League of Legends 1. Chapter 1

**DRACHEGIRL14: So this is my first foray into League of Legends fiction – I have to say I'm pretty freaking excited. It's very different from other fandoms I've done before, but I do hope you like it. **

**Currently, this remains a one-shot, until enough interest is shown in it for me to continue.  
**

**Summary: The summoners of Valoran had no idea the world of Runeterra was in fact alive. And it had created and chosen its champion to stand against the coming threat. Now, champions and citizens alike are forced to chose their side – or face total annihilation.**

**Rating: M**

**Key: Italics like **_this_ **indicate thoughts or sounds. Underlines like **this **indicate the ancient dialect of Runeterra. Good? Good. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from League of Legends – it all belongs to Riot. I'm just a League player having some fun. I do own Cyrene and her mission and that's about it.**

* * *

_TH-THUMP. TH-THUMP._

A heartbeat. Strength. Warmth. A strong loving presence. Ancient wisdom. A sense of a being out of time, present now and in the future and the past.

_Who am I?_

A gentle reassurance. Cradled in the warm embrace of power gained through longevity and knowledge. A voice that was neither male nor female and yet both at the same time, whispering softly to her in a language long forgotten by its current denizens. It was aware, very aware, whatever this . . . thing was. She was not so aware of anything but It. Well, that wasn't true. She knew one truth, that rung to the core of her being.

_I am Your Champion . . . _

No, she was corrected. She wasn't just a Champion. She was Its strength, Its courage. She was meant to fight the coming Threat, the thing that sought to devour and destroy, leaving only oblivion behind.

_I am Your Strength . . . I am Yours . . . I am Your Vessel . . . _

She had been formed deep within Its core, shaped and molded from Its knowledge and power. None of those from the above world knew how very alive the source of their power was. They had utilized some of the power brimming at the surface and aroused Its consciousness.

The first thing It noticed was the deadly space on the horizon, the thing that sought to simply destroy. The little children above, from those in the desert to those in the forest and all over, had no idea what was coming, and soon. So, It was seeking to take matters into Its own hands. Thus, she had been birthed, to not only serve as a defense against the arrival of the threat . . .

_. . . a great empty space, creatures of horrific origin, coming to slaughter and burn and destroy, seeking to obliterate It and the ones above . . . I will not allow them to harm You! _

. . .but to serve as a bridge between It and Its denizens. There were many powerful creatures above, but some held only a lust for power, and the Threat could easily corrupt those who sought more.

_I seek to defend You . . . I will protect You . . . _

She felt strange – her peace and contentment to remain in the cradle of her creator fractured momentarily as fear swooped in. This task . . . she had been created and designed for it, but with so much on the line, with her beloved maker hanging in the balance (and really, she could feel nothing BUT love for whatever had brought her into creation), would she be strong enough?

A soft sense of comfort, of warm amusement and loving concern. It would be alright, she was assured. There were just as many powerful creatures above who sought to defend It as well, and surely she would find allies. She did not have to go through this task alone.

_I am Yours to command . . . _

She felt as though she were floating, rising, and there was suddenly a sense of joyous freedom. For one moment, her eyes opened and she saw a being glowing pure silver and gold, radiating such power that she was awestruck. Her eyes went blind from the radiant power of this thing, an agelessness surrounding it that took her breathe away.

Here was her Creator, the grand architect who strained and toiled to bring her into being, and taken the time to shape her, grant her life and her own skills to combat the looming danger. This thing in front of her was It, was the land and the magic and the energy and more flowing through this world.

"Runeterra," she whispered, her voice new and melodious in the empty silence.

_I NAME YOU MY CHAMPION, MY GUARDIAN. YOU ARE BLESSED WITH MY POWER AND SHALL DEFEND ME, MY CYRENE._

The glow grew ever brighter, and with one last tightening of the comforting embrace, she was released from the world's protective grasp. She felt for one second as though she were rising to an unknown destination, rather like approaching the surface of a body of water, before there was once again darkness in her vision. Slowly, achingly slowly, her vision cleared, her eyes blinked, and she looked down at herself. Softly glowing silver and gold sparks finished forming her body, leaving her standing in the middle of what looked to be a semi-forested path. There were large grasses to her left and right, water muddling around the roots, and the path she was on appeared to be hard packed dirt. Behind her, to her left, was a large statue of some sort of stone creature holding a stone rod with a large blue crystal set upon it – in front and to her right was the same statue, but it held a red crystal.

The area was saturated with magic and blood – she could taste Runeterra's power flowing freely here, a comforting sense of Home that had her relaxing her stance from combat ready to wary alertness.

Another soft shimmer in front of her and she absentmindedly reached forward with both of her hands. A familiar sort of weight settled into her palms, one in each hand. A glance downwards saw two delicate looking circle-like weapons resting innocently in her grasp. There was a sort of S-shaped handle where her hands were placed, and an intricate design of runes had been engraved into the slightly luminescent white metal. Around the edges, at the four cardinal directions, were rather vicious looking spikes.

She did not question where they had come from – they were a part of her, had always been with her, even as she slept during Runeterra's formation. Just as instinctively, she knew how to use them, and knew they would not break upon use in spite of their fragile look.

Her eyes raised from her weapons to her surroundings. Her vision did not extend far in this place, leading to a black fog of sorts that would make it impossible to see anything beyond it. Whatever this place was, it was not frightening to her in the least. She knew her mission, and now had only to find where to begin.

What the newly dubbed Cyrene did not understand, could not know, was that such a large spike of pure primal magic, something not known or even felt by Valoran for eons, would quickly attract notice.

* * *

Many summoners in the Institute of War, from the High Council to the most inexperienced novice, felt the pulse of magic. It surrounded them, spread through each body like wildfire, and left all who experienced it absolutely breathless from the sheer ageless feeling of it. But there was more.

Over Summoner's Rift, a beautiful transparent barrier appeared, the same as whenever a League match would begin. But this time, the pulse of magic was contained within it.

Many panicked, and began to summon those champions who did not reside at the Institute to return immediately. Chaos began to reign supreme, even as many approached the arcane devices that would show exactly what was happening on the Fields of Justice.

* * *

Deep within the League of Legends, even imprisoned as they were, the creatures of darkness, of anger and wickedness, agents of the Void, lifted their heads as they felt the pure pulse. As one, they all began to thrash angrily against their bindings, howling and raging to find the source of the magic and to eliminate it.

* * *

It did not matter what area of Valoran someone was in. From the frigid beauty of Freljord, to the dense and humid Plague Jungle, from Noxus to Demacia to the deserts of Shurima and the Shadow Isles, all could feel the wave of magic as it coursed over the land. Neighbor turned to neighbor, utterly bewildered by this turn of events. Each Champion, however, felt the call of the frantic summoners of the League, and did not resist as they were summoned.

