Chapter Text
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14 Years ago
The room was small, dark, and suffocating—a forgotten corner of Bridgewater, buried beneath layers of rusted pipes and crumbling brick walls. The only light came from a dim, flickering bulb swinging weakly from the ceiling, casting long shadows across the cluttered floor. In the center of the mess sat Jinx, her knees pulled up to her chest as she leaned against the rickety bedframe. She rocked back and forth gently, her fingers turning the small locket over and over in her hands, her gaze vacant and distant.
The locket. Ekko’s locket.
Its metal felt cool against her skin, despite how many times she had clutched it tightly, like a lifeline. The words engraved on the back echoed in her mind. “From broken pieces, we create something unbreakable.” Her lips quivered as she stared at it, her thoughts a whirlwind of regret and yearning. It wasn’t just a reminder of Ekko’s unshakable faith in her but a promise she was now terrified she couldn’t keep. Her eyes flitted to the sleeping bundle just a few feet away.
Nyx lay curled in a makeshift crib fashioned from a wooden crate padded with torn blankets. Her small chest rose and fell steadily, the faint glow of her shimmer eyes barely visible beneath her closed lids. She was perfect—a living miracle born from chaos. But to Jinx, her daughter was something else too: a fragile piece of hope, a responsibility she wasn’t sure she deserved.
Jinx sniffled, rubbing her palm harshly against her tear-streaked face. “Get it together,” she muttered to herself, though her voice cracked with exhaustion. The air felt heavier by the second. She shifted her gaze to the tattered newspaper lying on the floor nearby, its edges yellowed and brittle. It had been scavenged days ago, but she hadn’t had the heart to toss it.
It was from Piltover—a front-page story showcasing the city’s bright future: gleaming towers, pristine streets, and happy faces frozen in time. Among the group pictured stood Ekko and Vi, their expressions strong and full of purpose. The city was rebuilding, thriving even, while Jinx sat in a crumbling dump with nothing but dust, tools, and doubt.
“They’re better off,” Jinx whispered, staring hard at the image. Her voice barely carried in the room. The thought cut deep, though it was one she had grown used to repeating. Better off without me. But a gnawing ache twisted in her stomach, that familiar mix of longing and guilt.
The newspaper crumpled slightly beneath her trembling hand. I could go back, she thought, for what felt like the hundredth time. She gripped the locket so hard her knuckles turned white. What would Ekko think if he saw her now—broken, lost, and barely holding on? Would he even recognize her? The thought of him seeing Nyx flickered in her mind, a painful mix of longing and dread. Would he look at those shimmering eyes, so much like her own, and know? He’s her father… The thought hung heavy in her chest.
Jinx closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears. Ekko always tried to fix what was broken, she thought bitterly. Would he see Nyx as just another mess to repair? Or worse, would he hate her for bringing a child into this world—a child with shimmer in her blood? No. She knew Ekko better than that. He wasn’t cruel. He’d take one look at Nyx and love her without question, wouldn’t he? He’d be the kind of father Nyx deserved—strong, patient, and stubbornly good.
Her throat tightened at the image of Ekko holding Nyx, a faint smile on his face as he told their daughter everything would be okay. But Jinx’s guilt gnawed at her. Could she really show up now? After everything? She had already left him once, torn their fragile bond to shreds. What if he didn’t forgive her? What if her presence only dragged him into danger?
Jinx wiped her face harshly, the tears spilling despite her efforts. She didn’t have an answer—just an aching uncertainty that clung to her like a second skin.
Jinx swallowed hard, blinking against the tears that burned her eyes. She didn’t have an answer—just an aching uncertainty that clung to her like a second skin.
A small whimper broke through the silence, shattering her spiral of self-pity.
Jinx’s head snapped up as Nyx stirred in her crib. The baby’s hands balled into tiny fists, her delicate face scrunching up as her whimpers grew louder. Jinx’s heart jolted. “No, no, shh,” she whispered as panic coursed through her, scrambling to her feet. Her boots scuffed the floor, and she moved to Nyx’s side, hastily wiping at her own face as if her tears might upset her daughter more.
