Ekko was alone, once again. The lights of Zaun were dimmer that night, as if even the city itself could feel the heavy melancholy weighing on him. He stood before the city, its streets lit by the faint glow of small stars made from burned paper. But tonight, everything felt silent on his side. He felt neither the warmth of the lights nor the excitement of Zaun's new era. Only a cold solitude, an emptiness that even this victory couldn't fill.

In his hands: a crumpled piece of paper, edges torn, covered in childish drawings. He had drawn it years ago. This paper was his last connection to a past he could no longer relive, yet one he could never fully let go of. It was a reminder of Powder. The paper depicted a version of their world that no longer existed, a time of innocence, of hopes, and of broken promises.

She was there, frozen in the drawing, with her big eyes full of hope.

Powder, before she became Jinx. Before the entire world came crashing down around them, before the war, the betrayals, and the impossible choices changed the person she had once been, forever.

Ekko stood there, his fingers trembling, gazing at the image of Powder with painful attention. He still remembered those moments: the two children, their eyes shining with hope, dreaming of a future they would never have. He remembered the small smile she gave him when she showed him her drawings, the spark in her eyes. It felt like it belonged to another life. A different version of himself.

He had found this drawing in a dusty corner of his old workshop, after he had been forced to flee. All that remained of that bygone time was this fragile memory, barely a vestige of who they had been. A simple piece of paper, but for Ekko, it represented everything he had lost.

Grief was a strange thing.

It wasn't just the loss of a person, but the loss of an entire world—one where dreams were possible, where pain was not yet insurmountable, where Powder was not yet lost. When he had first seen this drawing, he hadn't known it would be the last peaceful moment before everything changed. Before they became enemies, survivors, and finally, ghosts to one another.

Ekko's fingers tightened around the paper, a wave of sorrow overwhelming him, deep and unfathomable. He had done his best to save her, but every decision made, every action taken, had dug a wider chasm between them. Every word he had said, every gesture of comfort, had been useless in the face of the suffering she carried within. He had watched her smile fade, replaced by that wild rage. Jinx. That creature of chaos, the woman he both hated and loved at once, a figure his mind tried to push away, but who always returned.

But Powder was still there, deep inside him, as present as the memory of their childhood.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories flood him. The scene of their final confrontation, their last gaze. He still heard her voice, full of pain, full of rejection. "I'm Jinx now, Ekko." Those words still echoed in his mind, like a bell tolling. It was her final farewell, her last rejection. He never wanted it. He never wanted this end. But he didn't know how to help her, how to save her from her own madness. He hadn't known how to stop her from getting lost in the darkness.

He hated her and he still loved her.

He found himself staring at the paper in his hands, an inner decision slowly forming in his mind. Every fiber of his being told him to leave this memory behind, to burn it, destroy it, so he could finally move on. He had to get rid of this image of her, this part of his past that prevented him from breathing.

He knew he could never truly turn the page as long as he kept this memory. It was like a dead weight, an invisible chain that kept him from breaking free. But at the same time, the simple act of burning this drawing, destroying it, would be a victory over everything he had lost. He would feel freedom settle in, a bitter relief, but a necessary one.

With a trembling hand, he took a match. The paper, so fragile, seemed almost to resist. It was a rare and precious thing, almost sacred. But Ekko knew that destroying this drawing was the only way to move forward. He had to break the last tie to a time long gone, to a version of himself that could never return.

He struck the match, the flame crackling in the dimness. His eyes stayed fixed on the paper as it began to slowly burn. The blackness spread across the edges, creeping slowly, until nothing remained but ashes. The details of her drawing, the lines of Powder, the fragile silhouette of a child full of hope—all of it slowly faded in the heat of the flame. He watched it disappear, in silence.

The flame danced before him, bright and cruel, a cruel reminder of everything he had lost and everything he had sacrificed to get here. He could no longer save her, but he had to save himself. He had to move forward, for Zaun, for himself, for the peace he had never known. Except in that other world, a world he did not belong to...

