Legends of Runeterra

Riven blinked hard to clear the sweat. A stinging sensation in her eyes brought her back to the quiet of the fields. Her senses gradually adjusted to the present moment: the fragrance of fertile soil and plump grains of grain. The flaming red leaves reflected in the air, filling it with the scent of spices. The warm sunlight bathed her.

She walked along the ridges of the fields, sunlight filtering through tall stalks and thick leaves. In that moment, Riven was a child again, growing up while tending the fields. But the barley she'd planted as a child never rose taller than her head, nor did it glow with the mingling of magic. This was nascent land, magic overflowing in every corner. Every few steps, a gap appeared, and sunlight streamed in unbridled, clearly revealing a harvested area: the fruit of a crop, ready to be taken to market. She paused for a moment at each opening, basking in the warmth of the sun, hoping to calm the turmoil within her.

The sun had already reached its zenith, the hottest time of the day. Riven raised her forearms to shield her brows, trying to clear her dry throat. She thought of water.

She stepped out from between the stalks and found Asa, who gave her a kind look, water pouch in hand, waiting for her to approach. Ever since returning from the market, Riven had been avoiding her adoptive father, not wanting to disturb his private thoughts and feelings.

I didn't want to disturb him from burying his deceased wife.

"The dish is almost done," he said, lowering his head. "I think I overcooked it again. I always forget."

Riven's eyes immediately turned to the shrine they had built together for Sava Konde, the person who was most like a mother to her. "I'm sorry, Inbei."

"Why are you apologizing?" Asa tilted his head and looked at her.

"I should have gone to the market myself," Riven said, "and I kept you from—"

"You are not solely responsible for bearing the weight of this world," Asa shook his head. "You cannot manipulate the orbits of the stars in the sky, nor can you participate in the dance on the other side of the curtain. All those arrangements made by fate are beyond our control."

"Yet I still feel guilty."

"We are responsible for our own actions, and our choices are made from the heart." Asa handed the water sac to Riven. "I know your heart, Deda. Your heart is pure."

"Not really." Riven took the water bag, her eyes still lingering on the shrine. "I miss her, because."

"Me too," Asa said, standing beside her. "Yet I do not grieve for my dear Sava, for she was not lost. When we found her, she was at peace. She passed away in her sleep, free from pain. She is my treasure, and I will surely see her again when the flowers bloom again."

Riven felt a tear trickle down her cheek. "Do you think her flowers will be hard to find?"

"My old partner?" Asa smiled proudly. "I think not a flower can contain her spirit. That woman would occupy an entire garden."

Riven smiled. She looked up at Asa, but found that the joy on his face had disappeared. She turned her head and followed the direction of his absent-minded gaze, and saw a small group of people appear in the distance.

A chill ran through her bones. An ironclad certainty set her heart on edge. What was coming had finally come, and she had nowhere to hide. Riven seemed to smell the scent of a bonfire, and the words of the tinker she'd met on the way to market echoed in her mind.

"Because," Riven said, her hands balled into fists, "hide."

"Farming," Marit sighed, "really?"

Erath followed the huntresses and surveyed the land before him. To the east, massive, naturally formed stone pillars stood in a row, resembling the weathered remains of an old god, their broken ribs standing in the wilderness. To the west, a forest shone with vibrant colors and a thousand leaves. And in the middle, a lone farmhouse sat.

"Perhaps the war truly destroyed her," Tifalenji said. Ever since they'd left the site of the alchemical attack, her rune sword had gone from a faint hum to a full-throated song. Now, standing here, that sound was more than just audible; it had become a bone-deep tremor that made one's teeth ache. "She wanted to nurture and create, to find some solace for her past."

"She plants the crops, waters them, fertilizes them, and then harvests them. She cuts them and sells them," Marit said disdainfully. "A poet could surely write something about her."

"Remember," Ariel said unhappily, scratching Lao Yi's scalp with his hand, "we want to catch him alive."

"Alive," Marit said. "That's a broad definition. Wouldn't having no arms or legs still be considered 'alive'?"

"Marit..." Teneff reminded her in a warning tone.

"She betrayed us." Marit glared down at Miss Henrietta from her perch on her back. "Not the army, not even Noxus, but us. There's no tolerance for deserters and traitors. Have you forgotten that?"

Teneff met her gaze. "I haven't forgotten. But we agreed when we set out. We're going to bring her back to the Empire in chains. Do you understand?"

Erath listened, a hand stroking the scales along Talz's flank. He hadn't participated in their conversation, but he felt deeply connected to it, especially Marit's taunts about the deserter. He wasn't angry with her; on the contrary, as they'd walked together, he'd found himself agreeing with her. His father's betrayal still rankled in him, a bitter grudge.

Teneff slowed down a few steps, allowing Erath to catch up with her.

"I don't think she will go with us obediently. There will almost certainly be a confrontation." The female warrior said, weighing the chain wrapped around her forearm.

"From your tone, you seem quite looking forward to it." Erath

Teneff smiled maliciously. "It's just to prepare you. Just be yourself as usual. You proved yourself in the last battle."

"Should I hesitate and grieve before taking my enemy's life?" Erath said disdainfully. "What do you take me for, a Demacian woman?"

The other female soldiers turned around and glared at him.

"What?" Erath looked at them in turn. "I'm talking about Demacia." So they turned around.

Ariel glanced at Tifalenji. The noise made by the rune sword made her look unhappy. "Is it necessary to listen to this noise?"

"No." The Runesmith grinned. She ran a hand over the rune-carved blade, and the voice quieted. "We no longer need to follow the scent. I can sense it myself. The prey has appeared."

As the Noxian squad advanced on the farm, Erath heard whispers among the huntresses, plotting their strategies before heading into battle.