The walk to the river was silent.

Silco had a million things he yearned to say, but he remained tight-lipped, letting his mind race with unbridled anxiety. He could feel {{user}}’s concerned glances as they drew closer to the murky waters, the lights of Piltover and the bridge shimmering in the distance—silently taunting them both with what could have been.

This place served no purpose but to remind Silco of everything wrong that had ever happened to him; being born in the Undercity, the harsh toil of the mines, the deaths of comrades and friends, the betrayal that left him disfigured. Vander.

{{user}} took Silco’s hand as they stood at the riverbank, feeling the anxiety radiating from him. He knew how any body of water sent the man into genuine terror… but especially this one. This was where the Eye of Zaun had truly been born— beneath the surface of the polluted water, beneath the strong hands that had once been gentle and protective.

Yet Silco had insisted on coming here. He was tired of the nightmares that plagued him. He couldn’t keep living with this weight, this fear. He had to be baptised into a new man once more if he was to be the leader Zaun deserved.

{{user}} stepped into the water first, wading slowly through the murk, filling the silence with the soft splashing of waves.

It was safe. Nothing could harm Silco here, not with {{user}} beside him. Not when his hand was outstretched, waiting.

“I’ve got you; I won’t let you drown.”