Legends of Runeterra

Flames licked the man's coat, setting the rags on fire.

The old woman screamed and rushed towards her son.

They hurriedly dragged her back, and she struggled in vain. The other mountain people approached, but Vanis refused to budge, holding his long stick in a defensive position.

"Did he touch you?!"

Marseno frantically grabbed his weapon and finally unhooked the scepter. His eyes were dull and his gaze was blurred.

"Marseno!"

"I'm fine!"

"Is there anyone else?" Vanis shouted.

The boy didn't answer. He remained motionless, staring down at the dying wizard writhing in the flames. A bitter taste rose in his throat, but he swallowed the rotten taste and resisted the urge to vomit.

"Boy!"

He finally came to his senses. The fire spread across the flower field, forming a wall between them and the mob. He searched through the firelight among the murderous faces, the heat clouding his perception.

"Gone."

"Then get on the horse!"

The boy mounted his pony. Marseno and Vanis followed suit, each on their own steed. The three of them quickly left the village. The boy turned and looked back. The fire was raging, and the flower field was wilting.

Vanis urged them to ride until dusk, trying to keep them as far away from the mountain folk as possible. It would take three days to reach Lunwall. Vanis planned to gather a full force of demon hunters and fight his way back. He said the law must be upheld.

They set up camp shortly after dark. The mountain roads were dangerous at night. The boy finally put his feet to the ground and breathed a sigh of relief. Children from Biangou rarely rode horses, unless they stole them from a livery shop, and he had never been a thief.

He was on his first shift, so he sat down beneath a towering oak tree. Hours of riding had left his back and hips stiff and sore. He tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. After a few minutes, he stood up and leaned against the ancient tree. A lone wolf's howl echoed from the mountains, calling out to its companions. Or perhaps it was the call of a Brig hound—he could never tell which was which.

Distant thunderclouds flickered in the night sky, but the thunder was too far away to reach his ears. Overhead, the stars struggled to push through the thin, gray clouds to reveal their starlight. Thick fog gathered above the lowlands.

He threw another bundle of wood into the fire, and the sparks quickly died out in the air.

Ghostly voices filled his stilled mind. They pleaded, denied a flickering truth. The boy thought of the burning wizard, and the memory danced in the bonfire. He shuddered and turned away.

It was a horrible death. But whenever those thoughts invaded his mind, he drove them away and replaced them with the beautiful things he had seen since joining Vanis and Marseno.

He had been traveling with the two demon hunters for months, seeing the bustling streets outside of Biangou Town for the first time. He had also personally explored the hills he had once seen from the rooftops. Now he saw new peaks, and he wanted to see more.

It's magic that makes this possible.

His scourge, which once filled him with a fear of discovery, was now a gift. His scourge had made him a true Demacian. He even wore blue. Perhaps one day he would wear a half-mask, and his own gray seal, even though he was a mage.

The rustling sound interrupted his thoughts.

He turned and found Marseno mumbling. The bedroll beside him was empty. The boy was immediately terrified. He looked into the woods, searching for the old demon hunter.

Vanis was standing under a nearby oak tree, watching him.

"You hesitated today," he said, stepping out of the shadows. "Your performance was poor. Was it fear or something else?"

The boy avoided his gaze, remaining silent, searching for an answer that would satisfy the demon hunter.

Vanis looked dissatisfied, and his voice began to sound impatient. "Hurry up, say what you want to say."

"I don't understand...what are the dangers of growing polysomnous ginseng?"

Vanis grumbled and shook his head. "If you give in, they'll push you even further," he said. "It's the same on the battlefield, and it's the same with mages."

The boy nodded to him. Vanis looked at him for a moment.

"Where does your heart belong, boy?"

"With Demacia, sir."

Marseno was startled again. His low murmurs quickly turned into painful groans, and finally he began to struggle in agony within the quilt.

The boy walked over and pulled his shoulder. "Marsino, wake up," he whispered.

The young demon hunter twisted under the boy's touch. His moans grew louder, turning into wails. He shook Marseno again, harder this time.

"What's going on?" Vanis asked, his figure looming over them.

"I don't know. I couldn't wake him."

Vanis pushed the boy away and helped Marsino turn over. His brow and temples were soaked with sweat, and his dark hair was matted together in strands. Marsino's eyes were wide open, his gaze empty, and his pupils reflected a cloudy white.

Vanis pulled back the thick blanket and lifted Marseno's cloak. Dark, decaying tendrils crawled up his arms. In the boy's eyes, radiant flowers danced beneath the decaying skin.

Before the first light of dawn appeared, they mounted their horses and set off.

Vanis and the boy managed to get Marsino onto the horse and secured him to the saddle. The young demon hunter was still feverish and dreaming, so Vanis tied Marsino's mount to his own and set off.

The boy's pony struggled to keep up with the brisk pace Vanis led—it was still a day's journey to Renwall Castle.

He saw Marseno stumble with every step. The wounded man nearly fell off his horse several times, but Vanis always slowed down and secured Marseno. Every time the older demon hunter stopped to tend to his companion, he would glare at the boy before continuing on his way.

They reached the Corvo Pass by mid-morning. Their mounts followed a narrow, winding path along the mountainside. This route would have saved them half a day's journey, but the steep terrain and dense undergrowth made their progress difficult.

The boy squeezed his legs together, gripped the reins tightly, and looked anxiously at the steep ravine beside him, while his pony walked straight ahead, instinctively avoiding certain death.

They pushed through the dense brush and came to a flat clearing. He saw Vanis step on the stirrups and let both horses canter - at this time Marseno began to tilt to the right, much more than before.

"Vanis!"

The demon hunter reached out, but it was too late. Marseno tumbled and fell, slamming to the ground.