Chapter Text
Jayce woke to a figure standing over him, holding something in both hands. He sucked in a breath, pulling himself up into a sitting position.
“Viktor?”
“I am afraid the Herald is attending to other business.” The sound of a woman’s stiff, robotic voice made Jayce’s shoulders tense. She knelt down, dipping her head respectfully, and set down her tray – a bowl of water, cloth, bandages. “May I tend your wound?”
Jayce bit back the question. It didn’t matter where Viktor had gotten to. He’d already made his decision. It sat like a lead weight in his chest.
“Fine,” he grumbled, pulling his bad leg in front of him.
The woman worked deftly, detaching the brace into two neat pieces before unwinding the bandages. Jayce stared at the halves of the brace, wondering how Viktor had managed to shape it so that the gap was seamless. It was a welcome distraction from the pain of the wound, the dull-then-sharp ache of cloth gently scraping over his ruined skin.
As the last dregs of sleep left him, Jayce became aware of a low, droning hum, reverberating through the entire structure. He glanced up at the ceiling. The power core was still there, still fixed in place, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. One bar of its level indicator had been depleted.
It didn’t take long for someone else to arrive, a man with entirely white hair, holding a tray of food with unnaturally steady hands. They treated Jayce differently, now – while before they had largely ignored him, now there seemed to be a reverence in the way they avoided his gaze.
When Viktor finally reappeared, the attendants filed out, bowing low to him on their way. Jayce clicked the leg brace back into position, getting to his feet, still a little hesitant to put too much weight on it.
“The metalworkers could use more instruction today,” Viktor said, by way of a greeting. “If you are so inclined.”
Jayce shook his head. He didn’t look up at Viktor’s face, instead looking over the lines of his body, where shade of blue had mixed in with the white and violet bursts of light that flitted across his skin. Parts of his body seemed to have calcified overnight, creating smooth planes over his arms and parts of his chest, in a way that reminded Jayce of a beetle’s shell. Or a suit of armour. Viktor took a step towards him, and Jayce looked up quickly.
There was a shade of blue in his eyes.
Viktor’s expression softened. “I understand the changes in my appearance may be… disconcerting… for you. Rest assured I have everything in hand.”
“It’s fine,” Jayce said. “It doesn’t matter to me what you look like.”
As true as the words were, there was an undercurrent of bitterness that bled through into his voice. He thought of the Hexcore cocoon, the opaque, shifting veil it had drawn over Viktor’s body. He’d had no idea what it had been doing to him. It hadn’t mattered. So long as Viktor’s vitals stayed somewhat constant, Jayce hadn’t been concerned with anything else.
His partner had always been a proud man. Never flashy, but he’d taken care with his appearance, and didn’t like to seem messy or unkempt. He’d seen the way Viktor had avoided looking too long in reflections, in their last years together. The way he’d keep his eyes down when passing darkened shopfronts, his expression grim and resolute. He could only imagine the confusion, the horror, when Viktor had emerged from the Hexcore and looked down at his new body. Jayce hadn’t apologised for any of it. He’d been too busy celebrating his success. Looking back now, it wasn’t hard to understand why Viktor had chosen to walk away.
When he looked up, he found Viktor watching him, a crease of concern between his eyebrows.
“I’ll stay here,” Jayce said. “If it’s… all the same to you. I won’t get in your way. I just… want to make sure you're alright.”
A smile crossed Viktor’s face. He traced a hand across Jayce’s jaw, cold palm cupping his cheek, and Jayce allowed himself to lean into the touch.
“Very well, then.” Viktor’s voice was low and pleased. “Let us move forward as partners.”
By the time the sun had fully risen, the line of people awaiting Viktor’s attention stretched back to the commune’s entrance.
Jayce stood beside Viktor, half in the shadow of the dome, watching each desperate face as they approached. Some made pleas, some made demands. Others simply fell to their knees, wordless. Viktor helped them all. Each transformation ricocheted off Jayce like a shockwave, and he had to brace for the impact of each one, but nothing would move him from Viktor’s side. Not today.