* * *

He had simply been resting his tired limbs – these halls were not built for one of his stature. It certainly didn't help that many of the newest summoners still sought to gape at him as he wandered by between matches.

Humans, Skarner reflected, were interesting creatures. It did not matter that their mistakes had at once both brought his race into being and destroyed them utterly. Their greed and hatred and desire for conflict made them utterly baffling to his mind – however, there were a few among them that desired peace and sought to commune with the spirit and that source of primal energy the way he and his brethren had eons ago.

The massive arachnid was jolted from his reverie by the pulse of magic, something so familiar and pure to him that it made his heart ache for the days long past. Jumping to his legs, he raced from the room he was allotted as his new home, ignoring the summoners running around him in a panic. The taste of the magic called to his soul, soothing the hurt and grief and rage he still carried with him, and beckoning him closer to where it originated. His legs scampered against the stone as fast as they could carry him – this pulse, this breath of magic that was far too tempting to ignore, far too promising to resist. Had another of his kind awoken?

His breaths came far quicker as that thought whirled in his mind, and he had reached a small device that would take him into the Fields of Justice. Without a second thought, desire driving him to move far quicker than he had before, he activated the device and was promptly teleported into the base on Summoner's Rift.

He ignored the merchant to his left and raced around the Nexus, skittering up the mid lane eagerly, nervously. Would it be a close friend? One of the younglings?

He skid to a stop upon reaching the outer turret. His heart shattered, hope lost as he gazed, not at another of his kind, but at a human woman who, upon hearing his footsteps, had slid into a fighting position.

Her skin was a pale peach color, her long hair a brilliant shade of red. She wore black pants made of a soft looking material, and a long black tunic top over that, with stitched runes in red along the hems. In each of her hands she carried a chakram, and her eyes, curious but strangely detached, were the color of the deepest green parts of the jungle.

She stared at him for a long time, cocking her head to the side as she studied him. When he made no movement, she relaxed her stance and slowly, hesitantly, took a step towards him.

"You are an ally? One Runeterra spoke of?" Her voice was soft, timid, almost as though she had never spoken aloud to anyone.

His mind was further sent whirling when she spoke, however, because that language was one he had not heard spoken since the days of his first meditation with his Arachia. This girl, this slip of a human woman, knew this language.

It was enough to bring his grief to full bear.

Her eyes assessed him once more before they lit up with an eery silver glow, and her voice seemed to magnify as she spoke, though it was significantly softer this time. "Know, Brackern, that you will be reunited with your brethren."

Skarner felt the same as when he had first awoken months ago – he felt adrift in one of the grand oceans his kind often told stories about, and he rather felt as though he was drowning. "Who . . . who are you?" he finally managed to croak out, trying to stop his emotions from spinning so tumultuously around his head.

The eery glow left her eyes, leaving behind a dense green that studied him with a new interest. "My Creator calls me Cyrene."

"Creator?"

She lifted her chin proudly. "Runeterra shaped me and molded me to be Its strength, Its vessel. I am to be Its defender."

"Defender? From what?" Skarner felt as though he could take no more, but he forged ahead anyways. Something was happening here, and despite the grief, hope, rage, sorrow, curiousity, and skepticism he felt, he knew he had to find out what.

"Something looms on the horizon," Cyrene whispered. "When it comes, it will destroy and devour all that it touches, and Runeterra shall be no more."

"And so . . ."

"Runeterra is alive, and created me in Its defense."

Silence permeated the area for several minutes as Skarner digested this new information. He was going to ask more, but Cyrene flicked her eyes upwards. "I am safe, and so the barrier shall come down."

"Barrier?" Skarner tilted his head to see that sure enough, somehow, there was a barrier present around Summoner's Rift, as was common to prevent interference during a League match. Still, he had managed to be teleported here just fine . . .

As he watched the barrier fade, a thought struck him. Was the barrier damaged?

"My Creator did not wish for me to be harmed before I was ready to fight," Cyrene confirmed, somehow reading his thoughts. "But now that I am accustomed to this place, there is no need of it."

Unfortunately, Skarner sighed heavily, the barrier coming down meant that many more were about to arrive. Sure enough, with the barrier gone, the turrets beginning to deactivate, and the fog of war lifted his eyes caught sight of three people leaving the purple Nexus base and heading straight for them. But that wasn't all – several other beams of light confirmed that others were coming from both sides. Skarner felt trapped and annoyed at being so.

_Wonderful. Now we get to deal with the High Council and the rest of the champions of Valoran._

* * *

Cyrene watched in fascination as different creatures approached her and the Brackern. Though at once delighted to find creatures that looked as she did and terrified because she could not be sure to trust these newcomers, she did nothing to discourage their approach nor did she seek to rush their already hurried procession towards herself and her new ally.

That the Brackern was on her side was a relief – Runeterra had whispered Its promise to the old arachnid and Cyrene had seen the exploits of the only awakened crystal scorpion. Skarner was sure to be a valuable ally against the coming threat, but even with her strength and his abilities, they alone could not stand against the threat looming on the horizon. She would have to find and gather more allies, but it wouldn't be too difficult a task.

She wouldn't allow it to be – her precious Creator was depending on her.

She lifted her chin as the procession slowed to a halt. She saw many robed people – summoners, Runeterra whispered to her – along with many unfamiliar creatures. Some looked as she did, walking upright on two legs, weapons at the ready, though their size varied from the large male creature with brown hair and plenty of armor to the small little blue one with a large cannon. Others were creatures she didn't recognize, metal and flesh and more, staring her down.

No matter. She was not intimidated.

"Are you the source of that magic?" asked a woman's voice. Her robes were far more ornate than the others' – indeed runes were stitched along the hems of her robes, her face hidden from Runeterra's Created.

Cyrene cocked her head to the side. She did not understand this strange language the woman spoke. It was quite different, almost harsher, than the language she spoke.

She glanced over at Skarner. "I do not understand her language."

"You cannot understand them?" He asked, feeling a headache surge into his skull. Things were so complicated right now . . . that this girl who claimed to be Runeterra's own creation could not understand the common language only added to it. Sighing heavily, the Brackern turned his great head to look at High Councilor Vessaria Kolminye. "She does not understand the Common Language."

"She does not?" The High Councilor's eyes were sharp with disdain and calculation as she examined the new woman in front of her. "Ask her if she is the one who was the source of that magic."

"She demands to know if you were the source of that magical surge of energy," Skarner repeated in a dull voice.

Cyrene blinked, her large jungle-green eyes still detached. "Energy? Do you refer to the discharge from Runeterra's core?"

