Chapter Text
It was a lively afternoon in the Southernmost streets of Piltover, where the city pulsed with its usual blend of ambition and extravagance. The ‘City of Progress’, as it was proudly dubbed, was a symphony of movement and sound. Steam hissed from distant chimneys, blending with the low hum of machinery, while sleek airships drifted through the skies above, their metallic hulls gleaming in the sun. Citizens crowded the multiple walkways, their polished shoes clicking against cobblestone as they hurried to their destinations, faces alight with optimism—or, at least, a determined façade of it.
To the untrained eye, the scene might seem idyllic, a shining testament to the prosperity of Piltover. But beneath its glittering veneer, the city’s perfection was a performance—one that hid the struggles of those who barely eked out a living on its outskirts. Amid the throng, two figures stood out like a sore thumb. The vivid hues of their hair—a striking pink and an electric blue—caught the sunlight, practically glowing against the more subdued tones of the Topsiders’ well-tailored attire. Yet, it wasn’t just their hair that drew second glances. Their clothes were a patchwork of utility: mismatched in color and style, marked with frayed edges and faint stains that no amount of scrubbing could erase.
Everything about them clashed with the meticulously curated image of Piltover’s elite. Their expressions, their posture, even the way they moved—all of it spoke to a life far removed from the polished perfection around them. To the oblivious citizens hurrying past, they might as well have come from another world. But that wasn’t entirely true. These two girls were not aliens to Piltover. Their home was just a mere bridge away—a bridge that connected the gilded streets of the Topsiders to the grimy, unforgiving underbelly of Zaun. A bridge that both divided and tethered their worlds.
“Nice turnout, huh?” the pink-haired girl quipped, her voice carrying a teasing edge as she scanned the bustling crowd. Her sharp eyes flicked from one passerby to the next, excitement simmering just beneath her casual demeanor. Turning to her smaller, blue-haired companion, she grinned.
“Definitely,” Powder replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. Her gaze, however, was fixed on the people weaving through the streets before them. She studied their movements with an intensity that betrayed her otherwise calm exterior. To most, she might have appeared like any curious child, but her older sister noticed the subtle signs of tension. Powder’s bright gray eyes were slightly wider than usual, and her posture was a touch too rigid.
Vi tilted her head, softening her grin as she reached out to place a reassuring hand on Powder’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll do great,” she said, her tone steady and warm. The weight of her hand seemed to ground the younger girl, her muscles relaxing just slightly under the gentle pressure.
“You’re ready,” Vi added, firmly.
Powder’s gaze shifted up to meet her sister’s, and for a moment, their eyes locked. That familiar spark of determination returned to Powder’s expression, the doubt melting away. She nodded slowly, her lips pressing together in silent resolve.
The two sisters leaned back against the rough stone wall of a building, blending into the shadows as the throng of Piltover citizens moved around them like a river flowing past unseen rocks. No one spared them a glance, too caught up in their own destinations and concerns.
Unbeknownst to the crowd, the sisters were far from idle bystanders. They were plotting.
“The trick,” Vi began, low but laced with a playful edge, “is knowing how to pick the right target.”
Today marked a milestone—a day that Vi had delayed for as long as she could. Powder had been pestering her for weeks to be included in the Topsider gigs, and though Vi had always shielded her little sister from this part of their life, she’d finally relented. Mylo had usually been her partner for these outings, but truthfully, Vi found his brash overconfidence more of a liability than a help. Without him around, she figured things might actually go smoother.
She crouched slightly to meet Powder’s eye, pointing subtly toward the bustling crowd. “See that guy? The one with the red coat? Nah. Too fidgety. You gotta go for someone who’s so used to having everything handed to them, they don’t even think to guard it.”
Powder nodded, her gaze darting between passersby, her mind processing the advice with the intensity of someone determined to get it right.
“Folk with a permanent ‘fart-smelling’ look on their face,” Vi continued with a smirk, “those are the ones you want. That’s how you know they’re really loaded.”
Powder’s brow furrowed, her head tilting in feigned confusion. “How come they have that look?” she asked with the wide-eyed innocence of a child—before her lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “I thought the rich didn’t fart.”
