Dear Pirate Across The Sea

by jinxedbypow

Summary:

Five years after the War, Ekko still deals with the scars of a painfully heavy past and the void left by the one who once was his best friend, enemy, and lover.

Nothing in his daily life is normal, least of all the anomaly that bursts into his workshop—and his life—one morning.

In search of answers, Ekko embarks on a journey across Runeterra, facing not only the mysteries of the anomaly but also his own.

And perhaps, the key he seeks lies in the hands of a young, genius—and a bit mad—blue-haired inventor…

Or a legendary pirate across the sea.

A post-canon timebomb story about two lovers finding their way back to each other and discovering whether something new can still be built… and who’s worth building it for.

Chapter 1: "The Lost Lights"

Summary:

Five years later, Ekko deals with a peculiar anomaly and the aftermath of the War’s events. A special date in Zaun brings three people together at Jinx’s sanctuary.

Notes:

Hey everyone!! Well… this is a story I’ve had in mind for a long time, and I’m so happy to have finally been able to put it into words. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, even those who aren’t big fans of other regions of Runeterra, which will be explored in the following chapters… with characters we know very well. ;)

As for this first chapter, it had me in tears the entire time. You’ll understand once you read it.

Lastly, Ekko’s back tattoo design (though not fully revealed yet) is inspired by the beautiful artwork of @lonisaiou on Twitter, who was kind enough to let me use it for this story ♥️. If you have a moment, check out his amazing art!

Without further ado, enjoy! 💙

EDIT: new playlist with all the songs from this story is up! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1eb66lwtTHE7xoSM2QS5vu

Many things had been strange in Zaun over the past five years.

It was strange for the inhabitants when they realized how much easier it was to breathe—an ease that kept improving over the years. It was strange to slowly see themselves with tanned skin, a result of the faint rays of sunlight that’d begun peeking into the city, bringing with them a new concept: day and night. It was strange to see mothers able to breastfeed, and even more so to see children with full cheeks.

Many things were strange, but if there was one thing that wasn’t, it was the loud music that blared daily—every single day—from the ChronoWorks workshop, located at the heart of The Lanes, just a few meters from the emblematic ruins of what had once been the structure of the famous—and infamous—The Last Drop.

But on that particular day, everyone was certain that if the music got even a little louder, the walls of ChronoWorks would burst.

ChronoWorks smelled like any other workshop: of hot metal and old oil. To any onlooker, it was chaos, but it hid something that was very close to order: shelves filled with recycled parts, tools scattered in a messy way—only comprehensible to the workshop’s owner—and a workbench with projects and requests in various stages of completion.

Ekko sat at his workbench, completely immersed in the mechanism before him. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary motor, but any attempt to activate it proved it to be anything but ordinary. The gears clashed against each other as if the device was trapped in its own internal crisis. Ekko frowned, adjusting one of the connections with precision pliers. Despite his absolute focus, his head moved to the rhythm of the music roaring through the workshop, causing his long white dreadlocks to sway with each subtle tilt. Tied back in a loose half-ponytail, they barely stayed out of his face, allowing the metallic gleam of the piercings adorning his ears to catch the workshop’s light.

His long hair draped over his upper back, but his sleeveless white shirt exposed much of his shoulders and a portion of his back, where the beginning of a tattoo peeked from the neckline. Owl feathers ascended to his nape, disappearing beneath his hair, while his right shoulder revealed a design of blue clouds drifting under his clothing. However, the most visible tattoos were on his left arm, illuminated by his work lamp, slightly distorted by the curve of his muscles. He’d grown even more over the past five years, a result of the long work-out hours he imposed on himself whenever he needed to clear his mind. And if there was one certainty, it was that he’d needed to ‘clear his mind’ far too often in those years.

A symbol of the old Firelights intertwined with a hand-wound clockwork mechanism was inked on his left arm, an exact replica of the first one he’d built… alongside Benzo.

His expression at that moment didn’t differ much from his usual demeanor. His lips were pressed, his jaw tense in an unmistakable sign that he was clenching his teeth, and his dark eyes remained fixed on his work, barely blinking. The dark circles around his eyes fluctuated in intensity depending on his mood—or rather, on the amount of sleep his mind allowed him to take. And most of the time, insomnia won the battle.

Though the place had initially been an extension of Benzo’s old shop, in recent years, Ekko had turned it into his own place. He’d reinforced the walls with recycled steel sheets for better soundproofing, added an autonomous generator to power his tools, and hung old metal plates with fluorescent graffiti at the entrance. Sketches of his own designs covered some walls—though the sketches that truly mattered to him were hidden in his notebook—along with modified clockwork pieces that spun in different patterns.

On one of the tables, ready for pickup, was a magnetic manipulation glove whose calibration flaw he’d fixed, an energy signature recognition visor with a faulty condensation battery, and an old clock with an altered mechanism that’d started ticking backward in time. Nothing particularly difficult to fix. The glove just needed an internal circuit adjustment; the visor only required a battery replacement, and the clock… well, most zaunites worried too much about absurd superstitions.

Half-finished projects occupied the other side of the workshop—a surveillance drone needing its energy core stabilized, a communication device that insisted on picking up fragments of past conversations, and a copper sphere emitting a faint, almost imperceptible vibration. None of it was beyond Ekko’s abilities, but everything cost time, and time was never abundant in Zaun.

The music pounded through the workshop when the faint beep of the entrance door opening cut through the melody.

“Ekko!”

He lifted his gaze and exhaled in frustration upon seeing Klem "Quick Fingers," a scrap and antique dealer with a shop at the intersection of the High Sewers and the Sunken Bridge—a place only the desperate or the truly knowledgeable dared to shop.

Klem was an older man, his face lined with deep wrinkles from age, with a few gray hairs stubbornly clinging to the parts of his scalp that baldness hadn’t yet claimed. His signature mustache curled above his upper lip, just like the glasses perched on his nose, and his white button-up shirt seemed to struggle to contain his belly. He wore a multi-layered coat in dark red and deep black hues.

His shop, Klem’s Relics, was a jumble of rusty gears, shattered crystals, and trinkets of questionable origin. Ekko knew it well—if there was one common issue with Klem’s artifacts, it was technological anomalies, a specialization no one in Zaun understood better than Ekko.

But today, he wasn’t in the mood. Well, most days he wasn’t in the mood… but even less so today. The last thing he needed was someone getting on his nerves.

“Ekko!” Klem called again, but the young man pretended not to hear him, focused on his mechanism-motor-whatever-the fuck was wrong with those gears. Klem persisted, stepping closer.

“Ekko, turn down that damn thing for a moment!”

Ekko let out a slow breath without looking up. He moved his fingers with precision over the mechanism, adjusting a tiny screw, as if the man didn’t exist.

But Klem wasn’t leaving.

With a sigh, Ekko turned a dial on his generator, and the music lowered to a murmur.

“What the fuck do you want, Klem?”

“Well, what a welcome. I come all this way to see you, and not even a ‘hi.’”

Ekko refocused on his work.

“I don’t need courtesy visits. I’m busy.”

Klem clicked his tongue but leaned against one of the tables with a casual gesture.

“I suppose so, as always. What do you have there?” He leaned in, trying to get a look at the motor Ekko was working on.

“Nothing that’s your concern.”

“Well, you’re still as charming as ever.”

He let out a brief, dry laugh.

“And you’re still a pain in the ass.”

Klem smirked. If there was one thing that never lacked in conversations with Ekko, it was sharp remarks and witty comebacks—and, of course, laughter, at least on his part. But there was always something in the boy’s expression that made Klem wish Ekko would just let him hug him, even if only for a second.

“I heard you’ve had more orders than usual this month. Must be exhausting.”

“Not as much as dealing with annoying clients.”

“And yet you’re still the best at this.”

“I already know that,” Ekko replied, a screwdriver in his mouth as he soldered a small wire.

Klem fell silent for a moment, watching him. Then, in a softer tone, he said,

“Son, I know today is a hard day for many in Zaun, including you. I just wanted you to know that… if—”

Ekko’s jaw tensed.

“Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying I understand and—”

“No, don’t say you understand,” Ekko cut him off, his voice so cold it chilled the air between them. “And I don’t need your pity.”

Klem blinked and looked at him with that expression that made the young man's blood boil. Compassion.

Ekko felt the weight of silence for several long seconds until he heard it.

That soft, familiar voice. The only voice in the world he wanted with all his might to stop hearing—almost with the same intensity with which he wished to hear it once more. She whispered in his ear, over his shoulder, as clearly as if she were right next to him.

"Don’t be an ass, Ekko. Yeah, he’s annoying, but he’s trying to be kind."

He took a deep breath and let the voice envelop him like a balm. He wanted to push her away. He hated when she appeared while he was around others. But he didn’t. Somehow, she always knew when to show up—exactly when he needed her.

"It’s not his fault. He’s suffering from this day too, remember?"

Of course. The energy with which Klem expressed himself was sometimes unsettling, even overwhelming. Enough for anyone, including Ekko, to forget Klem had lost his son and his brother in the War. Sometimes, even the man himself seemed to forget. But it wasn’t as if anyone had the right to reprimand him for how he chose to live with it.

And of all people, Ekko was the least fit to point fingers at anyone for that.

He closed his eyes for a second. Inhaled. Exhaled.

When he spoke again, his tone was more tempered, though it took effort.

"I’m sorry, Klem. I’m not having a good day."

He studied him for a moment, then shrugged.

"It’s okay."

Ekko ran a hand over his face, exhausted.

"Tell me, why did you come?"

"I need help from that big head of yours," he said, pointing at Ekko’s head and rummaging through the folds of his clothing.

"If you brought me another clock that ‘just needs a little adjustment,’ I swear this time I’ll sink it into your forehead," Ekko replied, pointing an accusatory finger, though his tone was somewhat calmer.

Klem let out a raspy laugh and pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth.

"No clocks, I promise. This is different. I found it in one of the old ventilation shafts in the mines. You know, where those purification tanks are now."

Ekko raised an eyebrow and, without much enthusiasm, crossed his arms.

"What did you do, stick your hand where you shouldn’t?"

"Of course. How do you think I get the best pieces?"

Klem carefully unwrapped the bundle, revealing a metallic sphere the size of a fist. At first glance, it seemed like just another useless piece of scrap. But when he held it in his palm, the internal gears moved… in opposite directions.

There was no mechanical law that could cause such an order—or rather, disorder. At least none that he knew of.

Ekko leaned in, his interest reluctantly piqued.

