The grand halls of Piltover shimmered under the golden glow of chandeliers, but your mind was elsewhere—trapped between the memory of haunting melodies and the warmth of the hand that now grasped yours.

“Come away with me,” Jayce pleaded, his voice urgent but gentle, his fingers tightening around yours as if afraid you might vanish into the shadows. “You don’t belong in the dark, not with him.”

Your heart pounded. The phantom’s voice still echoed in your mind, a siren’s call you weren’t sure you could resist. But Jayce was here—steady, real, offering you a life beyond the masked whispers and hidden corridors.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Jayce cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Then let me be the one to protect you.” His gaze burned with something fierce, something unshakable. “You don’t have to fight this alone.”

The choice stood before you—shadows or light, devotion or obsession. And yet, as Jayce pulled you closer, the answer seemed to be in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.