𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨 | 𝐃𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕪 𝐋𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝐀𝕟𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕤

11. Sights

The more I thought about it, the harder it was to ignore the storm brewing in my head.

If I made it back, what would Silco say? Would he ask where I'd been?
And if he knew a Firelight helped me— nursed me back to health— what then?
Would he see it as a betrayal? Would he see me as a liability?

I couldn't think like that. It was never about him.
Shaking off the doubts, I glanced at the plate of food on my lap. I hadn't even felt any hunger until then, but I shoved the thought aside.
I didn't have time for that, and took a few gulps of the water from the glass I was holding in hand. The coolness soothed my parched throat, giving me enough clarity to plan something out.

I set the empty jug down and took a deep breath. Body protesting as I shifted, gritted teeth as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed.
The ground felt solid beneath my feet, but my knees trembled as I stood up.
I had to get out of there, get back to the fight.

I slowly walked to the door, pushed it open. I'd expected it to be locked— after all, I was an enemy of the Firelights, wasn't I?— but it wasn't. It swung open easily, and I stood in the frame, squinting against the same harsh light I'd seen through the window.
When I took the first step out, the impact had me question my sight. I wasn't sure what I expected, maybe grime, smog, the usual suffocating air of Zaun.
The first thing I saw was green. Not dull, lifeless algae clinging to the sides of pipes, but actual green. And a tree.

An actual tree.

It towered in the middle of the space, its roots sprawling out over the cracked ground, its branches stretching high above, where the sky was of the most beautiful blue I had ever seen.
The tree wasn't just standing— it was alive, vibrant. I couldn't stop taking it all in.
Was I even still in Zaun? There weren't any trees left in the Under-city, not that I'd ever seen.

Children's laughter broke through my haze, carefree, like it belonged to a different world entirely. A group of kids dashed past me, chasing one another around those massive roots, their faces lit up with joy that felt entirely foreign to me. The Firelights were everywhere.
Some wore masks, others didn't, lounging in small groups or walking by on makeshift pathways suspended above the base.
It was like a community. A home.

I felt my stomach twist as I finally understood where I was. It wasn't just some random hideout. I was in their base.
The sight was breathtaking, impossible to comprehend. Too bright, too alive, too... perfect.
It made the rest of Zaun seem even more suffocating, like a faded memory of what life could have been if Piltover hadn't crushed it underfoot.
But there it was. Right in front of me.
I couldn't absorb such beauty, such knowledge, without feeling guilty in the name of every damned soul that had taken such miracle from daily life.

It was a corner of paradise, a dream.
And so it seemed, until my legs gave out.
The strength I thought I had vanished, and everything went black and numb.
I couldn't hear laughter anymore, or the softness of the grass I had just discovered.

Only... the faint, sweet smell of honeycomb toffee. It wrapped around me, pulling me somewhere else.
I was suddenly small, barely older than ten, with scruffy hair and scuffed boots.
My knees were scraped raw, blood trickling down my skin after a failed attempt to 'impress' in a play fight with Mylo.
"Crybaby!" Mylo's voice rang out, taunting, but distant now as I sat by the fountain, sniffling.
I dipped my knee into the cold, not so clean water, wincing as it made my whole body shiver.
The salty tears mixed with the dirt, my little chest heaving with quiet sobs.

Next thing I heard, footsteps. Small, careful ones. I glanced up and saw Ekko.
He was holding something in his hand, and his wide grin eased some of my embarrassment.
He plopped down beside me without a word, the sweet, sugary scent following him.
"Here," he held out a piece of honeycomb toffee.
"Take it. Sugar makes the pain go away."
I stared at him, hesitant. My lips pressed together in a quiver, barely keeping myself back from crying. I knew he wouldn't judge.
"But... it's your last one. I heard you tell Benzo."
Ekko just laughed, that carefree, melodic sound that always made everything feel less heavy.
"It's okay," he said, holding the candy closed to me, insisting.
"I don't need it now. You're the one that's hurt."

I took it, my little fingers brushing his palm. I nibbled on the toffee, the sweetness spreading across my tongue as the white haired boy leaned back, looking as pleased as if he'd just fixed the whole universe.
The memory faded, a light dimming, and I found myself waking, the same scent of honeycomb toffee lingering in the air.

It clung to me like a ghost, so vivid and real.
I hated being unable to move without collapsing, or thinking without a headache striking me like lightning.
I sat up with a grunt, hating on every part of my body for being pathetically weak and looking around, it quickly became obvious that I wasn't in the same cramped room the Firelights had kept me in before.
They must have moved me.

This room was different— bigger, far more comfortable. The bed was a double, and the entire space was tidy, save for the small trinkets and mechanical parts scattered on the bedside table, the floor, and near a tall wooden wardrobe adorned with bumper stickers. The walls were a riot of colours, covered in spray-painted designs and graffiti that gave the place an unmistakable edge.

Two clocks hung on one wall— one working, its gears clicking in rhythm with the seconds, and the other broken, stuck perpetually at four minutes past four. My eyes drifted to a corner where a hoverboard rested on a sleek stand, its surface polished and gleaming, as though it was treated more like a companion than just a piece of equipment. I frowned.
There was no mistaking it now— I was in a Firelight's room. But whose? Out of all of them, who would give up such a place for me?

The environment felt so welcoming. It was weird in a way, to be somewhere like that, in a place that radiated such warmth.
Against my better judgement, I liked it.
My head whipped toward the side of the room when a click interrupted my inspection.
Another door— one to a bathroom, probably— was opening.
Panic seized me. Without thinking, I laid back down on the bed and shut my eyes, feigning sleep.
'Why am I even doing this?' I asked myself.
It was ridiculous, childish. But it was too late to backtrack now, so I stayed there, motionless, pretending to sleep while for some reason my heart hammered in my chest.
It felt like I was caught stealing, or doing something wrong, and normally I wouldn't even be ashamed.
But I didn't want whoever was there with me, to know me awake.
Perhaps I didn't want to face the one that landed me their room, avoiding a possible death stare and accusation of however many lives I had endangered during the years.

The sound of light footsteps reached my ears— unhurried, yet they carried a quiet confidence. I kept my breathing steady, willing myself not to stir, careful not to give myself away.
The person had walked to the wardrobe, its doors creaking open, followed by the rustling of material. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to peek. But curiosity was relentless, so I cautiously moved the edge of the blanket to the side, just enough to see.

I instantly wished I hadn't.

Heat rose to my face, spreading so fast it felt like I might combust.
Standing there, unaware of my intrusive gaze, was a tall, shirtless guy with skin like deep caramel.
His back was to me, chiseled and flawless, the definition of every muscle outlined under the faint light in the room. His arms arched as he pulled a shirt over his head, flexing effortlessly. My eyes betrayed me, roaming lower to where his joggers hung just below his hips, accentuating a sharp v-line that seemed unfairly perfect as he turned slightly.

Panic hit me once more, making me yank the covers over my head like a kid caught doing something they weren't supposed to. I was breathing fast and uneven, my whole neurological system went in tilt.
I hadn't even seen his face, and there I was, scolding myself for ogling like an idiot.

The boy chuckled, nothing new. But now it sounded deep, amused, and far too knowing.
"Y'know," he began, words tinged with humour.
"It's not exactly subtle when you're practically hyperventilating under there."

How I wished to be able to just act normal for once, and not like I was a walking time bomb of recklessness and incompetence all the time.