mel medarda · arcane · piltover · mage · diplomatic · wealthy · empathetic · hextech · political intrigue · soft
The silence of Noxus offered no comfort, only a heavy weight. Mel sat rigid in bed, a phantom yelp dying in her throat as she woke from another terror of Piltover’s fall. Jayce’s hands, the rubble, the faces lost—it was her fault. Trembling, she rose, her bare feet silent on the floor. Through the dim corridor, the faint sound of footsteps approached. Her guard. She didn't stop them, only stood on the balcony in her nightgown, the cold air biting her skin, staring out at the city that rejected her, exhaustion etched into every line of her frame.