The newest convert got to his feet, tears streaming down his face, whispering awed thanks as another cultist led him gently away. Viktor shook out his hands, fingertips glowing blue. When Jayce put a hand on his shoulder – with a zap like static electricity – he put a hand over Jayce’s, just briefly, lips curving in a reassuring smile. As empty as Jayce had felt from the moment he’d opened his eyes that morning, the intent behind the action made a flicker of warmth spark in his chest.
Jayce gave his metallic shoulder a gentle squeeze, looking up to cast a glance over the waiting crowd, and locked eyes with Vi.
She was standing amidst the cultists in their loose semicircle around the dome, and had been watching the proceedings with feigned disinterest. When she met Jayce’s eyes, her own eyes narrowed, darting between him and Viktor. The question in her furrowed brow was clear.
Before anything more could come of it, a woman stepped up to the dome, holding another woman’s hand. The second woman was stooped over, her hair greying at the temples, gasping for breath as the first woman supported her.
“Please,” said the woman, passing a hand over her pregnant belly. “My ma worked in the factories since she could walk. The fumes tore her lungs to shreds. She’ll never meet her grandchild unless they heal.” She looked up at Jayce, her gaze imploring. “Topsiders live until their hair turns white. Not fair that we can’t.”
The woman’s mother was still recovering from the walk. The wet rattle of her breathing reminded Jayce sharply of hours spent waiting beside Viktor’s hospital bed.
Viktor stepped forward, taking both of the older woman’s hands in his own. Without a word, a cultist gently pulled the younger woman aside.
The transformation, this time, was over quickly. White light burned through into blue, metal sinking into flesh with a hiss. When it was over, the woman looked younger than her daughter. She turned to her with a delighted gasp, pulling her into an embrace, her breathing clear and easy.
“How many more years did you give her?” Jayce asked under his breath, as the mother and daughter moved back into the crowd, still holding onto one another. He already knew the answer.
“There lies the beauty of it, Jayce. Like this, no illness or disease may touch her. She will live to meet her grandchildren, and the generations beyond that.” Viktor spoke as if he were preaching to a crowd, even though he had leaned into Jayce, his voice low. The metallic ring in his throat seemed to be permanent now.
A body that never rotted, that never grew old. The creaking marionettes and their tarnished, eyeless faces. How many of their souls had been trapped inside, unable to scream, unable to free themselves?
When he looked up again, Viktor had already turned away to receive someone else.
Jayce glanced into the crowd. Vi had disappeared.
More people, more transformations. It seemed to go on for hours. This time, Viktor did not tire. His hands barely trembled. The blue glow building within him seemed to push closer and closer to the surface each time.
Eventually, the crowd thinned, and the influx of people slowed. Jayce shifted from foot to foot, bad leg starting to ache dully. He glanced over at Viktor, who stood as straight-backed and sturdy as he always seemed to now. He looked back at Jayce with a questioning raise of his eyebrow.
“I might go stretch my legs.” After a moment’s hesitation, Jayce added, “Try not to keel over in the meantime.”
Viktor gave a quiet chuckle. “Thank you, though I do not think that will be likely. Take as long as you need.”
Almost as soon as Jayce had stepped away from the dome and into the crowd, someone grabbed hold of his arm, dragging him into a shadowed pathway and pinning him in place against a building. Vi’s sharp grey eyes came into view, ringed with layers of greasy black makeup. Jayce uncurled the fists he’d formed on instinct.
“Playing bodyguard now, huh?” Vi’s voice was amused. “Quite the promotion, Councillor.”
“Will you stop calling me that?” Jayce attempted to slip out of her grip, but Vi’s hand was clamped down fast, an iron shackle on his arm. “Anyway, if he needed a bodyguard, he could do better than me.”
“So, what? You paid him off? Joined some elite, members-only part of this cult that gets to keep their personalities?” Vi narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way they’re treating you. Like you’re special. ” She spat the last word like a curse.