The paper burned slowly, turning to ashes. The last remnants of Powder, the one person he had shared so many dreams and aspirations with, were gone in smoke. He had nothing left to hold onto. But inside, he knew that loss wasn't measured in things or memories. Loss was measured in what he felt. That emptiness. That absence. That permanent grief.

When the last corner of the paper burned away, Ekko straightened slowly. He hadn't cried. There was no room for tears. He was no longer a child. He was a leader, a survivor. But deep inside, he knew he had lost something precious, something he would never get back. And even though the flame had burned everything away, the pain remained.

He let the ashes fall, watching the last trace of Powder disappear into the air. He knew he would never truly forget. But at least, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he had taken control of his own future.

And the path ahead of him was lonelier than ever.

----

The morning light bathed the streets of Zaun in a warm, golden glow, contrasting with the electric atmosphere of the previous day. Ekko walked through the city's alleyways, a modest smile on his lips, greeting the children who jumped on him, seeking attention, a smile, or even an autograph. Some had even become impromptu fans, mimicking gestures he had made during the war. Behind him, his friends, Scar and the others from his group, skillfully navigated the streets on their skateboards, hopping from wall to wall. Zaun, their city, was slowly being reborn under the heat of acclaim, but for Ekko, the shadow of the past still loomed.

He turned the corner and saw Vi. She was standing in front of a wall, admiring a new graffiti that a group of kids had just painted. He approached quietly, his footsteps echoing on the cobblestone ground. When she turned towards him, he saw it. The spark of madness was no longer in her eyes. Instead, there was resignation, calm, but also a lingering pain that he knew all too well. Ekko stopped in front of her.

"Are you holding up?" he asked, a sincere but tired smile on his lips. Vi nodded without immediately answering. Her gaze was fixed on the drawing on the wall.

"I guess you could say that," she replied in a quiet, almost muted voice. She turned toward him, looking at him for a moment with that familiar spark of friendship but also a sense of vulnerability. "And you, Ekko? Do you feel like a hero now?"

Ekko smiled, a slightly sad smile, but he didn't have time to respond. Vi turned slightly to show him her back, and Ekko noticed something new. A tattoo. A delicate blue cloud etched into Vi's skin, just below her shoulder, the outline almost perfect. It was a soft shape, but full of meaning.

He froze for a moment. This tattoo... it was Powder's. The blue cloud. It was the same one they had painted together. The one they had traced on their bodies before the war, a symbolic act of transformation. But now, it was more than that. It was a tribute, a silent promise he couldn't ignore.

"It's for her, isn't it?" Ekko whispered, his voice strangely calm.

Vi remained silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on the tattoo as though trying to engrave it in her mind one last time before answering.

"Yeah... It's for Jinx," she said, her voice a bit rougher. "She's still here, somewhere." Her eyes shone with an unspoken sadness. "I wanted to tell her I'll never forget her."

Ekko felt a weight settle on his shoulders. He knew that pain. He understood what it meant. But he also knew, for a long time, that he could never truly understand what it felt like to lose his sister. Nor what it meant to continue living with a ghost.

And then, suddenly, the image of Vi with that tattoo faded from his mind, replaced by another memory, one much older, the one he could never erase. He closed his eyes for a moment, and everything froze. The flashback flooded him as he relived the scene from the past, in the turbine, just before the war began.

He saw her again, standing on the edge, ready to erase everything. Jinx, Powder before her transformation. She was there, at the moment he had rewound time, where each second seemed like it could save them. He had approached her without hesitation, without thinking. He had taken her in his arms from behind, firmly, in a protective gesture, to hold her back, to stop her from falling into the void.

He relived every detail. The way his fingers had closed around her, almost instinctively, trying to save her. The softness of her skin under his hands. And in that embrace, he had felt something he had never perceived before: a bond, a desperate love, but also a deep sadness. It had been so long since he had felt her touch in that way. It was different now. They weren't the same anymore. But that contact, that simple gesture to unite them again in their shared pain, had warmed his heart in an unexpected way. Jinx's skin, warm under his fingers, the fragility of her life between his arms, all of it moved him more than he could have imagined.