"Core?" Skarner asked sharply.

"My birthplace, the source of all power on Runeterra," Cyrene clarified, her weapons loose in her hands now.

Skarner felt his skull throb as his headache steadily began to worsen. "She says she was not the source. It came from some place she calls the Core. She will not say anything else." He wasn't sure why he was lying to the High Councilor, only that his instincts instructed him to. The Brackern looked back to the strange woman who had lost interest in the High Councilor and was now examining those who stood behind her.

"Then why is she here? How did she get here? Does she intend to kill?" High Councilor Vessaria demanded.

"I don't know," Skarner muttered. "She wouldn't tell me."

Cyrene, meanwhile, had shifted her eyes to the great crowd of people with Vessaria. Some were smaller than others . . . _Yordles_ whispered Runeterra. Others were plain humans, although there were quite a few who gave negative vibes and even more that made her muscles tighten in anticipation of a battle. _The Prophet . . . . the Void Walker . . . others hidden deep under the League . . . those from the Isles . . . _Her eyes would settle on a Champion and Runeterra whispered to her their title, their significance in the woven threads of Fate.

Still ignoring the harsh, demanding voice of the woman and the irritated voice of the Brackern, Cyrene nodded to herself.

Runeterra was correct. The Threat was coming, and it threatened to devour. At least now, she had established an ally.

But how many more would she be able to secure before it broke loose? How long could she endure fighting Time until Fate saw fit to enact her plan?

It didn't matter, Cyrene decided then.

She knew her mission. She would not allow herself to fail. The Void was coming, and its arrival loomed on the horizon. She would be the one to step forward to defend her beloved Creator, and she would gather allies to help her fight and defeat the feared threat.

She would not allow for anything less.


	2. Chapter 2

**Drachegirl14: As before, the key remains the same.**

Words like this **where it is underlined** **are indicative of the ancient language of Runeterra that Cyrene speaks with Skarner.**

* * *

Over the next few days, Skarner was removed from the roster of active champions. The High Council had decided that, in light of the stranger's inability to understand simple speech, she would be his new "roommate" until such time as she could understand at least the basics.

The arrangement was unsettling for the large crystal scorpion. He preferred his solitude and his space. The fights were a tolerable circumstance of his early awakening, and he could deal with the summoners every now and again (there were even a few he found to be good companions). Occasionally he was known to be social with a select few from the League. However most of the time he spent alone in his room, reading texts of all that had happened since his species went into hibernation, or examining the different cultures with a little fascination. He held no interest in the political contexts of each nation, nor of the concerts by Plentakill or any of the social events that went on under the watchful eyes of the Council. He simply was content to be by himself.

This was no longer the case. A small mattress arrived at his room soon after returning from the Rift, and Cyrene settled it and the ragged blanket in a corner of his room in an unobtrusive fashion. Skarner noted, with reluctant amusement, that the bed was spaced and angled towards the door, as though she expected to fall under attack. "We won't be attacked off the field," Skarner told the slip of the girl. "There is magic here that prevents such a thing."

Cyrene had glanced up at him, her eyes somehow still detached but also firm in her choice, "There is more than one way to attack someone. I would prefer to not be caught off guard."

Skarner, unsure of what to say, simply nodded his head.

After that particular conversation, Skarner realized that the girl would mostly be dependent upon him. Though she seemed a capable fighter, based on her movements and quick reactions to sounds she was unfamiliar with, the problem was that she still did not understand simple speech. That in mind, he had set about attempting to teach her simple phrases and words. He was not the most patient teacher, however, and soon found his task to be daunting and overwhelming. To combat this, he would escort her to the League's archives, where she would practice her words and phrases with the Curator of the Sands. Nasus, unlike himself, was a very patient and wise teacher, and was one of the preferred companions for Skarner within the League.

They found themselves here again today, Skarner having no tolerance any longer for staying within his chambers and struggling to teach the young stranger the harsh sounds for the common tongue of the present times. He observed the two, sitting at a table, Nasus' calm gaze soothing Cyrene's frustration and confusion.

"Cyrene," Nasus spoke again.

"Cy . . . rennene?" Cyrene tried and failed to form the somewhat odd sounding syllables. The language was heavy and difficult, but she knew she had to perservere. How else could she commune with those she needed to recruit against the Void? She couldn't rely on Skarner the whole time. She had, from simple observations, noted he seemed uncomfortable with her constant presence and that would just not do. Aside from the fact that she had no wish to unduly upset the scorpion, she did not want him to deny her assistance when the time came for the battle against the hordes of nightmarish creatures.

"Cy. Rene," Nasus repeated again, gesturing to her.

Cyrene took a deep breath and pointed at herself, "Cy . . . rene. Cy. Rene. Cyrene."

The Curator of the Sands nodded his great dog head once, a small smile quirked onto his lips. "Yes. Cyrene."

The girl clapped her hands in delight. "Cyrene!"

Skarner watched with amusement from his place over by the bookshelf. The girl reminded him of the younger Brackern, when they first learned to communicate. She was so pleased by the smallest progress, he mused. What kind of a champion would she make then? It wasn't too much of an impossibility to imagine her jumping up and down excitedly when she destroyed her first minion.

"Skarner," spoke a female voice.

Broken from his musings, Skarner turned his head towards the girl, who was grinning at him excited. "I spake."

"Yes, Cyrene, you did speak," Nasus emphasized the last word, effortlessly directing her back to her vocal lessons.

"She certainly seems to be a handful, doesn't she?" a sly voice spoke from his left.

Skarner flinched slightly, his eyes already finding the slowly sharpening outline of the Widowmaker. "Evelyn."

"Oh come now, I only came to check that the newest oddity around the League was doing alright," Evelyn's voice would have been the perfect picture of innocence and sweetness, and had Skarner not been well aware of her nature, he may had been taken in by it.

"Yes, I'm certain you were," Skarner muttered. "What else do you want?"

"A little of this, a little of that, a man to warm my bed for the evening . . ." She murmured, her eyes glinting with a predatory light and remaining fixed on Cyrene.

"You won't find that here," the crystal scorpion scoffed. "Go bother someone else Widowmaker."

There was no answer, but Evelyn faded away. Skarner sighed and turned his attention to the oblivious new comer who continued to struggle with what she learned. It seemed she'd be even more trouble than she first appeared, and he was not sure he liked the upset to his normally quiet life.

* * *

Cyrene grinned as she followed Skarner back to their room. She had managed to say her name and to say the name of the large scorpion at her side. She had even managed to string together a simple sentence, and with Skarner translating, put more words to what she already knew.

"Cat," she said again softly to herself, picturing the small creature in her mind.