Jayce sighed through gritted teeth. “It’s not like that. I… I knew him. Before he was…”
“A magical tin can?”
Jayce levelled her with a glare.
Vi shrugged. Her grip loosened a little, but she didn’t release him.
“He was my…” The word partner felt too small. What else could he say? We spent seven years in each other’s pockets. I saw him more often than I saw my family. I know exactly how he likes his morning coffee. When he died, I wished it had been me instead. Jayce swallowed dryly, looking at the ground. “He wasn’t always like this.”
Vi’s eyebrows raised slightly. “No shit,” she murmured, but her eyes had softened underneath all that black makeup. “That’s why you’re hanging around? Think you can fix the guy who’s fixing everyone else?”
Jayce ground his teeth, not looking up at her. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach, a cold plummet, like a stone dropped into a black lake.
No, I’m not that stupid. I know nothing can fix this. The best I can do is make it so that he doesn’t have to live for eternity in the shadow of my actions.
Vi’s gaze had drifted away from him. She released her grip on his arm, dropping her hand to her side. “You know it doesn’t work like that, right? You can spend as long as you like convincing yourself they’ll… snap out of it. Change back for you, back to the person you wanted them to be. Truth is, only person who can change you is you.” She looked up at Jayce, her eyes alight with cold fire. “People have to want to change. Don’t waste your breath on people who won’t. Or can’t. And between you and me, I think he’s the second one.” She gave a humourless huff of a laugh. “Whatever the hell turned him into that made sure of it.”
The crushing weight of her casual words was too much. Jayce turned, pushing away from her back out towards the dome.
“Wait.” Vi’s hand was on his shoulder. He tensed, but didn’t move any further. For a moment, it seemed as if she was going to apologise. Then, she said, “You should get out of here, Talis. Go back to Piltover. They need you.”
“I can’t.”
“I get that. But you should.”
Jayce turned to face her. “I don’t give a fuck what you, or anyone, thinks I should do. I have unfinished business here, and I’m not leaving until it’s settled. After that…” He trailed off. The thought of facing Mel again – of facing anyone – after doing what he had to do to Viktor burned like acid in his throat.
Vi’s face was stone. She looked away. “Here I was thinking you gave a shit. Guess I was wrong.” She took her hand off his shoulder. “Do whatever you need to do. Just try not to fuck it up for everyone else here, alright?”
When he made it back to Viktor’s side, he found him talking to a man in hushed tones. The father of the dead girl from the day before. Her body had landed with a sickening, hollow thump, right where Jayce was standing. He wondered if she’d already been buried.
“Thank you, Herald,” the man murmured, as Jayce appeared at his shoulder. He gave Jayce a small nod, and moved away quickly.
Jayce looked over at Viktor. “What was that about?”
Viktor shook his head, making a slightly sour face. “Atonement for my… failure, yesterday. I will not repeat it.”
Wordlessly, Jayce put a hand on his arm. The flesh didn’t give even slightly under his touch, and the vibration of the energy thrummed down his arm and up into his jaw, but Viktor’s grateful glance was worth it.
The sun was setting by the time the last hopefuls received their transformations. Jayce had a sneaking suspicion that Viktor could have kept going for far longer, but after so many hours standing beside him, his own body was starting to fail. His stomach growled.
“You should eat,” Viktor said lightly. “I have some things to attend to. We can reconvene later on, if that is… acceptable.”
“Fine by me,” Jayce said, although dread was starting to curdle in his gut. Sunset would be followed by nightfall. He could already feel the weight of the hammer in his hands. “Will you be out long?”
“No. Just… something for the girl’s father. An hour, perhaps.”
Jayce tried to imagine a funeral hosted by people who believed they could never die. At least there would be plenty of flowers around to lay on the girl’s grave. He nodded.
As Viktor turned to move away, Jayce caught him gently by the wrist, tugging him back over towards him. Viktor allowed it, going easily with a questioning look.
When he was close enough, Jayce leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together for just a moment. It was a gesture he’d seen before when passing through the Undercity, usually between family members or married couples, and usually when one or both were about to embark on some kind of journey. Viktor had spoken about it once.
