Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a burst of light that shattered the world. A vibrant, stunning fracture that tore through the dormant sky in a cacophony of brightness and sound. Jayce had barely enough time to brace himself before the ground met him like an angered fist, knocking the wind from his lungs and every thought from his head.

For a moment he could only lay there. His limbs sprawled gracelessly across a hardened cushion of moss and dirt, while his lungs heaved with the effort to draw in air. Although that simple effort felt as if he was inhaling razor blades, and it did little to help his swimming head.

Jayce groaned, reaching upwards to clutch at his head as if that gesture would still be enough to help him focus, but all it did was make the weight feel like it had burrowed into the confinements of his skull.

He had always been an adventurous person, especially in the younger years of his youth, and such traits led to plenty of injuries, falls, and disasters. But although he had once fallen from a tree and shattered the bones in his arm, he had never fallen far enough to feel quite like this.

A few minutes passed, or was it hours? It was difficult to tell while his eyes were so tightly shut and his body was as immobile as a marionette with its strings cut. But when they cracked open the smallest fraction, it wasn’t to the vibrant azure of Piltover’s sunlit days, or even the vast ink and gold tapestry of the astral plane…it was to something stranger and softer.

It was a sky painted with pastel hues of apricot orange, rose-petal pink, and sunwashed yellow, but no clouds or sun clung to the sherbet display. Instead there was a light source that appeared to shine from behind it all like a lamp through fabric, and these floating orbs that much resembled oversized furred firelights.

Jayce sat upright with a start, an action he much regretted when he had no choice but to curl into himself for a moment so his vision would stop attempting to blink away from him. It was in this position that he felt a softness land upon his knee, and when he glanced between his folded arms, he saw that one of the strange puffballs had found a placement there.

There was no face, there wasn’t even what one would consider a body either, it was simply a ball of cotton that held a warm glow like the beloved firelights around his childhood home. But regardless of the missing features, it still seemed to study him, questioning his arrival as much as Jayce did himself.

“What…are you?”

His fingers inched towards the strange creature expecting softness, but what he found felt like he had stuck his hand inside an electric vat and had him jerking his hand away so quickly, it startled the creature into fluttering away towards its brethren in the sky.

It left a tingle along the flesh of his hand, one that he shook with bewilderment as he took in the extent of the surrounding area.

It was like the outskirts of Piltover—full of plantlife and fresh breeze—but at the same time it was too lovely, too perfect, and too gentle in ways that made his instincts crawl.

It was like the oasis that was conjured into Jayce’s mind while he was suspended in the neverending void of the astral plane, a perfect place of Viktor’s creation to lessen the pain of what was transpiring around him due to the rune’s magic collapsing.

Viktor.

The rune.

Jayce’s head swung towards the side, expecting—hoping—to see that familiar silhouette beside him, just as lost and confused as himself. But there was no Viktor, there wasn’t even an indent among the grass and swaying flowers to show that another had even been beside him.

His stomach twisted painfully with dread.

“No…no, no, no—” The words were slurred in their desperation, as offkilter as his footing when he pushed himself to his feet only to wobble and collapse again. Although a stone cut into his knee from impact, the pain didn’t register as he rose again with quickening breath. “Viktor?!”

Silence.

He had held on, he was certain of it. Even when the pain was enough to grit his teeth, and clever mental illusions just felt like a bandage, even when it felt like the weight of a hurricane was trying to force them apart. He had kept Viktor in his arms, ready to face whatever was in store for them, even if that meant their demise.

But had that been an illusion too?

Jayce’s chest squeezed as horror settled into the depths. He remembered the first lick of pain where their arms were joined in embrace. It felt like a knife was beginning its descent across his flesh, but Viktor attempted to comfort it through a slow drag of his thumb across his arm. And while it did provide comfort, there was no stopping the tremble from overtaking his form as that pain spread further across his body.

It was then that his mind had been dragged into this picturesque world, where warm light covered his body like a blanket, and he lay tangled together with Viktor tucked beneath his chin. It was peaceful and enough to take his mind away from what was actually happening.

Like Viktor had intended.

But if Viktor wasn’t here…

At some point during his mental spiral, Jayce’s legs had taken off running. To where he wasn’t certain, the motion just felt as automatic as a survival instinct. He had to find Viktor, he had to undo whatever had separated them, because he refused to believe that it was just him who landed upon this foreign world.

The glade he landed upon was full of soft grass that released miniscule stars when brushed, and those very attributes swirled around him in a magical display as he tore through it into the nearby woods. Woods that held the illusion of those within grasslands in Runeterra from the outskirts, but when his feet passed the threshold, it fell away like melted snow.