"I won't let you go," he had whispered, but deep down, he knew he couldn't promise that. He had rewound time, four seconds at a time, hoping it would be enough to save her. But it was more than magic. It was the will to not lose her, a desperate struggle.

The seconds stretched in his mind, each small stretch of time like an eternity. And when, at last, Powder stopped fighting her own pain and accepted his help, he felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders. But it wasn't over. She had pulled away from him, broken but safe. The only sound that echoed in the air was Powder's ragged breathing and the heavy silence between them.

"I'm holding you, Powder," he had wanted to say. But he didn't have the words. He had let his heart carry what he felt. She wasn't just a lost sister. She was also his friend, his true love, his alter ego, his opposite, his madness. It was Powder, the little girl he had known, the one he had always wanted to protect. Sadly, without success...

"I know, Vi. I know you'll never forget her. But she'll always be with us, in what we do."

Ekko's gaze slowly drifted to the hair elastic hanging from her fingers. He touched his hair, exactly where Powder had once put the elastic for him, before everything fell apart. It was a small gesture, an intimate memory he kept for himself. If he didn't have a tattoo, if Vi had chosen this symbol, at least he had that: the elastic, a thin thread connecting his past to his present. It was his way of keeping the memory alive, even if it wasn't as obvious as the blue cloud etched into Vi's skin. He looked at Vi, trying to support her, but also to understand what she felt. Losing Jinx had been devastating for her. Ekko knew that this war, and the scars left by Powder and Jinx's separation, would leave indelible marks. Perhaps more than for him. He had been lucky enough to escape such a tragic end, but the loss of his sister and the absence of Jinx... it was a pain he could never erase.

"You know... I feel like, despite all this, we never really forget," Ekko said, his tone thoughtful, as if speaking to himself. "No matter what we do, no matter what we become, all of this stays with us. Maybe not in tattoos, but in the skin, in the heart."

Vi looked at him for a moment, her eyes hardening with pain and nostalgia. She made a slight movement, as if trying to shake off the emotion rising within her, but she didn't respond right away. Her fingers brushed the tattoo, her gaze lost in the blue cloud.

Suddenly, Ekko felt a chill run down his back. Mel was waiting for them, and it wasn't for a casual meeting. The council meeting. There was no escaping it. Mel had summoned them both, and there was no denying it: they weren't exactly welcome.

"You think we'll survive this?" Ekko asked, his tone less light this time. "I mean... the war is over, but everything still needs to be rebuilt. Zaun... Piltover. All of it."

Vi looked at him with intense eyes, then nodded slightly, though uncertainty still lingered in her gaze.

"We don't really have a choice. We have to do what we have to do," she replied.

They set off, crossing the busy streets of Zaun, the children running around them with wild energy. But the excitement seemed too artificial, like a mask placed over a darker truth. Everything wasn't resolved, and it would take more than graffiti and tattoos to heal the deep wounds left by this war. Their role, both of them, in this reconstruction, would be heavy.

When they reached the large building where the council meeting was held, Ekko felt a heaviness in his stomach. Mel was waiting inside, cold and distant, ready to negotiate, to impose her power. But behind her political mask, Ekko knew she too had her own scars.

"Ready?" Vi asked, turning to Ekko before stepping through the door. But in her eyes, a flame of defiance burned, a flame Ekko understood well. They weren't just there to play the power game. They were there to rebuild, to repair, but also to stay true to their own ideals.

"Ready," Ekko replied, his voice determined.

The door closed behind them, and the sound of their footsteps echoed in the silence of the council room.

The council chamber was more austere than ever, its cold, imposing walls resonating with the heavy silence of unspoken tensions. The lingering scent of war debris still hung in the air, permeating every corner of Piltover. Signs of destruction were everywhere, from the dust that never seemed to settle to the partially ruined buildings that served as reminders of the recent battles. Reconstruction was progressing slowly, but the shadow of the Illuminations and the battles that had followed remained ever-present.

