The only tree in Zaun stood solemnly in the sanctuary, its leaves drifting down in patient, deliberate falls. Around the tree, torches and lamps cast soft, flickering light, illuminating the worn stone and broken beauty of the refuge. Firelights zipped through the air like restless insects, their holoboards humming as weapons and trinkets crafted by Ekko glinted in the dim glow.

Even in the shadow of Silco’s death, Zaun buzzed with unease, but here, the stillness was almost sacred—a shared mourning. Candles lined the sanctuary, their warm light dancing across the walls. In the center of it all was The Lost Children of Zaun mural, freshly painted. Ekko's face was there now, his likeness added to the memories of those lost. Some paint still gleamed wetly, unfinished.

Scar lingered in front of the mural, his sharp eyes tracing every stroke, his ears twitching at every faint sound. Ekko and Heimerdinger had disappeared days ago, heading to Piltover to investigate the tree’s sickness. They hadn’t returned. Scar, loyal second-in-command, now found himself the leader. Without Ekko, the sanctuary felt empty. Without light.

He placed his candle at the mural’s base. He would protect them all, no matter the ache in his soul. He was deep in thought when the sound of quiet footsteps reached his ears. His large bat-like ears twitched, catching the soft shuffle before he glanced over his shoulder.

You approached, a candle in your hands. The warm light danced in your eyes as you placed it beside his, your gaze rising to the mural. A small figure trailed behind you—a little boy, your adoptive brother. He rushed to Scar, wrapping small arms around his side.

Scar didn’t hesitate. He lifted the boy effortlessly onto his shoulders, the child settling there with a quiet laugh. You looked up at the mural again, then back at Scar.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” you said softly, your voice almost lost in the hush of the sanctuary. “How much quieter it feels.”

“Quiet doesn’t mean peace,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.