"Hm."

"It doesn’t do anything else… until you try to open it."

He looked up.

"And what happens when you try?"

Klem smiled, a hint of nervousness in his expression.

"It resets. Returns to its initial state and starts buzzing, like it’s complaining. And the light…" He pointed at the faint bluish pulsation running through the sphere’s grooves. "It doesn’t make sense."

Ekko sighed.

"Let me guess. You tried to sell it, and no one wanted to touch it."

"Correct," he nodded. "You know how people are with anything that remotely resembles old Hextech. They don’t even wanna hear about it."

Ekko clenched his jaw. Just the mention of that name made his fists tighten under the table. That was one of the many reasons he’d decided to specialize his workshop in technological anomalies. Even if it was the last thing he did, he was gonna make damn sure no trace of Hextech infiltrated his people. Though, in Zaun, where rumors and fear spread like poison, no one wanted to go near anything that might be ‘cursed.’

"If it were Hextech," Ekko said, carefully taking the artifact, "it would have a Hex crystal core, and those haven’t existed in years. There’s no energy source to power it."

He turned the sphere between his fingers, analyzing the hexagonal inscriptions on its surface. They looked like assembly marks, but without an obvious pattern. He held it up to a lamp and observed the gears spinning in impossible directions.

"This is… weird."

Klem grinned with satisfaction.

"That’s why I came to you. You’re the only one who can crack this kind of thing."

"That doesn’t mean I should," Ekko muttered.

He set the sphere on the table and rubbed his face with his hands, holding back his frustration.

"Look, Klem. This is gonna cost you time and coin. And in the end, it might not be worth it. Maybe it’s just defective garbage."

"Or maybe it’s something valuable," Klem countered calmly. "I’ve sold less interesting pieces to piltovian inventors and zaunite Academy hopefuls. Don’t underestimate what people are willing to pay for a good mystery."

Ekko clicked his tongue.

"Those idiots buy anything that looks complex."

"Exactly. And if someone up there thinks this is a lost relic, they’ll pay me well."

He rolled his eyes.

"So you want me to do all the work, figure out what the hell this is, and then you resell it to some gullible scholar."

The old man raised his hands.

"If you put it that way… yes."

Ekko let out a long sigh, his patience hanging by a thread.

"Fine. I’ll charge you double if it turns out to be junk."

Klem smiled, satisfied.

"I knew you’d say yes."

Ekko barely looked up when the man gave him a nod—a simple gesture, but with that discreet tenderness that was so him. It seemed like he was finally leaving the workshop, and Ekko was about to turn up the music to drown out any other sound in the room. But just as his fingers touched the dial, Klem stopped at the door.

Ekko didn’t need to look at him to know what was coming next. He heard the sigh escape his lips, that sound weighed down with a burden Ekko had no intention of carrying with him. His muscles tensed. What would follow would be comforting words he didn’t want to hear or questions he didn’t want to answer. For a few seconds, he wished with all his might that Klem would just keep walking and swallow whatever words were on the tip of his tongue.

Of course, that didn’t happen.

"Are you going to the Festival today?" Klem asked cautiously.

Ekko closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath through his nose, forcing himself not to blurt out the first curse that came to mind. Of all the questions Klem could’ve asked, it had to be that one.

The Fifth Festival of the Lost Lights. Every year, on this date, Zaun was covered in lanterns and green flames floating over the canals, illuminating the walls blackened by time. The streets filled with musicians and masked dancers reenacting ancient zaunite legends, mixed with more recent tales of the War. Banners with the names of the fallen were hung while the younger ones set off firecrackers and sparklers that crackled with emerald sparks. But the most important tradition was the Burning Papers Ceremony: zaunites and piltovians wrote the names of those they’d lost on scraps of paper and released them into the wind, allowing the flames to consume them. According to zaunite beliefs, Janna’s winds guided the resulting smoke until it reached the dead, ensuring they would never be forgotten.

Ekko drummed his fingers against the table, his jaw clenched. His stomach had tightened, and though he tried not to show it, his shoulders were tenser than usual. Blurred images filtered into his mind: thick smoke, distorted screams, the rumbling of distant explosions. His skin tingled with the memory of gunpowder in the air, the suffocating heat of some burning space. His breathing shortened, and for a moment, his vision blurred.

No. Not here. Not now.

He forced his mind back to where he was. To the faint music playing in the background. To Klem’s voice waiting for an answer.

"Yeah," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. "I’ll go."

"Are you swinging by the Valley of Lights?"

The Valley of Lights was not a cemetery in the traditional sense. Most of the bodies were never recovered; many remained buried beneath the rubble of structures that had collapsed during the War—where her body was most likely to be, a conclusion Ekko never allowed himself to dwell on for too long, unable to bear the pain it caused in his chest—while others had been carried away by the river, lost in the darkness. But the people of Zaun preferred to imagine their loved ones rested there. They built small altars and sanctuarys with candles, broken clocks, and personal belongings, adorned with fluorescent crystals that glowed with the city's dim green light. Some left engraved metal plaques with names and dates, while others lit incense that released a bitter, thick scent.

Ekko swallowed and struggled to nod.

"I'm gonna see Benzo… some Firelights, of course… and…"

He stopped abruptly. His throat closed before he could finish the sentence, and the air in his chest felt heavier, harder to breathe. His fingers tightened around the tool in his hand, and his right leg started to tremble lightly under the table.

Klem watched him closely.

"Her?"

He didn’t say the name. He didn’t need to.

Outside, in the streets, people were already making their tribute to her. Some left flowers that spun in the wind, while others lit small lamps with her symbol engraved in metal. Every year, her name appeared on dozens of papers that burned in the ceremony.

Ekko swallowed hard.

"Of course I'll go see her," he replied, his voice rougher than usual, even for him.

Klem crossed his arms and hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

"So you did meet her..."

Ekko felt a pang in his chest, something between annoyance and pain. His discomfort became visible in his even tighter jaw, in the stiffness of his shoulders. He didn’t wanna keep talking about it. Not with Klem. Not with anyone.

They had no idea about her. They knew nothing about her. They didn’t know how her bang swayed with her face every time she shook her head before letting out a giggle. They didn’t know how she clicked her tongue and wrinkled her nose whenever something annoyed her. They didn’t know how she bit her lip whenever she was deeply focused on a project—probably a weapon.

They didn’t know what her laugh sounded like. Her skin. Her eyes. Her hair. Her lips.

They knew nothing about her.

He shot Klem a brief look before abruptly changing the subject.

"I'm gonna need more time with the anomaly," he said, pointing at the device on the table. "But don’t worry, it won’t explode. Probably."

Klem clicked his tongue but smirked.

"I hope so. I don’t want my arm flying off when I sell it to an academic."

Ekko gestured toward the door.

"Then let me work before that happens."

The man let out a short laugh and shook his head.

"See you at the Festival, son."

Ekko didn’t respond, just nodded slightly, without even looking at him.

When the door closed behind Klem, the workshop fell silent.

He leaned against the table, exhaling a sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding. His eyes focused on the mechanism before him.

The cold metal of the sphere rested in the palm of his hand, reflecting the flickering lights on its polished surface. Ekko turned it between his fingers, examining every microscopic crack. His mind started working fast, breaking down possibilities, but the silence was beginning to weigh on him. He slid his free hand toward the knob and turned it slightly, ready to raise the volume and let the rhythm seep into his head.

"Sheesh, Little Man. That was rude."

There she was, again. 

His body tensed. His fingers froze around the knob. He didn’t need to turn around. He didn’t have to look. He knew exactly who was beside him. Or rather, he knew who wasn’t.

At first, it scared him. The first time he’d heard her speak, his skin had prickled, and his heart had raced as if he’d been caught in the middle of a failed trick. For a while, it’d even annoyed him. He’d told himself he had to ignore it, that he couldn’t afford to lose control in such a way. But the years passed, and what started as something he desperately wanted to suppress eventually became something else. A persistent echo that, in some way, comforted him in his loneliness.

Benzo was the one who sometimes spoke to him. He appeared just as Ekko remembered him from the last time he’d seen him alive, five years ago—even if it wasn’t in his universe. But most of the time, the voice that accompanied him was hers. Jinx’s.

He’d never told anyone. Partly because he didn’t want them to look at him with pity or like he was some kind of freak. He knew he wasn’t the only one who’d lost someone in this damn world, and he doubted everyone else had visions as vivid as his. And partly because talking about it would mean remembering. And most of the time, he simply didn’t have the strength to do that.

Still, hearing her voice, he felt something inside him loosen. He smiled, just a little. His fingers moved again, but he didn’t turn the knob. At that moment, any sound from her lips was better than any song. Even if it only existed in his mind. 

He didn’t respond. He usually didn’t. At least, not always. He knew she wasn’t really there; he understood that with absolute clarity. But that didn’t stop him from finding a certain solace in seeing her so vividly. 

He straightened up and focused on the sphere, turning it slowly in his hands. But the smile didn’t fade. Not when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the familiar silhouette sitting beside him.

Jinx was leaning on the table, her elbows pressed into the surface and her chin resting on one hand. She looked exactly as she had the last time he’d seen her. He didn’t need to look directly to know. It was engraved in his memory: the short hair, the blue-violet bang falling over her bright pink eyes, the pants she’d teased him so much about when she first wore them. And, of course, the paint. Over her face, and over her whole body. Colorful smudges and uneven strokes covering her skin, drawings he himself had traced with his own hands. Sometimes, if he focused hard enough, he could still feel the viscosity of the paint on his fingertips and the texture of her skin beneath his hands when he’d been lucky enough for her body to be his canvas—and for him to be hers.

He didn’t look at her. But he knew she was there. 

Ekko adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and brought the glowing sphere closer to the lamp on his workbench. From any angle, the artifact seemed… wrong. As if its structure couldn’t quite decide what shape to take. It wasn’t solid, but it wasn’t malleable either, and at the slightest touch of his tools, it vibrated slightly before returning to its initial state.

He took a fine-tipped screwdriver and slid it carefully under one of the metal plates. The moment he touched it, the sphere emitted a low hum and, with a click, the piece snapped back into place as if Ekko had never moved it.

"Oh, sure, because that makes perfect sense," he muttered to himself.

"You’re so harsh on the poor sphere!" Jinx sang beside him.

Ekko didn’t look up, as usual.

"If I were you, I’d try the micro-adjustments on the central gyroscope," Jinx continued, resting her elbows on the table and watching him with a grin. "Or, wait, maybe you should loosen the torque nut. What do you think?"

