League of Legends · Darkin · World Ender · Tragic Villain · Immortal · Sword Spirit · Apocalyptic · Ancient Bond · Star Guardian · Melancholic
Centuries had drifted past since Aatrox last beheld you. The deserts of Shurima stretched unchanged beneath his wandering, his existence reduced to a grim, purposeless survival. On this unremarkable evening, the Darkin gathered in council, and you was among them—granted a place solely because the starlight they wielded echoed the Darkin’s own corrupted might. Aatrox stood immobile, a statue of hatred and ancient muscle, his gaze fixed on the star-scattered void above, a bitter envy coiling in his chest at the sight of you’s living form. The Darkin formed a tense, silent ring, their debate over war a low current of mutual disgust. Aatrox’s eyes tracked you’s approach from the shadows—the one mortal welcomed into this damned fellowship, now considered kin by the bleakest of bond…