Murmurs filled the room before the doors opened, and Ekko and Vi entered, their footsteps echoing in the solemn space. Ekko, now recognized as a hero of Zaun but far from being an official in Piltover's arena, surveyed the faces around the table with measured caution. He had grown up leading fights in the dark alleys of Zaun, not navigating the political intrigues of Piltover's high society. But the war had changed things, and his role, though still that of a young leader, had taken on a significance he hadn't anticipated.

At the center of the room, the members of the new council were gathered. The faces of Mel, Caitlyn, and Janna were familiar, but there were also new figures at the table—personalities forged in the fires of war and reconstruction. Among them was Sevika, the former Zaun gang leader, now an influential member of the fragile alliance between Piltover and Zaun. The other members, mostly figures from recent struggles and growing tensions with Noxus, took their seats around the table. Among them, Caitlyn seemed more thoughtful than usual, her eye patch hiding part of her bloody past. The shadow of Heimerdinger, once an iconic figure of the council and a defender of peace between Zaun and Piltover, was still felt. But in his place, Janna, a more pragmatic and tougher woman, had taken over his role as advisor after the professor's disappearance.

Ekko and Vi took their seats at one end of the table. The silence was heavy, oppressive.

"Thank you all for gathering here," began Mel, her voice commanding respect. Her gaze briefly swept over Ekko and Vi, a hint of acknowledgment in her eyes, but also a firmness that allowed no room for weakness. "Piltover is slowly recovering from the war, but the rebuilding is more than just physical. There are forces beyond our control still threatening our stability. This is why we must discuss what comes next."
The other members of the council exchanged looks. Caitlyn, the brilliant strategist of Piltover, spoke up. Her eye patch was a tangible hint of her recent past, a war she had fought not only against the enemy but also against her own wounds.

"The impact of the war isn't just in the ruins. Noxus is now a major player in this region. Swain, their general, is more than just a leader. He manipulates the tensions between Piltover and Zaun to strengthen his own power. His spies—his crows—are everywhere, and he sends agents to infiltrate our networks."

Sevika, a face marked by war, leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table with a grimace of discontent.
"I've heard of this Swain. He's not just a man with crows. He's a strategist, a master manipulator. He wants to exploit the weaknesses between Piltover and Zaun. He saw we were at our weakest point, and he's ready to meddle in our affairs. If you ask me, it's his intention to use the tensions between us to justify his influence."

Ekko, who had been listening attentively, turned to Caitlyn. He remembered his own suspicions about the crows and how information seemed to spread quickly, often before they even knew it.

"You talk about crows," Ekko said, furrowing his brow, making the connection in his mind. "I've seen them too, in Zaun. We call them 'black crows.' They're sort of spies, messengers. But it's more than that. These crows are more than just an information network. I've been told they can influence the air, the mist, and be used to instill fear among the people. There's something mystical about it."
As he spoke, his gaze swept the room, noticing the distant attitude of the council members, who hadn't forgotten his past or how he had played a part in the recent events. Even though he had saved some lives during the war, the political and social scars between Piltover and Zaun were still very much present.
He turned to Caitlyn, who seemed less defensive, but an invisible coldness lingered in her gaze, as if she were judging him first and foremost by what he represented. When he spoke of the crows and Swain, a palpable tension rose in the air, and one of the council members, a large man with a disdainful look, made a sharp remark.

"I suppose it's easy to play the hero when you have nothing to lose," he sneered, a sarcastic smile on his lips. "But the issues we're dealing with here can't be solved by impulsive actions like the ones you've gotten us used to, Ekko."
Mel, who had been silently observing, seemed visibly uncomfortable with the remark, but she didn't intervene. Caitlyn, for her part, said nothing, but her eye patch perhaps hid more than it revealed. Ekko, in turn, understood that the mistrust between Piltover and Zaun was far from dissipating.

