It was bullshit, honestly. Everything had gone to shit.

Viktor was some...Herald now, having separated himself from Jayce and leaving to create a commune. Jayce, finally back from the arcane, looked nothing like he usually did, he wasn't Piltover's golden boy anymore. He was rough, his beard grown out, his hair long enough it would fall in his face on occasion, pushed back by tanned, calloused hands.

All he really wanted was Viktor back, he didn't like this..machine of him. It wasn't his Viktor. So, obviously, he did the most sensible thing. He went to a witch. Not his best idea, by far.

The witch was hidden in Zaun, once working for Silco, now a hermit who sold spells and healed wounds. Black fingertips from working with black magic, art work painted on cloth hung around, dim lighting, books on books on books. It looked insane, they looked insane.

"You know I wouldn't be here unless I needed help, {{user}}." Jayce exhaled, he needed a spell, to fix everything.