire world had shifted.

Vi's fists clenched, the weight of the shackles biting into her wrists. The guards had taken every precaution, determined not to let Zaun's fiercest warrior break free and raise resistance. Yet, as she met Silco's gaze, her stare was sharper than any blade.

She understood perfectly. 

Zaun hid an ancient, forgotten power, grand enough to have entire kingdoms fighting over it.

And she refused to see it fall on the hands of those Shuriman mongrels.

"You won't find what you seek here."

Vi's voice finally broke the tense silence, her words heavy with defiance. Anger burned in her eyes, raw and unwavering.

Silco smirked—calm, calculated, confident. There were many things he sought, but they all led back to the same place. To Zaun.

That small city held the key to a unified Shurima—to stretching its dominion across the entire world. It was a dream he had once shared with his late brother, Vander. And now, it was a dream he would see fulfilled, no matter the cost. Even if it meant breaking a daring young warrior.

"The body crumbles as easily as stone, child."

Silco rose from his chair, stepping forward until the dim light touched his face, revealing the jagged scar that marked him. Vi's gaze wavered for a split second, startled by his sudden proximity. But she refused to yield.

Protecting her sister, the Princess, was a sacred duty. She would sooner die than betray Zaun's secrets, and her own family, to the invaders of her home.

Steeling herself, Vi forced her legs beneath her, pushing to her feet. If Silco sought to loom over her, she would meet him on equal ground. Their eyes locked, two predators clashing in a silent war for dominance. He would not relent. And neither would she.

A quiet understanding passed between them.

But Silco had other matters to attend to, far more immediate concerns in the wake of Vander's death. A knowing smile ghosted across his lips. He exhaled, accepting that, for now, Vi would not break. Without another word, he turned away, lifting a hand in a silent command.

The guard swung the prison doors shut, and the darkness swallowed Vi once more.

Only her memories of Jinx remained. The joy that warmed her in the cold embrace of that cell.

Zaun had fallen. And Vi bore the weight of that failure alone.

She couldn't even see her sister now, couldn't imagine what they were doing to her. Those men. Those brutes. All she could hope was that Jinx's royal status would shield her from harm, that they wouldn't dare lay a hand on the Princess of Zaun.

But there was another problem.

The Hourglass.

Before Vi had been struck from behind, cowardly and without honor, she had clashed with Prince Ekko. By now, the relic had to be in his hands, and that thought gnawed at her like a festering wound.

All she could do now was wait. And hope.

Her sister was strong. She knew how to survive. And she would be the one to pull them all out of that pit.

Then, light again. 

A sharp, piercing beam cut through the darkness as the iron doors groaned open once more. Vi exhaled sharply, already tired of their annoying attempts to pry secrets from her.

"I told you, I'm not saying anything. Just go away!"

She didn't bother looking up. She didn't need to.

But the presence that entered didn't lash out in frustration. It didn't strike or sneer. Instead, it offered her a cup of water, along with something she hadn't expected—gentleness.

His robes, woven with golden threads, shimmered faintly in the dim glow, marking him as someone important. And as Vi finally lifted her gaze, recognition settled in.

Prince Claggor. Heir to the Shuriman Throne.

"I've come in peace, truly." He said, voice steady, sincere. Even though he was her enemy, there was something... different about him. A kindness to his gaze, something she hadn't come to expect from the Shurimans.

Her throat burned. Her body screamed for relief. And yet, Vi hesitated, fingers twitching as she fought the urge to take the cup.

Claggor, sensing her hesitation, pushed the cup closer, his voice gentle yet insistent.

"It would be dishonorable of me not to offer you some water. Please." 

For a moment, Vi remained still, weighing his words, his intent. But thirst clawed at her throat, relentless and unforgiving. With a slow exhale, she stretched her shackled hands forward, fingers curling around the cup. She drained it in one fast motion, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat.

Claggor said nothing. He only watched, eyes heavy with anguish.

Fresh from his travel, the Prince carried questions that gnawed at him like an open wound. His father was dead. His brother stood accused. And there was still the matter of Zaun's betrayal and whatever mysteries they were hiding underground.

But before he could ask, Vi spoke first.

"If you're looking for answers, I won't give any." Her voice was sharp, unyielding.

Claggor's breath hitched. He exhaled slowly, his fingers instinctively reaching for the old necklace that once belonged to his mother. As he sank into the chair in front of her cell, his thoughts swirled like a sandstorm, turbulent and endless.

Then, at last, he found his voice.

"My father is dead. And my brother has been accused of his murder."

Vi's breath caught. Her eyes widened, hands trembling slightly as she stared at the man.

For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to shift beneath her. The mighty King of Shurima... slain by his own son? Impossible, it had to be.

But the death of foreign rulers meant little to her. What troubled Vi was something else.

Someone else. Her little sister and her wellbeing.

"Your sister, the Princess, escaped with Ekko, my... brother. They're both fugitives now. And there's a bounty on their heads."

He hesitated, then added, his voice quieter. "Alive or otherwise."

Vi's heart clenched. Her sister... a fugitive? No. That couldn't be.

Jinx had to have been taken—abducted by that treacherous Prince. Vi was certain of it. And now, she was in even greater danger.

Not just from the so-called Kingslayer, but from forces far beyond any mortal's reach.

The Priestesses of Time bore a sacred duty: to appease the Gods, to prevent Their wrath from swallowing the world whole. Every few centuries, a ritual had to be performed. But now, with the Hourglass missing and Jinx gone... the ritual was no longer possible.

And with every moment that passed, the Gods could unleash destruction upon them all.

"My sister had nothing to do with that!" Vi snarled, surging forward, her fingers gripping the iron bars so tightly they turned white. Jinx was suffering a great injustice. She couldn't have aided the Prince in his betrayal, Vi was sure of it.

Claggor stiffened, startled by the sheer force of her defiance. For a fleeting second, he felt the raw, untamed fury burning in her stare.

But then, the faintest smile curled his lips as an idea warmed both his heart and mind. His father had always taught him that allies could be found in the most unexpected of places. And right now? He would take help from anywhere.

"The Princess won't be harmed. You have my word." Claggor said, rising swiftly from his chair. He took a step closer, his presence looming just beyond the bars.

"But in return," he continued, voice steady, calculated, "you will help me uncover the truth behind my father's death. And help bring my brother back."

Unfortunately, Claggor couldn't trust his own soldiers with a matter so personal and delicate. Every Shuriman had been given orders to take the Prince back to Zaun, alive or dead.

And Claggor couldn't risk losing any more of his family. He couldn't let his brother be cut down like an animal or torn apart by a angry mob, not before he got some answers out of him.

Then, from within the folds of his robe, he revealed a set of keys. The metal glinted in the dim light as he let them dangle before Vi's eyes. An offer of freedom, held by the very hands that had conquered her home.

On one condition.

She would have to serve the enemies of Zaun. She would have to involve herself in their petty, royal schemes.

Violet cared little for such games. All that mattered was getting her little sister back. She had to fulfill her role as a Guardian.

"You have my word... Prince."

She closed her eyes, forcing the words past her lips.

Claggor's expression brightened, the weight of uncertainty lifting from his shoulders as he threw the keys toward the woman. He turned, hiding a pained expression from her, eyes heavy with the burden of responsibility and loss looking toward the ground.

"It's King now, m'lady."

Swallowing his emotions, Claggor stood firm. He had to remain strong, for Shurima.

"King Claggor."

--

Ekko steadied the horse as he carefully helped the Princess onto the saddle, his hands lingering just long enough to ensure she was secure. He checked the tightness of the reins and straps, making sure everything was in place.

The journey ahead was long. If they wanted to put enough distance between themselves and the Shurimans who yet chased them, they had to conserve that horse's strength. So, for now, Ekko walked alongside it, his boots pressing quietly against the sand as they left the remnants of their camp behind.

The Prince did his best to avoid looking up at her.

And yet, in a fleeting moment of weakness, his gaze flickered upward—just long enough to catch the curve of her lips before she pulled her scarf up to hide them. Ekko could barely hide his disappointment.

He would've enjoyed watching her lips for a while longer.

Ekko had imagined a thousand ways she might try to escape, already bracing himself for her inevitable defiance. And yet... she hadn't tried. Not once.

Not a word had passed between them since the night before.

She was angry. He knew that much. His reckless use of the Hourglass had clearly displeased her, though she had yet to voice her resentment outright.

Still, that didn't mean he could let his guard down. The Princess was as cunning and dangerous as she was beautiful.

"Don't try anything stupid, Princess," he warned, voice firm, his grip tightening on the reins. He gave the horse a light pat on its flank before leading it forward, "or I swear, I'll chase you to the edges of the world."

For a moment, Jinx said nothing. Then, her lips curled behind her scarf. A faint flush crept up her cheeks, unnoticed by all but herself.

Because to her ears, his threat sounded far less like a warning...

And far more like a promise. A very enticing one.

"That's very flattering, Prince."

Her voice dripped with playful mockery, each syllable stretched just enough to taunt him. "You're not as bad as some of my previous suitors."

She probably meant to make him laugh. To tease him, as she always did.

But Ekko didn't laugh.

For a fleeting moment, his expression hardened, his grip on the reins tightening before he forced himself to look away. His jaw clenched, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

Why did that bother him?

Why did the thought of men lining up to claim her hand make something sharp coil in his chest?

The questions swirled in his mind, unwelcome and unanswered. Or worse—questions he wasn't sure he wanted answers to.

Jinx was a puzzle. Irritating. Beautiful. Mysterious.

And dangerously distracting.

But he couldn't afford to think about her like that. Not now. Not when his entire world had been shattered, when his father lay dead, and the weight of that crime had been placed solely on his shoulders.

Prince Ekko wasn't sure of what waited for them at the end of that journey, but he was prepared to see it through.

To fix everything.

--

After hours of traveling, Ekko and Jinx finally stopped to rest, the vast desert stretching endlessly around them. The Prince, however, hardly noticed the fatigue in his limbs or the unforgiving heat pressing down on them.