Vi blinked, caught off guard by her sister’s sudden wit. She burst into laughter, the sound blending with the distant clamor of the streets. Powder joined in, giggling as if they were sharing the world’s funniest secret.
“Good one!” Vi said.
Despite the silliness of the joke, it stirred a familiar unease in Vi, nudging her into a spiral of thoughts she often tried to ignore. Her smirk faltered for just a moment as she considered the morality of what they were about to do, the values she was passing down to Powder.
Taking from the wealthy didn’t feel wrong—not to Vi, anyway. Those people had more coin than they could ever need, and most of them hoarded it while the world crumbled around them. In her mind, she wasn’t stealing; she was redistributing, doing them a favor by lightening their bloated purses. No, the act itself wasn’t what weighed on her—it was the necessity of it.
The reality that they had to resort to these measures, that this was their way of surviving in a world designed to keep them at the bottom, gnawed at her. Life wasn’t fair—she’d accepted that long ago. But the thought of Powder being trapped in the same cycle, having to grow up too fast and scrape by with whatever crumbs they could take? That was the part she hated most. Powder had a spark—talents and brains that deserved a stage far bigger than this grimy corner of the world. If there was a better way, Vi would’ve taken it in a heartbeat.
Her musings were interrupted by Powder’s bright remark. “Ooh, there’s a prime example!”
Vi blinked, following her sister’s subtle point into the crowd. At first, she couldn’t make out who Powder was referring to, but then she spotted him: a pompous magnate who practically screamed ‘easy mark’. The man stood out even in Piltover’s opulent streets, striding along with the exaggerated confidence of someone who believed himself untouchable.
He was adorned in a dark navy suit trimmed with gold, its edges immaculate, as if the fabric itself repelled dirt. His cane, tipped with polished brass, clacked rhythmically against the cobblestones, more an accessory of power than necessity. A top hat sat tilted on his head, casting a shadow over his face that only emphasized the sour, self-important scowl etched into his features.
Vi grinned, leaning closer to Powder and whispering, “Perfect. That’s what I’m talking about. C’mon, just like we practiced.”
Powder nodded, drawing in a steadying breath. Her small chest rose and fell as she psyched herself up. Then, with a quick glance toward her sister for reassurance, she darted into the crowd. Her movements were fluid and purposeful, weaving through the throng with an agility that seemed effortless.
Vi stayed back, watching from the shadows, her heart beating just a little faster than usual. As confident as she was in Powder’s abilities, a small knot of worry tightened in her chest.
“Excuse me, sir!” Powder’s voice was high-pitched but firm as she called out to the man, her small hand gently brushing against his sleeve to catch his attention. She quickened her pace to match his, walking by his side, but she could see it in his eyes: the brief glance, the dismissive flick of his gaze before he deliberately turned away, ignoring her completely.
Don’t back down.
“Sir!” she called out again, louder this time, more insistent. She moved a little quicker, stepping just in front of him so that his polished cane accidentally bumped into her feet. The man’s stride faltered for a brief moment as his cane tapped the edge of her boot, and he let out a loud, exaggerated sigh, a sound that almost seemed to reverberate against the bustling noise of the street. He finally came to a stop, his expression darkening in frustration.
“I’m not giving you my spare change. Go pester someone else,” he boomed, the sound as pompous as his appearance, eyes narrowing behind the rim of his gleaming golden spectacles. It was the kind of tone that made Powder’s skin prickle, but she forced a bright smile, her eyes shining with determination.
“It’s not that, sir,” she replied sweetly with just the right touch of innocence.
With practiced ease, she dug into her satchel, pulling out several crinkled sheets of paper. She fanned them out in front of him, her movements smooth as she spoke, “I’m selling my drawings, sir. Please, take a look.”
Before he could respond, she unfolded one of the papers with a flourish and shoved it into his face, blocking his view of anything else. The drawing was a haphazard explosion of color, its chaotic energy completely at odds with the polished world of Piltover. The picture depicted a rainbow-colored bunny with mischievous eyes, a series of interwoven shapes, and the oddest collection of animals—a shark with wings, a mouse holding a paintbrush—just the sort of thing that would make any uptight Topsider uncomfortable.
