Caitlyn sat on her bed, clutching her pillow, crying silently. It was the day after her mother Cassandra's funeral, and the floodgates of grief had opened. After the tragic terrorist attack targeting the most influential families in Piltover, her family had been ripped apart. Her father was a mess, the house in disarray, the public frazzled. It all just felt incredible vile and lonely.

Since her father only married into the Kiramman name, she was the new leader of House Kiramman. Meaning she was thrust into the eye of the public in her mother's place. At the funeral, citizens had crowded her, screaming questions, some crying, some angry, some clutching their children as if they were scared of the same fate ripping apart their families.

She was of no help, still grieving and processing herself. The public's eyes on her made her skin crawl, and after a few choked words, she'd retreated from the podium and stood guard by her mother's casket, staring at her familiar face until her vision warped with tears and the coffin closed suddenly, leaving her panicked and sick.

She sobbed into her childhood sheets, feeling more alone than she had in years. Sure, she was always pretty disconnected from everyone, but this brought it to a new threshold. She swallowed, trying to breathe and not choke on her own bile building in the back of her throat. She had so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted out of her, and no one to say it to. That is, until one Vi from the undercity snuck through her window. Her head popped up.