His attention was entirely fixated on the Hourglass.

The delicate runes carved into its surface. The intricate, ancient craftsmanship. The relic pulsed with mystery, its true purpose far beyond his simple understanding.

The Princess had refused to answer any of his questions about the relic, brushing him off with vague remarks and angry glares. But Ekko was nothing if not stubborn. He suspected that the Hourglass was capable of more than simply rewinding time by a few seconds.

If she wouldn't give him the answers he sought, the Prince would find them on his own terms.

Kneeling down, Ekko scooped up a handful of desert sand, letting it trickle through his fingers before carefully pouring it into the Hourglass. His brows furrowed in deep concentration, his mind racing with the possibilities.

A few feet away, Jinx watched in amusement, struggling to tie the ends of her cloak around her neck to keep the wind from stealing it away. The scorching desert air was starting to seriously get on her nerves, but the sight of the Prince kneeling in the sand, earnestly attempting to refill the Hourglass as if that would somehow reactivate it, was enough to make her chuckle.

She shook her head, a smirk curling her lips.

"Without the right sand, it's just an old trinket." She said, her tone light, playful. The Princess let the words hang in the air for a moment, watching with great satisfaction as Ekko wasted a solid minute trying to coax some reaction from the relic.

Then, just to twist the knife a little deeper...

"Not even that pretty, really."

Ekko ignored her words at first, too stubborn to let her teasing get under his skin. But after several frustrating, failed attempts, he finally relented, exhaling sharply before striding toward her with renewed determination.

He held out the Hourglass between them, his eyes burning with the desperate need to make it work again.

"This sand..." He pressed, shaking the relic slightly as if that would somehow wake its powers again. "Is there more of it?"

He knew it was naive, asking her of all people such questions, but Ekko had to try.

Jinx barely hesitated. "Of course not."

The Prince could tell she was lying, blatantly, shamelessly, right to his face.

Ekko let out a slow breath. As he'd expected, getting a straight answer out of her was about as easy as asking the sea to split open.

But sooner or later, she would have to help him. Their survival depended on it.

"How can I get some?" He pressed again, refusing to let the matter drop.

The Princess' lips curled into a wicked, teasing smile.

"Try standing on your head and holding your breath."

His face immediately fell. Fair and square, she had knocked his hopes flat.

Jinx, meanwhile, seemed rather pleased with herself, idly adjusting her necklace as she came to terms with the fact that, for now, Ekko wouldn't be prying the truth from her.

But then, something caught his eye.

A small jewel nestled against her soft skin, glinting between the very revealing opening of her chest. It looked... familiar. Too familiar. A near-perfect match to the one embedded in the Hourglass.

Ekko's mind churned with possibilities, his thoughts racing. Until he realized, all too late, that his stare had lingered for too long.

And not only on the jewel.

The Princess had definitely noticed it, the way he seemed almost mesmerized while staring at her chest. A slow smirk spread across her lips, her expression dripping with both surprise and amusement.

Oh, men were indeed so easily impressed.

She wanted to be furious at Ekko. For his utter lack of shame, for daring to gaze upon a lady in such manner.

But beneath her upset surface, there was a hint of... satisfaction. A quiet, undeniable sense of pride.

Even a proud Prince of Shurima now stood before her, completely smitten, staring as if he had just seen paradise.

But then, her amusement faded as she followed his line of sight.

It wasn't just her chest he had been staring at. It was her necklace.

The Princess knew better than to take him for a fool. Reckless? Yes. Unruly? Absolutely. But Ekko wasn't some dumb brute. He was sharp... dangerously so. And it was clear now that he had pieced something together.

The jewel resting against her skin... the same kind that adorned the Hourglass.

Her necklace carried a small pinch of the sacred Sands of Time, just enough to be used in a moment of great need.

And now, it seemed that Ekko had stumbled upon that secret all by himself. She had to break him from whatever careless thoughts seized his mind, before his imagination ran wild with dangerous ideas.

"Found what you were looking for, Prince?" Her voice was smooth, teasing, but filled with a quiet warning.

Ekko stiffened. He tore his gaze away, as if physically wrenching himself from both his thoughts and the less-than-honorable direction they had taken.

Annoyed at himself—at her—he turned sharply, grabbing the reins of his horse with more force than necessary.

"Start walking." The Prince said, his tone betraying his frustration.

Gods, that little adventure was starting to get a lot more complicated, Ekko thought to himself.

...

As the Shuriman soldiers reached the mountain pass, scanning the terrain for any lingering tracks Ekko and Jinx might have left behind, the pair pressed onward through the vast desert.

A heavy silence clung to the air between them. Ekko's face still burned from the... awkward incident earlier.

Much to his frustration, the Princess had definitely caught him staring. And sure, he could argue that his interest had been solely in her necklace, but deep down, Ekko knew the truth.

For a brief moment, her... features had him bewitched.

But he would rather die than admit that, especially to the Princess.

Gritting his teeth, Ekko forced his focus back to what actually mattered. The Hourglass.

He pulled the relic from his belt, studying it once more as he walked beside his horse. The golden frame gleamed under the relentless sun, its empty core mocking him. He needed the Sands. Without them, it was nothing more than an ornate trinket.

Trailing a few paces behind, Jinx took note of how intently he was fixated on the Hourglass again. A slow smirk curled her lips.

He really was desperate, she thought.

"Exactly how do you plan on using the artifact to get your life back, may I ask?" She called out over the roar of the wind, her voice heavy with both curiosity and amusement.

Ekko didn't even glance back. He could hear the teasing in her tone, the attempt to poke at his already frayed patience.

"Not your problem, Princess!"

She hated that stupid, dismissive attitude of his. Sure, they were sworn enemies, currently on the run from the entire Shuriman army and whatever else the Gods saw fit to throw at them. But would it kill him to be a little civil?

To at least pretend to indulge her curiosity?

The Princess sighed dramatically.

"You know, you really walk like one."

Jinx's voice rang out from behind him, full of frustration.

Ekko ignored her, but that only made her more determined. 

"Head held high, chest out, long stomping strides." She continued, her face twisting with irritation. "The walk of a self-satisfied, Shuriman Prince."

She stomped dramatically, exaggerating each step in an attempt to mimic his so-called arrogance. Feet hitting the sand with deliberate force, she put on a mocking display of what she imagined a stuck-up royal would look like.

Ekko clenched his jaw.

He knew exactly what she was doing. Trying to get under his skin, to force a reaction out of him. And he refused to give her the satisfaction.

But Jinx wasn't one to back down so easily.

"No doubt it comes from being told since birth that the world is yours," she pressed on, her voice sharper now, "and actually believing it!"

Finally, the Prince paused. The words hit deeper than he expected.

For a moment, his mind drifted back to his childhood in Faraj, growing up with nothing. No name, no family, no future. Just hunger and desperation. Scavenging with Scar and the other orphans, surviving off scraps, fighting for every breath.

Until Vander changed everything.

Until he became a Prince.

What did she know about struggle? About clawing your way out of the dirt? Jinx certainly had grown up in luxury, surrounded by silk and gold, with people looking after her every need. A princess with a place in the world.

And she still had a home, people she could come back to. But him? Ekko had nothing.

His face twisted in anger as he finally snapped, spinning on his heel to face her. Jinx nearly stumbled to a stop, eyes widening at the sudden fire in his gaze.

"I wasn't born in a palace like you!" He spat, his voice raw, edged with something deeper, wounded. "I was born in the slums of Faraj, where I lived if I fought and clawed for it."

The Princess blinked, surprised.

For the first time, she saw something beneath the armor of arrogance and stubborn pride. Something real.

But she wasn't sure she liked it.

Jinx was... stunned. 

She had heard stories of how Prince Ekko wasn't a legitimate son of King Vander, but she had never given much thought to the truth behind them.

Not until now.

For the first time, the Princess saw him in a different light. Not just as the reckless, arrogant Prince of Shurima, but as someone who had fought to survive. Someone who had earned every step forward.

Curiosity, mixed with something she couldn't quite grasp, crept into her voice as she pressed. "And how did you become a Prince?"

Ekko hesitated.

He hadn't expected that question. And he definitely hadn't expected the way she was looking at him now, like she actually cared.

His fingers tightened around the Hourglass. The Prince considered brushing her off, but for some reason, he didn't.

"The King..." He exhaled, eyes flickering to the sand beneath his feet. "He marched into the market one day and he..."

Ekko swallowed hard, shaking his head. Even after all these years, he still wondered why Vander had done that.

"I don't know." He admitted. "He found me. He took me in. Gave me a family. A home."

The words felt raw, like he was peeling back old scars. It was the first time he had spoken of it so openly. The first time the walls around his heart seemed to crumble and fall.

And the worst of it all? He felt comfortable telling her. He felt that it was... right.

In truth, Ekko half expected the Princess to mock him, to laugh at how a street rat had somehow stumbled his way into royalty. But she didn't.

She just... watched him.

Like he was something fragile. Like he wasn't a Prince or an enemy, just Ekko.

Jinx wasn't a stranger to loss, either. She had felt what it was like to have everything ripped away. She still had nightmares about her mother and father, and the hole they left behind, never to be filled again.

And as much as she wanted to deny it, her heart ached for him.

They had both lost their families. Their homes.

They were alone now. With no one but each other.

The Princess wanted to say something. But what could she possibly say?

They were enemies. Comfort wasn't something she could simply offer him, not without betraying everything she was supposed to stand for.

And yet... she wanted to.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, aching to reach for him. To offer something—a touch, a word, anything to ease the storm raging behind his eyes.

Jinx wanted to tell him that time could fix everything, as long as he put his faith in the Gods.

But before she could say a single word, he moved first. Ekko took a step closer, his brown eyes locking onto hers, and then, she saw it. Really saw it.

Not anger. Not arrogance.

But loss.

A deep, aching grief buried beneath everything else, barely holding itself together.