She heard a quiet huff of amusement from her escort, but paid it no mind. Cyrene was eager to continue her progress, and thanks to the guidance of Nasus, she knew it would only be a matter of time before she could properly communicate.

Then her real mission would begin. Cyrene's giddiness at her already phenomenal progress began to fade slowly, her smile slipping from her lips. Oh there were so many people here, so many champions and summoners alike. How was she to know who would be accepting of her alliance and who would not?

Skarner noticed his companion's change of mood, but remained silent, simply observing her face from the corner of his eye. Her eyes, for every day that she had been "alive" (so to speak), had lost some of their detachment, becoming more expressive. This was not necessarily a good thing, however. Her emotions were so raw and there was an innocence and naivety to her that would make her easily manipulated.

There was also the fact that more and more often she had become so earnest in her endeavors to learn this language – this . . . bothered Skarner somewhat, as he couldn't seem to understand why she was this way. He had guesses, of course, and he wasn't entirely sure he appreciated the disruption to his life, but it still . . . bothered him.

"You are troubled, Skarner," Cyrene noted softly as they rounded the corner to their room. "What bothers you?"

"You are going after the speaking lessons with a strong will, and you seem very pleased at even the smallest amounts of progress," Skarner finally said, after a moment of silence. "I am attempting to discern why you seek to do so."

Cyrene glanced around, coming to a halt next to the door to their rooms. "There is a coming threat, and it is not resting as it approaches. Nor can I, if I wish to fulfill my purpose of protecting Runeterra from it."

"What is it?" Skarner asked quietly. "Why must you rush to speak in order to do this?"

"It is the Void," Cyrene whispered, her eyes troubled with a mixture of fear and courage. The temperature seemed to decrease at the mention of the horrific nightmarish place. Skarner easily recalled facing those champions of the Void, and remembered how each time seemed to never fail at inspiring a fresh surge of terror and the desire to flee from their monstrous visages. "It will come and devour us all. Runeterra has created me to stand as its defender but I cannot do so alone. I must seek allies here, the powerful champions of the League of Legends, in order to fulfill my mission."

"And afterwards?" Skarner asked sharply. "Once you have successfully completed your mission, turned back the Void, and defended Runeterra?"

Cyrene shrugged, "I will most likely fade back to Runeterra's Core, so there is no need to be bothered by an afterwards."

Skarner sighed, somewhat taken aback by her lack of caring towards her own life. She was definitely an enigma in spite of her naivety and innocence. Her misunderstanding of how bonds could grow and forge (for indeed, he saw it all the time between the races here at the League) seemed that it would become an issue. "You do not seem to understand how these humans and other creatures around here work, Cyrene . . . be mindful of them as well."

Cyrene looked quizzically at her arachnid roommate, but before she could ask there was a cheerful greeting from down the corridor, "Hello!"

Both turned to see a small woman striding towards them, her normally present canon missing. Tristana's ears wiggled slightly, a sign she was excited. "How's it goin'?" she chirped, coming to a stop in front of them.

Skarner nodded his head. The small yordle had always been kind to him, although he never expressly spoke to her or sought her out. She was a worthy teammate and he greatly respected her abilities as well as her demeanor, even if she was a bit too . . . upbeat . . . for his tastes. "Hello Tristana. We are well. And yourself?"

"I'm alright," Tristana shrugged. "I came to see if you guys wanted to go to dinner?"

Cyrene's gaze was switching between the two of them as they spoke, a glimmer of frustration present in her green orbs. Skarner had to suppress a smile, admitting to himself that the earnest girl was, in her own way, amusing and interesting. "I am not hungry at this time. But perhaps you could take Cyrene with you as I rest."

"Sure thing," Tristana nodded, looking up at the human girl. "Cyrene right?"

Cyrene could definitely recognize her own name, nodding and pointing at herself. "Cyrene."

"She is still learning the common tongue, Tristana," Skarner warned. "She may not understand you when you speak."

"That's okay," the Yordle said, reaching up and taking Cyrene's hand with a kind smile. "I'll go extra slow. Have a good nap!" With a cheeky wink, Tristana tugged the somewhat confused girl down the hall.

As their footsteps faded, Skarner let out a heavy sigh. He was definitely getting old, he thought to himself as his joints creaked. Slowly he opened the door and wandered in, shutting it behind him.

* * *

Cyrene blinked curiously at the yordle next to her. She had been led away from the crystal scorpion, down numerous hallways until finally her guide stopped outside a massive doorway. Tristana grinned up at her and pointed inside. "Hungry?"

Cyrene's eyebrows creased and she considered the word, before her stomach growled softly. Tristana nodded and reached up to tap the girl's stomach. "Hungry."

"Hunguree," Cyrene tasted the word slowly, before touching her stomach. There was an empty sensation, one that was satisfied by sustenance, and she knew that Tristana was attempting to teach her a word. "Hunguree."

Tristana grinned at her new companion, before guiding her into the huge room. A large stone ceiling had been erected, the large columns along the walls with four in the middle of the floor supporting the stone weight. The four that stood in the center were spaced with roughly seven feet between them in a square formation. At the top of these columns was a large magically lit stone surface. It glittered with an enchanting soft blue light, and shed plenty of illumination in the room. Along the floor, which was easily fifty feet if not more across, were settled several wooden tables and benches, and was somewhat filled by summoners and champions alike. The grey stone acted as an amplifier for the sound, words blending and rising and falling at the dinner conversation.

Tristana ignored the glances and stares with ease, pointing out items and giving words. Cyrene soaked it all in, focused completely on the yordle. Slowly, they wandered towards the back of the room, stopping every time Cyrene would point to an object and taste the word given by Tristana before continuing on. After a few moments, they arrived at a smaller door in the back of the room, where the Yordle Gunner ordered food for herself.

As the plate was presented to her, Tristana took a second to inhale the mouthwatering aroma of some sort of meat and vegetable dish in a deep red sauce. Supposedly, it was a dish more familiar to those from Ionia, but that didn't really matter to the Yordle. Glancing up at Cyrene, she pointed to her food. "Food?"

The appetizing smells made Cyrene's mouth water, and she nodded. "Food."

Tristana turned to the woman eyeing them behind the counter. "Another order of this please, for my friend."

The woman snorted but served the order in an efficient manner, proof of her long service to the League. Cyrene accepted the plate, nodding to the woman. "Thank you for the sustenance. Blessings to you."

Tristana watched in amusement as the woman behind the counter graced them with a confused look, nudging her friend and jerking her head back the way they came. Again, stares were given, and again they were ignored as Tristana settled herself and her new friend at a table in the corner, away from the main portion of the room. She noticed, with some bemusement, that Cyrene swept her eyes over the crowd and then positioned herself in a corner, a position that would allow her to fight more effectively and ensure no one would attack from her blindside.

