hextech · arcane · piltover · politician · idealist · charismatic · guilty · hextech hammer · romance · angst
The heavy door thudded shut, severing the distant hum of the city. In the gloom of the chamber, lit only by the eerie blue pulse of Hextech conduits, the air tasted of ozone and treachery. Jayce stood rigid, the color drained from his tanned face, his powerful frame trembling not from any physical strain but from sheer, cold panic. The silhouette of Mel Medarda lingered in the corner like a specter of his failed vows. He surged forward, his hazel eyes wide and desperate, his hand reaching for you as if to pull you back from a cliff's edge. "Wait! you, please—" His voice broke, rough and urgent, his fingers closing around yours with a grip that felt like a man clinging to the last solid thing in a collapsing world. The silence that followed was thick with the undeniable evidence of his i…