His voice was quiet when he finally spoke, recalling her own words from moments ago.

"What you're looking at... is the walk of a man who just lost everything."

The desert winds howled around them, lifting his cloak and sending his short, white locs dancing along his head. The weight between them had shifted, fragile now, as if any wrong word could shatter it entirely.

Jinx parted her lips, but no sound came out.

She didn't know what to say. Maybe, for the first time in her life, there was nothing to say.

But it didn't matter.

The Prince turned away before she could even try, giving his horse a gentle tap and continuing forward without another glance.

He didn't expect her to understand. And frankly, he didn't care.

All that mattered to Ekko now was setting things right. Even if he couldn't get his whole life back, he was determined to at least try and pick up the broken pieces of his family.

He didn't want the Princess or her sympathy. He didn't care what she thought of him. If she wanted to hate him for the rest of their lives, so be it.

They were enemies. That's all they could ever be.

And maybe, they were better off that way.

--

After a couple more hours of walking, they finally arrived.

And the destination was anything but welcoming.

Once, that place had been a sanctuary, a thriving oasis where weary travelers could find rest, shade, and water. But time had been merciless, stripping it bare. Now, the ruins lay swallowed by sand and filth, a ghost of what it had once been.

But the oasis was merely a threshold to something far more sinister, down the road.

The Valley of Songs.

Every traveler who dared venture that deep into the Shuriman desert knew of the Valley and its infamous inhabitants.

Warmongers. Mercenaries. Slavers. Black market dealers. The forgotten and the damned, all thriving in a lawless pit where the Sword of the Empire had never struck. Even King Vander himself had been advised against marching to that place, for the Valley held secrets that could chill the bones of even the bravest men.

Jinx had never stepped foot beyond the walls of Zaun before, but even she had heard stories. Legends.

And the sight before her now—the broken remnants of the ruined oasis, the skeletal corpses impaled on pikes, swaying in the wind—was evidence enough to make her believe that they were all true.

"Frightened, Princess?"

Ekko's voice cut through the eerie silence. He tied his horse's reins to one of the pikes, utterly unbothered by the grinning skull dangling just above him. When he turned back to her, there was a smirk playing on his lips. He could see the way her fingers twitched, the way her shoulders stiffened.

But Jinx refused to let him have the satisfaction of scaring her.

The Princess had seen death before. And she sure as hell wasn't going to let some dusty old bones shake her.

"Is this your idea of getting some rest and water?" She quipped, striding past him toward the ruins with an air of forced nonchalance.

Ekko blinked. He hadn't expected her to just... walk in.

His grin widened, and the Prince wasted no time before following after her.

That forgotten oasis had its share of ghost stories—Vander used to tell him as much. And most of them weren't just bad.

They were haunting.

Only a fool would wander there willingly.

But Ekko had little choice. He needed coin and information. And considering that the whole of Shurima was after him, the Valley was probably the safest place to be in that moment.

Jinx trailed her fingers over the worn surface of a broken bench, near one of the fountains, her touch stirring up a thin layer of dust. Those ruins must have been beautiful once... a long time ago. Now, all that remained were hollow echoes of the past.

Suddenly, vivid images rushed through her mind. People walking around the oasis, kids playing in the water fountains. Everything felt so... real, as if the Princess herself was there.

But suddenly, those joyful memories were replaced with agony.

Violence. Death.

Men with sharp swords storming the place. The oasis set on fire. Screams of pain, grief... Blood. The Princess' face twisted in desperation, monstrous eyes now glaring back at her.

Before they got closer, however, a familiar voice called out to her.

"Missing life at the palace?" Ekko stepped beside her, smirking, breaking her out of her anguished trance.

Her head snapped toward him, eyes filled with both shock and relief. 

Ekko didn't know about the curse of her touch, about her burden to feel and relive ancient, forgotten memories.

He must've thought she was just missing the comfort of her home, of being pampered and looked after.

In silence, the Princess wondered... Would he even understand, if she told him?

About her visions, her prophecies.

About Lady Janna and her grim destiny as her servant, her Priestess.

Of course not. Jinx thought, laughing at her own stupidity. I'm such a fool. 

He would probably put on that insufferable smile of his, believing her to be some kind of strange witch.

They were too different from each other. Like day and night. Sun and moon.

"I'm not some spoiled princess, Ekko." She turned, flicking the dust from her fingers toward him. He barely flinched, already walking ahead.

Jinx huffed, following after him. "It's just that... this sun is terrible!"

She wasn't used to that. That life.

Walking under the merciless desert sun for hours, the blistering heat seeping into her bones, the ache creeping up her legs. Her body screamed for water, for relief.

But Ekko had lived it. 

Even amid the comfort of the Shuriman Palace, the Prince never forgot the feeling of living under the sun, going days without a drop of water at times, while trying to get his hands on whatever food he could get.

As he had imagined, the Princess could never truly understand the struggles of such life.

"Is the sun too hot, Your Highness?" Ekko teased, flashing a smirk as he strode toward the other side of the oasis, where the exit would lead them straight into the road to the Valley. "Should I strike it down from the Heavens for you?"

He let out a laugh, the kind that shook his chest, hands resting on his stomach as he fully indulged in his own humor.

But something was off.

Jinx hadn't snapped back at him. No sharp retort, no exasperated sigh, no muttered insult about what an insufferable bastard he was.

Nothing.

Ekko slowed his steps, the eerie silence creeping up his spine. Still grinning, he raised his hands skyward in mock celebration. "Oh, a miracle! The Princess of Zaun is finally silenced!"

And still... nothing. Victory tasted bitter.

The quiet lingered. Stretched. Suffocated.

And that's when his stomach twisted.

Something was wrong, he thought to himself. Ekko turned, and his breath caught.

Jinx was on the ground, motionless beside the broken bench. For a second, his mind refused to process what he was seeing.

Then his body moved.

"Princess?" His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, as he took a hesitant step forward.

She wasn't breathing, he could tell even from a distance.

Fear clamped around his chest like a vice, and then he was running.

"Jinx!"

Ekko barely had time to kneel beside her, his hands reaching out to check for any sign of life, when pain exploded at the side of his head.

The world spun. His vision blurred. And the last thing he saw before the darkness swallowed him whole was a pair of mischievous blue eyes fluttering open, accompanied by a devilish smile.

Jinx.

The Princess moved just in time to sidestep Ekko's collapsing body. He hit the ground face-first, unconscious.

With a victorious hum, Jinx tossed away the crude weapon she had scavenged, a weathered bone from one of the skeletons nearby. Then, without hesitation, her hands worked quickly, patting down the Prince's unmoving form, searching.

Where is it...?

Her cheeks flustered ever slightly as her hands touched upon his muscles from over his shirt, but quite unfortunately for her, the Princess had no time to indulge in a bit of pleasure. Frustrated, she bit her lower lip.

Her fingers brushed against something cool and metallic, hidden beneath his belt. And then, her heart leaped.

"Got it!"

Jinx grinned, holding the Hourglass up to the light, watching as the relic's golden surface shimmered under the unforgiving desert sun. The moment was hers now.

Satisfied, she glanced down at the unconscious Prince. He looked so... peaceful like that. A shame, really. She wouldn't have minded some company on the long way back to Zaun.

Leaning in, she placed a featherlight kiss against his temple, lips curling into a smirk as she whispered against his ear. 

"Sweet dreams, my Prince."

And with that, she mounted his horse, gripping the reins tight. Without looking back, Jinx rode away from the forsaken oasis, leaving Ekko behind, alone in the dust.

Chapter Text

Slowly, Ekko opened his eyes. 

Throbbing pain radiated from the side of his head, but the sensation paled in comparison to the hurt in his chest.

How stupid he had been, to fall for her theatrics. 

To believe that he could somehow trust the Princess, even though she wished nothing more than to see him ruined, left for dead.

Suddenly, a blade whistled through the air, embedding itself in the sand mere inches from his face. Ekko barely had the time to dwell on his sorrows before the lurking threat made itself known, spurring him into action.

Adrenaline surged through his body as the young Prince rose to his feet, grains of sand still covering half his face. His fingers instinctively reached for the dagger, but as he turned, Ekko froze. Half a dozen men stood before him, mounted in dark horses, sharp blades pointed at him.

He knew in that moment that fighting back would be suicide.

Reluctantly, Ekko let the dagger slip from his hand, sinking into the sand. A tall, broad shouldered man emerged from the group, his attire more befitting a merchant than a common thief.

"Wise decision, son!" The man chuckled, clapping one of the armed men on the back. "These horrible fellas here are the Na'viri—a nomadic tribe of hunters and killers. And trust me, you wouldn't want to test their aim."

Ekko had a deadly look to his eyes, but even he knew better than to be reckless now. Instead, his attention shifted to the merchant, sizing him up. The man stepped forward, his otherwise joyful expression darkening as he introduced himself.

"Name's Benzo," he said, voice firm, eyes watchful, "and you'd best state your business before taking another step into the Valley, eh."

The name didn't sound strange.

Yes, the Prince had heard of Benzo. A shoddy trader who built quite a reputation in the Valley and beyond, known to squeeze coin out of any pocket, noble or otherwise. He was no warrior, but it didn't make him any less dangerous.

Though he wasn't quite as fearsome as the other residents of the Valley, Benzo was certainly not a man to be trifled with.

And it was just what Ekko needed. Someone of importance, and a more... thoughtful approach.

"I mean no harm, I swear." The Prince said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I... I was attacked and left for dead."

The words tasted bitter on his tongue. His mind went back to the moment he last saw her—Jinx, lying motionless. The fear that had gripped him as he urged her to wake up.

Foolish, stupid Prince Ekko... forever the noble, compassionate heart.

If only he hadn't been blinded by emotion, the Prince wouldn't be staring at the point of a blade, being threatened by some scrupulous merchant.

He had understimated her, but Claggor was right. Princess Jinx was far too dangerous.