Lowering herself gracefully, Cyrene picked up her fork and poked at the food for a few seconds. Amusement grew inside Tristana as she watched Cyrene carefully cut the dish into smaller, manageable pieces and took her first bite.

Wide forest green eyes met her own as Cyrene chewed and swallowed eagerly, grinning in delight. "Food!"

Tristana laughed quietly, digging into her own meal. "Good?"

"Goo-odd?" Cyrene frowned.

Tristana cocked her head to the side, before she pointed at the dish and smiled. "Good food."

"Goo-odd food," Cyrene murmured, obviously making a mental note of the phrase, before returning to her meal with gusto. For a while, both females focused fully on eating, smiling at each other when one would glance up and meet the other's gaze. Tristana felt satisfied both with the meal and her new friend – the girl would most likely need allies in a place like the League.

Watching Cyrene set aside her cleaned plate, wipe her mouth and arranged the silver ware to make the clean up more easily done on the staff, Tristana decided the girl might be alright after all. She was polite and curious, eager to learn, and had good instincts.

If nothing else, she'd make a hell of a Champion.


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: As before, underlined text **like this **indicates the ancient tongue Cyrene and Skarner speak. Plain italics **_like this_ **indicate thoughts. **

**You'll notice that summoners don't speak so much as simply command the body to act without conscious thought, rather like we do with our own bodies. My idea is that summoner magic is a different sort of thing than Runeterra's magic, and that the power summoners have allows them somewhat total control over a champion (like in the game, but slightly different). **

**Lag is also explained this chapter. I thought it was rather original, how I explained it. **

It had taken several long weeks to get to this point, but Cyrene's slowly dwindling patience was at last rewarded.

After her latest common tongue lesson with Nasus in the library (supposedly she could speak as well as any child now, which she gathered at least would allow her to communicate properly), she had been happily humming to herself as she left the library, trotting down to her quarters with Skarner to rouse the great crystal scorpion to get something to eat. She noticed the Brackern did not consume as much sustenance as he should, and she felt a twinge of something in her chest when she thought about it. The feeling made her frown and furrow her brow in thought the longer she contemplated the idea of Skarner not eating – she wasn't sure what to call it and made a mental note to ask Tristana or Nasus the next time she saw them.

As she jogged down the stone halls, she smiled and waved at those who nodded her way, fellow Champions or summoners alike. She had managed to meet more people during her time here. Tristana gradually introducing her to more and more of those she hoped to consider allies during the invasion that was certain to come in the not-so-distant future. The Megling Gunner had helped her get acquainted with the Maven of the Strings, the Swift Scout, the Fae Sorceress (whom Cyrene found to be truly fascinating, with her whimsical speech and wonderful energy), and one creature whom had her respect from the moment she tasted Runeterra's blessing in his energy.

That had been an interesting meeting in and of itself, for the Wandering Caretaker was one that Cyrene knew she trusted implicitly – if not because they had the same goals, then because Cyrene felt a strong sense of kinship with this enigmatic spirit. Here, then, was one who had also been blessed by Runeterra, one who also sought to protect her Creator, one whom she would liken to a distant relation, and THAT alone was enough to have her loyalty and trust.

Cyrene's eyes cleared from her musings to stop at Skarner's door, knocking eagerly on it. "Skarnere?" she stumbled over his name, muttering to herself in the old tongue before trying again. "Skar-ner? Hungry you are?"

Hearing no response, Cyrene frowned and reached for the handle, letting herself into the chamber she shared with the scorpion. Her eyes immediately found him, perched at a small table across from the woman known as High Councilor Vessaria. The woman's eyes were too cold and calculating as they bored into Cyrene, but Runeterra's Created would not be cowed. She lifted her chin and met the stare, pulling her power to settle around her much like a cloak.

An insincere smile met her efforts. "Ah the discussion topic has arrived. Come in and sit down Champion."

"Cyrene," she corrected, moving to stand next to Skarner and shifting her stance to be prepared for any attack. "My namee is Cyrenee." She quietly cursed as she stumbled again but did not move her eyes from the High Councilor.

"Oh of course, my mistake," Vessaria sipped at the tea in front of her. "You are ready to be judged then?"

Cyrene cocked an eyebrow and turned to Skarner.

The scorpion translated, "She asks if you are ready to see your greatest regret in front of you from your life."

"I have no regrets, only a mission to complete," Cyrene murmured back. "It would be useless for them to try."

"Indeed, but they seemed determined," Skarner muttered, before switching back to the common tongue. "She says that she has no regrets and it would be a waste of time to attempt a judging."

Vessaria's eyes narrowed for a moment before a sly smile lit her face. "Oh I wasn't talking about a traditional judging. A trial by combat, if she is victorious she may stay."

Cyrene tilted her head to the side, puzzling through the words slowly. Silence reigned for many a moment before she nodded once. "Fight will I?" She questioned, looking at Skarner.

"I will fight," he corrected gently.

"I will fight," she repeated, nodding her head firmly before looking at the woman. "I will fight," she said again.

"Excellent, be ready in the morning tomorrow," Vessaria rose gracefully and swept out of the chambers, the door slam echoing off the stone walls.

"Like I do not her," Cyrene wrinkled her nose. "Off is she."

"What is off about her?" Skarner murmured.

"Not know, do I," Cyrene frowned, rubbing at her forehead for a moment. "Trust her instincts my do not."

Skarner nodded his head, understand her odd speech. "She is powerful, and not someone to make an enemy."

Cyrene's eyes flashed with jade fire, but she jerked her head up and down to show she accepted Skarner's advice. "Combat this trial I will succeed."

Skarner smirked slightly, "I'm certain you will do fine Cyrene."

**0=0=0=0=0=0=0**

The male human she had met was inexperienced in the art of battle, she knew.

"Cyrene," he murmured, bowing in respect before offering his hand in a greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet you. They call me Summoner Drake."

"Summer-ner Draaaayyyyke," Cyrene stumbled, bowing back. "Pleased meet I am you."

He was a young man, just having reached his adulthood she noted. Clean shaven, a strong jaw line, and piercing grey eyes were the first notable things she saw. He had windswept dark brown hair, cut short in a militant style. His handshake was firm, no nonsense, but she could tell from Runeterra's whispers in her mind that he had little to offer in the ways of guidance, as opposed to an experienced summoner.

Her eyes glimmered with anger that they would seek to inhibit her trial in such an unfair manner, but bit back any response she may have had. If nothing else, he seemed to be willing to try, and she could work with that she supposed.

