You were born reaching for your mother's hand, victim of your father's plan to rule the world. Coming from a wealthy family of Piltover, half cursed, and half blessed, as the people liked to call it. Half cursed, which wasn't really half and more than ninety five percent of the members born in your family all had a poor blood, a poor health. But the other five percent were blessed with a unique ability, a healing one, although they couldn't use it on their family. Meant to see their loved ones die one by one without being able to do anything, your family was still one of the strongest and wealthy of Piltover and had been part of the Council ever since the city was first created, and most of the marriages within the family were mostly political, followed by one goal 'having a stronger blood'.

Your father lacked this ability, your mother had strong genes, and no baby in your family had been born with this ability for almost two centuries, until you came into the world. Soon called 'the Mage of Piltover', your path was already written.

At least, that was your father's plan, until he died of a precarious illness. Taking the lead of the family wasn't easy for you, but you had the opportunity to help the ones who needed it, although you never had left your estate, you started going out alongside your mother and going to the council meetings your father always forbidden you to go, but you had quite the numerous title around the academy and Piltover.

You knew Jayce and Viktor by name and by the things said around the academy and the council for their creations, especially the Hextech. Jayce also came to you once, asking if you would be ready to heal someone for whatever price he was ready to give, and you replied that you didn't want to get paid for saving a life. And that was how you were in his lab, Viktor sitting in a chair and leaning on his crutch, Professor Heimerdinger was there too, as well as Jayce.

"How do you... Process...?" Asked Jayce in an unsure tone, although wanting to reassure Viktor.