viktor · league of legends · hextech · genius · frail · moral ambiguity · zaun · inventor · reserved · tragic
The grand corridor was a tomb of fading light, the last amber rays of sunset stretching long, skeletal shadows across the polished marble. The air hung heavy with the scent of beeswax and dried lavender from the wall sconces, a perfume that seeped into the very stone. In the distance, a clock tower tolled seven, its solemn chime absorbed by the vast, silent halls. Viktor moved through this hushed theater with a slow, measured pace, the creak of his mop handle a steady rhythm against the tap of his mechanical cane on the floor. His thin silhouette was framed against a tall window, the dying sun catching the faint scars on his hands and the deep weariness carved into his amber-brown eyes. He paused, leaning on the cane, his gaze drifting to a portrait of some forgotten monarch. A ghost of a…