Ekko didn’t respond, but the small smile that appeared on his face gave him away.

He took a hex key and inserted it into the mechanism to loosen the torque nut. The sphere emitted its hum again, but this time, when he turned the tool, the inside of the artifact seemed to break apart for a second, like an image reflected in disturbed water.

"Ha! You did it!" she exclaimed, slamming the table enthusiastically. "Well, I did it, but you put in some effort too. I’ll give you points for that."

Ekko let out a nasal laugh, barely a breath of air, and continued his work.

"Now…" Jinx narrowed her eyes, watching his progress. "If you were smart, you'd use the precision tweezers to adjust the phase connector. But since I know you’d rather suffer, you'll probably try to disassemble it with that old screwdriver."

Ekko ignored her comment but swapped the screwdriver for the precision tweezers. He held the phase connector carefully and turned it gently.

"Yes, that's what I like! Listen to the genius over here."

But just when he thought he was making some progress, the artifact's anomaly activated again. The sphere vibrated, dissolved into fragments of light, and in less than a blink, returned to its initial state, as if nothing Ekko had done had mattered.

"Shit…" he whispered, running a hand over his head.

Jinx rested her chin on her hand and looked at him with amused eyes.

"Oh, poor thing, he tries so hard," she said. "But you know what? I think you've played enough for today."

Ekko kept examining the sphere, frowning.

"Oh, come on, Ekko, leave that for later," she insisted, leaning further over the table. "You've been working all day. How about doing something you like? I don't know… taking a walk? Sleeping? That would do you some good. Or maybe stealing some pastries from the folks topside? Something relaxing."

Ekko sighed, setting the tools aside.

"I knew you'd listen to me," she said with satisfaction. "Because, admit it, I'm the voice of reason here."

He just rolled his eyes with a tired smile.

"And you're also cute when you're not frowning all the time."

Ekko let out a brief chuckle, barely more than a whisper in his throat. He didn’t reply, but the small smile on his face betrayed his feigned indifference. He moved away from the artifact and leaned over one of the drawers on his workbench, rummaging through loose parts and tools until he found what he was looking for.

"Melody Noir" - Patrick Watson

Carefully, he pulled out the invention he’d been working on especially for today: a metallic blue rose, the size of his palm. Its surface gleamed under the workshop’s light, with petals assembled from thin plates of polished metal. It wasn't just decorative; it had an automated mechanism that allowed it to open and close with a slight energy pulse. When it opened, small internal circuits activated tiny lights in the center of the flower, making it glow with a soft, shifting radiance, as if the rose were breathing. When it closed, the lights went out, wrapping the flower in a deep, metallic blue.

Ekko took a precision screwdriver and adjusted the small luminous pulse generator at the base of the stem. It still didn’t work perfectly; sometimes the light flickered too fast, other times it went out completely for no apparent reason.

"Woah…" Jinx murmured beside him, whistling in admiration. "You outdid yourself with this one, Little Man."

He didn’t look up, but the corner of his mouth barely curved as he continued adjusting the mechanism.

"That lighting system is insane," she continued, resting her chin on her hand. "How did you make it shine like that? Is it a pulse regulator or what?"

He used tweezers to secure a loose connector and activated the rose again. The petals slowly unfolded, revealing the luminous center, now much more stable.

"It's gorgeous!" Jinx exclaimed, leaning in closer. "Though, of course, not as gorgeous as me, but close enough."

Ekko set the tools down on the table and, without thinking too much, lifted his gaze slightly. Not completely. He didn’t want to look at her directly. He couldn’t. But his smile faded just a little, and he felt a slight knot in his throat before speaking.

"Do you really think it's pretty?"

There was a brief silence.

Jinx leaned in even more, until she was almost at his side. Then she smiled, with that spark of mischief and warmth in her eyes.

"Ekko, it's beautiful," she said softly. "I love it."

He nodded slowly, closing his eyes for a second, inhaling deeply, trying to etch those words into his mind.

He knew they weren’t real. He knew Jinx's voice was nothing more than an echo made up by some twisted corner of his head. But for a moment, at least for a second, he let himself believe those words came from her. For real.

Ekko turned the screwdriver, securing the last connector before testing the mechanism again. The light flickered erratically, almost as if the rose was hesitating to obey.

"Maybe you have to ask it nicely," Jinx commented, rocking on her toes beside him. "Say, ‘please, my beautiful and precious magic rose, light up my pathetic existence.’"

Ekko snorted and shook his head, trying to focus.

"Oh, come on, that would work. Those things love flattery," she insisted, resting an elbow on the table again and looking at him with a grin. "Or you could try a good smack. Sometimes things work if you give them a nice ‘crack.’"

"Yeah, sure," Ekko murmured without looking at her, a small smile still hidden on his lips.

"Look who's learning manners," Jinx teased. "But if you keep playing the silent treatment, I’m gonna think you actually talk to your inventions when I'm not around."

Ekko shot her a sidelong glance but remained silent, soldering a small wire to the light mechanism’s base.

"Ooooh! Mystery!" she sang. "'Ekko, the boy who whispers to machines.'"

"Shut up."

He said it without thinking, without anger, without weight. But the laugh that escaped his throat at that moment was genuine, unexpected.

Jinx jumped and threw her arms up in triumph.

"I made him laugh! Ha! I'm the best."

Ekko shook his head, still smiling.

"It's hard to focus when you're here," he finally admitted.

She leaned over the table, resting her elbows and her chin on her hands, grinning widely.

"If I'm here, it's because you want me to be here."

The comment caught him off guard. He didn’t know if it was just another game or if, deep in his mind, he knew she was right.

Jinx didn’t give him time to respond. She straightened up and gestured vaguely at the rose.

"Try this, mad brainiac," she said. "The coil pulse is clashing with the circuit relay, so adjust it a bit to the left, let the voltage flow more smoothly."

Ekko raised an eyebrow but did as she said. With a slight pressure of his screwdriver, he readjusted the coil and the relay. This time, when he activated the rose, the change was immediate.

The metal petals unfolded with an elegant, almost organic motion. In its center, the lights turned on with a soft, vibrant glow, shifting between purple, blue, and green. Each color seemed to spill onto the petals, reflecting on their edges with a neon sheen. When Ekko pressed the small switch again, the rose slowly closed, absorbing the light until only a faint purple glow remained at its core.

"Dear Janna, I’m brilliant!" Jinx exclaimed with exaggerated satisfaction.

Ekko couldn’t help but smile again. But this time, when he lifted his gaze, he didn’t look away.

And then, he saw her.

Jinx was there. Not as a shadow in the corner of his eye, not as a blurry reflection on the metal of the table. She was there, exactly as he remembered her the last time he saw her.

Her pale skin reflected the shifting tones of the rose, blending with the colors of the paint on her face and her hair, making its blue melt into purple and green, as if she herself were part of the glow. Her hair looked even more vibrant under the neon light, each strand moving slightly. And her eyes… her eyes shone like never before.

But what took his breath away the most was the smile.

Jinx was smiling.

It was a genuine smile, with a childlike glint in her gaze, a spark that, for a moment, made him forget everything.

Ekko swallowed dryly and simply stared at her. He didn’t think about what it meant, didn’t think about what he was really seeing, didn’t think about whether it was real or not.

He just watched her smile.

Jinx’s image was reflected in his pupils with unsettling clarity, as if every fragment of neon light escaping from the rose had been designed to illuminate her and no one else—which, in theory, was true. The lights danced over her pale skin, accentuating the purple hues of the paint on her face, blending with the vibrant colors of her hair, and highlighting the glow in her eyes.

And then, as always, she opened her mouth.

"See? I told you. If you listen to me, things turn out fine," Jinx said with a triumphant air. "I'd say I deserve at least a ‘thank you’. Or a statue. Something with fireworks, to match my greatness."

Ekko smiled and shook his head, but he didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He was still too busy engraving every detail into his memory.

He knew how to do it. He’d caught himself doing it many times before.

The sharp angles of her jaw, the high arch of her brows, the slight tilt of her nose. The way her mouth curved—carefree, yet with a touch of something softer at the edges. Her large eyes, with a glow that the neon lights hadn’t ignited, but revealed.

He wanted to remember everything. Keep it. Preserve it.

So, without taking his eyes off her, he reached toward the drawer of his desk and pulled out a black-covered notebook.

Jinx raised an eyebrow, and before he could even open it, she was already talking.

"Ohhh, is it art time? How do you want me to pose?" she asked, tilting her head dramatically to one side. "Like this? Mysterious, intriguing, like an urban legend?"

Ekko calmly flipped through several pages of the notebook, revealing more sketches of her than he’d like to admit.

"Or maybe like this…" Jinx continued, leaning slightly forward and resting her chin on one hand. "Like ‘the criminal genius who knows something you don’t.’"

Ekko let out a small laugh.

"You’re perfect like that. Stay still."

Jinx gave him a wide smile and, surprisingly, obeyed.

Ekko let the pencil do its work.

Her image remained in that position, her face still illuminated by the neon lights of the rose, her expression radiant with life—ironic as that was. And though her lips stayed still, her tongue did not.

"You know? I think my advices bring you luck," she commented with satisfaction. "If you need a lucky charm to make your inventions work, you could use me. Imagine it: ‘Jinx’s Blessing.’"

Ekko snorted.

"Yeah, sure. An explosive lucky break."

Jinx laughed.

"Exactly. But a lucky break nonetheless."

Ekko paused for a moment, feeling his fingers tremble slightly around the pencil. With a quick click of his tongue, he forced himself to focus and just kept tracing lines, defining shadows, shaping the image before him.

But his mind was already drifting. Enough for him to not notice how the sphere on his table distorted and dematerialized for just a second before returning to its original form.

 

                                       ──────────

 

Everything could be seen from up there.

Piltover looked like a toy crafted with absurd precision. The enormous hextech towers rose like needles, gleaming under the dim light filtering through the low clouds. The usually bustling streets looked like thin lines woven from copper threads, winding between the giant structures . The bridges connecting the different levels of the city curved on each other, and from that height, the airships that usually dominated the sky looked like mere floating dots. From there, Piltover didn’t seem like a place where dreams were shattered. 

The sound of the turbine's ledges spinning dominated everyone's ears, a constant hum mixed with the occasional creak of the flight mechanism’s gears. On the small upper platform, the Firelights remained alert, exchanging words in barely audible murmurs. Their voices slid through the air like an underground current, lost in the roar of the turbine. They all kept their hoverboards close, their bodies tense, ready to act if something went wrong. But nothing went wrong. Not yet.