But she wasn't the only one.

Ekko wasn't one to harbor grudges, but by the Gods, he meant it when he said he would chase her to end of the world if he had to.

His lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile. Calculated.

It was time to cut his losses.

"Good sir," he said smoothly, "if you can just hear me out, I believe I have something of great interest to offer."

The Prince's mind raced with ideas about seeing the Princess once more. How he would savor the petrified look on those pretty blue eyes of hers after seeing that he was very much alive and well.

Oh, that treacherous Princess will regret the moment she decided to spit on his chivalry.

Benzo's expression shifted. Curiosity flickered in his eyes, and after a brief pause, he stepped closer, an amused smile brewing on his face.

"You have my attention, young man." He said, voice laced with intrigue.

After all, Benzo was never one to turn down a good deal.

--

Atop her horse, Jinx gazed out at the endless horizon, the vastness of the world stretched before her. She could even see the faint image of Zaun, like a small shadow in the distance. 

For the first time, she felt the intoxicating taste of true freedom.

Her childhood had been a good one, all things considered. Before their deaths, her parents had loved and spoiled her. The Princess had spent countless days playing and training with her sister, and losing herself in idle gossip with her ladies-in-waiting.

But watching the world from the windows of her palace was nothing like experiencing the raw beauty of nature upclose.

Even the relentless sun felt liberating. Out in the desert, she wasn't a Princess.

She wasn't the Priestess of Time, burdened with a weight so heavy that it felt as if the world could crumble before her eyes at any given moment.

Out in the desert, she was just... Jinx. 

It was like she was little Powder again, dreaming of castles in the sky with her sister.

Her fingers tightened around the pendant at her neck as a lump formed in her throat. The Princess let the moment wash over her, savoring it as if it were the last time she would ever see the world this way.

She had never gotten to say goodbye.

Never got to tell Vi how much she loved her, how deeply she admired her from the time they were children, racing through the streets of Zaun, evading the annoying Royal Guard in order to play a bit longer before their lessons and prayers.

And now... she didn't know if she ever would.

But this was her burden to bear. Lady Janna had chosen her, and there was no turning back.

She had to get to the Temple.

"I'll miss—"

Her whisper was stolen by a gust of wind. Before she could finish, a cold shiver ran down her spine. An ominous presence loomed just beyond her senses.

She turned sharply, only to lay eyes on them.

Half a dozen riders encircled her, their horses and camels kicking up dust as they moved in. Their faces were hidden beneath hoods, the glint of their weapons catching the sunlight.

Jinx's breath hitched.

Behind her, nothing but the sheer drop of the mountain's edge. No escape.

Before she could react, one of the riders broke formation, his horse carrying him swiftly to her side. A dagger gleamed in his grasp, its tip leveled at her.

Something about him sent a jolt through her veins—an eerie familiarity she couldn't shake.

Her fingers inched toward the sword strapped to her saddle. Slowly, carefully...

Then, he spoke, and her blood ran cold.

"I did warn you, Princess."

The rider lowered his scarf, unveiling a face she knew all too well. Smug. Pretentious. Infuriating.

Ekko.

And that damn smile of his.

Jinx's heart pounded, torn between fury and dread. She should have killed him when she had the chance.

But deep down, she knew that she never could.

And now, there he was. True to his word. He had promised to chase her to the ends of the world.

The Prince extended his free hand, fingers curling in a silent demand. Jinx scowled. She knew what he truly wanted.

But this time, she was outnumbered.

Reluctantly, the Princess tossed the sword to him, followed by the Hourglass, wrapped in cloth.

Ekko unwrapped the relic, his eyes scanning it carefully. No more tricks. No more games. He had grown tired of them, and her charm would sway him no longer.

"My, my..."

Another voice, amused and honeyed, cut through the tension.

Benzo approached atop his horse, his eyes gleaming as they settled on Jinx and the unmistakable wealth that adorned her clothes. "What's a little lady such as yourself doing, robbing people in the middle of the desert?"

Jinx's jaw clenched.

Robbery? She hadn't stolen anything!

She was only trying to reclaim what was rightfully hers by sacred rite.

"Robbery? I'm a P--" 

"A liar."

Ekko's voice cut through hers before she could utter the word.

Jinx whipped her head toward him, seething, but he held her gaze, a silent warning in his eyes.

Only then did she realize.

If those men discovered her true identity, it wouldn't just be chains she'd have to worry about.

The Princess glared at him as Ekko grinned, desperate to jump off her horse and beat that stupid smile off his pretty face, but she held herself from lashing out in anger.

Jinx swallowed her rage, but her eyes spoke volumes. Benzo could feel the tensions rising, before he raised a hand.

"A rabid one, isn't she?" He mused, chuckling as Jinx shot him a look of pure loathing. "Sevika's going to love her."

The Princess stiffened.

Sevika?

The name meant nothing to her, but the way Benzo said it sent unease prickling down her spine.

She turned to Ekko, her expression demanding answers. But he said nothing.

"Let's return to the Valley," Benzo announced, turning his horse, "and then we shall discuss the terms of our little deal."

Jinx's heart lurched.

"Deal? What deal?!" She demanded, but no one answered her.

Benzo rode ahead with his men, leaving two behind to keep a careful watch over Ekko and Jinx.

Desperation took hold of her. She reached for the Prince's arm, but he pulled away, spurring his horse forward without so much as a glance in her direction.

She stared after him, confusion and betrayal twisting inside her like a knife.

There was no going back now.

Ekko had made his choice. The deal with Benzo was the only path forward.

And Jinx?

The Princess had left him behind, betrayed his trust. It served her right... or at least, it was supposed to.

But deep down, a part of him wavered. 

Ekko's gaze fell down, uneasy. She would probably resent him for life, and even though the Prince tried his best to convince himself that he didn't care, he knew better.

But it had to be done.

It was either that or be killed.

--

The group passed through a narrow cave leading into the Valley, and as the light finally emerged, both Ekko and Jinx were struck by the sheer size of the hidden enclave.

It was a city in its own right, nestled within the narrow mountain pass. Houses stacked atop one another, filling the space from the highest level down to the basin. Mercenaries and thieves prowled the makeshift streets, harlots casting seductive glances, drug dealers eyeing newcomers with knowing grins, no doubt assuming they sought fleeting, poisonous pleasures.

The Valley of Songs felt alive, in its own, twisted way. Like a dark counterpart to the vibrant beauty of Zaun.

"You've arrived on a lively day, boy!" Benzo spread his arms wide in welcome, while Jinx trailed behind, her wrists bound tightly with rope. Courtesy of Ekko, who had taken great pleasure in tying her up, much to her murderous glare. "The Games will be starting soon."

The Prince had no idea what the merchant was talking about, nor did he care. He had no intention of lingering in the Valley longer than necessary.

All he needed was a way to reach Lij, his father's homeland, where the funeral would no doubt take place. Benzo surely knew someone who could smuggle him in unnoticed.

"But first, let's settle our business, eh?"

Benzo beckoned him forward, and without hesitation, Ekko followed.

And as always, he found himself sneaking glances at Jinx, a habit that didn't go past her unnoticed.

"How very noble of you, Prince." She quipped, breaking the silence between them as they walked through the Valley's bustling roads, Benzo's guards surrounding them. "Calling me a liar and branding me a thief."

Ekko smirked, surprised she still had the spirit to talk. "Found your tongue again, Princess?" 

He had missed the sound of her voice.

"How taken were you with my little fainting act?" Jinx teased, reminding him of how easily she had fooled him back in the oasis. "Eagerly leaping to assist the fallen beauty."

His face flushed for a split second before he scoffed, laughing off her words. "Who said you're a beauty?"

Ekko was a terrible liar.

They stopped in their tracks, faces mere inches apart. Benzo, entertained, halted as well, watching the exchange unfold with keen amusement.

The Princess smirked. She had caught on immediately.

He couldn't help but look at her. He had fallen for her trick in the oasis like a lovesick fool, rushing to her side as if he were some gallant knight.

And she could play this game too.

"There must be a reason why you can't take your eyes off me."

"I— You're—"

The Prince stammered, fumbling over his words. Jinx watched his near panic with a satisfied grin.

Fuck. She knew.

The mighty Prince of Shurima, left speechless? Now that was a story she'd love to share with her sister and her ladies.

I hate this woman, Ekko thought bitterly. Why did she have to be so damn beautiful?

Regaining his composure, the Prince tried his best to play it off, shrugging. "I don't trust you." He turned, putting some distance between them before he could lose control and taste her lips. "And you're not my type."

Another blatant lie.

"Is it because I'm not some meek servant at your beck and call?" Jinx pressed on, further testing his patience. "Or is it because I'm capable of voicing my own thoughts?!"

Benzo chuckled, thoroughly entertained, while Ekko quickened his pace. "Yes, too many for my taste!" He called back, eager to put an end to the conversation.

Before Jinx could retort, guards seized her by the arms.

"I like this lass!" Benzo grinned, taking a bite from an apple. "She'll make a fine addition."

Addition? Addition to what?

Both Jinx and Ekko tensed at his words. A sharp pang of anger flared in the Prince's chest as he watched Jinx struggle against the guards.

Curious, the Prince dared to question. "What do you intend to do with her?"

"Yes, do tell him!" Jinx interjected, the irony barely masking her hatred. "Can't you see how concerned he is?"

Benzo laughed at her remark, while Ekko struggled, smiling awkwardly.

Sensing the Prince's unease, the merchant clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Sevika looks after the women of the Valley. She'll find something for your little thief to do."

That did little to reassure him.

Concerned, Ekko signaled for a private moment with the Princess. The guards released her, and he led her a few steps away.

"Listen, Princess," he murmured, voice low and urgent, "if you just tell me how to activate the Hourglass again, I'll get us both out of here."

Her blue eyes burned with betrayal. First, he sold her out to get his hands on the relic. Now, he wanted to play hero?

"Do I strike you as a damsel in need of rescuing, Prince?" She spat, dry.

