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Ximena Talis stepped into the house, cold and destitute. She hung her scarf on a nearby rack and gazed at what had once been a home brimming with memories, now a wasteland of grief. As she looked around, a vivid memory of her son running joyfully when they first entered the house flashed in her mind, bringing back the same numbing pain she had felt ever since.
Losing a son is never easy, perhaps it never will be. Even if he's not completely gone, the loss feels just the same.
She stared blankly at the door of the room that had remained untouched since then. Without thinking, her limbs moved forward. She slowly turned the knob, as if afraid to disturb someone who wasn't there. The cold air from the forgotten open window rushed out, making her shiver.
She had always hated the cold.
Ximena walked in. The room hadn't changed much since her son lived there, but traces of him remained. His science fair awards and accolades, worn-down posters, and scattered papers on his desk. She approached the table, chuckling despite herself. Jayce always had paper lying about, filled with thoughts, breakthroughs that came to him at random times, and little doodles he drew absentmindedly. She looked at it fondly, just like she always did when it came to her brilliant son.
Something on the desk caught her eye—a simple white envelope. Unlike the rest of the clutter, it stood out for its plainness and neatness. She reached for it cautiously, lifting it with the utmost gentleness, afraid it might disappear from her grasp. Turning it slowly, she gasped. It was addressed to her.
She hesitated, trying to figure out if she was ready to read whatever was in the envelope. But then again, when would she ever be ready? She opened it and took out the paper inside, unfolding it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
Ma, if you're reading this—and I hope you aren't—something has probably happened to me.
I don't know how to start these things off. I mean, how do you say goodbye? Maybe I should start by saying I'm sorry. I'm sorry that it has come to this, that in my pursuit of magic and science, it has led to chaos and madness. But that's why I'm here, because I'm going to fix it. I'm afraid that in my mission to fix it, you will have to lose a son.
You should know I fell in love, Ma. It was bound to happen, I think. We did spend so much time together alone, cooped up in the lab. You've met him. You know how charming he is, how brilliant he is. But I realized it too late. I tried to save him, to defy death, and in doing so, I lost him. I hope I didn't lose him entirely. I hope that somewhere in there, the Viktor I love so dearly still exists. Know that, Ma, that your son fell in love and was stupidly oblivious for the longest time.
History will see him as a villain. I don't want that to happen. He isn't ruthless and cruel; he's just misguided by the Arcane, my doing, my ill-judged attempt at helping. He has done so much good, so much for hextech, for our dream. I don't want the world to forget that. Please, Ma, I know the world will recognize me as a hero and him as a villain, but it's not like that. It's high time the world understands that it's not as simple as that. I was blinded by the attention, by being the golden boy, that I lost track of what was important, of who I was doing this for. I caused this; it is only logical that I fix this. The world, not Viktor. He never needed to be fixed. But please do not let them forget what Viktor has done for Piltover. Don't let them drag his name through the mud. Tainting his name is tainting mine.
Another thing, I should probably tell you this: I have money accumulated from hextech. In my will, I have set up a scholarship fund in the university under Viktor's name so that brilliant Zaunites like him will have the chance to make the world better, just like he did. I know it's cheesy, but it's something small I can leave to the world I have wounded. I also made sure you would be taken care of, of course.
I wish in another lifetime we could just, I don't know, sit at the dining table as you tell Viktor all the embarrassing childhood stories you haven't said yet. I know you have a lot. I wish I had the chance to introduce him to you again, as my partner in life. Do you think he'll say it back if I tell him that I love him? Do you think my love would be enough to save him? I hope it is. Then again, maybe I do hope that you're reading this because it means I did it, that my love was enough for him. Maybe the love that I had when I tried to to make him stay but inadvertently drove him away, will be the same love that will bring him back to me.
Well, I have to go. I love you, Ma. Know that I will miss you, your voice when you're singing, your cooking, and your love. I will miss everything about you for all eternity.
All my love, Jayce.
Ximena put down the letter with a shuddering breath. She hadn't noticed until then her trembling hands or the fresh tears now falling from her eyes. Her son, her Jayce, loved so much that he always needed to save those in need. She had never felt prouder of her son and was beyond happy that he finally realized his feelings for his partner. She was happy that Jayce fell in love with a man who was good deep down, who understood him so deeply and shared his passion. No matter the results, Ximena knew that Jayce and Viktor's intentions boiled down to wanting to help, to make the world better. She was proud of both her sons.
For the first time in a long time, she felt peaceful. Whatever happened, wherever they were, they both had each other. And she had to do right by them, she had to do right by her sons.
As the names flew and disappeared into the sky, names of heroes and innocents, Ximena made sure that two names would be remembered. She dropped the paper into the bowl. Written on it:
Jayce and Viktor
Years passed, and as the world healed and understood, a statue stood in the Hall of Innovators at the University. Jayce, sculpted in marble, with his hand intertwined with Viktor's, and the inscription read:
Jayce and Viktor Talis - Inventors of Hextech
Their legacy was now engraved in stone, where generations could know of their triumphs and learn from their mistakes. The dangers of innovation and the salvation of love, cast in marble.