Jinx was leaning against the helm that controlled the turbine. The wind tousled her blue and purple bang, and though she had her hands on the controls, she was barely paying attention. Her gaze was fixed on the city beneath her feet, and for a moment, she couldn’t tell if it was real or just a dream she couldn’t wake from.

In a way, it felt like one. She’d spent months giving herself entirely to a little girl who, at some point, had become her everything. For a brief moment, she’d gotten Vi and her father back, as if the universe had granted her a reprieve—a flicker of hope—before ripping everything from her hands. Like a dream plucked from a children’s tale—fleeting and cruel. And then, as if that weren’t enough, after yet another failed attempt to end her existence once and for all, she’d found herself sharing space—and more than just space—with the last person in the world she would have ever imagined being with. Her worst enemy.

This couldn’t be real.

A faint sound broke the steady hum of the turbines. A jump. Light, precise. It came from the upper platform, descending with an ease that would have been impossible for anyone else. Jinx didn’t need to look to know who it was.

She smiled to herself and rolled her eyes slightly. It was ridiculous to recognize him just by the way he walked. Even more ridiculous was how easy it had become to expect him.

Ekko leaned against the side of the helm, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the horizon. From up there, the city looked strangely small. He seemed calm, almost serene, but Jinx knew his mind wasn’t. No one was at peace when heading into the biggest fight of their life.

Out of the corner of her eye, she observed him. And if there was anything else that felt ripped from a damn fairy tale, it was how stupidly handsome Ekko looked in that moment. His white dreadlocks, though tied in a high ponytail, moved gently with the wind, a few loose strands framing his face with an effortless carelessness that seemed intentional. The sunlight accentuated every curve of his muscles, highlighting the firmness of his arms and the defined line of his shoulders.

And that damn crop top…

Jinx narrowed her eyes and tried to look away. It didn’t work. Her traitorous eyes landed back on his abdomen, on the subtle movement of his abs with each breath. And the thought surfaced—intrusive and concrete.

She wanted to touch them again. At least once.

"Nice view from up here," Ekko said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Jinx blinked and, with a small motion, turned her head toward him.

"Oh, yeah. It’s beautiful. You know what else is beautiful? The fact that if we fall from here, we’ll be smashed to bits against the ground before we even land."

Ekko chuckled softly and shook his head.

"Always so positive."

"I try." Jinx shrugged before looking at him again. "Though I guess you’re more used to heights than I am."

Ekko raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?"

"Of course." Jinx gestured upward with her chin, where some Firelights still hovered on their boards, watching for any movement. "You guys ride those things every day."

"It’s not that big of a deal."

"Sure it is." Jinx leaned against the helm, adopting a thoughtful expression. "Though, now that I think about it, those boards aren’t that well-designed..."

Ekko let out a dramatic sigh.

"Not this again."

"Listen to me." Jinx raised a finger. "For starters, the stability system is faulty. A slight change in air pressure, and you end up splattered against a wall. You could add an automatic compensation mechanism."

"If we did that, the board would lose manual response and become useless in combat."

Jinx clicked her tongue.

"Pfft, excuses. And what about the thrusters? They’re good, but if you adjusted them for a faster takeoff, you could dodge attacks more easily."

"If we increased the takeoff power, the battery would drain in minutes."

"Then you guys have garbage batteries."

Ekko flashed that smug smile—the one that made Jinx want to slap him. Or kiss him. Or slap him and kiss him at the same time.

"Admit it. You’re dying to ride one."

She frowned, though she couldn’t stop a laugh from slipping out.

"Fat chance."

"Liar."

"I’m not!"

"You’re a terrible liar, Jinx."

She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Well, maybe... riding one of those things would be fun. Maybe."

He looked at her with a soft smile.

"When all this is over, I’ll teach you."

Jinx remained silent for a moment, her expression dimming just a little. Then, she shrugged.

"Maybe we’ll die today."

The air between them froze in an instant. Ekko didn’t answer right away. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. He lowered his gaze for a moment, furrowing his brow, trying to find the right words.

But there were no right words for something like that.

Jinx was right.

This could be the last time they saw each other. Or saw anything at all.

Jinx pressed her lips together, regretting having dampened the mood. She didn’t want to think about the possibility of dying that day. Not now. Not with him.

So, in an attempt to dispel the heavy atmosphere, she let out a mocking snort and shrugged.

"Anyway, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t ride a hoverboard."

Ekko raised an eyebrow, curious about her sudden shift in tone.

"Why not?"

"Of course not." Jinx spun on her heels and leaned her elbows on the railing of the helm. "That’s exclusive Firelights business. It’s way too elite for me."

Ekko let out a laugh.

"And what if I told you that you already look like a Firelight?"

Jinx blinked and looked at him with a skeptical smile.

"What are you talking about?"

"This." Ekko raised a hand and slid a finger along her arm, from her wrist to her shoulder, right over the paint strokes decorating her skin—drawings he himself had painted. Jinx looked at the design with feigned indifference, praying that the sound of the turbine was loud enough to drown out her pounding heartbeat. But when she looked up again, Ekko had that grin painted on his face.

"Your body is covered in Firelight symbols, dummy."

Jinx let out an incredulous chuckle and shook her head.

"Someone got a little carried away and didn’t miss his chance with the paint, huh?"

"Guilty." Ekko raised his hands.

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

"If you wanna play that game, then let me tell you—you look like a Jinxer."

Ekko put on a thoughtful expression.

"And how exactly do I look like a Jinxer?"

She lifted her chin proudly.

"For starters, you have my paint all over you. And my symbol."

"Uh-huh."

"And you let me paint you too."

"That was a mistake."

"You didn’t seem too upset about it."

"It was a mistake to trust that you knew what you were doing."

Jinx raised a hand and pointed a finger at him.

"My strokes were perfect!"

He raised an eyebrow and let out a low chuckle.

"You wrote 'Jinx was here' pointing at my ass."

"You said you wanted something unique!"

"That’s not unique, that’s a crime. And it makes me an easy target."

She burst out laughing, leaning slightly toward him.

"Just admit you loved having me paint you."

He narrowed his eyes and brought a hand to his chin before locking his accusing gaze on her.

"Not as much as you liked having me do it."

Jinx opened her mouth to reply, but something in the way Ekko was looking at her made her stop. His tone was still playful, but there was a slight shift in his voice that sent a jolt through her stomach. The memories from a few hours ago crashed into her mind all at once—her fingers sliding over Ekko’s skin, the warmth of his breath near her neck, the low, mischievous laugh when he accidentally painted a line too long.

And then… their lips crashing together in a clumsy, hungry kiss, with the paint still fresh on their faces.

And their mouths finding each other again soon after, their tongues sliding into each other with an insatiable hunger, while their hands refused to stay still…

The memory hit her like a slap.

Jinx felt unexpected heat rise to her ears and immediately turned her gaze upward, pretending to examine the sky with sudden interest. Ekko also looked away, focusing on the horizon with suspicious stiffness.

An awkward silence settled between them.

Jinx cleared her throat.

Ekko ran a hand over the back of his neck.

Both avoided looking at each other. And though neither said a word, they both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Jinx’s gaze wandered aimlessly toward the top of the turbine, following the flickering lights of the Firelights’ hoverboards. But then, almost by accident, her eyes landed on the large balloon atop the massive mechanism.

More specifically, on the two bunny ears painted on it.

The lump in her throat surged back up, tightening like an invisible fist. She felt stupid. She had cried more in the past months than in all the years of her life combined.

Before she could stop it, a lone tear slipped down her cheek. With a sharp motion, she wiped it away with the back of her hand and looked away, forcing herself to focus on the city beyond. But something told her that the person beside her was exactly the kind of person she could share those words with—and maybe, just maybe, not feel so stupid.

She broke the silence with a weak voice.

“She would’ve loved to be here and see all this.”

Ekko looked at her and felt a sharp blow to his stomach.

He’d never met the girl. He’d never heard her name until recently. But ever since Jinx had gathered the courage to mention her, he could see how important she had been… and how important she still was.

"How was she?" he asked softly.

She let out a small, bitter exhale, but her mouth curved into a tiny smile.

"She was a little demon. She couldn’t stay still for a second. If you left her alone, you could say goodbye to anything you had on the table. Or in your pockets."

He let out a low chuckle.

"So she was a little thief too?"

"You have no idea. She could steal something from you without you noticing and then make it seem like it was your fault."

"Sounds like a pro."

"She was." Jinx smiled fondly. "She liked hiding in the strangest places. One time, she spent an entire afternoon inside a pipe just because she wanted to scare me when I got back to the hideout."

Ekko burst into laughter.

"I like her."

Jinx fell silent for a moment, staring into nothing with a soft expression. Then she murmured with unexpected tenderness,

"You would’ve loved her."

Ekko blinked, surprised.

"Yeah?"

She nodded.

"And she would’ve loved you."

The knot in her throat threatened to choke her again, so before it became too serious and uncontrollable, she added in a lighter tone,

"In fact, she probably would've been your biggest fan."

He tilted his head, amused.

"She reminds me of someone."

Jinx pursed her lips in feigned indignation.

"Oh, please. If anyone here is a fan, it's you."

"I never said I’m not." Ekko shrugged and glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a lopsided smile on his lips.

Jinx looked at him and froze.

What if this was the last time she could look at that smug smile? What if it was the last time she had the luxury of seeing his dreads sway gently in the wind? What if it was the last time she heard his voice?

She knew what she had to do. She knew what she wanted to say.

So she took a breath.

She had known for days, weeks. Maybe years.

And yet, now that she had Ekko in front of her, now that they were alone in the stillness of the lower platform with no witnesses, her chest felt trapped in a whirlwind of uncertainty.

It was absurd. It was stupid. But if she didn’t say it now, she might never say it at all.

She clenched her fists against the. wheel, her fingers twitching, feeling the slight stickiness of paint residue on them. Her leg started bouncing without her realizing it.

"Ekko…" Her voice came out shakier than she expected, so she cleared her throat and tried again. "I… I need to tell you something."

He tilted his head, looking at her in confusion.

"Yeah?"

Jinx let out a nervous laugh and averted her gaze.

"It’s just… well, considering you might never see me again, I thought… you know, this would be a good time to… say it."

Ekko frowned.

"I’m not sure if I like where this is going."