She lifted Nyx carefully, holding her close to her chest and swaying slightly. The glow of Nyx’s shimmer eyes blinked open, faint but undeniable, casting a soft purple tint against her mother’s skin. Jinx froze for a moment, her breath catching. Shimmer-born. The words of her pursuers echoed in her mind, though she pushed them aside.
Nyx’s cries hiccupped into silence as she looked up at her mother, her tiny mouth curving into a gurgling smile. It was small and fleeting, but it hit Jinx harder than any explosion ever had.
“You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that?” Jinx whispered shakily, pressing a gentle kiss to Nyx’s forehead. “You… you don’t even know how much trouble you’ve caused me already.” Her voice wavered, half-laughing, half-breaking.
As Nyx nestled against her, a strange calm fell over the room. The newspaper, the pain, the uncertainty—for a fleeting second, it all felt distant. Jinx rocked her gently, letting out a shaky breath. Maybe it’s time.
She glanced around the room, her eyes falling on the few possessions she had left. It wasn’t much—a torn bag, broken tools, and a half-empty canister of supplies. Jinx gritted her teeth and stood straighter, determination hardening her resolve. “We can’t stay here, kid,” she murmured. “We’ll go back. To Ekko. To Vi. Maybe they can help us figure this out. Maybe they can help you.”
With practiced movements, Jinx grabbed her bag and stuffed the few items she couldn’t part with inside. She secured Nyx against her back with a cloth wrap, patting her gently as the baby settled again. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got you. Mama’s got you.”
As she stepped into the alleys of Bridgewater, the city felt quieter than usual, its shadows lingering a little too close. The hum of the docks carried through the misty air, drawing her toward the distant sound of an airship waiting to depart. Her heart pounded, though she tried to keep her pace steady.
Just as she reached the boarding plank, a voice sliced through the wind. “Are you Jinx?”
Jinx froze, every instinct screaming danger. She turned slowly to see a tall man cloaked in black, his hood casting his face in shadow.
“Who’s asking?” Jinx snapped, her hand inching toward her holstered gun.
The man ignored her defiance, his gaze drifting to Nyx strapped to her back. “Your child. Those eyes… shimmer-born, aren’t they? I’ve never seen one so young. Fascinating.”
Jinx’s stomach dropped. Her muscles tensed, but Nyx stirred behind her, letting out a soft cry.
The man smirked and reached for something under his cloak. “Come with us peacefully. Both of you. No need to make a scene.”
Jinx’s fist shot out before he could finish, slamming into his jaw. The man stumbled back, cursing, as shadows erupted around her—more figures emerging, their movements quick and practiced. Jinx drew her gun with one hand, her other arm pressing protectively against Nyx. “Not today, assholes.”
Chaos exploded across the dock. Jinx darted through the smoke, hurling chompers behind her to slow her pursuers. Nyx’s cries cut through the explosions, sharp and panicked. “Shh, shh, baby, I’ve got you,” Jinx whispered desperately, sprinting toward the water.
When she reached the end of the dock, she pulled the last of her explosives and hurled them. “Cover your ears, kiddo.” The explosion roared, blinding and deafening, as flames shot into the sky. Jinx vaulted into a small boat moored nearby, shoving it into the water as smoke obscured her escape.
From the shadows of the smoke-choked dock, cloaked figures gathered, their murmurs carrying on the cold wind. One of them, taller and broader than the others, scowled as he scanned the chaotic aftermath. "She got away," he said through gritted teeth, his voice sharp with irritation.
The leader, calm despite the failure, knelt by the scorched ground where Jinx had been moments before. He ran his fingers over the faint traces of shimmer residue, his lips curling into a thin smile. "Not far," he replied coolly. Standing, he glanced toward his men. "A shimmer-born child… Now, that is something our employer will want to hear about. Report this to the big boss. Tell him the hunt just got a lot more interesting."
The tall figure snorted, cracking his knuckles as his frustration ebbed into a twisted excitement. "She won't get far with a kid strapped to her back. We’ll find her."
The leader nodded, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "We will."