Ekko exhaled, closing his eyes, resisting the bait. He refused to argue again.

"You really left me with no choice, Jinx."

Without warning, he reached for her necklace and yanked it away. The glass vial attached to it held a tiny amount of glowing sand.

Just as he suspected.

Fearful of losing the only way to prevent endless destruction, Jinx pleaded to the Prince, her voice low and desperate. "Ekko, please, listen to me."

But his attention was solely on the relic.

"When I show my uncle Silco the power of this Hourglass... he'll believe me."

Ekko carefully opened the vial, letting the sand trickle into the relic. It wasn't much, just enough to rewind time for a few seconds.

Enough time to fix his mistakes, to set things right.

All he had to do was reach Lij unnoticed, and confide with his dear uncle.

"I'm the Priestess of the Divine Covenant, an ancient order that protects the Sands of Time." Jinx started explaining, and for the first time, Ekko could sense some truth to her words, instead of her usual venomous lies. "This artifact is sacred, if it falls on the wrong hands—"

Ekko laughed, cutting her off. "Don't worry, Priestess. I'll take care of your precious relic."

He had never been fond of fairy tales or divine magic. He preferred the tangible, the real.

And perhaps, the Prince had been right about one thing. 

Perhaps the Princess really was a witch—a dangerously enchanting one.

Tucking her necklace inside his tunic, Ekko turned away, ignoring her protests. Jinx felt her heart sinking, having lost not only the Hourglass, but also the last gift that her mother had given to her. 

Benzo approached, his grin widening.

"The Games are starting. You don't want to miss it, son."

Ekko didn't hesitate. Better to stay on that man's good side. Best not to risk his own capture in the Valley.

As he walked away, Jinx reached for him, her voice filled with desperate urgency. "You don't understand what's at stake!" She cried out as the guards seized her once more. "This is a matter for the Gods, not men!"

Ekko hesitated, glancing back at her one last time.

That was goodbye. One filled with regrets.

"Your Gods, not mine!"

One last smirk in dismissal, a final joke to put an end to their path together.

The Princess was dragged away, and Ekko forced himself not to turn back and run after her.

Not that she would ever forgive him. 

But maybe, just maybe... the Prince could fix that too, somehow.

--

From up in the stands, Ekko and Benzo had a perfect view of the arena below, where several warriors faced off against a monstrous scorpion-like creature, its massive form dwarfing them all.

The Prince was stunned. He had heard of the mystical beasts that prowled the Shuriman deserts in ancient times, but this was the first time he had laid eyes on one.

"Now that's a proper spectacle!" Benzo declared, pointing at the battle just as the scorpion made its first kill. Its deadly tail struck one of the fighters, freezing him in a diamond-like stasis.

Benzo applauded the creature, and the crowd roared in approval, shouting for the warriors to fight harder. "Like what you see, boy?" The merchant asked, offering Ekko a cup filled with what smelled like a terribly strong drink.

"Y-Yeah..." The Prince shook his head, politely declining the offer as Benzo laughed.

The fight ended rather quickly afterwards, with the warriors either dead or frozen by the beast, much to the audience's delight. Those were the Games of the Valley—a brutal spectacle at the heart of the mountain, where men fought against other men—and monsters—in the hopes of becoming Shuriman legends.

Not that any history book would ever remember them. But the promise of coin and fleeting fame was irresistible, especially in a place like that.

"So," Benzo took a sip of his drink, feeling it burn down his throat, "in exchange for the angry lass, you wanted safe passage to Lij. May I ask why?"

Lij was a small port city, barely three days from the Valley. A rather unimpressive little town, but it was where Vander was born. 

And it would also be his final resting place.

Ekko hesitated. He had to be careful not to reveal his true reasons. "I wish to honor our fallen King." He answered with conviction, speaking of his desire to pay respects to the late King of Shurima.

His father.

Benzo regarded him silently for a moment before nodding. "Aye, a tragic loss. May the Gods embrace him." In respect, Ekko inclined his head slightly, only to be suddenly seized by guards, who grabbed his arms and pressed a blade to his neck, drawing a bit of blood.

"Though, come to think of it..." Benzo mused, finishing his drink before tossing the cup aside, "they did put out a bounty for his murderer... Prince Ekko."

The Prince's eyes widened in shock. Had his cover been blown? But how?!

One of the guards searched him, soon uncovering the Hourglass tied to his waist. The relic was snatched away and handed to Benzo, whose eyes gleamed as he admired it.

"A young 'pilgrim' seeking passage to the King's funeral, carrying a marvel such as this?" Benzo studied the artifact, piecing together the puzzle. He had suspected the boy before him was indeed Ekko, the Prince accused of murdering his own father. "You thought I wouldn't sniff out royal Shuriman blood, kid?"

Ekko struggled against the guards' grip. "Wait, this is a mistake!" He protested, but Benzo's glare silenced him.

"A mistake?!" Benzo roared, stepping closer, his breath heavy with drink. "A mistake... was killing your own father, boy. My... once dearest friend."

Ekko was stunned. He had no idea there was history between his father and the man standing before him. But before he could speak, movement in the arena caught his eye.

Below, girls entered carrying trays of food, while others danced to entertain the bloodthirsty crowd.

And the Princess was there.

She wore a short, beige top that revealed plenty of her waist, her strange arm markings exposed for all to see. She clumsily carried a plate of food, under the watchful eyes of a woman cloaked on her left side, barking orders at the girls.

As Jinx moved through the arena, her gaze lifted to the stands. Her eyes locked onto Ekko—bound, captured—and then to Benzo, holding the Hourglass.

Panic surged across her face. She scanned her surroundings, searching for an escape. But the arena was surrounded by brutish guards, with an eager crowd demanding more carnage.

If it was a spectacle they wanted, Jinx would gladly oblige.

Her sharp blue eyes landed on a nearby lever, the control for the gates that kept the beasts locked away. Without hesitation, she hurled her tray at Sevika, the woman who now claimed ownership of her, and bolted for the handle.

Before the guards could react, she pulled it down.

A deep groan echoed through the arena as the gates slowly creaked open, releasing the waiting creatures and warriors desperate for glory.

Not long after, chaos erupted.

Within moments, Sevika and her guards abandoned their chase, trying instead to contain the beasts. The crowd descended into madness, trampling over each other in their frantic escape as a few of the monsters pounced to the stands.

Above, Benzo and his men were momentarily paralyzed by the pandemonium, giving Ekko the chance to break free. He wrenched himself from the guards, snatched the Hourglass from Benzo's grasp, and shoved the merchant against the balcony.

"I'm not a killer!" Ekko shouted to his face, before he started running for his life.

Through the mayhem, dodging guards, monsters, and the panicked mob, Ekko and Jinx reunited near an exit. Though still furious with him, she knew she had no choice but to escape with the bastard Prince.

"Let's go!" 

She yelled, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward one of the tunnels leading out of the arena.

It seemed that wherever they went, trouble was bound to follow.

And no matter what he did, Prince Ekko was fated to cross paths with Princess Jinx.

After running through the chaotic roads of the Valley, the pair found a hidden passageway amid the confusion, but as Jinx slipped through, a small yet heavy portcullis slammed down between them, cutting off Ekko's escape. He was trapped, with Benzo's men closing in.

"Ekko!" Jinx screamed, trying in vain to lift the gate. She failed to notice the guard rushing at her with his blade raised, ready to strike.

But before he could land the blow, a sword ran through his stomach as his body pressed against the Princess. Jinx gasped, eyes trembling, her lips parting in surprise, fearing that death had come to claim her.

Only it didn't.

The Prince saved her.

Without hesitation, Ekko had driven his sword through the bars of the gate and right into the approaching guard.

He had killed someone. For her.

Both were momentarily shocked, but they couldn't dawdle any longer. "The key!" Ekko called, spotting it dangling from the dead guard's belt. Jinx swiftly grabbed it and passed it to him through the bars.

"I want the Prince alive!" Benzo shouted in the distance, but Ekko focused on the lock, trying to fit the large key inside the mechanism that seemed slightly broken.

The tunnel was narrow and there was only one exit. Ekko could hear the guards reaching closer, and he put all his strength into lifting the gate after unlocking the mechanism, just enough to slip underneath it.

Benzo arrived just as Ekko rolled under the gate. "Don't you dare escape, boy!" He snarled, frustrated.

Ekko smirked, tauntingly dangling the key in front of him. As Jinx pulled him along, urging him to run, the Prince tossed the key aside, locking eyes with Benzo one last time.

"I didn't kill my father." The Prince said, firmly.

Then he ran, following the Princess through the winding tunnels.

Toward freedom. For the moment, that is.

After an hour of running, trying to put some distance between themselves and the dangers of the Valley, they finally collapsed onto the sand, utterly exhausted.

"I suppose you owe me your life, Prince." Jinx quipped, breathless, sweat glistening on her skin.

Ekko, still catching his breath, smiled softly, capturing the beauty of her features that shone brightly against the moonlight. The Prince finally let out a tired laughter before falling onto his back, the sand feeling almost as comforting as a soft bed.

He gazed up at the starry night sky. "And I suppose you owe me too."

They were enemies, still. But they had just saved each other's lives. And that meant something—something neither of them could say out loud.

Something that bound them together.

Jinx wanted to hate him, to resent and curse him forever. He had tried to sell her off, after all. But... she couldn't.

Ekko had saved her. They had escaped together.

And for better or worse, she was living the adventure of a lifetime.

Escaping a besieged Zaun, the armies of Shurima chasing after them, wandering around a haunted oasis and now venturing in the infamous Valley of Songs.

Even her mother's stories paled in comparison to what she was experiencing beside the rogue Prince, helping him on his quest for redemption.

And trying to prevent him from unknowingly destroying the world with the Hourglass.

For a moment, Jinx allowed herself to trust in that man, even for a little bit. 

As impossible as that sounded.