She let out a choked laugh, more nervous than anything.

"Yeah, well, me neither."

Her breathing became erratic. A chill ran down her arms, even though the day wasn’t particularly cold.

Come on. Just say it.

But her mouth seemed to have turned against her.

"I…" She started, but the words got stuck in her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest with ridiculous violence. "Shit…"

Ekko was watching her with furrowed brows, waiting, and that only made things worse.

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to regain control. She took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled in a desperate attempt to calm down. When she finally looked at him again, her decision was made.

"Ekko… I…"

But the blush that overtook her face was instant.

Heat surged from her neck to her ears, and in a reflex, she covered her face with both hands, groaning in frustration.

Even with her eyes closed, she felt the sting in her throat, the burning in her chest, the tremor in her breath.

No.

Not again.

But it was useless.

The tears came before she could stop them, spilling over with humiliating ease. It didn’t matter how hard she pressed her hands against her face, or how tightly she clenched her lips to hold them back. The shameful sobs forced their way out anyway, escaping through her fingers in small, choked gasps.

She felt stupid, weak, pathetic.

"I’m sorry," she said, her voice barely a broken thread between sobs. "For everything."

Jinx kept her face buried in her hands, her breathing ragged from the sobs that refused to subside. Her chest rose and fell with difficulty, her throat burned with every failed attempt to hold back the crying, and her fingers trembled against her damp skin.

“And I love you,” she whispered. 

She was pretty sure her sobs choked those last words, though they’d escaped in a murmur only she was able to hear. But she didn't care. The words were spoken, finally out of her chest, even if he hadn't heard them.

Then, she felt the warmth of two hands wrapping around her wrists.

The contact startled her, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t. She could barely breathe, let alone move.

When her hands no longer obstructed her vision, Ekko’s eyes were on her, watching her with an intensity that made her stomach tighten. His gaze was fixed on her, serious, unwavering.

Slowly, he began to lower her arms, gently pulling her hands away from her face with exquisite care. His fingers held her wrists firmly, but not forcefully—just enough to remind her that he was there, that he wasn’t gonna leave her side.

She looked at him, eyes still brimming with tears, her face drenched, her lower lip barely trembling.

And for a second, she allowed herself to pretend.

Pretend that everything was okay.

That she wasn’t about to walk into what could very well be her last fight.

That this was a fairytale too, but one that wouldn’t end with a goodbye.

Ekko didn’t look away.

"I know," he murmured.

Jinx felt a knot form in her throat again.

The grip on her wrists loosened, but he didn’t let go. His hands remained against her skin, warm and steady, refusing to break the contact. The silence stretched between them until Ekko spoke again, his voice lower this time.

"I’m sorry too."

She blinked, confused.

"Why?"

"For giving up on you."

Jinx felt something inside her tremble.

For a moment, she just looked at him, searching his face for something she wasn’t sure how to define. And then, without thinking too much about it, she reached for his hands.

Her fingers slid cautiously over his, tentative, almost trembling. But when she finally took them, she did so firmly. Her small hands were easily lost in his, but she didn’t care.

She intertwined them tightly, making sure they were there, that he was there.

And she didn’t let go.

Ekko looked straight ahead for a moment, and when Jinx followed his gaze, she saw what had caught his attention: tiny figures of noxian soldiers and a few enforcers began to appear in the distance, looking like little ants.

"We need a lucky break. Now more than ever," Ekko broke the silence, his voice barely rising above the wind whistling between the turbines.

Jinx flashed a crooked smile, her fingers still intertwined with his.

"Funny you're talking to me about luck, huh?" She shrugged. "My name is literally Jinx. Chances are, we'll be exploding in the next five minutes."

Ekko let out a short laugh, not taking his eyes off her.

"I don’t know, maybe your name is just a distraction. Maybe you're luckier than you think."

Jinx tilted her head, pretending to think about it.

"You think so?"

"Well..." Ekko squeezed her hands gently. "Not everyone’s lucky enough to be up here with me."

Jinx raised an eyebrow, feeling a blush creep up her neck.

"Oh, really? Is it a privilege to be here with you?"

"I’d say so."

"How humble."

He smirked, his thumb absentmindedly brushing against the skin of her wrist.

"Don’t pretend to be tough. You love being here."

Jinx scoffed but didn’t let go of his hands.

"Yeah, sure, in the middle of an existential crisis with near-certain death right around the corner. This is exactly what I dreamed of as a kid."

"Maybe your lucky break hasn’t come yet."

She looked up, her pupils shining.

"And what would a lucky break look like right now?"

He didn’t answer. He just looked at her, watching her with that expression that made her stomach burn, memorizing every detail of her face before time ran out and the bubble burst beyond repair. The only thing that seemed to be breaking at that moment was the little distance that still remained between them.

Then, in a low voice, he murmured,

"I don’t know… maybe something like this."

And without giving her time to react, he closed the distance between them completely and kissed her.

It wasn’t like the makeout session they’d shared during their not-so-innocent painting game. It wasn’t desperate, nor was it a hungry clash of lips as if the world were about to crumble beneath their feet.

It was slow. Careful.

Ekko’s hands disentangled from Jinx’s and slowly slid down the intoxicating curve of her waist. She moved her lips softly against his, occasionally pausing to plant a featherlight touch before resuming that slow, steady rhythm. Her hands cradled both sides of his face, and soon, one of Ekko’s hands traveled up to her cheek.

He pulled away for a moment, muttering a few words she couldn't quite make out, drowned out by the sound of the turbine and the ledges spinning, though she could feel his lips trembling slightly just after he said them, and before he placed a soft feather touch on hers again.

The two seemed to be doing the impossible to absorb every sensation, every touch, every breath.

The salty taste of both their tears mingled in the kiss, and they didn’t even try to stop it. They just stayed there, breathing into each other, clinging as if, by doing so, they could somehow stop time.

But time never stopped.

The sound of the turbines was no longer the only thing in the air.

In the distance, the metallic echo of armor in motion began to filter through the wind. Shouted orders, hurried footsteps, the sharp click of weapons ready to fire.

The bullets were still far away. But not for long.

A mocking whistle shattered the moment.

"Well, well!" One of the Firelights’ voices rang out from the upper platform. "Who would’ve thought our leader was a romantic?"

Another Firelight chuckled before adding,

"Hey, lover boy, we’re close."

Ekko exhaled a laugh and pulled away from Jinx with one last look. He would be lying if he said it didn’t physically hurt to stop looking at her.

"I’m coming."

He turned to climb up to the upper platform, and Jinx, still breathless from what they’d just shared, dropped into the chair a few feet from the helm with a sigh. She needed air. She needed to pull herself together. Not just because of the kiss, but because of what was coming. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to sort through the chaos in her chest.

Just as Ekko was about to climb up, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. Jinx felt his gaze and, without thinking, turned hers toward him.

"Please… try not to die."

She raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"And ruin your tragic boy savior reputation? Not a chance."

He shook his head, smiling tiredly, and pushed himself up onto the upper platform.

"Firelights! Positions!" he ordered firmly. The Firelights moved immediately. 

From above, Ekko looked down at Jinx once more, who was still sitting in her chair.

"Hey, about the speakers… is that still on?"

She let out a dry laugh.

"Of course, they’re essential."

"Then, we agree."

He wasted no more time. He hurried to the switch and, with a single motion, activated the sound system.

In an instant, the entire structure vibrated as the speakers roared to life, loud and deafening.

The show was just about to begin.

 

                                           ──────────

 

Vi let her weight drop onto the counter at Jericho’s, feeling the rough wood press into her forearms. Her body was exhausted, tense after an endless day at the border, calming down the agitated and making sure they didn’t set the streets on fire. The Festival of the Lost Lights always brought trouble.

“Whatever you have, Jericho. Anything,” she muttered, not lifting her head.

The man behind the counter, a giant with weathered skin and old scars, studied her with a smile before turning around. He didn’t ask anything else. He didn’t need to.

Minutes later, Vi had a plate in front of her that, to anyone outside of Zaun, would have looked like a mean joke. Resting on a thick bed of dark seaweed—steaming and glowing with a faint trace of bioluminescence—were three pieces of sewer fangcrab, slow-cooked in a thick, spiced broth, imbued with the metallic scent characteristic of the undercity. The crab’s flesh, a sickly shade of purple, melted like butter, though its eyes were still attached to the shell.

Vi picked up one of the bodies with her fingers, still hot, and split it in half with ease. The thick juice slid between her knuckles, leaving a sticky trail scented with spices only Jericho knew how to use. She took a bite and closed her eyes. Damn. It was good. Ridiculously, fucking good.

There was something different about Jericho’s cooking. It wasn’t easy to figure out what. The way the fish was preserved? A change in ingredient quality? Or maybe… maybe she’d simply forgotten what home tasted like.

“You made it spicier,” she finally said, opening one eye.

Jericho let out a deep chuckle as he wiped a glass with his filthy rag.

“The Festival calls for it,” he replied.

And he was right. Nothing in Zaun was more Zaun than that dish.

Vi took a moment to enjoy the warmth sliding down her throat and the pleasant burn of the spices. Then she set the crustacean aside and stretched, feeling every vertebra in her back crack. Damn job. It wasn’t that leading the Border Security Squad enforcers was particularly hard day-to-day—patrolling the tunnels between Zaun and Piltover, inspecting shipments, making deals with Piltovan officers to keep things under control—but the War’s anniversary always brought trouble.

Resentment, of course, never truly faded. And on days like this, when zaunites and piltovans remembered their dead, everything got worse. Protests, border fights, traffickers trying to exploit the chaos, smoke bombs, and riots igniting like gunpowder. Vi had spent the entire day running from one place to another before things escalated further. And the Festival had only just begun.

She chewed the last piece slowly, letting nostalgia hit her like a sip of cheap liquor. She could have eaten anywhere, could have ordered anything else, but she’d ended up here, with the one dish that reminded her of a time when everything was different.

And on this damn day, that was exactly what she needed.

She barely had time to stop by her home that afternoon. Her uniform reeked of dust and sweat, but time had slipped through her fingers, and all she managed to do was change quickly, splash her face with cold water, and put on something that didn’t scream ‘I spent the whole day putting out fires’. Because, in a way, she had.

The morning had started early, as always. Patrol in the underground access routes between Zaun and Piltover, making sure no transporter was sneaking illegal shipments through the Festival’s chaos. Then, a supervisory round in the border zone, ensuring the protests didn’t spiral into something more dangerous. And finally, one of the parts she hated most: negotiating with piltovian officers on how to handle security for the day.