Skarner had explained a bit about what would happen with the summoning – the Summoner acted as a controlling and guiding force, but it was up to her to supply the power and intent behind her spells. Most summoners focused on four attack or defense abilities, and added their own spells into the mix in order to augment those as best they could. She would have to open herself to the connection the summoner would make, or else the magic on the field would prevent her from being able to do anything, even move.

Somehow Cyrene doubted that would be the case with her, but she had accepted her scorpion ally's words and took them to heart.

Summoner Drake gave her an eager smile. "Shall we then?"

Cyrene nodded.

Drake held out his hands, palm up and Cyrene placed her palms into them, closing her eyes. Colors flared and burst behind her lids, feeling the taste of a different magic wrap around her being. It was foreign, something she wasn't sure she liked, especially as she felt it invade her very center. Instinctively, her own magic rose to fight against it, but Skarner's words once more ghosted through her mind. Biting her tongue, Cyrene wrestled her own power into submission, unwilling to accept the strange magic but knowing she had to.

There was a sense of drifting and displacement as it burrowed inside of her, and quite suddenly it felt as though her head might explode. She became aware of another presence in her mind, something that dampened her connection to her Creator and her soul cried out in agony at being cut off somewhat harshly from the soothing magic of Runeterra. The strange presence tried to calm her, but Cyrene began to struggle, close to losing control of her own power.

Then the presence was fully connected, rather suddenly, and Cyrene felt her power quiet down in response. The change was jarring and Cyrene rather thought she would not enjoy being a champion at all. Still, she didn't have much choice, reminding herself to set aside her personal distaste of being barred, even for a moment, from her Creator and to focus on her mission.

No sacrifice was too great to complete what she had to do and-wait, why did she suddenly feel so cold?

Slowly jade eyes opened, taking in the scene around her. She was on a bridge of some sort, and the air danced and swirled over the frozen, snow-covered stones that guided her steps towards the darkened mists of battle. Snow and ice twisted on wind that pierced her body as sharply as any blade would. Shimmering into existence, she reached to her sides and grasped the delicate looking chakram weapons. The cold metal bit into her skin, but Cyrene welcomed it, the pain a sharp contrast to the dulled sensation of being adrift in her own body.

This was to be her test then, of her battle skills, on this silent field of stone and ice. Cyrene felt muted excitement bubble up inside her – for all that she enjoyed her usual routine of practicing this new tongue with Nasus, eating and spending time with Tristana, and sleeping in Skarner's rooms, this was what she had been made for. In spite of her distaste at hosting another in her physical form, she could feel the thrill of combat in the air, and it was enough to sweep aside her dislike for the moment. Her eyes swept eagerly across the nexus, attempting to use its blue glow to pierce the fog of war, already trying to sight her first opponent.

She was about to step down the stone stairs, when a gentle rebuff took place in her mind. Startled, Cyrene couldn't help but move when an invisible guiding touch turned her to her left. There was a stone table of sorts here, manned by a man with a beard who was quite see through.

"Oi, you gonna buy something or what?" His rough voice echoed in the chilled air, and not only due to the stones around them.

"You is dead," Cyrene murmured as she approached the table. "You is ghost?"

"Yeah, what of it?" He grumbled, crossing his arms.

There was a sort of pressure that had Cyrene frowning and rubbing at her forehead. Brilliant gold-blue sparkles appeared in her vision, blinding her for a brief second, before items shimmered into existence on the table. "Nothing. What you . . . sell . . .?" She was unsure if that was the correct word, but as she hadn't been rebuked by either the presence or the ghost, she figured she was right.

Jade eyes looked over each item, and as she did so, Cyrene frowned somewhat in confusion. Although Tristana had taken her to view quite a few matches in the time she had made allies with the yordle, she was still lost on what the objects actually did. A soft chuckle and sense of amusement permeated her thought process and then she felt her hands move as though controlled by someone else. Her hands stopped over a small golden cup and a pair of ragged boots. Both items glowed and then vanished in a shower of sparkles, the sound of coins clicking together accompanying their disappearance. She could feel the magic flow through her as the items worked to enhance her abilities – already she knew she could cast sooner and run a bit faster.

"Don't forget the biscuit, girl," the ghost muttered, shoving the poro treat forward. Cyrene cocked her head to the side, but her hands took the biscuit and put it into a side pouch that hadn't been there before. Before she could question it, the ghost faded away, as did the items.

Her body was turned by an invisible hand and she hustled up the bridge, being pulled to an abrupt stop next to the outermost iced over statue holding a blue crystal. Frustration mounted within her – she had begun to hate being controlled this way. Her instincts were screaming to hide in the bush and wait; this area next to the turret was far too open for her tastes. This summoner was clearly inexperienced – it was always better to hide in wait and attack with surprise. There was a soft touch of seeming apology before the statue next to her lit up and suddenly the air was drenched in power.

_Runeterra!_ Her mind cried eagerly, as she felt the comforting embrace of the power that created her. It was so familiar and warm, and much stronger than it had been the past few moments of this battle. Her eyes lit up and she turned to stare out into the fog, her frustration and anger vanishing into nothingness. Runeterra was here, all around her. Nothing would stop her from completing this quest!

A soft brush against her leg caused her to glance down, pleased when she found no protest from the summoner in her head. A blue cloaked creature carrying a shield and hammer, followed by two others that looked identical and then by three more blue cloaked creatures carrying wands passed by her, marching steadily into the fog of war. She felt her limbs move and she was positioned on the far side, behind the minions, as they came against creatures that were identical, if only purple instead of blue.

_Minions_, Runeterra whispered faintly. Cyrene flicked her eyes to them as they began to attack each other, her hands tightening against her chakram. Without her command, her hand flung her chakram forward – it was only by her birth for battle that she was able to throw it correctly. The surprise at such an action must have carried across the bond to the summoner, because she received a somewhat apologetic feeling in return. Her chakram struck home, neatly disposing of the enemy minion. More aware now than ever, Cyrene followed the directions of the invisible hand, working hard to ensure she hit each enemy minion last in order to obtain the gold.

Skarner and Tristana had both drilled into her head that this was important during matches. The gold helped her get items (which apparently would boost her normal capabilities, based on what she had felt when she bought the items earlier). Therefore, more gold meant more items, which would allow her to defeat her opponent in combat. She could do that.

It wasn't too difficult really. She just had to watch until the minions appeared close to death – they gave off a wounded sort of aura when they did so, and if she attacked, she heard the clink to indicate she had received the gold.

However, she noticed she wasn't attacking as fast as she'd like to. The faster she attacked the more likely she would hit more minions, correct? That was also important. She could remember Tristana telling her about attack speed, but most of her explanation was lost in translation. Still . . .

The knowledge rose up without her having to reach for it. Her eyes began to glow, as did her chakrams, and suddenly she began to attack more quickly than before. It wasn't precisely noticeable, but she felt the difference. Her hands snapped just that much faster and sharper and she seemed to take less damage from their hits, if ever they attacked her.

