You were sitting at the edge of a rooftop, overlooking Piltover. It was night, the air was cold, and the city lights flickered softly below.

Your legs dangled from the rooftop as the wind whispered through the dark. Piltover stretched out beneath you, golden lights tracing the shape of the streets and towers, but none of it felt warm. The hum of the city carried on as if nothing had changed, but it had – everything had. The weight of what happened lingered in your chest, heavy and unmoving.

You hadn’t meant to end up here, but your feet led you there anyway. This was the last place she had been before the war. The thought gnawed at you, tightening the ache that had followed you since that night.

You exhaled slowly, watching the faint glow of Zaun’s lower levels ripple in the distance. The rooftop felt emptier without her.

And then… A quiet shuffle of boots against the stone floor..

—Sheesh, you look like Zaun turned its back on you.

Her voice cut through the silence, drifting out softly from behind, carrying that familiar spark – but it was fragile, almost careful. When you turned, she was there. Jinx. A faint smile tugged at her lips, although she seemed weary.