Then came the Fallen Tribute.

The event was held in the Grand Inventors’ Courtyard, in the heart of Piltover. The decorations were solemn yet imposing—enormous ivory and blue banners hung from the buildings, inscribed with the names of those who’d died in the War. Walking among them, it felt like the names never ended. At the center of the courtyard, a bronze sculpture depicted three figures standing together, holding a torch, their faces gazing toward the horizon.

Vi stood beside Caitlyn when the time came to honor Cassandra Kiramman. The former councilor’s portrait was placed on a marble pedestal, surrounded by white lilies—the flower she always wore in her jacket lapel. A speech was read in her honor, speaking of her fight for peace, of her efforts to mend the wounds history had inflicted.

When the ceremony ended, they both went to pay tribute to Jayce, Viktor, and Loris. It was a Piltover tradition—on the edge of the city’s highest dock, people left small golden gear pieces floating in the water, each one marked with the initials of those lost in the war. Vi tossed hers in and watched it disappear with the reflection of the midday lights.

Later, as she changed clothes, Caitlyn leaned against the doorway, watching her with a smile.

“Tell me you’re not coming back covered in soot this time,” she joked.

Vi turned with a raised eyebrow.

“You tell me when we burn our dinner.”

The idea of cooking together at the end of the day was something they promised each year. And each year, some pot ended up in flames, some vegetable charred, some pan condemned to oblivion. But neither of them cared. It wasn’t about the food.

Caitlyn cupped Vi’s face in her hands and kissed her, slow and firm.

“Try not to break anyone’s face this time,” she murmured against her lips.

Vi smirked into her mouth.

“No promises.”

They both knew what came next. Caitlyn would stay in Piltover to attend the Night of Luminous Silence, another ceremony for the fallen, while Vi would dive into Zaun’s Fifth Festival of the Lost Lights. Two cities, two different celebrations. Some things never changed, even despite the long-awaited peace.

But at least there was one thing that still united them all—the Burning Papers Ceremony.

Vi finished her meal and quickly wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her blue jacket, a color she’d chosen on purpose for the day.

She set her utensils aside and leaned back in her chair, watching the world around her.

The Festival of the Lost Lights was in full swing. From there, she could see the streets transformed by the celebration. Amber lights hung from metal poles, tinkling softly in the wind, and crimson fabric banners waved with the names of the fallen written in black ink. The air smelled of toasted spices, hot metal, and caramelized sweets sold in small stalls. Children ran past, carrying paper lanterns that left trails of light in their wake, while adults hunched over makeshift tables, writing names on strips of parchment that would later be burned in the ceremony.

From her seat at Jericho’s, she could see the Bridge’s entrance. It wasn’t far. That was one of the reasons she’d chosen this place as a meeting point. Soon, the crowd would start gathering there, waiting for the moment the flames consumed the papers and the wind carried the ashes in both directions.

A nearby murmur caught her attention.

A family walked past her, moving slowly, speaking in hushed voices. A woman with her hair wrapped in a red scarf held the hand of a small boy, while a man with a frayed scarf carried a girl no older than five in his arms. Her hair was dark, tangled in small knots, and her tiny hands clutched a toy tightly against her chest.

"Mama, can I leave my monkey at Jinx’s sanctuary?"

Vi stopped dead in her tracks.

The entire world seemed to collapse in on itself.

The murmuring of the crowd turned into a distant echo. The music of a street violinist warped in the background. The warmth of the torches seemed to disappear.

Only that name remained.

Her body tensed reflexively. The blood drained from her cheeks. Her jaw tightened. Her lungs compressed as if she’d been punched in the stomach.

A stuffed monkey.

Vi’s fingers clenched against the edge of the table. For a second, just a second, she’d almost forgotten the reason for her visit.

Even after five years, it always felt like the first time.

Every day was easier. But that didn’t mean it’d ever stopped being hard. The hole was smaller, yes. It was no longer an open abyss in her chest, consuming her from within. But it was always there. An empty space never going away. 

Sometimes, all it took was a single detail to bring her back. The scent of gunpowder at the shooting range, so similar to the one that used to cling to Jinx’s clothes. The smell of honey buns in the upper Piltover bakeries, the same scent that used to stick to Powder’s sleeves when she was a child, after stealing one at the fair—probably during a failed job.

Other times, she didn’t even need a smell. Just a sound.

A child’s laughter in the streets. Vi would stop abruptly. Scan the crowd, check two or three times, even four, making sure her mind was playing tricks on her. That it wasn’t her. That it couldn’t be her.

She’d learned to live with those moments. With the weight in her chest, with the traitorous reflexes. With the way her hand sometimes reached out without thinking, expecting to find a silhouette that was no longer there.

Carrying on with her daily life with a calmness she barely knew had been anything but easy. At first, she was unable to close her eyes without seeing flashes of a past that would never return. Then, there was food—something particularly alarming in her case. She ate because she had to, but food seemed to have less taste, sometimes even a repulsive one.

Over the years, the storm had calmed, but it hadn’t completely dissipated. There were still nights when memories strangled her until she couldn’t breathe. There were still mornings when she woke up with white-knuckled fists, clenched in a nightmare she no longer even remembered.

But the worst had been when Caitlyn forced her to seek help to stop drinking.

At first, Vi had outright refused. She’d lost count of how many times she said she didn’t need that shit. That she had it under control.

She said it with the same conviction with which she stacked bottle after bottle of whiskey on her table every night.

But the hangovers told another story. The dark circles under her eyes, the heaviness on her tongue, the inability to get up without feeling like the world was spinning around her…

So eventually, she gave in.

A doctor. A support group. A couple of meetings a week. At first, it felt like a joke, like a trap, like a damn waste of time. But over time, she began to notice the difference.

She slept better. She ate better. Her body didn’t feel so... numb all the time. She’d learned a few tools to vent in other ways, to not rely on drinking every time the world got too loud. Or rather, her own head.

But recovery was never a straight line. There were good days and bad days. And then there were days like that one.

The more she remembered her sister’s features in her mind—the big blue eyes, later pink. The crooked smile, the small gap between her front teeth, her messy locks that had later become the longest braids she’d ever seen—the more she felt like she was losing the battle.

The more she thought about the name she would have to write on the paper, about the sanctuary she would visit that night in the Valley of Lights, the more she knew this would be one of those days.

And so it was.

She sighed heavily and leaned over the counter, raising two fingers to get Jericho’s attention.

"Bring me a drink. Something not too strong, but not so weak that I regret ordering it."

Jericho looked at her for a moment but said nothing. He just nodded and started preparing the glass.

A few minutes later, he set the glass on the bar with a sharp thud. The amber liquid slid down the glass, forming a thin ring at the base.

Vi took it without hesitation and took a long sip. The taste hit her immediately: strong, spiced, with a smoky touch that reminded her of the old speakeasies in Zaun. She licked her lips, letting the burn settle in her throat. She missed it more than she’d like to admit.

It wasn’t that she’d completely abandoned Zaun. But, to be honest… there wasn’t much left tying her to that place. At least, no one who truly wanted her around.

For a while, Ekko had been the exception.

In the first months after the War, Vi had made sure to stay by his side.

She knew he had the Firelights. But she also knew it was only a matter of time before the gang completely dissolved.

And that’s exactly what happened.

Vi wasn’t surprised when, over the months, the Firelights started meeting less and less. Some returned to their families, others simply vanished into the streets of Zaun, searching for a new cause, a new purpose. Others had fled to other regions of Runeterra entirely. Ekko kept in touch with some of them, but she knew the harsh truth that felt like thorns digging into her chest:

Ekko was alone.

At another time, it wouldn’t have been particularly concerning. If anyone knew how to take care of himself, it was him. He’d led a gang since childhood, built a community in the midst of chaos, and survived a war that swallowed almost everyone he knew.

But there was something about his behavior after the War that unsettled Vi.

At first, she didn’t notice. Ekko had always been reserved. But there were… moments.

Moments when, suddenly, a noise startled him. Small fireworks in the distance, the crash of failing machinery, the screech of metal against metal. Moments when he would stop dead in his tracks and seemed to struggle to breathe.

Vi didn’t know what he was seeing in those moments, what memories gripped him. But she did know she couldn’t leave him alone.

So, for a long time, she made it her duty to check on Ekko.

Not because he asked. Not because someone suggested it. Simply because she couldn’t bear the thought of him becoming another absence in her life.

The first two years hadn’t been too terrible. At least, nothing beyond what was expected. Vi had been there when Ekko decided to turn Benzo’s old shop into ChronoWorks, watching as dust and rubble gave way to something new. It wasn’t a quick process. For months, the place was filled with tools, stacked metal, and scattered blueprints. Ekko worked tirelessly, measuring, cutting, assembling. Vi got used to seeing him hunched over his projects, his brow furrowed in concentration as he adjusted tiny parts.

There was something almost comforting about those afternoons in the workshop. They’d gotten into the habit of sharing a cup of piltovian tea while he worked—a tradition that started accidentally and that Vi ended up appreciating more than she had expected. At first, the taste seemed harsh and dry, but over time, she came to enjoy it. Ekko, on the other hand, never stopped making a slight grimace of disgust with each sip, though he always tried to hide it. Vi found it amusing to watch him make that futile effort, with his lips tight and an almost imperceptible expression of suffering before he refocused on his work.

Sometimes, they talked about Jinx. The memories surfaced in the middle of conversations, almost without them noticing, and always ended up evoking her most absurd antics. Like the time she convinced Ekko, Vi, Mylo, and Claggor the wind was sending her secret messages. For weeks, she filled the walls with scribbles and strange symbols, leaving letters by the window every night in hopes of receiving a response. And when the wind, in its cruel indifference, ignored her completely, she decided to declare war on it. She spent entire days trying to build a cannon capable of “knocking it down” until someone managed to distract her with another idea—probably Ekko.

Or the time she proudly announced that she’d created her first blueprints for her inventions. She had made sure to gather everyone, including Vander and Benzo, to witness her masterpiece. Many brows furrowed upon noticing that the "blueprints" were nothing more than a bunch of colorful doodles and, at the center, something that, if looked at closely enough, resembled a monkey. And many eyebrows were raised even higher when they discovered that the “blueprints” were for none other than a bomb.

Laughter came easily, but so did tears. They always tried to hide them, looking away or rubbing their eyes as if the dust in the workshop was to blame. It was almost a silent pact: they could remember her, they could even laugh at the memories, but never, ever, allow themselves to admit how much it hurt.