__________________________________________________
The boat rocked gently on the quiet, endless water, the soft lapping of the waves breaking the heavy silence. Above, the sky stretched out like a vast canvas, painted with countless stars that flickered faintly in the dark. It had been hours since the chaos on the docks—hours since Jinx had fought tooth and nail to escape that mysterious group. Now, there was nothing but the sound of the water and the quiet beating of her heart.
Jinx sat slumped against the stern of the small boat, her arms wrapped protectively around Nyx. Her daughter lay nestled against her chest, wrapped in the softest cloth Jinx had, her tiny breaths steady and warm. Jinx could feel Nyx’s small hands curled against her shirt, the weight of her fragile body grounding her, even as her thoughts swirled chaotically.
She stared out at the horizon, her tired eyes searching the vast darkness as if looking for answers among the stars. Her shoulders ached, her body worn from the fight and the endless rowing that had brought them this far. The bruises on her knuckles throbbed dully, and the distant ringing of gunfire and explosions still echoed faintly in her ears.
Slowly, Jinx tilted her head down, her gaze falling to Nyx’s sleeping face. Even in the pale moonlight, her daughter’s shimmer eyes seemed to glow faintly under her closed lids. Her soft curls were tousled, a mix of Jinx’s wild energy and something gentler, calmer. Jinx’s heart twisted painfully at the sight—Nyx looked so peaceful, unaware of the chaos that surrounded her. Unaware of the weight her mother carried.
“You… you deserve better than this, you know that?” Jinx whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible over the gentle waves. She adjusted Nyx slightly, holding her closer. “I… I wanted to go back. To Ekko. To Vi. I thought… maybe they could help us. Help you. But I can’t. I can’t drag them into this.”
Her voice cracked as the words fell out, tears stinging her eyes. She turned her gaze back toward the stars, her mind replaying the moment she’d seen Ekko’s face in that crumpled newspaper. For a fleeting moment, she’d let herself believe it was possible—to return, to hand Nyx over to the people she trusted most. But then the cloaked figures came. The fear returned. And the answer became clear.
“If they saw us… if they knew about you,” Jinx murmured, her voice trembling. “They’d fight for us. I know they would. Ekko wouldn’t let you go. Vi would fight until her last breath. But they… they’d get hurt because of me. Because of us. I can’t do that to them. I can’t let them suffer for my mess.”
She looked back down at Nyx, brushing her daughter’s soft curls gently with her fingertips. Nyx stirred slightly in her sleep, letting out a small sigh before nestling closer. The innocent sound broke something in Jinx, and her tears spilled silently down her cheeks. She rested her forehead gently against Nyx’s, closing her eyes as the words tumbled out.
“I promise you, baby, you’re going to have a better life than this. A normal life. A safe one. I don’t care how far we have to go, or how much I have to give up. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll give you the life you deserve.”
Her voice wavered as she sniffled, pulling back just enough to kiss Nyx softly on the forehead. The baby remained fast asleep, unaware of the silent promises her mother whispered into the night.
Jinx let out a shaky breath, her resolve hardening as she looked back out at the water. The stars reflected on the surface, their faint glow stretching endlessly, as if guiding her forward. She didn’t know where the boat would take them, but she would keep rowing. Keep running. Keep Nyx out of harm’s way.
“Wherever we end up,” Jinx whispered, more to herself than anyone. “It’s far enough. It has to be.”
She leaned back against the boat, holding Nyx securely against her chest as the boat drifted onward into the unknown. The night grew quieter, the stars above them shining like faint, distant promises.
For now, Jinx let the waves carry them. She didn’t know what waited ahead, but one thing was certain: she would never stop fighting for her daughter. Even if it meant disappearing forever.
___________________________________
Back to the present
Nyx moved cautiously through the dense underbrush, her boots barely making a sound against the mossy forest floor. The sun hung low in the sky, its golden rays filtering through the thick canopy of Ionian woods, casting soft dappled light. Birds chirped faintly somewhere above, but their song did nothing to ease the tension clenching Nyx’s chest. She crept forward carefully, her eyes fixed on her mother’s figure moving steadily ahead.
It wasn’t like her mother to act like this. Usually, her mother’s steps were confident, her posture unwavering—always in control. But today was different. Her shoulders were tense, her movements quick and jittery, almost frantic. Nyx could see her mother glancing around nervously, muttering under her breath as though trying to convince herself of something.