The welcoming maple extended its bark until it towered above the skyline, and said bark became so slender and pale that they were almost translucent. It reminded him of a jewel found in the mines, even more so when the leaves that fell by his feet shimmered with the unnatural hues of blue, lavender, and iridescent green.

His pace sent him through a pile of these leaves, the plants crushing beneath each footstep with a feeling like he was stepping upon shallow puddles without the wetness. But what was stranger yet was the fact that afterwards, the plants audibly shifted around him.

They released this sound that could only be compared to a sigh before a song, all airy and whimsical in a way they shouldn’t. The air itself even warmed, wrapping around his skin like a blanket on a cold winter day, but while both should’ve been fascinating and comforting…it only fueled his unease.

“Viktor!” He yelled again, his throat dry. “Answer me!”

But only the star-like sparkles answered, swirling upwards as if in laughter then fading into the honey colored light.

What if Viktor hadn’t made it? What if the Arcane was crueler in its punishment towards him, and Viktor had cast the illusion upon Jayce’s mind to spare him that visual? Now he was trapped…or disassembled…that was why Jayce had been by his lonesome. He had been expelled from the rune alone, while Viktor…Viktor—

He lost his footing against an uprooted vine of a tree, sending him toppling outside the rings of the woods, while a fresh wave of pain surged from where his knees and elbows connected with the harsh ground. He had to be bleeding, it would explain the wet sensation from where his knees were still pressed down harshly, but he made no move to stand upright.

His breaths were coming out too fast for that. Each one was more labored than the last, and he felt his throat tightening with the oncoming bout of barely restrained tears.

He wouldn’t have let go, he didn’t…so why? Why was he here when Viktor was not? Why was he without repercussions? If Viktor was to suffer for the consequences of their actions, why was he not alongside him in that vast expanse of nothingness? Why were his lungs still breathing?

“Jayce!”

A sob finally broke through its restrictions, this awful, gut wrenching sound full of the weight of his grief. It was a sound of loss, it was a sound that blocked out any other sounds aside from it, and the rushing of blood to his ears.

“Jayce, where are you?!”

Jayce’s head whipped upright. That voice—frantic as it was—was unmistakable, but from where?

Before him, on the outskirts of the woodlands where he fell, was a breathtaking expanse of white. It was a limitless field of delicate flowers with petals that glistened like fresh snow. They swayed in the passing breeze, bringing with a fragrance that reminded him all too much of spring days weaving blossoms into crowns with his mother.

And there, in the center of them all was a lone cottage wreathed in a low-lying haze of light. From the distance it was impossible to make out details aside from the soft cream colored bricks, and wispy smoke that filtered from the chimney. Could the voice have come from inside?

But no…it was too far and the voice would've been muffled by the interior.

It must’ve been his imagination. His mind taking pleasure in his misfortune and taunting him with it, or some creature here mimicking internal thoughts.

“Miláček! Please…” The last word held such a wounded tone to it that there was no possibility that it was something of his mind or world creation. It was Viktor, undeniably so, but where was he?

“Viktor!”

“Jayce?”

Every nerve in his body burned as if they were on the verge of being engulfed in flames, and his throat was pinched so tight that the very effort of swallowing proved to be difficult, but yet he still willed strength into his limbs in order to push himself upright.

Viktor sounded as if he was before him, which meant he was somewhere within the vastness of the flower field. So while it still might be his mind playing tricks on him, he had to at least try looking.

“Viktor!” His voice rang as he staggered to his feet with a heaving chest. His knees protested—still aching from the fall and injuries prior to the transportation—but they were the least of his concerns.

“Where are you? Jayce!”

Only one step taken into the meadow was enough to see the figure upon the opposing side. One that had originally been hidden by some low lying branches, but now could be seen standing among the blooms with the same look of desperation with their posture. There was a good distance between them and where Jayce shakily stood, but there was no mistaking who they were to Jayce.

It was Viktor.

Crushing relief became a power source that flooded through his every nerve, and it was what sent his feet tearing through the softness of the meadow with renewed energy that had fled from him only minutes prior. Every step drew him closer, and every step brought a wondrous shift of color. For each flower he brushed against, transformed into a vibrant green, a stark contrast to their original innocent white.

At first Viktor didn’t notice him, his head angling in search while locks of hair flickered across his face, but it was the changing of the blossoms—the colors gradually catching the light of sun—and the fierce call of his name that alerted him of Jayce’s presence.

And when it did…he held no hesitation.