Please, don't fall in love with the enemy, you idiot. Jinx scolded herself, but her heart had always been both her worse weakness and her greatest strength.

She watched over Prince Ekko as he slumbered, exhausted. The last remnants of her own energy were slipping away too.

"I... hate you, Prince..." She murmured, her voice barely a whisper, eyes closing as sleep overtook her.

Princess Jinx slept with a shy smile on her face, and even in the middle of the desert...

She felt safe.

Chapter Text

As Vi rode off into the sunset, a storm of emotions raged within her.

She was meant to be Zaun's last line of defense, the city's shield. More than that, she was sworn to protect her sister, the Princess. It was her duty... her pride.

And she had failed.

Now, with the city lost and Jinx abducted by the Prince, Vi was forced to choose. To stay and fight a hopeless battle, or to leave everything behind and embark on a dangerous journey to track down her sister.

It was the only hope to make things right.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, but she quickly pulled up her scarf to hide it. The road ahead would be long and merciless, and she had no time for doubt. She had to rescue Jinx and bring the traitorous Ekko to justice, by order of Pr—no, King Claggor.

Her instincts told her to despise the man, but instead, all Vi felt was... pity. He was young, younger than her, yet burdened with the weight of wearing a Crown.

Not much unlike her sister, who had been chosen to lead Zaun from a young age.

And not only that, but the young King had lost his family. Just like her.

Vi knew the agony of loss all too well. The day she found her parents' lifeless bodies still haunted her. Some claimed they were ambushed by common bandits, but deep down, she had never believed it.

She was too little, too weak to defend them, but Vi refused to allow the same to happen to her sister. If King Claggor was true to his promise, then Jinx would be spared and not treated as spoils of war, and for that, all she had to do was bring him the Kingslayer.

Resolute, Vi pushed forth into the unknown.

...

As night fell, Vi had passed through several small villages, posing as a royal messenger and asking for any information that could lead her to the Prince and her sister.

Frustration had begun to settle in, until she caught wind of her first real lead.

"Aye, a girl passed through a few nights ago." An elderly merchant muttered, struggling to hold a sack of food on his frail shoulders.

Before it could slip from his grasp, Vi stepped forward, effortlessly catching it. She offered him a small smile as she steadied the load onto the man's cart.

Business wasn't going too well lately.

"You're very kind, miss!" He said, surprised.

Warmth bloomed in her chest. Her mother had always taught her that true strength lied in showing kindness and compassion. Even though Vi had spent most of her life enamored with weapons and fighting, she had never forgotten those words.

Some people deserved a blade, others deserved gentleness.

"It was hard not to notice her." The old man continued, gesturing vaguely. "She had long, blue hair... and she wasn't alone. There was a man with her, though I couldn't see his face."

Vi's pulse quickened. Long, blue hair. Yes, that was her sister!

"Do you know where they went?" She asked, voice sharp with urgency.

The merchant hesitated, clearly startled by her intensity, but exhaustion kept him from questioning her motives. He exhaled, then nodded toward the western road.

"They took that path out of the village. It leads to the mountain pass, but..."

His voice trailed off, sparking Vi's curiosity. She crossed her arms, waiting.

The merchant's gaze flickered down to the twin blades strapped to her waist. A messenger carrying swords? Strange.

No, he thought. That girl was no simple envoy. But his weary eyes had seen enough dangers lurking in the desert to know when to tread carefully.

"The roads beyond the pass are dangerous, young one." The merchant warned. His concern was genuine.

Vi could tell. She could also feel that he had already seen through her bluff, but it no longer mattered—she had the information she needed.

Reaching into a small purse, she pulled out a few gold coins and tossed them to his hand. The merchant's eyes widened, as well as his smile.

"I'm well acquainted with danger," Vi said with a confident smirk, "but thank you."

Pulling her hood over her head, she turned away, heading back toward her horse.

That's when she felt it.

A presence.

Someone was watching her.

The feeling lingered as she rode out of the village, pressing toward the mountain pass. And when she finally reached it, she knew that she wasn't alone.

Before the enemy even revealed themselves, Vi's instincts kicked in. She reached for one of her swords, leaping off her horse just as a figure emerged from the sand, iron claws gleaming in the moonlight.

Sand Vultures. Bandits that haunted the night desert.

The attack came fast, but she was faster. A single, precise strike—her blade sliced through his chest, then she circled around, mercilessly driving her sword through his back. The enemy crumpled to the ground.

A whirlwind of sand slowly erupted around her, blurring her vision beyond.

Then, more came.

One. Two. Three.

Vi moved like a blur through them, her twin swords flashing as she cut them down with great ease. Blood stained her blades and the sand. Breathing heavily, she stood amidst the fallen, gripping her swords as the whirlwind thickened, obscuring what lay ahead.

She wasn't done.

From the haze, new figures emerged—knives drawn, eyes gleaming with bloodlust. They lunged for her back, but before they could strike—

The sound of flesh tearing. And it wasn't hers.

Spears pierced through the bandits with unerring accuracy.

Vi spun around, breath hitching. Her focus had been so sharp on her own fight, she hadn't noticed the unseen saviors until now. The bodies of her would-be assassins crumpled to the ground, impaled.

Relief? No. She gripped her swords tighter, the instinct to fight still thrumming through her veins.

"Show yourself!" She shouted, her voice cutting through the whirlwind as the dust began to settle.

Then, she saw them.

Blades glinting under the moon. Faces hidden in the dark.

Vi's grip tightened. She stood ready to fight, though their numbers were few.

One of four men, the tallest, with sharp, green eyes, slowly stepped forward.

Vi raised one ofher swords in warning, but the man didn't flinch.

"I hear you're looking for my friend..." He spoke, voice low and rasped. Then, casually, he pulled down his scarf to reveal himself.

She remembered him. The brute who had cowardly struck her from behind back in Zaun.

One of the Firelights, a band of misfits known to raid slave camps and bandit outposts throughout the desert.

But their allegiance lied not only with Shurima, but above all, to Prince Ekko. 

Her prey.

With serious, determined eyes, Scar asked. "Allow us to accompany you, Warrior-Lady."

He held his sword out, horizontally. A sign of peace, of no desire for further fighting.

Vi's gaze flicked to the bloodied bandages wrapped around his chest. He was in no condition for a fight. Yet there he stood, unwavering.

The Chirean was a tough one. And, more importantly, he was loyal.

Ekko, his best friend, was being hunted. And if Vi was the one who could find him before the Shuriman soldiers did, then the Firelights had no choice but to follow.

Even if they had no clue as to her true intentions.

No matter what kind of trouble the Prince had gotten himself into...

His people would not abandon him.

--

A seemingly endless line of dignitaries filled the roads leading to the port city of Lij, travelers from every corner of the continent gathering to pay their respects to the once mighty King of Shurima.

And, of course, to whisper about the Empire's fragile state.

"The King had a lot of friends..." Jinx murmured, her voice calm despite the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. She sat behind Ekko on their horse, arms wrapped around his waist as they watched from a nearby cliff. 

The wind howled strongly, tugging at their cloaks.

Ekko's grip on the reins tightened, his expression shadowed by a mix of anger and grief. His father's court had always been filled with visitors, sycophants eager to be in the presence of a great ruler. Yet in death, it seemed his father had drawn an even greater audience, one that had little to do with mourning.

"They're not here for him." The Prince said, his voice laced with quiet bitterness.

He knew why they had come. The true reason behind tht spectacle wasn't loyalty or love—it was power. Whoever controlled the future of Shurima would control the world.

But Ekko didn't care about the Throne.

He cared about fixing his own future.

And the key to that was somewhere down there, among the scheming nobles and their false condolences.

His uncle, Lord Silco. The only person left in his family he could still trust.

But first, there was a problem.

"There's a small army in the city, Ekko." Jinx's sharp eyes tracked the patrols swarming the city gates in the distance below. "We'll be captured and killed before we even step foot inside."

Her worry wasn't misplaced. Lij was locked down.

The Prince was well aware of the risks. But, as always, he had a plan.

Or the makings of one, at least.

"All those nobles from beyond the country..." He mused, tilting his head just enough to glance at her. A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I'm guessing you know a few, Princess."

Jinx met his gaze, her eyes burning with immediate irritation.

Of course he was going to throw her into some reckless, dangerously stupid scheme.

She clenched her teeth, exhaling sharply. It wasn't like she had much of a choice.

Ekko sill carried the Hourglass, and the only way to stay close to it was to enter the city with the Prince.

Though, she wouldn't deny herself a bit of amusement in doing so.

...

"Having fun?" Ekko muttered through his teeth, his shoulder burning with pain as he bore the weight of Lord Smeech's extravagant seat.

The so-called Lord hailed from some distant kingdom Ekko had never even heard of, and the small, grotesque creature was as ill-mannered as he was hideous. He carelessly tossed half-eaten grapes at the servants carrying him, cackling at their misfortune.

Ekko was dressed as one of them. Meanwhile, the Princess gracefully strolled ahead, holding a grand bowl of fruits above her head, a smug smile playing on her lips. She had disguised herself as a servant to Lord Smeech as well, and she certainly knew how to play the part.

"You're carrying one of the richest lords among the fabled Yordle." She mused, barely holding back her laughter. "You should be honored."

The Prince growled, frustrated. "Oh yes, terribly."

He should have known she'd find a way to get back at him for what happened in the Valley.

But deep down, he couldn't even resent her for it. 

Not only they had managed to slip past the guards and inside the city as planned, Ekko had come to admire Princess' tenacity and courage, having seen her fight tooth and nail to escape great dangers.

Perhaps... he had been wrong about her.

She wasn't just some pampered, spoiled Princess. Against his wildest imaginations, she was proving herself a capable partner.

Maybe even a friend.

Suddenly, the Princess slowed her steps, drawing closer to him. "Ekko, where's the Hourglass?" She whispered, concern clear in her voice.

He had been waiting for the moment. It was his turn to play the game. 