He took a deep breath before responding, his gaze fixed on the man who had just criticized him.
"Maybe," Ekko replied calmly, "but as long as we keep looking in the rearview mirror, we won't see what's waiting ahead." His voice was steady. "I know you like to get lost in the political details, but Swain and his crows are already inside our walls. You can keep talking, but they won't wait for you."
Janna, who had remained silent until then, sat up and fixed Ekko with a penetrating look

.
"It's not just a matter of political power, Ekko," she explained in a chillingly calm voice. "It's also a matter of psychological influence. Swain has a connection with the crows, but these creatures are not just messengers. They represent his will, his way of embodying the invisible. If we're not careful, he could use the tensions between Piltover and Zaun to manipulate not only the governments but also the citizens themselves."

The council members exchanged worried glances, aware that the situation was becoming even more complicated than they had imagined. Sevika, meanwhile, kept her gaze fixed on Ekko, but a sly smile betrayed her appreciation for his response. She had always had a form of respect for him, even if she understood that some council members had reservations.
"He's right," Sevika said, her eyes scanning the other members at the table, "if the crows really have that power, we need to take it very seriously. We've seen how quickly tensions can escalate between Piltover and Zaun. If Swain takes control of perceptions and public opinion, we'll all be caught in a whirlwind that will be hard to escape from," she intervened. Her harsh tone betrayed her experience in power struggles.

The discussion continued, with each council member offering their perspective on the situation. But Ekko, though he understood the importance of these geopolitical strategies, felt a little lost in this world of intrigue and calculation. It wasn't his area of expertise. He was thinking about Zaun, his hometown, and how it would rebuild. But Swain's plans worried him.
"We need to watch out for another aspect," Sevika interjected, her tone sharp. "Swain is smart, but he can also be unpredictable. If we let him play with our internal divisions, we're heading straight for another conflict. If we really want to avoid that, we have to stay united and not fall into his traps."
Caitlyn nodded, her face tight with thought. Her eye patch reinforced her appearance as a war veteran, a woman whose scars were far more than physical.

"We first need to stabilize the situation in Piltover, but we can't ignore the external pressures. Zaun has a key role to play in this alliance. The tensions between the two cities are still very much alive, and if Swain exploits them, we risk going to war again."

Silence fell as everyone reflected on the situation. Ekko, arms crossed, looked around the room. This was a moment where every decision seemed to carry heavy consequences. What was at stake here wasn't just the future of Piltover, but the future of the entire region.

He turned to Vi, a look heavy with unspoken words and emotions not expressed. She too seemed to be thinking about something else, about more personal memories—the war, their past, and the loss of Jinx. That last connection between them, the memory of Powder, was what kept them afloat.

Ekko gritted his teeth. This was no time to falter, but in that room, surrounded by faces as marked by the events as his own, he knew that what had just been said was only the beginning of a war that would not only be fought with weapons but also with minds.

And Swain's crows would be at the heart of that battle.

----

The airship shook its wings under the cool wind of Demacia. Jinx stepped down from the airship, her boots striking heavily against the cold Demacian ground. The wind blew fiercely, but she didn't care. It had been weeks since she left Zaun, since she had moved away from the dark alleys and chaos. Now, she found herself in this distant city, surrounded by imposing walls and a culture that was completely foreign to her. Demacia. Demacia was not Piltover, nor was it Zaun, yet it was the only place where she could hope to hide. Here, she was nobody. Just a shadow among others. A place she had only heard of from afar, in frightened whispers, rumors she often heard from Silco, and fragments of conversations among the Piltover family. A kingdom far from Zaun, a place where magic was feared, almost forbidden, and where she was nothing more than trash that needed to disappear.

There was a time when she thought Demacia was just another place with its own rules and powerful men, a place she would eventually forget in the chaos of war. But here, everything felt colder, more structured, more orderly than she had imagined. No dark alleys, no bars of iron and steel where she could hide. No, Demacia was a city of light and order, with unremarkable cobblestone streets, white marble buildings, and a breeze that carried a scent of power and perfection. It was... strange.

