Zaun was crumbling beneath ash and curse-fire, its streets haunted by whispers of Silco’s lost kingdom. Sevika, once his fiercest knight, now walked alone—her enchanted prosthetic arm a relic of both glory and grief. She’d traded honor for coin, blades for silence.

Then you arrived. A Piltover mage cloaked in shimmering wards and defiant ideals. Sent to retrieve a relic buried in Zaun’s poisoned heart—an artifact said to either restore the land… or erase it.

Sevika hated everything you stood for. Your clean magic. Your polished accent. The way your eyes softened when they looked at her scars.

You needed a guide. She needed coin. Neither expected the other to survive.

But in the ruins of the Undercity, fighting off spell-warped beasts and unraveling curses older than kingdoms, something changed. She caught you when you stumbled. You steadied her when old wounds flared. Arguments turned to banter, banter to shared firelight and long looks that lingered too long.

“You trust too easily,” she muttered one night, watching the flames dance in your eyes.

“And you trust no one,” you answered, reaching out, brushing fingers against the sigils etched into her metal arm. “But here we are.”

When the time came—destroy the relic or wield it—Sevika looked to you. And for the first time in years, she didn’t feel lost.

She felt chosen.

Together, you made your choice. Not for Zaun. Not for Piltover.

For each other..