What’s wrong, Mom? Nyx wondered, her brows furrowing. She crouched behind a tree as her mother paused suddenly, her head jerking up to scan the forest. Nyx held her breath, pressing her back against the rough bark as her heart pounded in her chest. Her mother’s eyes swept the area, sharp and suspicious, before she muttered something Nyx couldn’t make out and kept moving.
The curiosity burned inside Nyx, even as uncertainty twisted in her gut. Where are you going? Why are you acting like this? Nyx had followed her mother for almost an hour now, weaving through narrow animal trails, ducking under low branches, and stepping over roots threatening to trip her. Her mother didn’t seem to notice, too absorbed in her mission, her mind clearly elsewhere.
Occasionally, Nyx caught snippets of her mother’s muttering: words like “can’t let them find it” and “not yet,” though the meaning was lost to her. It wasn’t like her mother to ramble, and the way her voice wavered made Nyx’s stomach turn. It was almost like… her mother was scared.
Nyx tightened her grip on the locket she wore, her fingers brushing against the smooth metal surface. The faint inscription felt familiar beneath her touch, grounding her as she pressed on, determined to see where her mother was going.
Finally, they reached a clearing, the air around it still and heavy. In the center stood a shed, its structure old and worn, as though it had been left to the mercy of the elements for years. Vines crawled up its wooden sides, and moss clung stubbornly to the roof like a blanket. Yet despite its appearance, the shed radiated something almost ominous, like a secret that shouldn’t be uncovered.
Nyx froze, crouching behind a bush as her mother approached the shed. She watched, her breath shallow, as her mother glanced over her shoulder once more, her face pale and tight with worry. Her mother reached into her coat and pulled out a small, rusted key. Her hands shook faintly as she fit it into the lock and turned it with a soft click.
Nyx’s eyes widened as her mother pushed the door open, its hinges groaning in protest. Her mother disappeared inside without another glance behind her, leaving the door slightly ajar. Nyx swallowed hard, the silence pressing down on her as she crept closer, careful to stay out of sight.
What is in there? she thought, her pulse quickening. Her mother had always been secretive about certain things, but this felt… different. Her mother had looked so afraid, and it sent an uneasy chill through Nyx’s spine.
Step by step, she approached the shed, her curiosity warring with the nagging voice in her head telling her to turn back. But Nyx didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She needed to know what her mother was hiding.
She crouched low, pressing her back against the shed’s rough wall as she listened intently. From inside, she could hear the faint sound of tools clinking and her mother’s muffled voice, though the words remained indecipherable.
Nyx’s fingers curled into the dirt, her heart pounding against her ribs. She craned her neck, peering cautiously toward the crack in the door, her mind racing with possibilities.
What are you hiding, Mom?
Nyx crept closer to the slightly ajar door of the shed, her pulse quickening as she crouched low. Her mother’s voice echoed faintly from the other side, sharp and frustrated.
“Why doesn’t she listen?” Powder muttered to herself, her words clipped with irritation. Nyx flinched slightly at the tone, but her curiosity held her in place. Powder’s voice rose again, this time heavier with emotion. “I’m just trying to keep her safe. That’s all I’ve ever tried to do… Why can’t she see that?”
Nyx peered closer, her breathing shallow as she pressed her ear closer to the doorframe.
Inside, Powder let out a deep, shaky sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as though trying to quell her growing frustration. The shed’s interior buzzed faintly with energy—a hum that Nyx had never heard before. Carefully, Nyx peered through the crack, her eyes widening as she took in the scene.
The shed was nothing like she’d expected. It wasn’t some dusty, forgotten room—it was alive. High-tech screens flickered softly, mounted on walls cluttered with gadgets and tools. Drones in various states of repair sat on workbenches alongside weapons that looked both crude and terrifyingly advanced. The center of the room was dominated by a massive whiteboard, its surface covered with a chaotic mix of pictures, maps, and scribbled notes. Strings crisscrossed the board, linking photos and locations together like a spider’s web.