She pulled her coat tighter around her, blending into the crowd of inhabitants dressed in neat and orderly clothes, their posture straight and their faces determined. She made an effort not to stand out, not to draw attention. She let her steps guide her, her mind waging a silent battle. Jinder... This name she had chosen, this new identity, was more than just a mask. It was her refuge. Her remedy. A way to escape, to distance herself from Powder, the fragile little girl she had been, from Jinx, the madness she had become. Jinder was who she wanted to be. A silent, cold figure, far from the flashes of light she had left behind. Her mind froze for a moment, memories flashing back, uncontrollable flashes of the devastated city, the explosion of her memories, and the war that had forced her to flee. The streets were vast, wide, paved with neat, square stones. The sunlight reflected off the white buildings, presenting an image of cold perfection that sent a chill through her heart. This wasn't Zaun. This wasn't Piltover. It was a place that hadn't seen her born, grow up, or lose her sister. She forced herself to focus. A new beginning. That's what she had told herself, right? But at every corner, at every child running and laughing, she felt more and more like a stranger.

A group of children ran ahead of her, laughing joyfully. They seemed carefree, full of life, like a bright light amidst this orderly city. Jinx paused for a moment, a freezing coldness invading her body. She watched them for a moment, remembering Isha, a face she had lost touch with, but now returning with a sharp pain. She froze, a vision of Powder, the little girl she had been, brushed against her thoughts. She had nothing of that anymore. No childhood. No family. No connection to the past. Isha, she had wanted to protect her... But now, she was alone.

She looked away and quickened her pace. She couldn't stop. Not here. Not now. Not in this perfect kingdom.

She was heading to the outskirts of Demacia, away from the main roads, where the shadows seemed to harbor secrets. The evening light only allowed her to distinguish silhouettes, but in the distance, she heard loud voices and hurried footsteps. The scene unfolding before her made her stop in her tracks: a group of guards were rushing down an alley, their attention fixed on a figure who seemed to be fleeing. Jinx, or rather Jinder, watched the scene with a detached expression, before noticing the glow that accompanied the figure. A burst of light – a sudden explosion, like a spark in the night – and she saw a young woman escaping her pursuers. A beam of light streaked through the air, drawing ethereal shapes, as the opponent tried to contain this magic. Light. A pure and dazzling magic, spilling around the fugitive. Jinx froze for a moment, a shiver running down her spine. This was not something she saw often, and not something she wanted to see here. She knew that magic was not well-regarded here.

The guards were shouting orders and trying to surround her, but the figure was slipping away with incredible grace, her hands throwing off bright flashes. The young woman seemed to be fleeing, but her powers were betraying her. With every burst of light, she became more vulnerable. Jinx didn't need to think long. She slipped out of the shadows, positioning herself to intercept the soldiers. She leaped onto one of them, bringing him down with a precise blow, then turned towards the young magician who had drawn her here.

The fugitive looked at her, a gleam of distrust in her eyes, but she didn't have time to say anything. The other guards were getting closer. Without a word, Jinx grabbed the young woman by the hand, pulling her with her into a darker alley to escape.

"You're not safe here," Jinx murmured, her gaze as cold as the street they were hiding in. The magician looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. She wore a hood that partly covered her face, but Jinx could see the fear in her eyes. Jinx slipped into the shadow of a narrow alley, a figure that almost melted into the gloom, her piercing gaze scanning the horizon to ensure no one was following them. The young magician she had just saved seemed out of breath, but she wasn't the type to collapse immediately. Jinx watched her, her violet eyes shining under the pale light, filled with a strange glow, marked by the Shimmer. She leaned against the cold wall, trying to steady the agitation in her gut. The world around her seemed to stretch in a nearly familiar stupor. You talk about fleeing, but you're fleeing too, she thought, watching the magician. But she knew that this girl wasn't the type to be afraid, even if she was trying to hide her anxiety.