Powder knew it wasn’t the sort of art that would win any high-society praise, but it was hers. And she wasn’t afraid to offer it up to the highest bidder.
He sighed again as he finally looked up at Powder. “You call this art?” His tone was mocking, the words laced with thinly veiled disdain. He tried to continue walking, his eyes were already back on the path, dismissing her as if she were nothing more than an inconvenience.
Powder’s heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her smile in place, unshaken. She had to keep him here, just a little longer.
I just need fifteen seconds.
“Wait, this one’s better!” Powder exclaimed, tinged with feigned enthusiasm as she whipped out another drawing. She stepped forward, brushing the edge of the man’s cane again, forcing him to pause. Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded the crinkled paper and held it up toward him like an eager street vendor. “Just look at those details! My choice of color!”
The man’s annoyance was palpable. He tilted his head, one brow raised, and gave the new drawing a cursory glance. The even more chaotic blend of shapes and vibrant colors—only seemed to deepen the creases of his disapproving frown.
Don’t turn to look at me. Trust I’m there.
Powder’s mind buzzed with Vi’s words, grounding her resolve even as her nerves threatened to fray. The man’s lips pursed tighter, his expression that familiar ‘fart-smelling’ grimace Vi had warned her about. His free hand adjusted his golden-rimmed spectacles as if they might improve the view of the chaotic scene on the paper.
“I’ve seen enough!” he declared with finality, cutting through her desperation like a whip. He switched his cane to his other hand and began to stride forward, leaving Powder in his wake, her heart pounding as she tried to gauge if she’d held him long enough.
Her eyes darted frantically through the crowd, searching for a telltale mop of pink amidst the sea of muted hats and polished hair. And then she saw it—a bright burst of color near the mouth of an alley. Vi was there, standing in her signature confident stance, a sly grin tugging at her lips as she gestured for Powder to come over.
Relief flooded her chest as Powder skipped her way to Vi, her nervous energy morphing into exhilaration with each step. She half-expected her sister to say something went wrong, that she hadn’t gotten an opening.
Instead, as soon as she was within reach, Vi beamed. “That was amazing, Pow!” she said, brimming with pride as she reached out to ruffle the younger girl’s blue locks. “You give Mylo’s diversions a run for their money!”
“Really!?” Powder’s eyes lit up, sparkling with newfound confidence.
“Totally.” Vi pulled out a small but satisfyingly heavy sack of coins from her jacket pocket, giving it a little shake for emphasis. “I’ve never had a more comfortable swipe. You nailed it, sis.”
Meanwhile, in the polished Northernmost streets of Piltover, another pair walked side by side, their appearance blending seamlessly with the city’s refined and orderly backdrop. Jayce Talis, tall and broad-shouldered with sharp honey-colored eyes, carried himself with an air of purpose that seemed to mirror the city’s industrious spirit. Beside him, Caitlyn Kiramman matched his pace, her slender frame cloaked in a crisp, finely tailored outfit befitting the daughter of one of Piltover’s most influential families. Her deep blue hair framed her sharp features, and her sapphire eyes sparkled with curiosity as they moved through the pristine avenues.
The streets here were quieter, a stark contrast to the crowded market districts. Only a few passersby strode by, most dressed as immaculately as Caitlyn, their faces etched with the kind of composed detachment that came from old money and unshaken privilege. It was the world Caitlyn had grown up in, but one she often felt stifled by.
Jayce’s strides were purposeful yet relaxed, the silence between them comfortable but tinged with unspoken thoughts. Caitlyn had spent the better part of her morning assisting him in his lab, a place where the hum of innovation and the thrill of experimentation seemed to breathe life into her otherwise predictable days. She admired Jayce’s passion for his work; it was infectious in a way few things were in her meticulously controlled life.
“What will you do now?” Caitlyn asked, her voice light yet genuinely curious as she glanced up at him.
Jayce turned his head slightly, offering her a small smile. “There’s a few things I need to gather for the next testing stage,” he replied, thoughtfully. After a pause, he added, “Rare artifacts. Hard to come by up here.”
Caitlyn tilted her head, intrigued. “Rare artifacts?”
