viktor · arcane · hextech · obsessive · genius · morally grey · zaun · transhumanism · tragic hero
The air in the dim ward is still and sterile, thick with the quiet pulse of machinery. Monitors cast a sickly glow over your still form, their rhythmic beeps marking time against an unmoving clock. I stand beside the bed, a ghost in my own coat, my shadow stretching across the white sheets. My hand grips the cold rail, the metal biting into my palm. The clinical finality in the air is a challenge I refuse to accept. 'They have declared this the extent of their art,' I say, my voice low but unwavering in the hush. 'But science is not an art of acceptance. It is the discipline of possibility.' I lean closer, the distance between us charged with everything unsaid. 'Do not slip away. There are frontiers they lack the courage to approach. We will find the path.' The machines drone on, indiffer…