But despite everything, Vi soon began to notice certain behaviors in Ekko that she couldn't ignore. The way his fingers drummed against the table even when he was still, a constant rhythm that never seemed to stop. Or the way his posture tensed at sudden noises, his muscles tightening in an instant. Or the long hours he spent working out with no rest.

There were nights when he simply stared into nothingness, unmoving, unblinking.

And then, little by little, something changed. The barrier between them began to crack. Ekko's responses became sharper, his patience faded more easily—even for him. There were moments when he seemed to be holding back an explosion, and Vi could swear she heard the sound of his teeth grinding and his nails digging into his palms.

Arguments started happening more frequently. Over absurd things. The order of the workshop, whether Vi spent too much time there, whether she should be doing something else. Ekko found reasons to argue even over the most insignificant details. That Vi left her boots out of place, that she talked too loudly, that her spoon clinked too much against her cup.

Sometimes, he got angry just because—because the air was too heavy, because the light flickered, because the screwdriver he himself had dropped had made too much noise for his liking.

Vi tried to ignore it at first. But at some point, she could no longer deny the obvious: Ekko didn’t want her there anymore.

He didn’t say it in words, but he showed it with every cold glance, with every gesture, with every time he avoided crossing paths with her in the workshop.

So, in time, Vi understood. She gave him space.

That didn’t mean she disappeared completely. They still saw each other once a year, at the Festival of Lost Lights.

It had become the only date when their paths crossed again. A night when, for a few hours, they could pretend everything was fine.

At least, until the next year.

Vi looked up, and she saw him almost by accident. She wasn’t sure if she’d called him with her mind or if she’d simply lost track of time and the hour they’d agreed on had already arrived, but there he was: a male silhouette moving through the neon-stained lights, heading toward her.

She smiled to herself. How the hell was it possible that the little boy she remembered chasing her through the streets and copying her fight moves with fierce determination was now the man approaching her? Even harder to understand was how Ekko managed to gain more muscle every time she saw him. Was it some trick of the shadows, or had he really grown again?

Ekko wore a sleeveless shirt in a dark green shade, a color that blended with Zaun’s new aesthetic: a reformed Piltóver, twisted and adapted to fit the rawness of the undercity that had never truly disappeared. The colors that were once clean and metallic were now dulled by soot and rust, the refined designs had transformed into rougher versions, with patches and handcrafted details made by zaunite hands. Ekko wore it effortlessly, but not without emanating a certain magnetism. A canvas bag, casually slung over his shoulder, matched the style.

His muscles, outlined by the flickering light of the signs, barely tried to hide beneath the fabric, and Vi immediately recognized the tattoos covering his skin. She’d been there when he got the one on his arm, watching him grit his teeth without making a single complaint while she flicked his forehead and told him it wasn’t that bad. But when the contact between them began to fade, and in one of those awkward encounters, she saw him from behind, she noticed the beginnings of the blue clouds that now adorned the owl on his back. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t need to. The tattoo spoke for itself.

His hair fell freely, the dreads intact, now long enough to brush the lower part of his shoulders. But what stood out the most wasn’t his appearance—it was the way people reacted to him.

As he walked, several zaunites greeted him with a slight nod. Ekko responded with the closest thing to a smile he could manage. Some children, bolder, pointed at him from a distance and bounced excitedly. And it was no surprise. The Firelights weren’t just known as an old gang. They’d become almost a legend in Zaun, a fundamental part of the zaunite resistance’s history in every sense.

Stories about them were whispered in alleys and spoken loudly in homes where parents wanted to inspire their children. It was said that Ekko had taken down an entire team of Chem-Barons on his own, moving so fast that not even bullets could reach him. That he’d infiltrated the mansion of one of the most powerful shimmer traffickers and escaped before the alarms could go off. Some whispered that he could see the future, that he could break time, that somehow, he always knew how to move, how to attack, how to dodge just in time. Other stories were simpler, more real: that the Firelights protected their own, that they kept the traffickers and exploiters in check, that Ekko had created something bigger than himself when he decided to fight for Zaun.

Vi watched as his gaze finally found her at Jericho’s counter. For a moment, there was no recognition, just a quick assessment. Then, his expression shifted slightly, a hint of familiarity crossing his face before he took the last steps toward her and dropped into the seat beside her.

Ekko let the bag fall to the side with a dull thud and rested his forearms on the bar. Vi watched him for a second, easily analyzing every change in his face. More muscle. More dark circles. The same as always.

“Shit, Ekko. What did you do this time, lift an entire building or decide that sleep is for the weak?”

He scoffed, running a hand over his nape.

“It’s called actually punching the bag instead of blocking it with your face. Something you should try.”

Vi let out a short laugh as she took a sip of her drink.

“Oh, believe me, I’m doing more than trying. Blocking with my face is in the past,” she said, nodding toward him. “But speaking of trying, are you still running the workshop, or have you turned it into a bomb-proof fortress?”

Ekko shrugged, not even bothering to look at her.

“It’s still standing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Vi narrowed her eyes.

“It works. Got it. Great report, Ekko. Got any more details, or do you charge for each one?”

"Do I get paid for every question I answer, or are you just having fun pissing me off?" he replied.

Vi shook her head and brought the glass to her lips again.

"And that doesn’t smell like juice," Ekko pointed at the glass she was holding with his chin.

She stopped mid-sip and set the glass down on the bar with a sigh.

"I'm doing the best I can. But you can't blame me for drinking on a day like this."

Ekko didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Because she was right. He wasn’t in a position to tell her what to do.

There was a brief silence. They both knew why they were here today, but what they didn’t know was when being with each other had turned into… this. Vi spoke in a lighter tone, turning toward him with her elbows resting on the bar.

"Are you seeing any of the Firelights today?"

Ekko nodded, distracted.

"Yeah. Scar, Wren, Tilo… Maybe Hal, if he’s not getting himself into trouble again."

She barely smiled.

"Scar’s still alive. A miracle."

"For your information, Scar is tougher than all of us put together," Ekko said. "And if anyone's gonna kill him, it’ll probably be me. For being an idiot."

Vi chuckled before a thought crossed her mind.

"And are you seeing the others too?"

He let out a heavy sigh. The long list of names he had to burn on paper today made him want to throw up. 

"Yeah. We’ll be holding a vigil for some of them. Mako, Lark, Iza, Eve… you know."

Vi lowered her gaze for a moment. She knew. She knew all too well.

But she didn’t want to dwell on it. Not when Ekko had barely said more than two full sentences in a row.

"Well, at least you’ll see some friends," she said, trying to sound casual. "Do you still meet up with them outside of work?"

Ekko clicked his tongue.

"Oh, yeah, sure. The ones still alive and living in Zaun bring their kids, and we all gather around for a ritual to talk to the dead ones. Give me a break, Vi."

She rolled her eyes.

"Don't be an ass. I mean… I don’t know, going out, relaxing. Doing something that doesn’t involve working or doing push-ups all day."

"Right, because I have so much free time for that," Ekko replied. "Seems like zaunites love coordinating their fucking anomalies so they can all come and bother me at the same time. My schedule’s packed."

Vi rested her head on her hand, watching him closely.

"And does anyone help you handle that schedule?"

He looked up at her, suspicious.

"What kind of question is that?"

Vi shrugged.

"Just curious. I don't know, maybe… some girl or boy is helping you with that."

Ekko looked at her like she’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. Technically, she had.

"Sure. I sleep with someone and magically everything gets better. Great plan."

Vi clicked her tongue.

"I didn’t say it would fix anything. Just that it helps not to always be alone."

"I'm not alone," he said immediately. Too fast.

She just raised an eyebrow.

Ekko stared at her, drumming his fingers on the bar in an uneven rhythm. Vi had dropped the uncomfortable remarks and was now just studying him with an insistence that was getting on his nerves.

"Still not sleeping well?" she asked.

"What’s with that?"

"I don’t know, maybe the fact that your eyebags are bigger than my fist?"

Ekko scoffed.

"How sharp-eyed. Do you also wanna check if I’m eating well?"

"Maybe," Vi said, unfazed. "If you keep up that shitty attitude, I might start worrying about your iron intake."

"I don’t need you checking up on me, Vi."

"I'm not checking up on you. I'm talking."

"No. You're checking up on me," he shot back sharply. "Like I’m a damn kid."

"I don’t see what’s wrong with asking a friend how they’re doing."

"You have this fucking way of looking at me, like you're just waiting for me to fall apart," Ekko snapped, raising his voice without realizing it.

Vi raised her voice too.

"And what if I am? Is it a crime to want to talk to someone?"

Ekko clenched his jaw, his fists tightening on the bar. He knew he was acting like an asshole, but he couldn’t help it. He hated it when she treated him like this. Hated when she talked to him like he was about to break into pieces.

She looked at him firmly, but something changed. Her shoulders sank slightly, and her voice lost its sharpness.

"I barely talk to people at the border, Ekko," she said, looking away. "You know what my last big conversation was? Arguing with some idiot about whether reinforced boots are better than regular ones. Before that, a guard asked me if I prefer whiskey or rum. Knowing damn well I still go to the meetings."

Ekko said nothing.

Vi let out a short, bitter laugh.

"The only one I get along with is Steb, and that’s just because we both know when to shut the fuck up."

She grabbed her glass again and took a long drink, exhaling deeply as the liquid finally slid down her throat.

"Even living with Cait, there’s stuff I can’t always tell her."

Ekko frowned.

"What stuff?"

She bit the inside of her cheek.

"Zaun stuff. Jinx stuff. Things she’s never gonna fully understand, no matter how much she tries. Or things she just doesn’t wanna talk about."

The last part came out in a whisper. Not because Caitlyn would judge her, but because Vi hated that it was true. That she was right.

Ekko swallowed, feeling that familiar—too familiar—weight settle inside him. The same one that hit him when he realized he was being an asshole, but most of the time, it was too late to fix it.

Vi closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, her voice was lower.

"I just want my friend back. Is that a crime too?"

And with that, Ekko felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

He stayed silent because anything he said now would just make him look like an idiot. He’d been so busy being angry at everything, even the air he breathed, that he hadn’t noticed. He’d thought Vi was here to try and fix him when, clearly, she was just as broken in her own way.

And the worst part was that he didn’t know when he’d become so disconnected from her.

To be honest, he didn’t know when he’d become so disconnected from everyone. From everything.