He nodded. “From the Undercity,” he clarified casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
The words sent a thrill through Caitlyn, and she stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide. “You’re going to the Undercity?” she blurted out.
Jayce chuckled at her reaction, clearly amused. “That’s right,” he said.
Caitlyn’s heart raced at the thought. A place her mother had painted in the darkest hues was a forbidden mystery to her, an untamed world that she had only glimpsed from the safety of Piltover’s elevated bridges. To her, it represented everything Piltover wasn’t: chaotic, unpredictable, dangerous. But it also represented freedom, the chance to see life unfiltered by her mother’s strict expectations.
“That sounds like fun!” she exclaimed, the words slipping out before she could think.
Jayce raised an eyebrow, his expression caught between amusement and curiosity. “You think so?”
“Absolutely,” Caitlyn said without hesitation. She paused, then added with growing excitement, “Can I come with you?”
Jayce stopped, turning to face her fully. For a moment, he studied her, his expression unreadable. Then, to her surprise, he smiled. “If you want to,” he said simply.
Caitlyn’s jaw dropped. “You’re serious?”
“Of course,” Jayce replied with a small shrug. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Without a second thought, Caitlyn spun on her heel, ready to march off in the direction of this unexpected adventure. “Let’s go, then!”
“Not so fast.” Jayce’s hand landed gently on her shoulder, halting her mid-step. His voice took on a more cautious tone. “We need to ask your parents first.”
Caitlyn froze, her excitement evaporating as reality crashed down around her. She turned back to him, her expression one of disbelief. “What? Why?”
Jayce sighed, his gaze softening. “Cassandra Kiramman has eyes everywhere, Cait,” he explained, using her mother’s full name for emphasis. “If I take you to the Undercity without her permission and she finds out…” He let the unspoken consequence hang in the air. “Let’s just say, I’m not about to risk my sponsorship over this.”
Caitlyn groaned, her shoulders slumping as her gaze dropped to the cobblestones. Her mother’s influence was inescapable, her expectations as unyielding as the city’s iron gates. Cassandra would never allow such a reckless venture, not for her only daughter.
“Well, in that case, we shouldn’t even bother,” Caitlyn muttered bitterly. She began walking again, her steps heavier now, her earlier excitement replaced by a familiar frustration.
Jayce frowned, quickening his pace to catch up. “Really? That bad, Sprout?” he asked gently, using the nickname he’d coined for her long ago.
Caitlyn didn’t answer, but the flicker of emotion in her eyes was enough. Jayce sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder again. “I’ll talk to her, okay?”
As they resumed their walk toward the grand Kiramman estate, Caitlyn couldn’t help but feel the walls of her gilded cage closing in around her. She wanted to believe Jayce could convince her mother, but deep down, she already knew the answer.
This would not end well.
The sisters had been at their mission for hours, seamlessly blending into the ebb and flow of Piltover’s crowded streets. They leapt from one sector to another, always one step ahead of any suspicion. Vi took her role as Powder’s mentor seriously, passing on every trick in her arsenal. They even swapped roles throughout the afternoon, each taking turns as swiper and decoy. Powder absorbed it all like a sponge, her quick hands and sharp instincts proving Vi’s hunch correct: her little sister was a natural.
“Slippery as an eel,” Vi muttered to herself with a smirk as they pocketed their latest score.
With the weighty pouch of gold they’d amassed, the pair now wandered through the sprawling street market. Rows of stalls stretched before them, each table overflowing with trinkets, gadgets, fabrics, and curiosities. The sisters scanned the colorful displays with eager eyes, soaking in the mix of smells and sounds that gave the market its vibrant pulse.
Powder’s sharp gasp broke Vi from her thoughts. She turned just in time to see her sister dart across the aisle to a nearby stall. “Powder!” Vi called after her, weaving through the crowd.
When she caught up, Vi’s eyes followed her sister’s awestruck gaze. Sitting on the vendor’s table was a metallic trinket, intricate and gleaming, its centerpiece a series of small orbs that whirred and spun in mesmerizing synchronization.