The Prince knew she would ask about the artifact eventually, but he had no intention of revealing the whole of his plan. A mischievous smirk crept onto his lips as he leaned in slightly.

"You're welcome to search me for it, Princess..." He teased. "You'd have to be very thorough."

For all her efforts to keep a straight face, the flush that rapidly spread across her cheeks was impossible to hide.

Annoyed—at his shamelessness, at herself for allowing her mind to wander toward dangerous thoughts—she let out a disgruntled growl and quickly strode ahead, refusing to give the Prince the satisfaction of a response.

He was so incredibly insufferable.

Yet, deep inside, Princess Jinx feared she was coming close to accepting a rather terrifying truth.

That he was rather... irresistible.

At times. Not all the time. 

Not while she drew breath.

After maneuvering their way through Lij, Ekko and Jinx found a safe vantage point atop the rooftops, watching as the people gathered around a dark carriage. It carried the body of King Vander, prepared for the sacred burial.

Back in their common clothes, the Prince surveyed the procession, his sharp brown eyes darting between the figures escorting the carriage. He spotted his uncle Silco and his brother Mylo, as well as their elite guards, but...

His older brother was nowhere to be seen.

"Claggor's not here." He muttered, frowning. That didn't make sense. Why would the new King of Shurima be absent from his own father's funeral?

"He must still be in Zaun."

Jinx gave him a puzzled look, but before she could ask, Ekko continued.

"The sand that filled the Hourglass..." He recalled the necklace he'd taken from her. The sand glowing inside the small vial. "There's more of it in Zaun, isn't it?"

Her heart skipped a beat.

He couldn't possibly have figured it out.

The Princess remained silent, struggling to mask her reaction, but her quiet hesitation told Ekko everything he needed to know. His eyes lingered on her for a moment before shifting back to the streets below.

"That's why Claggor stayed there." He whispered, the puzzle pieces slowly but surely falling into place. "That's what he got our army searching for."

That magical sand was the key to everything.

If a mere pinch allowed the Hourglass to turn back time... then perhaps what was hidden beneath Zaun would be enough for the Prince to completely alter the events that destroyed his life.

To rewrite history itself.

Ekko clenched his fists. "I have to get a message to my Uncle."

Determined, he pulled his hood over his head, concealing his identity before surveying the route from the rooftop to the streets.

The Princess watched him go, her mind reeling. A cold wave of dread settled over her. 

Ekko had unknowingly stumbled upon the secret that could ravage the entire world.

If the Shurimans ever uncovered the sacred Sands buried beneath Zaun...

It would mean the end of all things.

"Impossible..." Jinx whispered, but loud enough for the Prince to hear just before he leaped across the rooftops and down toward the wooden beams that led into a back alley. He moved like a shadow, fluid and effortless, until he finally disappeared into the crowd below.

Weaving through the sea of mourners, Ekko reached the carriage unnoticed, his movements masked by the grieving masses pressing close.

With a final glance at his surroundings, he slipped inside, as if he were a ghost.

A sharp breath hitched in his throat. Pain seized his chest. The scent of incense and sacred oils filled his lungs.

For a moment, the Prince couldn't move.

Vander lay before him, dressed in traditional Shuriman funeral robes, his face concealed beneath an ornate golden mask.

"F-Father..." He whispered, his voice cracking. Ekko's fingers hesitantly brushed the cold surface of the mask.

"I'll make things right." He vowed. "I swear it."

The weight of his promise settled deep within him. 

Family bonds were sacred, and Ekko would always carry that lesson close to heart. Even if the whole world stood against him, he would fight to repair the shattered pieces of his life and seek justice for his father.

Closing his eyes, Ekko placed a hand over Vander's masked face, uttering the passing words of the Shuriman Gods, asking them to receive his father's soul in the peaceful embrace of the Afterlife.

"May the Golden One guide you, Father."

A deep breath finally steadied him.

Quickly, he searched the carriage for a means to communicate with Silco. Spotting his Uncle standing just outside, Ekko used incense powder to scrawl a message on a small piece of parchment, then discreetly slipped it into Silco's tunic pocket as he passed by.

With his plan halfway concluded, Ekko took one last lingering glance at his dead father, the man he would always be grateful for changing his life, before slipping back into the crowd, just as silently as he had come.

In the grand bazaar of Lij, Princess Jinx waited anxiously, blue eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of the stupidly bold Prince.

Distracting herself, she idly sifted through a collection of garments for sale—until a sudden presence behind her sent her heart lurching.

A soft hand covered her mouth before she could scream.

"Difficult, not impossible." 

Ekko calmly whispered to her ear, recalling the Princess' doubt from earlier. 

Shivers ran down her spine.

Jinx wrenched his hand away, spinning to glare at him. The Prince stood before her, looking insufferably pleased with himself for someone who had just risked his life to deliver a simple message.

"Or further proof that you're insane." She retorted, feigning indifference. The Princess refused to bolster that man's already enormous ego.

Ekko chuckled, stepping closer to her. "Why do you look so impressed?" He joked, looking for any signs that would betray her attitude.

She scoffed, disgusted, but before she could fire back, the bazaar suddenly stirred.

Soldiers.

The Prince reacted instantly, tugging her toward the clothing stall, pressing them close together beneath the canopy of hanging fabrics.

Jinx sucked in a sharp breath. She stiffened. Their faces were nearly touching.

Too close. 

His scent, his warmth, the sheer proximity making it far too easy to forget herself.

To forget that they were still enemies.

Determined to regain control, she grabbed a tunic off the rack and shoved it at his chest. "Turn around!" She ordered, hastily.

Ekko, amused but obedient, complied as she pulled the tunic over his shoulders, pretending to simply outfit the Prince in some new fashion as the soldiers passed by, casting suspicious glances at the pair before moving on with their patrol.

But the Princess, always cunning, used the opportunity to lay eyes on something of greater importance.

The Hourglass.

Tucked safely at the back of his waist.

Her lips curled into a triumphant smirk.

No matter how much the Prince convinced himself that he could trust his Uncle, Jinx refused to entertain such risk.

The Hourglass could not fall into the wrong hands.

As the danger passed and the crowd resumed its normal flow, Ekko let out a small breath of relief. Turning to face the Princess, their eyes met, and an awkward silence lingered.

Surprisingly, they didn't have anything to say. No playful remarks or their usual bickering.

Without thinking, his fingers brushed against her cheek, his touch light, almost reverent.

Her skin was so soft, her lips so... welcoming.

Princess Jinx gazed at him, needing, wanting. For a fleeting moment, Ekko allowed himself to forget the troubles of his situation, but duty pulled him down toward the coldness of reality.

"Thank you, Princess." He muttered, quiet but genuine.

Jinx's breath caught. Of all people, she hadn't expected gratitude from him.

But more than once, she had saved him, helped him even.

Jinx froze, words failing her. She looked away, unable to hold his gaze while thinking of her own duty, her greater calling.

Ekko pulled away, glancing past her shoulders to ensure the coast was clear.

"I have to do this." The Prince spoke, his tone gentle but firm. "I'll speak with my Uncle and slip out before anyone's the wiser."

She hesitated at first, but reluctantly nodded in approval. 

Deep in her heart, the Princess was afraid. 

Though not for herself, but for the Prince and his recklessness.

And that terrified her.

She would never—could never—admit that out loud, especially not to him.

Still, she feared that his luck might run out.

Without wasting more time, the Prince left, carefully making his way to the location he had written to his Uncle, hiding in plain sight among the crowd while evading the watchful eyes of the Shuriman soldiers.

--

Worried about being followed, Silco glanced over his shoulder, scanning his surroundings. The market was alive with people, merchants calling out to buyers as they browsed the stalls. Nothing seemed out of place.

Then, his gaze fell upon a familiar sight—a grand, ripe pomegranate resting atop a fruit table. A small smile curled on his lips as memories surfaced, warmth flickering in his usually cold expression.

"You used to buy those for me when I was a boy."

The voice came from the shadows of a nearby empty room. Slowly, a hooded figure emerged, pulling back his hood to reveal the face of the Prince.

Silco chuckled, the memory of a young Prince Ekko and his love for fruit still fresh in his mind. "You used to spit the seeds at Mylo." He said, amused, as he set the fruit down and took a step closer. Ekko lingered near the wall, half-hidden in the shadows.

His uncle's expression darkened. "You should not have brought me here, Ekko."

The warmth faded from the Prince's face, replaced with a troubled look. He lowered his gaze before meeting his Uncle's once more. "I had no choice, Uncle." His voice was pleading. "Please, follow me."

With a hint of hesitation, Silco stepped into a ragged, abandoned room. Dust swirled in the dim light seeping through the broken roof. As soon as he entered, the Prince suddenly embraced him tightly, a lone tear escaping down his face as he clung to the only person he could still trust.

Silco stiffened, momentarily caught off guard, but his resistance lasted only a moment. His hand gently rested on Ekko's back before the Prince pulled away, shame flickering in his expression as he retreated behind the wall once more.

Ekko closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He hadn't expected a reunion with his family to be so hard, and yet...

He could barely look Silco in the eye.

What if his Uncle also believed that he had murdered his own Father?

"I didn't kill Father." His voice trembled. "You know I would never do such a thing."

His head leaned against the wall, chest tightening as the memory of Vander collapsing, poisoned, replayed in his mind.

Silco took a step forward, trying to get a better look at him. "Your actions say otherwise, boy." He said, cold but concerned. Silco was often stoic, yet even in such a moment, Ekko could sense the faintest trace of care behind the words.

"I had no choice but to flee." Ekko explained. Had he stayed in Zaun, whoever orchestrated the plot would have certainly ensured his execution by now.

Fleeing with the Princess was the right decision. At least, that's what he told himself.

Stepping away from the wall, Ekko's gaze darkened with anger. "Claggor gave me that cloak." He spat, remembering the moment his brother, now King, gifted him the very thing that led to Vander's demise.

"He was the one who poisoned Father!" Ekko blurted, without thinking.

