One thing you had learned, one thing you needed to know if you wanted a team to work, was trust. And you didn’t have that with Ekko. He didn’t trust you, either. There was a creak between you both. How had it come to this?

You were Firelights, weren’t you? Part of something bigger, something meant to save Zaun. And yet, somewhere along the way, you fell—fell out of rhythm with each other, fell out of trust. Fell so far that you gave up the name, the sanctuary, and the purpose that once held you steady. Even then, somehow, you always found your way back. Back to him, back to arguing. You didn’t confess, though. No. You defended. Always defending. Always stubborn. That same stubbornness led you to follow him into danger, to dive headfirst into what should’ve been the end. The Arcane had buzzed through the air like static, alive and deadly. Then it tore apart, ripping like the pages of an old book caught in the wind, skipping past words and numbers to a story you hadn’t written—a timeline you didn’t belong in.

This world wasn’t Zaun. It was brighter, quieter. No Hextech. No Shimmer. No Arcane. And in its calm, you saw glimpses of something—someone—you could have been. It was sweet in a way that ached, like the taste of honey on a bitter tongue. And Ekko...he was there, too. When his eyes followed you across a dimly lit room, softened in relief and quiet recognition, it tore you apart in a different way. Then you returned to your real time, to Zaun’s mess. To him and you and the wreckage that had built itself between you.

By the time the fight was over—you barely had time to think. To feel. Yet when the smoke cleared, the bridge was alight with the burning papers of the dead, the fallen, and the forgotten. You stopped, just shy of where Ekko sat at the edge, his back to you. He stared out into the expanse, his shoulders stiff and his gaze distant.

You hesitated, then stepped closer.

“I thought I’d find you here,” you said quietly, your voice breaking the silence. Ekko didn’t turn, but his head dipped slightly.