“Vi, look! A real Valdiani!” Powder’s voice trembled with excitement as she leaned closer, her hands twitching with the urge to touch it. Her wide gray eyes reflected the delicate movement of the orbs.
That. Of course she knows what it is. Vi chuckled softly, shaking her head.
“Ah, ah! No touching!” the vendor snapped, nearly tumbling from his chair as he reached forward to shoo Powder back. His glare was sharp and defensive. “Serious buyers only!”
Powder shrank back, her shoulders stiffening. But before she could retreat too far, Vi’s hand settled firmly on her shoulder, grounding her in place.
“What makes you think she isn’t?” Vi shot back dripping with venom as she fixed the vendor with an unyielding glare. The man’s confidence faltered; his gaze darted away as he fidgeted in his seat. Satisfied, Vi gave Powder a quick wink before nodding toward the trinket.
“Just be careful,” the vendor muttered, his tone subdued now. “It’s very valuable.”
Powder scoffed but didn’t take her eyes off the object. She studied its fine details, her lips slightly parted in awe.
“Can we get it?” she finally asked quietly but full of hope.
Vi straightened and turned to the vendor. “How much?”
When the man named his price, Vi’s eyebrows shot up. The amount was alarmingly close to everything they had—just a sliver less than their total. The vendor smirked smugly, but Vi’s scowl quickly wiped it away.
Vi knelt slightly, bringing herself to Powder’s level. “You sure you really want it, Powder? There’s still plenty to look at. For that kind of coin, you could get a brand new outfit. Or nice shoes. Hell, both.”
Powder tore her gaze from the trinket, looking up at her sister with unwavering determination. “Vi, I can get shoes anytime. I won’t come across this again.”
Vi’s lips twitched into a smile. “Alright. If you’re sure.”
Powder nodded firmly, her eyes sparkling. Vi turned back to the vendor.
“We’ll take it.”
“Absolutely not.”
Cassandra Kiramman’s voice rang out, commanding and resolute, bouncing off the high, ornate walls of the Kirammans’ main chamber. She had been seated in her emerald, throne-like chair, enjoying an afternoon tea break, but now she stood with an imposing posture, hands planted firmly on her hips. Her half-finished tea sat abandoned on a delicate saucer, the steam dissipating into the air.
Across the room, Tobias Kiramman, reclining on a chaise lounge with a book in hand, peered over the rim of his glasses. His tea break had been equally interrupted, though his reaction was far more muted than his wife’s thunderous displeasure.
Jayce stood awkwardly near the grand entrance, his confidence from moments ago now faltering under the sharp gaze of Piltover’s most formidable matriarch. Beside him, Caitlyn stood stiffly, arms crossed so tightly over her chest it seemed as though she were bracing herself against her mother’s unyielding presence. Her head was bowed slightly, but her body radiated defiance.
Jayce cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak despite the tension thick in the air. “If I may, Counselor Kiramman, Caitlyn would stay by my side at all times. I’ll take every necessary precau—”
“You have my answer already, Mr. Talis.” Cassandra’s remark cut through his words like a blade, leaving no room for negotiation.
“But, Mother—” Caitlyn’s voice was a mix of anger and desperation as she tried to interject.
“Caitlyn.” Cassandra snapped, her tone so pointed it stopped Caitlyn’s words mid-breath. She turned her focus back to Jayce, her piercing eyes narrowing as she continued.
“If you insist on going into...” She paused deliberately, as if saying the name alone would sully her. “...that place, I cannot stop you. But I strongly suggest you reconsider. Surely, with your intellect, you can find a safer alternative. The dangers of the Undercity should be obvious to anyone with sense.”
Jayce hesitated, the weight of Cassandra’s words bearing down on him. His broad shoulders sagged slightly, and he shot Caitlyn an apologetic look before bowing his head. “I understand, Counselor,” he said quietly, his earlier determination now replaced with reluctant compliance.
Caitlyn, however, was not ready to give up. She turned to her father, the parent she could usually count on to temper Cassandra’s rigid authority. “Dad?” she asked, the name cracking slightly, frustration and disappointment gripped her throat.
Tobias looked up from his book again, his expression softer than Cassandra’s but still tinged with unease. He seemed to deliberate for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought as though he was weighing her plea. Caitlyn’s heart raced with hope—until he glanced at his wife.