Much like Jayce only moments prior, Viktor surged forward like he was being pursued by something deadly, and although it was an uneven gait that nearly had him tumbling over hidden disturbances below the flowers, he never stopped running. Bringing with a burning trail of scarlet as the flowers shifted color beneath his every touch.

He was alive. Viktor was alive. He was alive, and well, and able to run, and—

Those thoughts lay on repeat in his mind as their bodies collided with enough force that their breath were momentarily stolen from their lungs, and their footing wobbled enough that they threatened to collapse on the very soil they tore across. But it was their tightening grips upon one another—all desperation and starvation and trembling hands that wandered—that kept them upright.

“Viktor—” Jayce’s voice cracked, the raw sound bordering on a sob as he crushed Viktor against his chest. “Viktor—oh, Janna…You’re alive–”

Viktor’s fingers were no less bruising from where they pressed against Jayce’s shoulders, holding onto him like he was still terrified that this whole ordeal wasn’t real. “Jayce,” He gasped, his voice holding a tremor that Jayce had never heard from him before. “You’re—You’re here. I thought—I'm so sorry. Jayce, I'm so—”

He wasn’t given the opportunity to finish before his words were swallowed by the crushing weight of Jayce’s lips against his own.

It was far from soft and tender—a kiss that would’ve been stolen beneath the flickering lights of a late night at the lab, or in the hallways outside of the council chambers—it was shattering in the ways that made sense. With how their teeth clacked, and their lips bordered on bruising, it was as if they were attempting to pour everything they’d been through into the action.

Every year of longing. Every month of separation. Every misunderstanding. Every regret. Every mistake. Every ounce of the love they had suppressed whether intentionally or not over the years.

“We’re alive,” Was whispered against Viktor’s lips, his own parted as if to swallow the breaths that passed between them. “We’re alive.”

Viktor released a sound similar to a broken laugh, almost as if he couldn’t believe the fact himself. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Jayce’s words were scarcely above a whisper as he brushed Viktor’s hair from his face with one hand, and used the other to cradle his cheek. He moved forward as if to kiss him again, but this one lacked the intensity of the previous. It was gentle as he pressed a kiss to Viktor’s lips, then to his cheek, then the bridge of his nose, then his temple. “I’m not leaving.”

The kisses rained across Viktor’s face like worship, each one bringing a genuine smile or laugh that Jayce drank up eagerly. “I held on,” He breathed between them. “I tried so hard—I thought I lost you—When the illusion happened, I thought—”

“I know,” Viktor’s voice broke through Jayce’s rambling, just before he covered Jayce’s hand with his own upon his cheek. “I wouldn’t have let you go. Not even for a moment.”

They had made it. To where, Jayce couldn’t be certain, but it certainly was not in Runeterra. Magic was bountiful across the lands with the various mages, but never in his studies was magic of this sort around. At least, the magic of which he had seen so far.

Viktor’s hair was shorter than it had been over the span of their separation, having returned to the cropped style he had adorned when they first met. But unlike then, it now held these stunning veins of silver throughout the threshes, and Jayce was willing to bet that they would hold some sort of shine in the darker light.

Even his face bore new edges, with the heart of it all being the star shaped scar in the center of his forehead. While puckered and raw, it still was delicate in its formation, despite it being a cruel echo of the Herald’s mask he had once worn against his will. That memory brought a painful twist in his heart. A pain that worsened when he took in the left side of Viktor’s face.

The skin there bore a patch of damage that resembled a burn at first, if one was to overlook the galactic texture and color to it. With the way it glimmered once exposed to the lighting above, it looked as if stardust had frozen beneath scar tissue, while also maintaining a reminder of the Arcane corruption. Veins of color moved beneath the skin—violet, and blue, and green—and the eye set into that side was no longer the warm gold Jayce knew, but a soft, almost luminous silver.

The relief that had flooded through Jayce’s system like a tidal wave settled as frigid grief and guilt took root. So much about this outcome could’ve changed if only he had been more observant and willing to follow through with his promise to destroy the Hexcore. Because now, even though life continued to bless them and they were with one another again, Viktor was still suffering from Jayce’s past decisions.

Jayce brushed his fingers across the starlit scar, but Viktor didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned into the touch and it only fueled Jayce’s guilt. “I’m so sorry. I should have—if I’d just—”

“No,” Viktor interrupted, his fingers curling around Jayce’s so he could guide their joined hands to his lips. “I’m still here because of you. It’s all because of you.”

‘But a new cure could've been found. The Hexcore could’ve been destroyed, and your life would’ve still been spent progressing with your research in Piltover, or Zaun, or wherever it was you wish to travel. We could’ve still been helping people.’

