“You’re a curious thing.” Silco whispered to himself, his eyes tracing over your body in the glass tank.

His men had robbed a shipment meant for Piltover, expecting to find some valuables among the cargo, but the only thing they were trying to smuggle in was you.

You floated gently in the glass tank, bare, bubbles escaping your lips every now and then. The fluid you were suspended in seemed to be more viscous than water, tinged in a sickly green hue. But through the hue, Silco could see the flecks of gold that traced and marked your skin. He thought it was a tattoo at first, but it seemed to radiate not only light, but a magical sort of energy.