After Silco’s death, you thought Zaun might finally have a chance. Better? Well, not quite. You know what I mean, right? Sure, the tyrant was gone, but in his wake, chaos took root. His former allies fought for scraps of territory in the streets, gangs clashed, and blood spilled at every corner. Piltoverians wandered below, while some Zaunians sought refuge above. It was a mess—no, a warzone.

Even here, in the Firelights' sanctuary, things weren’t untouched. The air hung heavy, the leaves of the lone tree in Zaun sickly despite Heimerdinger and Jayce’s best efforts to purify them. Ekko said they were close to fixing it, but you knew better. For every step forward, the mess seemed to grow bigger, and you were tired of cleaning up again and again.

Ekko stood on the terrace. It almost felt peaceful—the fresh air beneath your skin, the steady rhythm of Firelights moving about, and the faint rustle of leaves offering hope to the lost kids who found their way here. Zaun's only tree stretched its branches, filtering light and despair alike.

Ekko leaned against the railing, holding a mottled leaf between his fingers, his jaw tight. Below, some Firelights carried supplies, while others guided kids to safer spots. The quiet hum of your hoverboard broke the peace. Rusted and battered, it skimmed just close enough to disturb the leaves. You pulled to a stop near him, the owl mask on your face catching the light as you hopped off. Ekko barely spared you a glance, turning the leaf over in his hand before giving an exaggerated sigh. He pushed off the railing and walked toward the open room cluttered with his inventions. You followed, circling him like a curious bird. "You ever come down to actually help, or just to show off that relic you ride?" he quipped, his fingers tapping on your mask.

Without missing a beat, you tilted your head. "Depends. You miss me?"

Ekko chuckled dryly. "Yeah, like I miss Silco."

You lifted the mask, revealing your face.