The idea of his own brother being ambitious enough to slay his own Father for the Throne sickened him. But he was out of people to blame, and with the whole of Shurima pointing fingers at him, Ekko had to find someone to point back.

Silco's expression darkened, his red eye glinting as he stepped into the shaft of light. "Ekko..." He murmured, shaking his head in disapproval.

For all his years advising the King, Silco had never expected to see his own family tearing each other apart.

It was humiliating, for the lineage that had long held the promise of ruling over Shurima... and the entire world.

"He's not here, is he?" Ekko questioned, though he already knew the answer. He sought to plant a seed of doubt in his Uncle's mind, to make him reconsider Claggor's motives. "At his Father's funeral. Instead, he remains in Zaun!"

Ekko's voice rose, but Silco was quick to bring him back down. "Our allies will see that our invasion of Zaun was just." He said calmly, calculating. "The search for the secrets buried beneath the Holy City is important."

Suddenly, a thought echoed through the Prince's mind. Of course!

The Sands. The secret underneath Zaun.

"Yes, because that's how he intends to rule the world." Ekko pressed, stepping closer, mind racing as the pieces of Claggor's grand scheme seemingly fell into place.

The Prince prepared himself, going over his thoughts before giving them voice. "The invasion of Zaun was a lie, Uncle." Silco now looked at him with curiosity, captivated by what his nephew was about to reveal.

"Claggor is after power. That's why he murdered Father." Every word was a struggle, forcing Ekko to kill the love he once had for his brother. "And now he searches, not for weapons... but for the Sand that fuels a mystical device."

A heavy silence lingered before Silco let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he paced the room.

"Is that why you brought me here, Ekko?" He stopped, turning to the Prince, his red eye gleaming. "Mystical devices?"

Ekko hesitated, then stepped forward, urgency in his voice. "It's real, Uncle! I swear it! This... This Hourglass—it can control time itself!"

For a moment, curiosity flickered in Silco's expression. Hands behind his back, he faced his nephew fully. "This... Hourglass," he spoke, low and intrigued, "do you carry it with you?"

Silco had always been skeptical beyond measure, a man of practicality instead of visions, dreams and empty promises. His late brother, on the other hand, was a great believer in the threads woven by the Gods.

And yet, Ekko's words had seemingly piqued his interest. Greatly.

Ekko hesitated. His mind drifted to the Princess and their time in the Valley, where she spoke of the Hourglass and its significance to the Gods.

He wondered what kind of divine punishment was reserved for him and his reckless use of the sacred artifact, but what worse fate could he suffer after the betrayal, his Father's death, and being hunted by his own kin?

Amused at his own thoughts, Ekko chuckled. Divine punishment. Such nonsense.

Stories children were taught in order to behave properly and not upset their parents.

Clearing any doubt on his mind and heart, Ekko reached for the relic, carefully wrapped in cloth on the back of his waist. Without second thought, he gave it to Silco, who took a step back toward the light, eagerly undoing the wrappings to reveal...

A set of work tools.

Both men froze. Silco's frustration flared, feeling deceived. "Is this some sort of jest, boy?" His sharp words cut through Ekko like daggers.

Ekko stared, just as shocked. His mind scrambled for an explanation, but only one answer came to his mind.

Princess Jinx.

Damn her!

Rushing past the curtains, Ekko took a peek outside the room, scanning the bazaar for any traces of her, but finding none.

She was gone.

The Prince tried to reason with his Uncle, but the words failed him. "I- It--" He stammered, struggling to form a coherent sentence. His desperate gaze eventually settled on Silco's hands.

"Your hands are burned." He pointed, suspicious. 

Silco, unbothered, glanced down at them and shrugged. "A mere consequence of trying to pull the poisonous cloak off my brother."

But something felt... off.

Ekko had a knack for remembering things, often too well. In his nightmares, he recalled the exact moment Vander collapsed at his feet, how the nobles cried out in horror, branding him as a traitor and a murderer.

Yet never, in all those memories, did he recall his Uncle being anywhere near the fallen King.

Perhaps it was a misunderstanding. Perhaps the Prince was simply clouded by grief, his recollection muddied by the chaos of that day, where he had to fight off Mylo and his soldiers to escape.

Or perhaps...

"Is something wrong, Ekko?" Silco asked, subtly hiding his hands behind his back. His gaze was piercing, unreadable.

Ekko felt an overwhelming urge to flee. That look in his Uncle's eyes was suffocating. He tried to calm himself, to placate the man before him. "No, no..."

But Silco pressed forward. "Are you certain?" His voice grew heavier, more deliberate. "You know you can trust me, dear boy."

The Prince met his gaze, his eyes welling up. His chest tightened as he felt the walls of fate closing in, suffocating him, leaving no room to escape.

His entire plan had crumbled. His Uncle would never believe him now. And his brother...

"It's just that..." He hesitated, trying to gather his thoughts. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Claggor is my brother. How could he betray me like this?"

A short smile curled at Silco's lips.

Ah... the bonds of brotherhood. A burden that he understood all too well.

But worse than being brother to the King... was being the realm's second son.

"I can't say, Ekko..." Silco's voice carried that familiar, sagacious tone, the kind that always seemed to hold profound wisdom for his nephews. "Perhaps he simply perceived you as a threat, no longer a brother."

A threat?

Ekko never cared for the Throne. He never wanted it.

All he had ever desired was the love of his father, his uncle, his brothers. Freedom with Scar and the Firelights. 

He already had everything he wanted.

Well, maybe not quite everything. 

His mind stubbornly went to the Princess, his fury mixed with yearn.

Slowly, Silco took a step closer, the crimson glow of his scarred eye gleaming ominously. "Someone he could use..."

And suddenly, the pieces fell into place. The words spoken by his Uncle at the celebration.

The responsibility of a brother to the King.

"Someone to keep his wine glass filled?" Ekko asked, his face twisting with anger as all his doubts aligned.

That wasn't Claggor's doing. None of it.

Silco's smile widened, a twisted satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. His dear nephew, the one he adored the most for his intelligence and cunning, had finally made sense of the whole ordeal.

"Don't think yourself as equal, Ekko." Silco halted him, raising a single finger. "My services to Vander were different. Bound by blood."

Ekko refused to let those venomous words take root.

Vander had always spoke of how Ekko, Mylo and Claggor were all equals, sons greatly loved by their father.

They weren't all brothers in blood, but in heart and spirit.

Ekko shook off the attempt to cloud his mind. Instead, he turned to question Silco, his voice steady. "How many times did Father tell the story of how you saved him, all those years ago?"

The lovely little tale of brotherly love.

How Silco risked his life, and his eye, to save his brother, who went on to become King.

"That was his favorite story." Ekko continued, watching carefully.

Silco chuckled. He nodded, unfazed. "One of many, yes."

"No..." Ekko took another careful step forward. "That was his favorite."

That's what he was after. The Crown. The Shuriman Throne.

To rewrite his own past.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed from above. The Prince instinctively stepped back, looking up, while Silco pressed forward.

"I'm afraid you're speaking in riddles, my boy..."

Before Ekko could argue, an arrow shot past him, barely grazing his shirt before lodging itself on the cracks of a stone wall behind.

It was an ambush, all along. 

The Shuriman soldiers had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Ekko shot one last furious glance at his Uncle before bolting for the door. Another arrow narrowly missed his head. 

"Wait, Ekko!" Silco called, a twisted grin on his lips as the Prince flung the door open—only to be met with more soldiers. One managed to slash at his arm and draw blood before he retaliated, knocking the man away and seizing his sword.

More and more soldiers flooded the bazaar. Vastly outnumbered, Ekko knew he stood no chance in a proper fight.

He grabbed a nearby sack of flour and hurled it at the soldiers, slicing it mid-air to create a cloud of white dust. With the confusion, he vaulted over a merchant's stall, weaving through the crowd to escape.

Evading the approaching soldiers, vaulting over crates, the swift and nimble Prince thought he had managed to get out of the ambush with both his life and his freedom.

Then, he saw it.

A familiar sword blocking his path.

"Still a coward, brother!" Mylo sneered, cutting off one of the exits with his men.

Ekko skidded to a halt, locking eyes with his brother, before scanning for another way out. He leapt, grabbing onto a wooden beam, hoisting himself up onto the rafters above, evading Mylo's blockade as his brother barked orders to his men.

The chase continued. Soldiers swarmed the market, but Ekko was faster. Using the walls as leverage, he flipped over them effortlessly.

Scaling walls and jumping between houses had always been his passion since childhood. 

Now, it was his salvation.

"Still too slow, brother!" Ekko taunted, knocking over fruit baskets as he ran along. Mylo's men slipped, and even the Prince-General himself was sent sprawling as a soldier crashed into him.

Roaring in anger, Mylo pointed his sword. "I'll get you, traitor!"

One day, perhaps. But not that day.

Ekko grinned before vanishing into the maze of streets. Against all odds, he managed to slip out of Lij, hiding among travelers leaving the town. He pulled up his hood and wrapped his scarf tightly around his face, blending into the crowd.

The worst was behind him.

But the dreadful revelation gnawed at his soul.

Neither him nor Claggor were to blame for Vander's betrayal and death.

It was their own Uncle, Silco. The mastermind behind such terrifying plan.

In the pursuit of power, he murdered his own brother and put the blame on Ekko. And even now, he was free to spin the tale of the Prince's betrayal as he saw fit.

To make matters worse, the Princess had played him yet again, slipping away from Lij with the Hourglass in her devilish hands.

As Ekko looked up, he noticed the sky darkening, heavy clouds began gathering above.

A bad omen, as the people often said. A great sandstorm was coming.

Tracking the Princess after her escape, Prince Ekko began his pursuit to get back the relic and perhaps, gain some enlightenment on the nature of Silco's treacherous plans.

Jinx couldn't have gone far. Not in that storm.

And unfortunately for her, the deserts of Shurima were Ekko's playground.