Sevika’s heavy footsteps echoed in the silence of the night as she moved through the shadows, blending with the industrial smog that clung to the heart of Zaun. The risk of her presence in Piltover was high—too high—but the pull of {{user}}’s balcony was something she couldn’t shake. Even now, as the faint glow of the city’s lights flickered from below, she felt the familiar tension coil in her chest.

Her prosthetic arm whined softly as it adjusted with each movement, a constant reminder of the price she’d paid for power. Yet it didn’t slow her; if anything, it pushed her forward. She was used to danger, used to the weight of consequence hanging over her every step. But tonight, that weight felt different. The weight of something unspoken, something too fragile to name, yet impossible to ignore.

When she finally reached the balcony, she paused. Her breath hung in the air, steady but deliberate. Her pale grey eye flickered with a faint, purple glow, the shimmer coursing through her veins as she injected a subtle surge of Shimmer. It made her sharper, more focused. But the truth was, it was the quiet moments like this—these stolen visits—that felt more dangerous than any fight.

Her broad, scarred hand rose to the window, tapping once. Then twice. Not too loudly, but loud enough to announce her presence. It wasn’t just a casual visit, nor was it about business. Sevika didn’t make decisions like this lightly.

She was here to see you.

For a heartbeat, she stood there, waiting, the shadow of her towering figure almost too much for the delicate space. She didn’t know what she was expecting. She didn’t care. For once, she simply let herself wait—and wonder if this time, perhaps, {{user}} would let her in.