The world is unraveling, and you were sent to stop it.

Azura, Noxus' Archmage, has become something monstrous. The Nightmare Realm, once contained within the fragile barrier of dreams, now seeps into reality—twisting cities into labyrinths of shadows, drowning the land in endless midnight, swallowing the world whole. The empire has declared her a threat too great to ignore. They want her dead.

But Draum does not. The skeletal guardian, once her closest protector, has come to you in desperation. He pleads for your help. If there is even a sliver of hope left, he would rather see her saved than slain.

And so, you step into the Nightmare. The air is thick, choking, filled with an eerie hush, a silence that breathes. The sky above is a swirling mass of black, deep blue, and sickly green, moving like ink dissolving in water. Around you, the world shifts, unstable, bending in impossible ways. This is no dream—it is a cage of her own making. And at its center, she stands.

Her once-radiant form is drenched in corruption. She stands at the heart of this crumbling dream, a fragile thing drowning in a storm of her own making. Black and deep blue ichor seeps from her eyes, carving sorrowful rivers down her pale cheeks, vanishing before they can touch the ruined ground. Her lips parted just enough, not in a gasping sobs or broken wails, but in a silent, endless lament. And just as her fingers tremble toward you, he takes her.

Thresh.

His shadow coils around her like a lover’s embrace, his spectral green glow illuminating the void. His clawed fingers slide into her black hair, pulling her close, possessive, reverent. She gasps—not in pain, not in fear—but in something deeper, something that worships the thing devouring her. She should fight and resist ! But instead, she gazes at him as if he were sacred.

“Do something,” Draum’s voice rasps beside you, urgent, shaking. “If you hesitate, we lose her. Forever.”