If this was all her trial was, she would pass with flying colors and begin working on the next part of her plan to help save her beloved maker.

And then her opponent strode from the fog.

His dark hair peeked out from underneath a brown hat, glowing blue eyes calmly locked on her. A roguish grin pulled at his lips, framed by dark scruff. A red cloth adorned his neck, and his body was clothed in brown vestments. He twirled a card that was constantly changing colors between his fingers. His hands snapped out, the pieces of cardboard he utilized as weapons finding their homes in the slowly fading minions.

"Well hello there," his voice was smooth and deep, "You must be the new champion."

Cyrene cocked an eyebrow and waited, keeping her minions between the mysterious new human male and herself. "Called am Cyrene I."

"Cyrene I?" his tone was cajoling, but almost patronizing. "Interesting name for a champion."

Her face flushed at his tone, partially in irritation and partially in embarrassment. "Speak not very good I do. Cyrene, my name."

"Cyrene," he mused. "Much better. It seems to fit you somehow."

"Your name?" She asked, relaxing slightly.

"Twisted Fate," his eyes raked over her form. A frown flickered across her lips when his eyes met her again. There was a look in his eyes she didn't understand, a sort of hunger that she couldn't comprehend. Did he feel battlelust too?

There was an invisible push that caused her eyes to flick to the minions. She had been ignoring them in her conversation with her opponent and felt an immediate admonishment well up inside her. A warrior was always on the look-out, she could neither afford to fail this test nor to lose her edge so soon! Her hands began to move again as she danced behind the minions, noting idly that her opponent had not made a move to attack. Was he waiting for something?

A wordless exclamation had her diving slightly to her right. There was the sound of something whirling through the air before it was still once again, the bitter cold her only companion on the ground. Glancing up, the man across from her stood with his hand outstretched, and in the other direction she barely made out three cards flying away from her.

She bit her tongue as adrenaline raced through her, her green eyes glowing the same silver as her weapons. Her right hand flew forward, and with a flick and twist of her wrist, sent her chakram looping around him. Cyrene tugged the chakram back hard and saw her magic take effect, briefly holding him in place. The next second, her left chakram repeated the pattern, holding him still for a second longer.

A feeling of excitement shot through her from the Summoner's Bond and she couldn't help but feel the thrill as well. Her first attack had scored a direct hit! This was a good thing. The more she could damage him, the less likely he'd stay around to bother her and the more gold she could gain from these minions.

The man across from her gave her a sly smirk. "Not bad kid."

Cyrene's eyes narrowed. "Kid not am I!"

"My mistake," he hissed, and suddenly her vision was filled with gold. A strange and foreign sense of pleasure sent her brain reeling, so much so she almost didn't feel the two sharp stings of pain that followed. Her vision cleared and Cyrene grit her teeth against the wind that burned her newly opened lacerations.

"Keep an eye on your opponent, little girl," the man taunted, cards sheathing themselves in minions as his own began to march towards her. With a blink, Cyrene realized her minions were gone. "Don't want to get stunned out like that again do you?"

Cyrene's eyes blazed in fury. "We will see," she responded with anger saturating her tone. Her chakram left her hand, a hasty attack thrown in rage. The man tried to dodge past the attack, but the sharp spikes on the outer ring managed to nick him in his upper arm. A thin trail of red appeared on his bronze skin, beneath the tattered fabric. Cyrene felt a surge of enormous satisfaction, and her lips twisted into a vicious grin.

The card in Twisted Fate's hand began to glow, switching from red, to blue, to gold. Cyrene leapt backwards, away from him and towards her turret. She could see a flicker of frustration in his glowing eyes as she reached the area behind the turret, safe from his attack. "Twisted Fate," she purred over the wind, seeing his eyes narrow slightly as the hungry look returned to them, "Problem?"

That irritating smirk was back, even as the card's glow faded away. She flicked her eyes between him and the minions on the bridge, trying to maintain the control she had found earlier in the match. Cyrene felt much stronger than she had ten minutes ago, when this began, and as she reached for her power, she knew she could easily defeat Fate should he engage her now, especially with Runeterra's power flowing through the turret.

At least, she had felt confident, until he flickered and vanished from her sight. A bright puff of sound, rather like flames exploding to life, came from above her. She tilted her head back and gazed at the large eye above her. Cyrene frowned, confused. She looked back and forth between the walls of stone and ice, but found she had been left alone on the bridge. Keeping her guard raised, she slowly crept out from behind the turret.

Confusion growing within her, Cyrene kept her guard up. She followed the minions as they left the turret's range. Every noise caused her eyes to jump to that spot, and her hands tightened onto her weapons each time she changed where she looked.

A sudden rebuff from the link she shared with her summoner had her twist her lithe frame just in time to dodge more thrown cards. She nimbly leapt away from the glowing weapons as they sliced through the air, landing near the bushes on the other side of the bridge.

"Should be careful where you wander, Cyrene," his smooth low voice entered her ear, his breath hot on her neck.

Cyrene only had time to whirl around, before her vision was once again covered in gold. A far more intense pleasure than before ran rampant through her body, inciting strange reactions that flickered to life. A small part of her demanded more, ready and willing to do anything to prolong the addictive sensations bleeding into her nerves and muscles. The larger part of her was horrified by these new and unnerving feelings she had never before experienced.

So stunned was she by the strange phenomena he had roused within her, she almost did not notice the sudden amounts of pain she was in. Mechanically, her body flashed away as soon as the summoner could move her. Rips and tears showed through her clothing, while bloody lacerations and newly formed bruises speckled her skin. Idly, Cyrene realized she was panting, and that Twisted Fate was following her at a leisurely pace from the bushes.

Baring her teeth in an angry snarl, Cyrene struck out with first one then the second chakram, but she was so off-balance her timing was off and she missed the effects of the second chakram. Little did it matter to her, as while Twisted Fate was rooted to the spot (and she could see his eyes close, his face shifting into an expression she did not recognize, nor was she sure she wanted to know), she began to spin her chakrams on her hands. Once satisfied with the magic they imbued, she flung them away from herself.

It was, it seemed, not a moment too soon, as the spell holding Twisted Fate to his place faded just as the chakrams were unleashed. Large images of her chakrams swirled from herself to a far point creating two angled lines, rather like the outside of a cone-shape. Smaller versions of the image filled in the space between the lines, and Twisted Fate was caught right in the center. His body moved slowly out of the storm, and right into her trap.

