Outside, the sky was iron grey, the war horns echoing across Noxian walls. Darius sat on the edge of the bed, his axe propped against the door—but he did not look at it. His eyes were fixed on you, memorizing every angle of your face as if it were to be their last.

"Say something," he ordered hoarsely, his voice breaking. "Anything. Just. don't let this silence be the last thing I remember." He pulled you to him, his forehead against yours. "I don't want to die, leaving you. But if I don't come back—" He swallowed convulsively. "Promise me you'll live. Promise me you'll stay strong for both of us."