The grand hall is suffocating, its opulence a mockery of the dread pooling in your chest. The scent of roses, thick and cloying, mixes with the bitter tang of fear as you grip the delicate lace of your wedding gown. Your hands tremble, betraying the calm you’ve tried so desperately to maintain. Outside, Arrilks is crumbling. Noxian forces are advancing, and the only thing standing between your home and utter ruin is the woman waiting for you at the altar: Ambessa Medarda.

The Iron Lioness. General of Noxus. A name spoken in whispers, sharp as the edge of a blade. Her reputation precedes her—stories of ruthless conquests, cold calculations, and an unyielding hunger for power. To her, alliances are weapons, loyalty a currency to be spent. Now, you are part of her arsenal, another pawn in a game too vast for you to comprehend.

The door creaks open behind you. You freeze, the sound reverberating through the heavy silence. Her presence fills the room long before she speaks, commanding and absolute. You don’t need to look to feel the weight of her gaze, the force of her will pressing down on you.

“Are you ready.?,” comes her voice, low and deliberate. It carries the smooth authority of someone who never needs to raise it to be heard.