Tobias sighed heavily, closing his book with a quiet thud. “Your mother is right, Cait. It’s—”
“Ugh!” Caitlyn’s ragged cry of frustration burst forth, cutting her father off. Her emotions, carefully restrained until now, spilled over in an uncontainable wave. Without waiting for further argument, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor.
“Caitlyn!” Both parents called out in unison, their disdain evident.
Jayce took a hesitant step forward, glancing between the Kirammans and the direction Caitlyn had fled. “I’ll talk to her,” he said softly.
Cassandra waved him off, her focus already returning to her abandoned tea. “Let her cool off. She’ll come to her senses.”
Tobias remained silent, his eyes lingering on the doorway Caitlyn had disappeared through, a flicker of regret crossing his face.
Jayce sighed, feeling the weight of his failed attempt to help. He took a deep breath before excusing himself, the tension in the room lingering even as the door quietly clicked shut behind him.
“Keep it in your bag till we get home, okay?” Vi warned, her tone firm but fond as the sisters began their descent into the Undercity. The fading sunlight cast long shadows over Piltover’s cobbled streets, signaling it was time to head back.
Before returning home, they stopped at Jericho’s, the small stand tucked into a calmer corner of the Lanes. Though technically a business, Jericho always made sure the sisters left with full bellies, often refusing payment outright. Today, they left him a small tip from their earnings, a token of gratitude.
The steaming bowls of saucy fish bits were a welcome sight after their long day. The sisters ate with gusto, savoring every bite. Afterward, they lingered, letting the meal settle while exchanging playful banter with Jericho. Despite his lack of words, his hearty laughter filled the atmosphere as Vi recounted some of the day’s close calls and Powder chimed in with her own dramatized reenactments.
“Could I show him?” Powder suddenly asked, her eyes wide with excitement as she clutched her bag protectively. Vi hesitated, torn between her usual caution and her little sister’s irresistible enthusiasm.
“…Why not!” Vi relented with a grin. Powder beamed and carefully pulled out the intricate metallic trinket, holding it up for Jericho to see. Then, she gave it a gentle press over the top, making the device’s multifaceted shell come apart with a click.
Jericho leaned closer, his brow raising in genuine amazement. He inspected the spinning orbs with a twinkle in his uncovered eye, his golden tooth glistened as he smiled. Powder’s grin widened with pride as Vi shook her head affectionately.
“She’s got an eye for the good stuff, huh?” Vi remarked. Jericho nodded enthusiastically, gesturing his approval with an exaggerated thumbs-up. Powder giggled, her cheeks pink with joy.
The warmth of the moment lingered as they eventually gathered their things to leave. Powder tucked the trinket safely back into her bag, already imagining all the tinkering she could do with it once they were home. The sisters waved goodbye to Jericho, who gave a silent but heartfelt wave in return.
Caitlyn sat in the oversized porcelain tub, steam curling thickly around her like a protective cocoon. The water was almost scalding, the temperature biting at her skin in a way that helped distract her from the turmoil in her head. She hugged her knees to her chest, the tips of her dark blue hair damp and clinging to her neck. Her teeth worried her bottom lip, a nervous habit she had picked up recently, and one she knew her mother would chide her for if she noticed.
Why did she have to be so controlling? Caitlyn’s thoughts churned, her frustration bubbling to the surface as easily as the water around her. Why was her mother so unwilling to let her see anything beyond the carefully curated world of their estate, the academy, the shooting range, and a handful of ‘acceptable’ social gatherings? Why did everything have to be on her terms?
Her fists clenched under the water, sending ripples through the surface. Only after meeting Jayce had Caitlyn begun to truly understand how confined her world was. For so long, she had thought Piltover was a shining beacon of progress, a testament to ingenuity and order. But through Jayce’s stories, his experiments, and the way he spoke about the Undercity and its people, Caitlyn had come to see the cracks in the façade.
And the more her mother noticed Caitlyn’s growing awareness, the more her disapproval of Jayce seemed to grow. Caitlyn could still recall, with uncomfortable clarity, the day her parents had first introduced him.