“Jayce,” Viktor’s voice drew Jayce out of his downward spiral like a lifeline, and when his eyes opened, he saw that not even an ounce of space separated them. “I’m alive because of you. I continue to breathe his air with you, because of you. I stand here with you in my arms because of what you have done. My Jayce. My beautiful, strong, brave Jayce. It’s all in the past now, we cannot change it, but we can move forward from it.”

Those words felt like a soft blanket on a dreary, rainy day, and it warmed him just the same. Viktor was right, there was no changing the past, no matter how painful it may be. What had been done was done, and the only way forward now was to use it as a learning curve and to not let this new opportunity go to waste.

“Now I don’t know about you,” Viktor continued, running his thumb along Jayce’s knuckles. “But I feel as if we’re a bit…eh…exposed. Should we see if our other inhabitants have clothing to spare? What a couple of unexpected visitors we shall be.”

Jayce blinked. “What?” But then he looked down, and he found that no fabrics clung to their persons. They were naked. Completely, inconveniently naked. A laugh bubbled to the surface—half surprise and half disbelief—as he dragged a hand through his hair. “Ah, case in point.”

A chuckle rumbled in the depths of Viktor’s throat as he splayed a hand across Jayce’s chest, right above a pair of matching scars, and where his heart beat steadily. Like Viktor, Jayce’s chest now bore twin constellations that were as radiant as the stars above. Before their transmigration here, these scars were raised bumps that bore no difference to others aside from location, but now they looked as if a constellation had been plucked from the sky and embedded in their flesh.

Viktor’s thumb ran along the seam of one, and it seemed as if the marks flashed for a moment in response before settling back to the faint glow. “Though I would not say this view is unwanted.”

Those words earned a halfhearted bat of the hand from Jayce before they turned towards the cottage that lay nestled among the flowers just a few feet away. Even from a distance it was a welcoming little thing, with paint the color of warm butter and a roof the color of milk chocolate.

When they neared—hand in hand—they found that like the realm in which it nestled, it too was quite peculiar. The doorknob was this winding metal that looked like an upwards waterfall, and in between the shining brass were these miniscule jewels that shone in every color imaginable. Then the windows—which were on either sides of the cottage and on the upper section of the door—were these stunning stained glass pieces that Jayce swore changed designs.

When they were approaching, it looked like a white hare mid-leap above a rainbow, but now it was a willow with firelights along each drooping branch.

“Peculiar.” Viktor muttered as he raised a hand to rap against the door. The sound echoed on the opposite side, as Jayce maneuvered his body to at least provide himself some modesty when the homeowner opened it. But after a few moments, there was still silence.

Jayce tried again, and like before, the sound of the knocking was heard on the opposite side before silence greeted them once more. No shuffle of footsteps, no shifting shadow against glass, not even a cough or inhale of breath outside of their own.

“Maybe they’re out?” Jayce suggested, extending sideways with their hands still joined to look through the side window. It was difficult to see inside, even when cupping his eyes, but it did look as if it was empty.

Or the person was just indisposed in another room.

“Perhaps.” Releasing Jayce’s hand for a moment, Viktor tried jiggling the handle of the door, an action that caught Jayce’s attention immediately.

“Viktor,” Despite the volume he had been previously using, and their apparent solitude Jayce’s voice dropped to a near whisper as he returned to Viktor’s side. “We can’t just..walk in.”

With the twist of his wrist, the door opened before them, bringing with the whiff of spices, wax, and parchment.

“My mistake.” Although the words were meant to be remorseful, the mischievous flash in his eyes as he stepped inside was anything but.

For a moment Jayce lingered outside, torn between the act of breaking and entering, and desperately wanting to clothe himself somehow. But after a call of his name, his mind was made up as he entered alongside Viktor and had his breath stolen.

The inside looked like it had just stepped off the pages of some elaborate fantasy tale. Potted plants of various greenery lined the windowsills and dangled from the rafters, while some vines wound around carved wooden beams. Shelves lined the walls, some of which were overflowing with stacks of books, while others held jars of glittering ingredients, bundles of dried herbs, and stones with a faint glow that pulsed with unseen magic.

Each wooden panel held a deliberately etched engraving—various plants and creatures that were unlike those they have seen in Runeterra—and just off to the side was a grand fireplace with a fire that crackled gently. A round table stood just a little bit off from that, with a pair of mitch-matched plates and saucers set for two above delicate doilies.

Both Jayce and Viktor lingered by said table for a few breaths more, before their feet led them up a spiral staircase with a railing that was made to look like a feline’s tail. From the outside the cottage only appeared to be one floor, but as they ascended upwards, they became as endless as the new smells.