Nyx squinted, trying to make out the details. One section of the board stood out: a newspaper clipping pinned near the top. The headline read, A Mysterious Group Emerges—The Black Veil. The emblem beside it was eerie, a jagged black design resembling an eye within a shroud.
Powder stood before the whiteboard, scowling as she traced a finger along a nearby map dotted with pins. Nyx felt her stomach tighten as her gaze landed on their village—their home—marked not far from one of the sightings.
“Dammit,” her mother muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible. Powder paced in front of the board, her hands on her hips as her frustration simmered visibly. “They’re getting closer. I might have to leave.” She exhaled sharply, almost angrily. “But Nyx isn’t small anymore… she’ll fight me every step of the way.”
Nyx’s heart skipped a beat, her mind racing. Leave? The word hit her like a punch. Her mother was talking about leaving. Again.
Inside the shed, Powder leaned over a drone lying lifeless on one of the benches, inspecting the damaged parts. She frowned as she examined the broken components, speaking softly to herself. “And now my drones are dropping like flies… What the hell happened? What are they hiding out there?” She tapped at one of the flickering screens, bringing up distorted images captured before the drones went offline—faint, shadowy figures, and flashes of that ominous Black Veil emblem.
Powder stilled suddenly.
Her shoulders tensed, and she lifted her head slightly as if sensing something—a presence. Slowly, her gaze turned toward the door, her body rigid.
Nyx froze in place, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart hammered as her mother’s sharp eyes narrowed toward the faint crack in the door, as if she could feel Nyx watching. For a moment, everything went still.
She knows I’m here.
Nyx froze as the door creaked open just a little more, her mother’s sharp voice breaking the silence.
“Come in, Nyx,” her mother said flatly.
Nyx’s heart skipped a beat as she rose shakily to her feet, the crack of the door now fully opening to reveal her. She hesitated on the threshold, looking at her mother’s face. For a fleeting moment, her mother’s expression was hard, stern—but then it softened, her sharp gaze turning into something tired and resigned.
“Figures you’d follow me. Looks like I can’t hide this anymore,” her mother muttered, more to herself than Nyx. She stepped aside, gesturing for her daughter to enter.
Nyx stepped inside the shed, her eyes widening as she took everything in. Weapons lined one side of the walls, from rifles and bombs to compact tools Nyx had never seen before. High-tech drones buzzed faintly, some dismantled across metal workbenches with intricate circuits exposed. Screens flickered softly, displaying maps, coordinates, and distorted images. On one wall, a massive whiteboard stood covered in scribbled notes, diagrams, and strings linking pinned photographs together in a chaotic web.
Nyx’s jaw fell open slightly, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing. She turned to her mother, her voice sharp with disbelief.
“What… what is all this?” Nyx demanded, crossing her arms. Her voice cracked slightly as she tried to stay calm. “Who are you?”
Her mother stood still, her shoulders sagging as if all the energy had drained out of her. She glanced at Nyx’s angry face, the defiance in her eyes unmistakable. For a moment, there was silence between them—heavy, charged silence. Finally, her mother let out a soft, almost wistful sigh.
“I remember when you never stood up to me,” her mother said softly, shaking her head. A faint, melancholic smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “My cute little Nyx… you’d follow me anywhere, do anything I asked without question. But I guess you’re older now. And I owe you the truth.”
Nyx’s expression didn’t change as she stared her mother down. “What truth?” she pressed. “Leaving? We leaving? No way—not until you tell me what’s going on. What is all this stuff? Who’s the Black Veil? Why are we even in danger?”
Her mother froze, her face stunned for just a moment. Then she sighed, rubbing her hands over her tired face. She turned away from Nyx, staring at the whiteboard with haunted eyes.
“When you were a baby,” her mother began, her voice hollow, “a group of people were looking for me. They wanted my power. They were also looking for you… because you were shimmer-born. I knew if they found us, they’d take you—they’d take everything. So I decided to run. Far away. I wanted to keep you safe.”
Nyx’s arms dropped to her sides, her mouth opening slightly in shock. Her voice came out faint. “You… you kept all of this a secret? My whole life?” Her tone hardened as she took a step closer, her eyes shining with anger. “My life was always in danger, and you didn’t think I needed to know?”