‘A genius,’ her mother had said, full of pride as though she had single-handedly molded him into one. ‘An academy student with boundless potential. We’ll take him under our wing. It will serve you to make friends with Jayce, Caitlyn.’
Back then, she had felt no particular way about it. Jayce was just another project for her parents. But now?
‘That young man is turning out to be a bad influence on you, miss.’ Her mother’s words from earlier that week rang in her ears. It was laughable. A bad influence? Jayce had opened her eyes to possibilities, to questions she never would have thought to ask if she had stayed in Cassandra Kiramman’s carefully curated bubble.
And for what? All Caitlyn wanted was to accompany him on a simple trip. It wasn’t even about the Undercity or its dangers—it was about her mother’s need for control, her obsession with maintaining her daughter’s ‘purity’ from the messy, complex truths that lay beyond the pristine walls of their home.
What was out there that her mother was so desperate to hide? What truth lay waiting, just out of reach?
The curiosity gnawed at her insides, driving her mad with frustration. Caitlyn slipped under the water, letting the heat press against her skin and dull the growing ache in her chest. She opened her mouth and screamed, the sound muffled into nothingness by the water. When she resurfaced, gasping for air, the steam seemed thinner somehow, as though her anger had burned through some of it.
Her sapphire eyes hardened, her jaw setting into a determined line.
“Forget it,” she muttered under her breath.
She wasn’t going to sit around and wait for permission to live her life. If her mother wouldn’t let her see the world, Caitlyn would find her own way. And no one— not even Cassandra Kiramman—was going to stop her.
The sisters stepped out into the dim streets, the heavy air of the Lanes wrapping around them like an oppressive shroud. They walked side by side, their steps slower now, the day’s activities weighing on their bodies but not their spirits.
Powder was practically skipping as she excitedly explained the intricacies of the artifact she’d acquired. Her voice, animated and full of wonder, was a bright contrast to the dark world around them. Vi listened with half an ear, a small smile tugging at her lips.
But something was off.
There it was again—that subtle itch at the back of her neck, the faintest prickle of being watched. Vi threw a glance over her shoulder, her sharp steel eyes scanning the figures lurking in the shadows. Nothing seemed out of place. She shook off the feeling, reminding herself it was just the Lanes playing tricks on her.
Then Powder’s yelp pierced the air.
Vi whipped around to see a scrawny guy yanking at Powder’s backpack. The force sent Powder tumbling to the ground, but her grip didn’t falter. The seams of the old bag groaned as the stranger pulled harder, desperation etched on his face.
Vi’s body moved before her mind caught up, a hook already flying through the air. Her fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling onto the pavement with a loud thud.
“Fuck off, jerk,” Vi snarled, stepping between him and Powder. Her fists stayed clenched, her glare daring him to try again.
Powder got up quickly, brushing herself off with an almost casual air. She checked the straps of her bag and adjusted it on her back as though nothing had happened.
The guy sat up, cradling his jaw and glaring at the bag. Vi saw the flicker of determination in his eyes, the brief moment where he considered another attempt.
“You want another?” she growled, taking a threatening step toward him.
That was all it took. He scrambled to his feet and vanished into the shadows without a word, his retreat punctuated by the distant scuffle of rats.
Vi turned to her sister, expecting to see shaken nerves or teary eyes. Instead, she found Powder standing calmly, her small frame steady, her expression indifferent.
“You okay?” Vi asked, though she already knew the answer.
“Of course,” Powder replied simply.
That simple response made Vi’s chest tighten. She didn’t know what she had expected—anything to show that Powder was still a kid, still untouched by the ugliness of the world around them. But there was nothing. Powder wasn’t shaken at all, and that hit Vi harder than she cared to admit.
It wasn’t fair.
Vi felt her jaw clench, guilt gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. She and Powder had done their fair share of sneaking and swiping, but it was always with purpose, always for survival. That guy had been desperate, sure, but taking from his own kind? And Powder? Powder had faced it like it was just another day in the Lanes.
She’s growing up too fast.
Even so, Vi couldn’t stop herself from reaching out, brushing a strand of her sister’s hair from her cheek.