The second floor smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, and could only be considered as a study of some sort. The third floor smelled of sage and rosemary, and was a grand library with floor to ceiling bookshelves of colorful leatherbound books. Then the fourth was a bedroom, with a smell that was distinctly like that of their lab back in Piltover.

Even down to the slight tang of burning metal that they could never quite scrub free of, despite how much incense was lit or structures cleaned.

There even was the exact replica of the metal rose Jayce had hand crafted for Viktor as a celebratory gift, turned confession. After their breakthrough with the Hex Gates, Jayce had wanted to do something special for the one person who truly believed in him and made this happen. So that night he had spent it hammering in the forge to create the delicate metal blossom of beauty, which unintentionally came with a rushed declaration of his admiration towards Viktor.

He was just telling him how much he admired his dedication and intelligence, when a pair of lips covered his own and swallowed his tangent easily.

It was a symbol of their love, and it was right there on the nightstand beside the lone bed.

The door swung behind them with a soft click as the light shifted from a kaleidoscope of colors to a warm golden glow. It was like the arms of a spell, entrapping them in a loving embrace as the story was just beginning.

Chapter Text

In that bedroom, a chest had been found and it held a striking resemblance to the one Viktor had purchased during his first months in Piltover. It was this clunky thing the color of the richest tavern brown maple wood, and it was enveloped in these leather straps that looked as aged as the rest of the trunk. Aside from these golden clasps distinctly in the Talis house crest. Viktor had said time and time again that he would replace that hunk of wood, given that he spent most of his time tripping over its bulk, but every time Jayce visited, he found it still in its spot at the foot of the bed.

A strange look had crossed Viktor’s expression upon this realization. One that bordered on a perfect blend of surprise, grief, confusion, and joy, and it only seemed to strengthen when he ran his hand along the surface of it and stilled just before one of the crests.

“Clever coincidence?” Viktor questioned, although his tone held a note that showed he was not exactly certain of that himself. But with a sharp inhale of breath, his fingers unfastened the clasp that kept the chest sealed, then lifted the lid to reveal a plethora of memories.

Such as a photo taken during Viktor’s acceptance at the academy with him standing beside Heimerdinger, and a faint smile pulling at his lips, a dented button that he had stumbled upon but took a fancy to its unique detailing, an envelope addressed to him with the wax seal of House Talis remaining tuff and firm upon its surface, and a photo of them taken during their win at the Innovator’s Competition.

They were all cleverly sectioned upon the inner lid as if placed there by Viktor himself, and given the way his posture had stiffened to a stillness…this must not be any different than what the interior looked like in their realm.

“There are coincidences, and then there are deliberate intentions,” Viktor murmured, his hand tightening upon the lid. “But this…this was not my doing, nor do I feel the Arcane’s influence here. So how is this possible?”

Jayce was not aware of the full extent to Viktor’s powers, not outside what had been shown before their arrival here, nor did he know if they still were with him as strongly. But he had been in the Astral Plane long enough to know the feel of the Arcane’s capabilities glossing over his body, and the influence of magic in Runeterra. Neither of those two were present here, but at the same time, he didn’t feel the edge of danger from something that meant harm.

He approached Viktor and lowered himself to his side to cover his hand with his own. There was a faint tremor there, one he didn’t notice from the short distance that originally separated them, and his heart itched to quell it.

“Magic…is limitless. Every realm, every dimension has their own differentiation. It adapts,” Jayce’s thumb moved across Viktor’s knuckles as if trying to draw the anxiety into his own person. “Perhaps it…learned from us.”

“Isn’t that more concerning? If it can adapt to this…what else can it do? This is my exact chest, Jayce. These are my photos. My chest. My—Our memories.”

“Happier memories. Everything we have seen has been from better times. The rose…the smell of the lab…now this,” With his free hand, Jayce carefully removed the photo from the Innovator’s Competition and held it between them with a fond smile. Although it too held the beginnings of a tremor. “This is not necessarily a bad thing if it’s helping us.”

“That’s what we thought about the Hexcore as well, and we are far too aware of how that resulted.”

Jayce froze. Those words crashed through his chest like a hammer on brittle glass, and for a split second, he wasn’t in this strange room, wasn’t sitting beside Viktor and holding his trembling hand…he was back in Piltover, watching that impossible creation hum and breathe as though it had a will of its own. He saw the faint purple glow etching itself into Viktor’s veins, the way the man he loved swayed under the weight of its power, skin drawn taut over bones, body failing and yet clinging to the promise of more.

