Chapter Text
‘ Don’t feel’
The ash still hadn’t settled. It drifted in slow, mournful spirals, catching the dim glow of dying embers that still clung to the bones of the flaming bridge. Every breath Evangeline took tasted of smoke and something metallic, like blood left in the air.
Her boots crunched over the debris as the world around her hung in an echoing silence. Not the quiet she was born into, but rather a silence that screamed in every fiber of her being. The kind that pressed like a weight atop her body, heavy with lives cut short.
A hand landed firmly on her shoulder. Eve recognized the touch and turned to see the stern gaze of Elder Lotaac, his fingers moving in sharp signs.
‘Refuse to feel.’ It was a command Evangeline knew all too well. If the Enforcers on the bridge saw her cry, she’d be taken away. Her jaw tightened. Standing amid the wreckage, she struggled to silence the ache swelling in her chest and the tears that were about to escape. Her eyes felt like they were burning, just not from the smoke.
After years of training, she was beginning to realize just how wildly unprepared she was to take on a job like this. But Lotaac had seemed so certain she was ready to join the Elders and work alongside them.
Lotaac’s gaze was unyielding as he gently placed his hand against Evangeline’s temple. The memory of her training was brought to the forefront of her mind. She was suddenly at peace, the feeling of home crashing over her. The bodies around her disappeared and were replaced by the hills of Roanmont.
***
The wind rolled over the hills of Roanmont, carrying the scent of wildflowers and damp earth. The city of Piltover was hidden behind the tall mountain range; the sky endlessly stretched above, painted in hues of gold and blue. The world here was soft and still.
Evangeline’s small fingers dug into the grass as she crawled closer to where Elder Lotaac knelt beside an old, lifeless hare. Its fur was still smooth, ears folded peacefully against its head, as if it had simply fallen asleep and would wake at any moment.
Lotaac’s hands moved with practiced grace, signing slowly and deliberately so Evangeline could follow.
‘Every soul leaves a mark,’ he told her, his expression calm but watchful. ‘Even the smallest life deserves to be remembered.’
Evangeline nodded eagerly, her wide eyes reflecting the soft glow pulsing from the Elder’s wrist. She’d seen the stones before, tucked neatly into pouches or placed with care on altars back home. But this was the first time she would witness the act itself. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, her nerves prickling beneath her skin.
‘Will it hurt?’ she signed, glancing between Lotaac and the hare.
‘Not if you do it right.’ He gestured for her to come closer. The grass was soft beneath her as she shuffled forward, her heart pounding in anticipation.
Lotaac extended his arm, letting the faint blue light from his wrist shimmer across the hare’s body.
‘Feel for the thread,’ he instructed, guiding her smaller hands above the creature’s head. ‘It’s not about seeing a memory. It’s about feeling for life.’
Evangeline closed her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration as the stone on her wrist began to glow faintly. For a moment, there was nothing but the warmth of the sun on her face and the soft blow of the wind. And then she felt it: a faint pulse beneath her palms. Fleeting images brushed against her mind: tall grass, a burrow warmed by sunlight, the simple joy of running free. Her breath caught.
‘I feel it,’ she signed quickly, excitement flashing in her eyes.
Lotaac’s hand covered hers, steadying her trembling fingers.
‘Good. Now, guide it out.’
With his guidance, Evangeline focused on that pulse, drawing it gently toward the glow of Lotaac’s Arcane mark. The sensation was delicate, as if she was catching a falling leaf without letting it crumble in her grasp.
A soft hum vibrated through Evangeline’s core as light gathered between their hands, combining into a tiny stone no larger than a marble. It shimmered a pale blue before fading into a translucent gray, a faint Remberantal engraving appearing along its surface: "Wanderer."
Evangeline stared in awe, her mouth slightly open as Lotaac placed the stone in her palm.
‘Every life is a story,’ he signed, his gaze locking with hers. ‘Our duty is to make sure they’re never forgotten.’
She cradled the stone like it was the most precious thing in the world. ‘I want to do this forever,’ she signed, a grin spreading across her face. Lotaac’s expression shifted, tempered by something more somber. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.
‘It is a gift,’ he signed slowly. ‘But also a burden. One day, you’ll understand both.’
Evangeline didn’t put much weight to his words. She was too busy marveling at the little stone in her hand, the first memory she’d ever touched.
***
Lotaac’s gaze was unyielding when Evangeline returned to the desolation surrounding her. All these years later, and she finally understood his warning. Evangeline swallowed hard and gave the smallest nod. She let her hands rise, shaky but determined. This was her burden she would carry. Lotaac gestured toward the tangled bodies ahead to a woman draped over the armor of a fallen Enforcer.
‘Start there.’
Evangeline hesitated only a heartbeat before stepping forward. She had to do this. At ten years old, she was expected to step from her childhood of innocent hares into Piltover’s demanding pace. She crossed the bridge, kneeling next to the woman.
Her hair, once braided with care, now hung loose. Its indigo strands were soaked in a dark pool of blood that glistened against the cracked stone. Soot smeared across freckled skin. A severed necklace lay limp against her throat, the symbol of Zaun split clean by the blade that ended her.
Evangeline could already feel the hum beneath her fingertips. The motion was ritual, drilled into muscle memory. From her left wrist, a soft blue glow flickered to life as her mark began to glow beneath the fabric that covered her wrists. The firelight around her danced in contrast to the cool Arcane pulse now illuminating the woman’s face. Her hands hovered near the woman’s temple as she felt for the thread.
And then, like a gear locking into place, the memories began to flood Evangeline’s vision.
A bar. Laughter. Two friends at her side. The name Felicia was painted on Evangeline’s mind. Daughters racing through the Under City streets. The weight of a newborn in her arms. Dreams of change. Childhood games beneath pipes that dripped in the alleyways of Zaun. The warmth of an old friend’s embrace. Then the sharp cut of steel, and darkness. But across it all there was a common thread.
Hope. Even in the end, there had been hope.
Evangeline’s breath shuddered as the final memory crystallized in her palm. A small stone, glowing faintly blue before dimming into black. Etched into its surface, in delicate script: "Freedom Fighter."
She stared at it for a moment longer than she should have, the echo of Felicia’s life still lingering in her chest. A single tear traced a line down her soot-streaked cheek before she could stop it. Lotaac’s shadow fell over her. She didn’t need to look up to feel his presence or to know the reprimand was coming. Evangeline wiped the tear away with the back of her hand, forcing her fingers into motion.
‘No feeling,’ she signed before he could. He nodded. That was all the acknowledgment she’d get. Evangeline tucked the stone into her satchel, the first of dozens that evening. She cast one last glance at Felicia, then shifted her gaze to the Enforcer beneath her.
There was no time to mourn. A Remberant’s duty was to preserve, not to weep. Without another word, Eve reached for the next memory.