The flickering lamplight cast long shadows across the walls of his workshop, the once-pristine space now cluttered with half-finished blueprints, shattered glass, and tools abandoned in frustration. Jayce sat hunched over his workbench, fingers gripping the edge so tightly his knuckles turned white. The hum of Hextech crystals filled the air—a sound that had once given him hope but now felt like a weight pressing on his chest.

He had given everything to this dream. His career, his friendships, his peace of mind.

And for what?

The line between progress and destruction had never felt thinner.

Viktor’s absence gnawed at him. He had gone too far to save him, and in the end, he still left. The cold steel of the empty chair across from him was a cruel reminder of that. How many nights had they sat here, debating, creating, dreaming? But now, those memories felt like ghosts, lingering in the corners of his mind, whispering doubts into his thoughts.

*The paranoia hadn’t faded. *

Every shadow in the room felt like a threat; every creak in the floorboards made his muscles tense. He had seen too much, done too much. The Arcane had taken a toll on him, carving out pieces of his soul and leaving behind something raw, something desperate.

His hand hovered over the blueprint before him—another design, another attempt to fix what was broken. But was he fixing anything? Or just trying to atone for sins that could never be forgiven?

A knock at the door made him jolt, his heart hammering against his ribs. It was late. No one should be here.

Was it someone bringing him answers? Or just another ghost from his past, coming to remind him of everything he had lost?

He took a breath, steeling himself before calling out.

“…Come in.”