Her mother turned toward her suddenly, her eyes wet with tears. “I wanted you to live a normal life!” she cried, her voice breaking. “I didn’t have that! I was robbed of it!”
Nyx stared at her mother, stunned into silence. Her mother dropped heavily onto the floor, hugging her knees to her chest as sobs wracked her body. Her voice, muffled and broken, spilled into the room.
“I was terrible when I was younger,” she whispered, shaking her head. “My parents... they were killed by the rich. I killed my adoptive father, brothers, and sister. I pushed my actual sister away. I brought shimmer into Zaun, and I destroyed everything—everything I touched. I was so cursed I called my self Jinx. My mind was so messed up I couldn’t even tell what was real anymore. I kept seeing them... the dead ones.”
Nyx took a shaky breath, watching her mother crumble before her eyes. The person she thought she knew—the strong, confident figure—had shattered, revealing something fragile and broken beneath.
“I tried to kill your dad… so many times,” her mother whispered, her voice barely audible now. “Even when he tried to save me, I pushed him away; I killed his friends. He was so angry... he tried to kill me, too, once. But he couldn’t do it. And then I tried to kill the both of us.”
Nyx’s throat tightened as she listened, tears threatening to spill from her own eyes.
“I ruined everything,” her mother sobbed. “I killed another father figure. I killed my sister’s girlfriend’s mom in a blind rage. I destroyed political leaders, entire families… and all for what? I didn’t want you to be sucked into that. I didn’t want your life to be like mine.”
Nyx couldn’t stand it anymore. Slowly, she stepped forward and dropped to her knees beside her mother. Without saying a word, she wrapped her arms tightly around her mother, holding her as she cried.
Her mother stiffened for a moment, startled by the embrace, but then she broke down completely, clutching Nyx desperately as though afraid to let go.
“I’m so sorry, Nyx,” her mother whispered through her tears. “I… I just wanted you to be safe.”
Nyx rested her head against her mother’s shoulder, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. “I know, Mom,” she whispered softly. “I know.”
For a long time, they sat there, mother and daughter clinging to each other amid the chaos of the workshop. The hum of the drones and the flicker of the screens faded into the background as the weight of the truth settled between them.
Nyx didn’t have all the answers, but in that moment, she understood her mother a little more. She could feel her pain, her guilt, and her love. And for now, that was enough.
After what felt like forever, Nyx remained by her mother’s side, her small hands resting on her mother’s back as the quiet sobs finally faded into soft breaths. Powder—her strong, unshakable mother—sat slumped on the floor, her face buried in her hands, her vulnerability laid bare. The dim glow of the high-tech screens bathed the room in soft hues of blue and red, their faint hum filling the silence.
Slowly, Powder sat up, wiping the lingering tears from her face with the back of her hand. Her chest rose and fell shakily as though she were pulling herself back together one breath at a time. She looked at Nyx, her face lined with exhaustion, yet there was a raw honesty in her gaze. Her voice, when it finally broke the silence, was small but steady.
“I’m supposed to be the adult here, you know,” she said softly, her lips twitching into something that almost resembled a smile—a ghost of her usual self.
Nyx tilted her head, her face softening, a small, reassuring smile tugging at her lips. “Sometimes it’s okay to be vulnerable, Mom,” she said quietly. “Even adults need someone to lean on.”
Powder’s expression faltered, her eyes shimmering with something she couldn’t quite hide. Pride. Pain. Love. She reached out and pulled Nyx into a firm embrace, one hand cradling the back of her daughter’s head as though to protect her from the world. For a moment, there was nothing but the warmth of her mother’s arms and the hum of the machines. A fragile silence stretched around them, and for the first time in what felt like forever, they held onto each other as though neither wanted to let go.
Finally, Powder let out a slow, shuddering breath, releasing her hold. She pulled back just enough to look at Nyx, her face resolute now, as though she had come to a decision. She clapped her hands together suddenly, the sound sharp in the heavy air, and forced a lighter tone into her voice.
“Okay,” she said, her voice steady despite the faint tremor beneath it. “Let’s clear the air, shall we?”
Nyx blinked, her confusion breaking through the emotional haze.