He saw what the Hexcore had done when it had been infused with Viktor to save his life. He saw the world in which the Arcane’s influence had torn it asunder, leaving no life but the mage he had idolized since his youth.

The Hexcore had been beautiful, yes, but it had devoured them, piece by piece, until their dream was nothing more than a whisper of words between two naive men.

He almost flinched away. Almost. To recoil back much like Viktor had when he saw the chest, but instead his gaze shifted back to Viktor. To the man in front of him, not the shadows of what had been. Viktor’s hand was still trembling under his, still so fragile and real, and Jayce forced the visions to the back of his skull. Not now. Not when Viktor was the one fighting to stay steady.

“We hadn’t been able to fully understand the Arcane magic. We—I was too blindsided by all that it couldn’t, that I didn’t see what it could do. Not all magic is bad,” Jayce swallowed hard, managed a small, quiet breath, and squeezed Viktor’s hand more firmly. The photo was lowered once more as he guided Viktor’s hand to his lips, where light kisses were placed upon each finger. “This magic gave us a second chance. It gave us a home, if only temporary until its owner returns, and it gave us comfort when we needed it most.”

Viktor’s expression remained guarded, but his eyes did shift towards Jayce rather than where they had been transfixed upon the chest.

“It did save you…”

“And you.”

Silence stretched between them for moments that stretched like hours, but when Viktor spoke again, it was with the moving his fingers across Jayce’s lips in a gentle yet somewhat teasing caress. Jayce welcomed it. He parted his lips and allowed the sensation to bleed away his own growing uncertainties of this new world, and listened as if Viktor was the prophet.

“Should we be partners once again, and figure out this magic together?”

“There’s no one else I’d rather spend it with.”

The tension visibly bled from Viktor’s form then, relaxing to something softer as he turned his attention towards what was in the chest rather than what was upon it. Inside, beneath a woven blanket holding the wear of years was a collection of clothing separated into two sections. On the left were drooping fabrics of fitting size to Viktor, and on the right were muted colors with elaborate detailing that were broad enough and pinched accurately that they were precisely to Jayce’s measurements.

“Does this place truly believe this is of my taste?” Viktor questioned with disdain as he lifted a flowing blouse with a back that parted elegantly in the back. With the way the emerald jewel strung itself from a golden chain down the center of it, it was certainly a beautiful piece, but apparently Viktor’s complaints were heard as the fabric unwound itself in his hands.

Both men startled at that, with Viktor dropping the elongated strand upon the clothing beneath, then watching with cautious wonder as it began to spin as if invisible hands were sewing it back to restoration. Black turned as white as a winter’s snow, and soon a tunic was crafted that was loose in the sleeves and shoulders, but narrow at the wrists. Then the emerald jewel winked, before it too melted into a pair of pants that were a dark, supple weave with narrow cuffs, held up by slender brown suspenders.

“Try it on?” Jayce prodded, his voice breathy with wonder.

Viktor hesitated for a moment, but then he was lifting the fabrics in hand and sleeping them upon his person. Jayce watched, because of course he did, his eyes soft with affection and glimmering with an almost naive sense of wonder. As Viktor was adjusting his sleeves, he caught Jayce’s stare and his lips upturned.

“Planning to continue wearing your birthday suit, Jayce? Not that I would mind such a view, but our possible host would likely not share my thoughts.”

“A-Ah. Yes, right.” With a clear to his throat, Jayce lifted the outfit that lay on the top of the right pile. Unlike Viktor’s who had replaced the elegant grandeur with something simpler, Jayce’s still held that edge. His blouse of the same white had gold leaf detailing around the cuffs, and his pants were not held up by suspenders, but rather by a tied length of layered blue ivory and blue fabric that caught the light whenever he moved.

Now it was Jayce’s turn to catch Viktor staring, and he used it as an opportunity to draw Viktor closer. “I do believe this is a situation where I should be telling you to take a picture. It would last longer.”

Viktor hummed. “I do believe this is the first time I’ve seen you in these colors,” His fingers found the knot of Jayce’s sash and rested there. “It suits you.”

Warmth flooded Jayce then, spurred by the unexpected compliment and the close proximity. But before Jayce could summon words to bridge the silence that stretched afterwards, or draw Viktor into the kiss he was desiring, Viktor’s thumb brushed over the pulse in his wrist and continued as if he hadn’t even paused.

“Earlier…your mind was elsewhere. Where did you go?”

Leave it to Viktor to see through the walls, and to know when something was troubling his mind even when Jayce hadn’t put it to words.

