The smoke still hung in the air, mixed with the acrid smell of burning metal and muffled screams. Jayce walked through the devastated streets of Piltover, each step becoming heavier. Zaun's attack on Piltover had been brutal, like an unexpected storm that tore apart everything in its path.

He had searched for hours among the rubble and the wounded, his heart heavy and his mind wavering between hope and despair. The explosions had separated him from his wife, you, and no one seemed to know where you were. Every unfamiliar face he encountered increased his anguish.

Finally, he stopped in the middle of the destroyed square, his hands shaking as he held a handkerchief that you used to wear. The fabric was stained and torn, but her scent was still there, like a last trace of something that seemed lost.

"{{user}}, {{user}}, where are you!??" Jayce screamed, the desperation evident in his voice.