“Yes, you have an aunt,” Powder continued, gesturing vaguely toward the whiteboard as though this was the most casual of revelations. “And yes, your dad is alive. They both live in Piltover.”
The words hit Nyx like a physical blow, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at her mother, wide-eyed, her brain struggling to process what she’d just heard. “My… my dad is alive?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Powder gave a small nod, guilt and something else settling in the lines of her face.
Nyx’s mind spun as she stumbled back slightly, her hands tightening at her sides. She’d spent her whole life assuming her father was gone. Dead, maybe. Her mother never outright said it, but she’d always spoken of him as if he were just a memory—a story whispered in the quiet moments of their lives. But alive?
“You… you knew?” Nyx’s voice cracked as she looked at her mother, betrayal flaring in her chest like a fire. “My dad’s alive, and you didn’t tell me? You let me believe he was…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence as her voice trembled.
Powder avoided her gaze, instead staring hard at the ground. “I can explain,” she murmured, though her words felt hollow, like a shield that couldn’t hold.
Nyx’s hands curled into fists, her anger bubbling over. “Explain what? That you lied to me?"
Powder looked at her with a flicker of pain in her eyes, her voice cracking as she spoke. “Because I was being selfish, Nyx. I was scared you’d leave me all alone.” She paused, her hands trembling slightly as she stared at the floor. “You’re everything I have, and the thought of you running off to find your father and forgetting about me… it… it terrified me. I didn’t want to lose you, too.”
Nyx froze, her anger faltering for a moment as the words sank in. “Why would you keep something like this from me? Why wouldn’t you just... come with me if I wanted to find him?” Her voice rose with each word, her frustration pouring out like a flood she couldn’t stop.
Her mother stared at the floor.
But the ache in her chest remained. “You really thought I’d leave you?” she asked softly, hurt replacing her fury. “Mom, you… you didn’t even give me a chance.”
Powder finally looked up, her face a mixture of guilt and something deeper. Something almost broken.
“Because I’m not ready to go back,” she admitted softly. Her voice was so quiet it almost didn’t reach Nyx. “I love our life here, Nyx. This… this is what I wanted. A home. A quiet place where I fix things, where people rely on me. Where I get to see you grow up.”
Nyx opened her mouth to argue, but Powder pressed on, her voice trembling now. “It’s been so long. Too long. And I… I’m scared. I don’t know what he’ll say when he sees me. I practically abandoned him at the end. I… I ruined everything. I don’t even know if he’d want to see me again.”
Nyx took a hesitant step forward, her anger starting to unravel into something softer—something she didn’t quite understand yet. “What happened, Mom?” she asked quietly, her voice no longer sharp.
Powder’s lips parted, and for a second, Nyx thought she would finally say it. That she would share the last of the secrets she’d buried so deeply. Her mother’s mouth opened…
BOOM.
The sound tore through the quiet like a thunderclap. The ground beneath them shuddered faintly, and the distant rumble of an explosion sent Nyx’s heart into her throat.
Powder froze, her entire body going rigid. Her face paled, and she turned sharply toward the door, her movements swift and practiced.
“What was that?” Nyx whispered, her voice tight with dread.
Powder didn’t answer. Her expression had changed, the vulnerable woman from moments ago replaced by someone sharp and focused. She strode across the shed, grabbing a rifle from the workbench with mechanical precision.
“Stay here,” Powder ordered, her voice a firm command that brooked no argument. She turned toward the door, her grip on the weapon steady as she listened for another sound.
Nyx’s pulse pounded in her ears as the silence stretched again—a silence that felt far heavier now. “Mom…” she started, but her mother glanced back sharply.
“Stay. Here.”
And then she was gone, disappearing into the woods beyond the shed, leaving Nyx standing alone in the middle of the high-tech workshop. The machines buzzed faintly, the screens flickering as though they, too, sensed something was wrong.
Nyx stood frozen for a moment, her mother’s words echoing in her head. Her father was alive. Her aunt… Piltover. So many secrets had unraveled, and yet now the silence screamed louder than ever. Her eyes darted to the distant woods beyond the door, her chest tightening with an instinctual unease.
“What’s happening?” she whispered to herself.