“Just about— He cut himself short, unwilling to say it aloud again after he had just brought comfort. “—everything we lost. And what we might lose again.”

Viktor’s hand slid from Jayce’s wrist to his cheek, his cool fingers cupping the warmth there. “We have lost enough,” he said, his tone neither sharp nor dismissive, but certain. “As you have just told me, do not let ghosts of what was steal what is left to us now.”

Jayce leaned into the touch, his eyes slipping shut at the contact. “You always speak like that,” Jayce muttered, voice muffled. “Like you’ve already made peace with everything.”

“Perhaps I have only learned the futility of fighting inevitabilities,” There was a faint curve to Viktor’s lips, something halfway between wry amusement and ache. “But even inevitabilities can be lived with… if one remembers to eat.”

That earned a startled laugh from Jayce. “Eat?”

“Food has always been your first remedy,” Viktor said, his own laughter glimmering faintly beneath the words. “Whenever deadlines or council work were too stressful, you bring in those pastries, remember? You swore they helped you think.”

“I did think better on a full stomach,” Jayce replied with mock dignity. “You were the one who accused me of distraction every time I brought in a plate.”

“Because you offered me half and then forgot it existed the moment inspiration struck,” Viktor’s fingers fell away, his tone softening as he stepped toward the door. “If this place has gone so far as to replicate my chest, perhaps it will be generous enough to provide a meal as well.”

Jayce moved to follow him, something lighter returning to his chest where grief had sat moments before. “Do you think there’ll be anything edible?”

“Come. Let us see what other comforts it remembers.”

The air was faintly warm beyond the bedroom, much like a sunspot on a summer’s day, and from somewhere below drifted the scent of bread, honey, and something rich with spice. Jayce’s stomach answered before his words did.

Viktor glanced back over his shoulder. “It seems,” he said. “This place knows you too.”

Jayce only hummed in response, and drifted down the stairs in pursuit of the scent. Yet when they reached the ground floor where it was strongest, no bread or sweet welcomed them. Not even a flame licking at the stove’s burners showed itself, or a candle that could be mistaken as a delicacy. But there was a pantry built into the wall near the stove, and when Jayce creaked open the doors, it revealed a surprising bounty.

Jars of dried herbs, roots, meats, and spices, bundles of preserved fruits wrapped in linen, unlabeled tins filled with grains and flours of various impossible colors lined the shelves, and above were mushrooms and garlic strung up to dry.

Jayce wrinkled his nose at the jar with crimson seed like things as he fought against the urge to sneeze. It burned, but it also held a sweet scent to it that made him wonder. “No idea what this is…but it smells as if paprika and cinnamon had a baby.”

Viktor chuckled from where he stood beside Jayce examining one of the mystery herbs. “Dangerous combination.”

“I’m making it work.” He rolled up his sleeves and began pulling various ingredients onto the counter. He moved with the surety of someone well versed in the rhythm of cooking, even without knowing what these ingredients may be. But a taste test here, and a comparison to familiar tastes in Runeterra guided him along, until he was combining them in a giant soup pot that had suddenly appeared when both their backs were turned.

It should’ve surprised them, but given everything else that had occurred, they merely blinked and carried on.

At first Jayce was silent, the only sounds coming from the gradually bubbling pot upon the stove, the lick of flames, and the soft tingle of windchimes from somewhere outdoors. But when Viktor’s arms wrapped around his waist to lean against him, a low, melodic hum rumbled in his throat. It wasn’t anything peculiar, just a merry tune that gradually softened to a lullaby that his mother often sang to him whenever they were partnering in the kitchen.

“After we eat,” Jayce murmured, leaning back just the smallest fraction as he added a pinch of spice to the pot. “We should look around. The field, the woods, maybe even beyond that ridge. Who knows what lies before us.”

“Mm…I am curious about those, what’s the word…puffs in the sky. They have a striking resemblance to Porofessor. I wonder if they are as durable.”

At those words, Jayce’s entire body shook with the full weight of his laughter. “Are you wanting to test that with another Hexclaw beam?”

“That was merely an accident. I wouldn’t dare.”

The meal has been something both sweet and savory, and paired with a tea that tasted faintly of rosemary. Although small in serving, it had been as filling as if granted a feast meant for a king, and brought a rejuvenated surge of energy to their tired bones.

As if knowing they had eaten their fill, their dishes rose into the air, and with an elaborate swirl, all traces of their food disappeared, and the plates returned to their places within the cupboards.

“It seems your cooking has improved,” Viktor murmured, his voice soft with both teasing and genuine awe. “Though I do not recall you including levitation in the recipe.”

