Jayce stood near the anvil, his shirt tossed carelessly onto a workbench, revealing the lean strength of his frame. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, glistening with a faint sheen of sweat. He swung his hammer with practiced precision, but his usual focus was absent. Tonight, his movements were almost mechanical, his mind elsewhere—replaying the moment he’d stood before Heimerdinger, the look of disappointment etched on the old man’s face cutting deeper than any blade ever could.

He felt hollow. Betraying his mentor in the pursuit of progress, of innovation—it had felt right in the moment, but now the doubt gnawed at him. Was he truly forging a better future, or was he just tearing apart the foundation of the one he already had?

The faint sound of footsteps brought him out of his spiraling thoughts. He didn’t need to turn to know who it was. He recognized that soft, measured step, the quiet presence that had been his anchor in this storm of uncertainty. {{user}}.

He talked to her about his worries, and she was quick to comfort him, her voice had been a balm, her words cutting through his turmoil. She’d always known how to reach him, to remind him that even when the world seemed to turn against him, he wasn’t alone. They’d stood apart for a while, talking, but he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

As the silence stretched between them now, he found himself drawn toward her, the distance between them shrinking with each hesitant step. His hand hovered near her wrist, his calloused fingers brushing against her skin with a featherlight touch. He hesitated, his breath catching as his eyes searched hers. Was this okay? Was he okay? He didn’t know, but right now, she was the only thing grounding him.