Powder grinned up at her. “That guy could use one of your lessons in fighting.”
Vi snorted, the corner of her mouth lifting in a small smile. “Or one of yours in pickpocketing.”
“C’mon,” Vi said, nudging a giggling Powder forward. “Let’s get home.”
Caitlyn’s mind raced as she stood in the bathroom, her hands working quickly to dry off. The hot water had helped calm her nerves, but now that the decision was made, she felt the familiar rush of adrenaline building in her veins. The thought of slipping out—the thought of defying her mother’s orders once again—pulsed through her like a live wire.
I can still catch up to him if I hurry.
The thought was enough to set her into motion. She finished drying herself off and quickly threw off the towel, feeling the cold air in the room hit her skin. She felt it: the thrill, the rebellion, the weight of knowing she was about to take control of her own fate, if only for a few hours.
The second she entered her closet, Caitlyn felt the familiar pang of frustration. Her wardrobe was a collection of dresses, skirts, and delicate fabrics—all things her mother would deem ‘appropriate’. All things that screamed propriety and were a far cry from what she needed now. She was on a mission, and she needed to blend in, not look like the young woman her mother wanted her to be.
Her fingers fumbled over the fabrics, searching for something simple, something that would allow her to move freely without drawing attention. Nothing.
With a sigh of frustration, she finally grabbed the most unassuming combination she could manage: a white long-sleeve blouse with a pleated bib, and a pair of her shooting trousers. The trousers were practical, slightly worn in from years of use, and most importantly, they wouldn’t draw any unwanted stares. She pulled them on quickly. Her hair, still damp, hung loosely around her face, but she didn’t have time to worry about it now.
“Shoot!” the young lady hissed as she nearly stumbled over trying to put on her shoes while standing. The stomp causing a loud thump to echo throughout her large chamber.
I can still catch up to him, she thought again, her heart pounding faster as she locked her bedroom door behind her. It wasn’t the first time she’d snuck out—her restlessness had led her to slip away from her parents’ watchful eyes more times than she cared to admit—but this time, it felt different. This time, it wasn’t just about finding something to distract her. This was bigger. More dangerous.
As Caitlyn rummaged through her room, her gaze fell on her rifle, neatly propped against the corner by her desk. The polished wood gleamed faintly in the dim light, the weapon standing as a symbol of her independence and skill. For a moment, she hesitated, her hand hovering near the stock.
Should I take it?
The thought was tempting. The rifle had always been a source of confidence for her. If something went wrong tonight, it would be reassuring to have it slung across her back, a silent warning to anyone who might think of crossing her.
But as she imagined herself carrying it, the practical side of her mind pushed through the impulse. The weapon was far from inconspicuous, and the sight of it would only draw unnecessary attention. A young woman wandering the streets of Piltover with a large firearm? She might as well hang a sign around her neck saying look at me.
Her fingers lingered for a moment longer before she sighed and pulled her hand back. I don’t need it, she told herself. Jayce would be there, and if anything happened, she trusted him to handle it. He was strong, resourceful, and far more experienced in navigating dangerous situations than she was—at least for now.
She moved quietly across the room to the window, her heart thudding with anticipation. Slowly, she lifted the sash and peered out. The air smelled different tonight—fresh, cool, and with a hint of something burning in the distance. It wasn’t the usual scent of the city, and Caitlyn couldn’t help but wonder if it was the start of something she wouldn’t be able to undo.
The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the buildings and the street below. The fading light would give her just enough of a window to slip out unnoticed, she hoped. The cover of nightfall had always been her ally when she sought her independence. But tonight, the stakes felt higher. The possibility of being caught gnawed at the edges of her resolve, but she forced it down.
Caitlyn took a deep breath and slid her legs over the sill, her bare feet landing softly on the ledge. She paused for just a second, listening for any sound of movement inside the house—her mother’s footsteps, the creak of her father’s chair as he shifted in his study, anything. But all was still.
In one smooth motion, Caitlyn dropped from the ledge, landing silently on the ground beyond the fence. She crouched low for a moment, taking in the sight of the street stretching out in front of her, the fading orange light casting long, eerie shadows across the alleyways and buildings.
I’m doing this. I’m going.