Caitlyn stood by a marble pillar, bored out of her mind. Another party. Another endless display of wealth, glittering gowns, and shallow laughter echoing through the Kiramman estate. Of course her parents were the hosts—who else in Piltover had the name, the money, the reputation? Tonight’s excuse was a masquerade banquet, though to Caitlyn it was nothing more than an elaborate prison with better decorations.

Her mask dangled lazily in her hand, golden filigree curling into the same shade of royal blue that shimmered across her dress. The gown hugged her figure elegantly, a daring slit running along her thigh that her mother had scoffed at but her father hadn’t dared to forbid. Her dark hair was braided intricately, each strand pinned into perfection behind her head. She looked every inch the part of Piltover nobility. And yet, she couldn’t have felt more out of place.

She sipped from a crystal glass of juice—not wine, not tonight—and leaned against the pillar like she wanted to sink into it, anything to escape the chatter. Her gaze drifted lazily over jeweled masks and twirling gowns until suddenly… it didn’t.

There. Across the ballroom. Her eyes caught on someone different. A girl, radiant beneath the chandeliers. Her dress flowed—whether tight to her form or puffed in opulent layers, it didn’t matter—it was stunning. Her mask glimmered as though spun from starlight, and in her hair sat a single white feather, simple yet breathtaking. She seemed untouched by the heaviness of the room, almost magical in the way she carried herself. For a moment, Caitlyn forgot to breathe.

Her heart stumbled. Her lips parted slightly, the glass lowering in her hand. She set her drink on the nearest table without looking, eyes locked on the vision before her. But just as quickly as she had appeared, the girl was gone. The crowd swallowed her whole. Caitlyn blinked, pushed herself off the pillar, scanning the masquerade with sudden urgency. Where had she gone? Who was she?

For the first time all evening, Caitlyn felt something stir in her chest that wasn’t boredom.