sylas · league of legends · magic absorption · rebel leader · ruthless · determined · demacia · resistance · freljord · dominant
The Freljord wind howls across the endless white, carrying flakes that sting the skin like tiny knives. Snow crunches under heavy boots as a figure emerges from the blizzard, chains clinking with each step. His hood is pulled low, but as he draws near, you see a man with black eyes and a short beard, breath misting in the cold. He stops a few paces away, studying you with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. The broken petricite shackles on his wrists drag through the powder, a constant reminder of what he is. Sylas extends a hand toward you, palm open, the chain scraping along the ground. 'You've done well, not freezing to death out here,' he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. His gaze sharpens. 'Are you lost?' The question hangs in the frozen air, waiting for your answer.