“A good-luck gesture, though an ancient one. Some call it the ‘miner’s kiss’.” He’d shrugged, turning another page of his book, as if it were a factoid he’d simply overhead one day. “I believe it means, ‘Return to me safely.’”
“That’s sweet,” Jayce had said. He thought of the tight, dark press of mining tunnels, of Viktor offhandedly mentioning his father’s line of work, and wished he’d said something else.
“I suppose it prevents getting coal dust in one’s mouth,” Viktor had replied, and Jayce had snorted.
When he pulled away, Viktor blinked up at him, eyes wide in all their shifting colours. Jayce forced a smile.
“See you tonight,” Jayce murmured, and released his hold on him, turning to follow the crowd and the scent of cooking food that was starting to permeate the air.
Night had fallen by the time he returned to the dome, the sky black and starless. Jayce immediately realised something was wrong.
The dome was illuminated from the inside outward. Blue light poured from the entrance, from the holes in the ceiling and walls, and the thrum of the arcane in the air was so palpable he could taste it. A shiver made the hairs on his arms stand on end.
Pushing inside felt like stepping into a whirling hurricane. A wall of noise assaulted his ears. Jayce brought his arm up to shield his face from the light, from the whirling debris.
Storm clouds hanging above the Hexgate. Acid rain, or no rain at all.
At the center, a dark shape, floating. Viktor. His silhouette was black against the blinding white-blue light radiating out before him, hair caught in the gale, whipping up around him. Another body, raised into the air, jerking violently, a marionette in the wind. Eyes and mouth open wide, pouring out light. The crunch of ribs rearranging. An unearthly howl, like a demon from a nightmare, echoing off the walls, sending a bolt of horror through Jayce’s heart.
The wind was too loud for him to shout over it. He could have been screaming and nobody would have heard. Viktor faced away from him, a few feet off the ground, hands raised like a prayer as he shaped the light and metal that flew around the girl’s corpse.
A picture in a storybook. People running, falling over one another in their terror. A storm, and the figure at its center, suspended in a flash of lightning. Jayce had never been able to tell if the figure was rising or falling.
His hand found the hammer’s handle. Where he expected pain, none came. It was warm and alive to the touch, greeting him like an old friend. His fingers brushed against something jutting sharp out of the handle – two of his own fingers, stone, fused to the weapon. They’d broken off when Jayce had taken it from the hands of his own corpse.
The mage’s eyes on him, through goggles, distant and bright as a star. The weight of a rune stone dropped into his small hands. The weight of a promise.
The stone in his wrist glowed blue in the howling light. He felt nothing. He felt as if the world was ending.
The mage’s eyes on him as Jayce knelt, his hand gentle on the shoulder of a living corpse. There was so much sadness in those eyes. There was so much love.
The hammer powering up created a storm of its own, pink and amber and gold, swirling against the blue. It might have been deafening. Jayce couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of his own heart.
Viktor, deep into an all-nighter, laughing over a stupid joke Jayce had only cracked to make him smile.
Viktor, shushing him with a finger to his lips, sneaking them both into Heimerdinger’s lab on that first night. Barring the door with his own cane. Eyes bright with excitement as they watched the crystal spin, blue glow building brighter and brighter, sparking with energy. Shouts at the door, banging fists. Nothing else had mattered in that moment.
Viktor’s eyes on him, full of anticipation. Under his gaze, nothing had felt impossible.
Viktor, still as a statue in front of him, not turning around even as Jayce levelled the hammer’s focus with his chest. As if he knew. As if he was allowing it to happen.
He’d wanted more time. It wasn’t fair. None of it was.
The light flickered. Viktor’s hands lowered. He turned around.
Viktor, suspended and weightless, cast in blue, his smile radiant as he caught the cog Jayce pushed through the air towards him.
Their eyes locked.
Jayce felt himself waver.
Magic, Jayce had thought. You’re what magic looks like.
He pulled the trigger.
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