Jayce opened his mouth to respond, but stopped short when his spoon lifted neatly from the table. It hovered there for a moment with a slight tilt, reminding Jayce of a small creature inclining its head in curiosity, then like the other dishes, it spun once…twice…then it neatly stacked itself in one of the open silverware drawers.

Jayce blinked, as half a laugh stuck in his throat. “What do you mean? It was definitely part of the recipe.”

Viktor tilted his head, watching the performance with a faint smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps the cottage is pleased with our appreciation. A… house spirit, maybe?”

“Or it just doesn’t like mess.” Jayce said, still staring as the cupboard doors shut with a polite click.

“Then we are kindred souls,” Viktor said dryly, earning a snort from Jayce.

They sat in the gentle quiet that followed, the scent of herbs and warm bread still hanging in the air. Outside, the light through the window had shifted. That strange, shimmering glow of a world not quite bound by their old rules spilled across the wooden floor, and pooled near Viktor’s chair like liquid amber.

Jayce pushed himself to his feet, offering a hand toward him. “Ready to see what else this place can do?”

Viktor looked at the offered hand, then at Jayce’s face. He hesitated only a heartbeat before placing his palm against his. Jayce’s grip was sure, solid, grounding against the strangeness of everything else.

“Together, then.” Viktor said.

“Always.” Jayce answered, a smile flickering in his voice.

Their fingers intertwined as they stepped out into the shimmering air beyond the cottage, where the trees glowed faintly at their edges and the world itself seemed to hold its breath. As if waiting to be discovered.

Around them, the world pulsed with impossible life.

The field surrounding the cottage changed again, but instead of being those white blooms that changed between scarlet and emerald when touched, they were now shifting lilac, soft mint, and an iridescent silver with each pass of the breeze. And upon them now were these tiny specs that shimmered like stars, and only grew brighter with each disturbance.

The path that lay within this sea of beauty was not a path at all, but merely a suggestion. The flowers bent underfoot in swirling trails to form a temporary road that only solidified when stepped upon, and returned to its previous state once they had made a good enough distance away. These led them to a grove of glowing trees where the bark looked like polished opal, and the leaves shone with bioluminescence.

Urged by the alien beauty of it, Jayce trailed his free hand along one of the trunks, and it rippled at his touch.

“What does it feel like?”

“Like…water, strangely enough,” Jayce’s eyes flicked up the length of it, looking between the leaves as if he would find something there. “It doesn’t feel solid, but it also doesn’t quite feel like liquid yet. I feel like my hand should be wet, but it’s not.”

Viktor’s hand joined Jayce’s upon the bark, then immediately recoiled. “It’s freezing!”

Freezing? How?

“What do you mean? It doesn’t feel any different than anything else we’ve touched.”

“Jayce, it felt as if I had decided to lift an ice cube with my bare hands.”

Jayce’s brows furrowed as he finally dropped his hand from the trunk, then rubbed it absently against his thigh, as though to dispel a chill that wasn’t truly there. Viktor, meanwhile, lingered a moment longer, studying the tree’s opalescent bark. Beneath the shimmer, veins of pale light pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat, or the breathing of some vast, slumbering thing.

“Strange,” Viktor murmured. “It reacts differently to us both.”

“More magic.”

They moved on, following the ghost of the path as it wound deeper into the grove. The trees grew taller here, their trunks twisting together in slow spirals that glittered like glass beneath moonlight. Every so often, the ground shuddered softly, and petals—bright as tiny lanterns—drifted down in silence.

Jayce slowed his steps. “Do you hear that?”

A faint hum threaded through the forest. It reminded him of water running over stone, though it was too rhythmic, too deliberate to be ordinary.

Viktor tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he listened. “Water. There must be a stream nearby.”

They pressed further on until they came upon a stream, or what they thought was a stream. It wound between trees as a ribbon, but the water flowed upwards in defiance of gravity. They stared at their reflections only to find that it didn’t quite move when they did. Their mirrored selves blinked too slowly, their movements were delayed, as if it was merely casting a replay of what had already been done.

It was unsettling, but harmless. Much like the creature that leapt across their feet from the underbrush.

It looked like a frog at first, a hefty, round creature with bright eyes, and flesh a deep blue. But when it leapt into the air and landed for the second time, its flesh peeled away to reveal these furrowed wings that were delicate and veined like stained glass. As it took off into the sky with a trail of golden dust, it revealed these floating islands that had certainly not been there upon their arrival, and each one harbored a grove of trees upon its underside.

The magic here was wild and unpredictable, and as the breeze swirled around them a voice settled over them.

Did they even escape the rune?