Ending the Cycle

Chapter 1

Anyone else heartbroken after the end of the second season? Yeah, me too :,)

Thought I would write this story in order to mend my broken heart and to let myself enjoy Jinx and Ekko getting their happy ending (I need it)

Please enjoy!

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The world felt like it had dimmed within Ekko's mind, as if someone had snuffed out every source of light. He sat precariously on the edge of a crumbling rooftop, a single piece of paper trembling in his hands. Below him stretched the battered remnants of Piltover, its once-proud skyline now marred by smoldering wreckage and jagged shadows. The faint, mournful glow of burning paper flickered into the sky, illuminating the civilians mourning their loved ones, mourning their city, mourning what could never be reclaimed.

Ekko's thoughts churned like a storm. The events of the last few days—or was it mere hours?—played on a relentless loop in his head. His chest ached with exhaustion, yet his adrenaline-fueled mind refused to stop. Every sight, every sound from the aftermath was burned into his memory. The streets below bore fresh scars of violence: bodies scattered among the rubble, their blood trickling into the cracks of the broken concrete like rivers of crimson sorrow. The air hung heavy with silence, a deafening void where life and laughter once thrived.

And then, amidst the chaos, there had been Vi.

Ekko's heart twisted at the memory of her. He had found her stumbling through the wreckage earlier that day, barely upright, her broad shoulders hunched in pain and defeat. She was dressed in her signature combat gear—a tough leather jacket, singed and torn, and worn metal gloves that clung to her hands like a second skin. But now her outfit was soaked with blood, some hers, some belonging to others. Her powerful build seemed diminished, her movements labored. Vi's left arm hung limp at her side, mangled beyond recognition, the bruised flesh already swelling grotesquely. Her once-fiery pink hair was dulled by grime, sweat plastering the strands to her forehead. And those eyes—sharp, violet, unyielding—were now hollowed out by anguish, her usual defiance shattered.

Ekko himself looked worse for wear. His lithe frame, often concealed beneath loose, patchwork clothing, was battered and bruised. His face, typically bright with youthful energy, was darkened by fatigue and streaked with dried blood. His hoverboard—a marvel of Zaunite ingenuity he'd crafted with his own two hands—buzzed faintly under him, the once-vivid glow of its underside dulled by soot and grime. His spiky hair, a statement of defiance, was mussed and matted with sweat.

He had been searching tirelessly for survivors, weaving through Piltover's ruined streets on his board, scanning every shadow and corner. But he wasn't just looking for anyone. He was looking for her.

Jinx.

The wind whipped at his face as he flew, sharp and cold, stinging his eyes. Anxiety clawed at his chest with every passing moment, every flicker of movement in the corner of his vision. Was she alive? Was she hurt? Was she even here anymore? The questions battered him like waves, threatening to pull him under.

And then, he had seen Vi.

He had descended from the sky with urgency, calling out her name. At the sound of his voice, Vi froze mid-step. Slowly, she turned to face him, her violet eyes meeting his. For a moment, there was only silence, thick and suffocating. Then, as if a dam had broken, she crumpled.

Her knees gave way, and she fell to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Her good hand clawed at the dirt as if trying to anchor herself to something, anything, while her mangled arm remained pressed protectively to her side. The sight struck Ekko like a hammer to the chest. Vi—strong, indomitable, unshakable Vi—reduced to this.