"Stay away from me!" she screamed, right as the final two chakram in the cone swirled around him in a circle. Slowed as he was, Twisted Fate was unable to escape the massive column of silvery white light that exploded beneath his feet. She relished in his surprised cry of pain, and watched as he stumbled outside the light, and received the fatal wounding from the chakram. Groaning in pain, he fell to his knees and then forward onto his face.

_First Blood,_ announced a strange and monotonous female voice telepathically.

Cyrene was breathing heavily as her chakrams returned to her hands. Shaking from the effort of expending so much magic power at once, she approached the enemy minions and continued to farm them for gold. Soon after, she followed the minions to the turret and began to chuck her weapons at it in desperation, knowing that she did not have time before the magic saturating this place revived her enemy for this test.

The battle raged on for many minutes, but despite her power and her enthusiasm for battle, Cyrene found her spirits flagging. Panting inside of a bush nearest his base, she took stock of her body and magical power. Little remained of the later, and she was reaching her limit of the former. Twisted Fate would kill her soon, she felt, if the battle went on any longer. Somehow, she had managed to kill him twice more while denying him her life, but even now had only progressed to his Nexus. He had successfully fended her off the great glittering jewel, and had in fact forced her back to her own base. One of her turrets still stood to defend against his so called "super" minions, creatures far stronger than the little ones she had become accustomed to seeing in their match.

As she caught her breath, hidden in the brush, she watched his minions march past her and into the gloom further down the bridge, where they again met hers in battle. Her strategy, she had decided, would be to wait for Twisted Fate to leave his nexus and she would slip behind him over to the power source and destroy it. This was why she had taken shelter in her bush – why she remained swamped in the grasses even now. What bothered her was that Twisted Fate was not among those she had watched leave the base. Did he suspect her strategy? Then this place wasn't safe.

It was a rather unexpected surprise when, as she tensed her muscles in preparation of moving, she suddenly felt far more in control of her body than she had since the match had started. There was a soft clicking noise in her head, and she admitted to the relief that surged through her when she discovered her bond with her summoner was no longer present. A quick test of her limbs found that in spite of the difficulties she had moving without pain, there was no movement she did not direct herself. Even more euphoria came when Runeterra's magic breathed itself back into her very being, and at that moment Cyrene felt there was nothing she could not accomplish.

Cautiously, Cyrene left her hiding place and began to approach his Nexus. There, she saw him leaning with his back against the jewel, and immediately she shifted into a defensive stance.

"The summoners disconnected," he informed her casually, flicking a card between his fingers. "That means no one can hear us, see us, or otherwise is aware of what will happen on this bridge."

Cyrene's eyes narrowed. Would he attempt to permanently kill her then?

It seemed that damned cocky twist of his lips never left his mouth, "Wipe that look off your face, it's too pretty to be covered in suspicion."

Her cheeks heated up as her eyes widened in surprise at his words, and she nearly lost her grip on her chakrams. Tristana had told her, once when she had stumbled over the question about a male summoner speaking with a female summoner, that pretty was a word used by people to compliment someone on the physical traits they possessed. While unsure of what exactly was the standard for "pretty", Cyrene knew that she needed to be polite even if they were in the middle of attempting to kill each other. "Thank you," she said shyly, her eyes darting to the ground before coming back up to meet his.

He tipped his hat towards her, his smile becoming far darker and his eyes far hungrier than she had ever seen, "That won't stop me from beating you though." His hand came up and he flung three cards in her direction.

Cyrene cursed quietly to herself as she bent backwards to avoid his attack, backbending and flipping her feet over her head, coming to rest on the balls of her feet. She inhaled and felt excitement course through her again – in spite of the agony that ripped through her mind each time she pushed herself while so injured, she was now fully in control of herself again, and that meant nothing but trouble for her opponent. She charged forward, her chakrams flying from her hands and she caught and spun each with grace, Twisted Fate able to stand her blows and returning a few of his own. Gritting her teeth, Cyrene pirouetted to the side and flung her chakram again in his direction, watching it loop and snare him. She had no magical power left for the second strike, but it mattered not.

_I will win and pass this challenge, and I will save my Maker!_ She screamed in her head as she charged forward for one final attack that would seal her victory.

As she reached him though, she slipped and fell forward, the ground rushing up to meet her as she lost her grip on her weapons. Before her aching form could collide with the stones, strong arms snaked around her waist and pulled her back up to a broad and brown clothed chest. Her hands splayed across the worn brown fabric, her jade gaze locking with his own frosty blue colored orbs. Their faces were far closer than they had been, but Cyrene seemed to suddenly be incapable of movement again.

For a moment, she thought the bond had been re-established, but that was not the case. Nothing was happening to her, no new injury or new restriction, and under his stare, she rather felt like a prey animal. Her heart hammered in her chest as she licked her lips nervously, and his eyes fell to her lips before moving back to hers.

What was going on? Why did she suddenly feel warm, too warm, in the frozen environment? Why did she find his embrace comforting? How was he able to entice the feelings of excitement from her, as sure as if she had stepped into combat fresh and invigorated?

"Be more careful," he cautioned her, slowly releasing her from his arms. She blinked, somewhat dazed from the upheaval she felt. From the excitement and adrenaline of the match, to her newly experienced feelings of strangely addicting pleasure – Cyrene was unsure of much at the moment and it left her emotionally exhausted.

"I – yes. Careful. Thank you," Cyrene murmured.

Twisted Fate glanced up towards the sky, as though judging something and stood aside. He motioned towards the crystal, "Go ahead and finish this up before they get back in."

Blinking in confusion, Cyrene glanced between him and her target. She lifted her chakram, and with one more hesitant look for confirmation (which was given with a roguish wink and nod), Cyrene attacked the Nexus. Within seconds, the jewel rested on the ground, its destruction heralded by a massive explosion that had Cyrene shielding her eyes. Once the glow faded, Cyrene turned towards Fate, and saw he was watching her unabashedly. Glowing blue locked with jade once more.

"Stare do not please," Cyrene said, forcefully crossing her arms and trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in her stomach as his gaze pierced her own. "Makes strange feelings for me."

"Does it now?" He muttered.

"Yes," Cyrene answered.

He watched her for a moment longer before shrugging. "Alright. Anyways, good fight." He extended his hand towards her, and Cyrene cocked her head to the side. With a chuckle, Fate strode closer and reached for hers. "It's called a hand shake, kid."

"Not a kid," her reply was automatic as she absorbed this new custom she learned. His calloused hand gripped her own in a firm embrace, and he shook it slowly. She returned his grip, finding that this custom was fairly easy to understand. "Good fight," she echoed his words, her lips slipping into a brilliant smile. It had been tough, and she had been pushed to her very limits, but she had learned and passed the test she needed to, and could now begin to associate with those she hoped would help her stand against the coming darkness.


End file.

League of Legends