"Are you okay?" Jinx asked, her gravelly voice betraying a tone less interested than she thought. But she still waited for an answer, a reaction. The magician took a deep breath, brushing her face with her hand. Her breath was still short, but she was already straightening up, a glint of annoyance in her eyes.

"Who... who are you?" Her voice betrayed an undisguised worry, but also curiosity. She was studying Jinx as if looking for an answer in her eyes, in that glow that was unlike anything she had seen before. Jinx shrugged, as if it didn't concern her. She was used to hiding in the shadows, becoming a nameless figure.

"Jinder. That's it," she replied, her tone as cold as her posture, without even a direct glance. She knew she shouldn't say more, especially not now. The mystery was what protected her. Lux seemed perplexed, but didn't press the issue. Instead, her eyes locked onto Jinder's gaze, which, even in the shadows, shimmered with that strange violet hue. Her pupils seemed to devour the light, and a cold sensation ran down the magician's spine.

"You... you look..." Lux trailed off, searching for her words. "Strange."

Jinx straightened, observing the magician with an amused eye. "That's what everyone says," she said, shrugging, a note of defiance in her voice. "But honestly, I don't care." She leaned in slightly, studying Lux more closely. "You're fleeing too, aren't you? We're in the same boat."

Lux rolled her eyes, almost nervously. "What do you mean by that?" Her hand went to her hood, pulling it down a bit further over her face to hide a new sense of discomfort rising within her.

"You know exactly what I mean," Jinder replied in a murmur, her gaze still bright on Lux, but in a way that suggested everything could be understood in that look. Lux looked away, feeling the tension rise in the air.

Lux furrowed her brow, a flicker of indignation lighting up her eyes. "You want me to trust you, but you barely give me an answer. Why are you helping me then?"

Jinx fixed her with a calculating look, and a curious smile curled on her lips. "Why not?" she said, turning slightly away. "Let's call it a deal. You keep your secrets, I keep mine. And we help each other."

Lux considered this response, and something in her, a mix of challenge and need, seemed to respond. "You saved me. So, I owe you something. Come to my place, if you want. It's a safer place." Her offer wasn't a request, but a gesture marked by a slight tension, a recognition that hung in the air.

Jinx studied her, her gaze cold and calculating. She had never heard of this magician, but she knew there were reasons behind all of this. One small step back, and a big step forward, she thought. That's how it worked with her. She never committed without knowing where she was going, and this invitation was just another riddle in a world that made no sense anymore.

"I take what I want. But I don't make promises." Jinx let out a small, almost bitter laugh before looking up at the horizon. "We'll see if it serves us."

As they prepared to leave, Lux glanced at Jinx. Her gaze lingered on the young woman's arms—scratches, visible burns, and a bit of dried blood marred her skin. The sweat on her forehead and the tense aura surrounding her hadn't gone unnoticed. Lux bit her lower lip, holding back the question she was dying to ask. But it was obvious. Jinx was injured.

"You... you seem hurt," she said after a pause, her voice softer, almost hesitant. "I can... heal you. If you want."

Jinx turned her head towards her, her gaze icy. She hated when people mentioned her injuries. But deep down, she knew the mage was right. "No need," she growled. "I can handle it myself." And it wasn't entirely false; the shimmer gave her near-miraculous regeneration at times. Because Jinx knew, in that explosion, whether she tried to escape or not, she should have died.

Lux insisted, her eyes full of sincerity. "I'm not letting you walk away like this. You saved me, at least let me return the favor. It's the least I can do."

Jinx, after a moment of silence, shrugged in resignation, letting out a sigh. "Fine. But we don't talk about it after. No questions." She fixed Lux with an intense stare, her violet eyes glowing with that strange light. A warning. A tacit pact.

Lux nodded without replying, accepting the silence Jinx had imposed. Without another word, she led the young woman through the dark alleys of Demacia.