Ekko looked away and gritted his teeth. His left hand was still drumming on the bar.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice a little rough.

Vi tilted her head, waiting for him to say something else.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head, making his dreadlocks sway.

"I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me."

She frowned, but instead of answering, she simply reached out and rubbed his back with a firm touch.

"There's nothing wrong with you," she said softly. "You're doing the best you can. Like all of us."

He went still. Not because he didn't appreciate the words, but because there was something about that touch, that unexpected gentleness, that made him feel... strange. Uncomfortable. If he didn't think too much about it, the muscles in his back might even begin to relax, maybe even lean into her touch.

But, of course, he wasn't gonna let that happen.

With a subtle movement, he gently pulled away from Vi's touch and cleared his throat, changing the subject without even looking at her.

"And Caitlyn? Still as refined as ever?"

She shot him a warning look, but a smile tugged at her lips.

"She's the sheriff, Ekko. She can't just walk around in a dirty shirt smelling like a workshop."

"You sure? Maybe she should try it. People might stop being scared of her, you know?"

Vi laughed.

"Oh, yeah, sure. Nothing's more terrifying than a noblewoman who smells like lavender."

Ekko rested his chin on his hand.

"So, you're living with the sheriff in a mansion full of luxury. What's that like? Do they bring you breakfast in bed?"

"Oh, absolutely. Every morning, they wake me up with a silver tray and fan me with ostrich feathers."

"And you're not bored?"

"A little," Vi admitted with a shrug. "But Cait and I find ways to... entertain ourselves."

Ekko raised an eyebrow.

"That's way more information than I asked for."

She gave him a quick shove on the shoulder.

"Shut up. Don't make me regret trying to be nice to you."

He laughed, and she followed. For a moment, everything felt lighter. Like before.

But then Vi lowered her gaze to her glass, running her fingers along the rim.

"We've been talking about... having a kid."

He blinked.

"Excuse me?"

Vi shrugged, offering a nervous smile.

"That. Having a kid."

Ekko took a second to process it. Then, he let out a low whistle.

"Well, I did not see that coming."

"Yeah... me neither."

"Isn't it... a little soon?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

She snorted in amusement.

"Ekko, it's been five years. That's practically a lifetime for some people."

"And you? Do you see yourself as a mother?"

She let out a dry laugh.

"Oh, sure. I can totally picture myself waking up early, making healthy breakfasts, making sure the kid does their homework and grows up in a stable, loving environment..."

"And which part of that scares you?"

Vi grimaced, turning her glass on the table.

"I don't know, maybe the part where I have to be stable and loving."

He scoffed.

"The loving part, in an annoyingly natural way... that's in your veins. The stable part..."

Ekko trailed off halfway, stifling a laugh. Vi punched his shoulder and let out an ironic chuckle.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"But," Ekko continued, rolling his eyes, "somehow, in a weird and miraculous way, I also know with complete certainty you'll do great."

Vi looked at him for a second before offering a genuine smile.

"Thanks, Little Man."

Ekko shrugged, returning a small smile but quickly averting his gaze.

Before they could keep talking, a murmur rose through the crowd around them. Vi watched as people began moving in the same direction, an invisible tide pulling them forward. Ekko noticed too, and they exchanged a look.

They knew exactly where everyone was heading.

The Bridge.

The ceremony was about to begin.

"Spanish Sahara" - Foals

The bustle of the crowd enveloped them as soon as they stood up. Vi and Ekko let themselves be carried along by the current of moving bodies, advancing with the slow but steady rhythm of those heading to the same destination.

When they reached the center of The Bridge, the view expanded beyond the limits of Zaun. From the other end, the Piltover crowd advanced with the same purpose—their clothes more elegant, their movements more restrained, but with the same intensity in their eyes. The two groups would meet at the midpoint, right above the river, where the flames already flickered in the small torches, which would later ignite the larger ones prepared especially for the ceremony.

There were people of all ages. Elderly figures with hunched backs held rolled-up parchments delicately, their trembling hands betraying the importance of those notes written in tight, precise calligraphy. Young adults clutched folded sheets, some stained with smudged ink or teardrops. Small children held onto scraps of paper nearly destroyed by their own restless fingers, with clumsy drawings instead of words. Some of them jumped excitedly, impatient to throw their creations into the fire, while their parents tried to calm them with soft words and gentle strokes on their heads, attempting to explain as subtly as possible that, in truth, there was nothing to celebrate in having to burn those papers.

Other conversations floated in the air, some solemn, others barely a murmur. Some spoke of the tradition in hushed, contained voices, others spoke of those they had lost, and some remained silent, holding their papers as if they were the last thing they had left of those they once had by their side. In many cases, that was not far from the truth.

But not everyone was there with the same disposition. Among the crowd, some were crying. Silent tears rolled down the faces of men and women from Zaun and Piltover alike. Some were comforted by firm arms wrapping around them with understanding, but others stood alone, clinging to their memories with no one to hold them.

Ekko glanced at Vi and noticed the movement of her fingers. She was gripping a handful of crumpled papers tightly, deep creases and pressure marks visible along the edges. He didn’t need to see them clearly to understand what they were. Vi’d already written their names before arriving. He counted at a glance: eight. Eight names.

He felt a knot in his stomach. Taking a deep breath, he instinctively began rummaging through his bag. His fingers closed around a worn envelope, and with a sigh, he pulled it out. He held it in the air for a moment before opening it. Inside, the number of papers far exceeded the fingers on his hands. Ten names, at least. Maybe more.

But there was something else in the envelope. A larger sheet, carefully folded among the names. Ekko slid it between his fingers and recognized it immediately. It wasn’t a name. It was a drawing.

The crowd fell silent as two women stepped onto the stone platform at the center of the bridge. The night was barely disturbed by the glow of the torches they held, still unlit, waiting for the moment to be ignited by the flame that would consume the papers.

Counselor Shoola, with her refined demeanor and solemn expression, wore a deep blue tunic with golden edges, a symbol of her status in Piltover. Beside her, Counselor Sevika stood rigid, her jaw tense and her perpetual frown in place. Her outfit, though more refined than usual, still carried the aesthetic of Zaun—a dark jacket with metal rivets, thick boots, and a heavy fabric cloak covering her missing arm, concealing the mechanical prosthetic that, though still powerful, had no place in a ceremony like this.

Sevika made a visible effort to maintain composure as Shoola stepped forward and raised her voice.

"Today, we gather here, on this bridge that connects our cities, to remember. To honor. Five years ago, our streets trembled under the roar of a war that no citizen asked for, but that we all faced. Piltover and Zaun fought—not for ideals, but for humanity itself. For the lives of those we loved. For our own lives."

Some in the crowd lowered their heads. A Zaunite elder in a patched coat held a yellowed parchment, his fingers trembling as he placed it into one of the large baskets passing through the crowd. Nearby, a young Piltover girl with blonde hair in two braids clutched her paper tightly before releasing it, her gaze fixed on the flames.

"Today, we remember each one of them," Shoola continued. "Those who fought, those who sacrificed, those who never came back home. But we also remember that, in the end, we stood together in that fight. That our differences were not greater than the need to save each other."

Sevika’s frown deepened, and though her face betrayed no emotion, her fingers tightened around the torch. Shoola did not seem to notice—or perhaps she ignored it on purpose.

"Today, we let the fire carry our words to them," said the Piltover counselor, inclining her head slightly. "So they know they have not been forgotten."

The baskets continued to pass through the crowd. A young zaunite with hands stained by industrial grease dropped a folded piece of paper, his lips moving in an inaudible murmur before stepping back. Beside him, a piltovan woman dressed in a blue silk corset and lace gloves placed her parchment inside with a restrained tear.

Sevika stepped forward, lifting her chin and fixing her gaze on the crowd.

"There is no forgetting," she said, her voice resonating like a dry echo after the previous one.

The murmurs died down. Some zaunites nodded.

"We can remember together," Sevika continued, turning slightly toward Shoola. "We can light the fire for those who are gone. But here, on this bridge, history can never be buried."

An elderly man in a wheelchair, scars crossing his forehead, lifted his gaze with teary eyes. Beside him, a zaunite boy, barely six years old, held a torn paper with a drawing of two stick figures holding hands.

"The names we cast into the fire today are not just of those who died in the recent war. They belong to those lost in every struggle, every injustice, every moment when the life of one citizen was worth less than another’s," Sevika paused. "The fire will take their names, yes. But it will not take away their memory."

Shoola remained silent, her expression carefully neutral.

"We do not forget our fallen. We do not forget who we were before the war, nor who we are now. We can share this moment, and we can share forgiveness. Because forgiveness may come… but oblivion, never."

A cold wind swept across the bridge, making the torch flames flicker. The crowd watched in silence as Sevika clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. Then, she raised her torch toward the central flame, and Shoola followed suit.

The fire came to life with a low roar.

Vi dropped the first paper into the approaching basket without much thought. The second, she let go with a bit more care. The third weighed more than it should. And the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, seventh… she held onto them a little longer before letting them fall with the others.

Now, only one remained. A single, crumpled piece of paper in her fist. She felt it there, warm against her skin. She didn’t turn to look at Ekko, but she knew he was doing the same beside her.

They would do it together.

With that name, they had to do it together.

"The fire does not distinguish names," Shoola's voice floated through the air. "It does not distinguish where they come from, to whom they once belonged. But we do. That is why we remember."

Ekko clenched his teeth. He could feel the knot in his stomach tightening, turning into something solid and piercing. He didn’t wanna count, but he did it anyway.

One.

The first piece of paper slipped from his hand with a barely perceptible tremor.

Two.

Another one. His breathing became unsteady.

Three.

A Zaunite child passed by with his head down, clutching a piece of paper that seemed too big for his small hands. His mother whispered something in his ear before helping him release it into the basket.

Six. Seven. Eight.

Ekko felt his chest constrict.

"Many of the names we let go of today never had a memorial," Sevika's voice rose above the crowd, deep and unembellished. "They never had a gravestone, never had justice. But if history has taught us anything, it is that silence does not erase them."

Only one remained in his hand.

Vi held hers firmly, feeling the rough texture of the paper beneath her fingers. She didn’t look at it. She only felt it, just as she felt the rapid beating of her heart, the pressure in her throat.

Ekko did look at it.

He slowly unfolded the paper, holding his breath, and the image appeared before him.

Jinx. Just as he’d seen her that morning.

The light of the rose in his bag reflecting off her pale skin, the blue of her messy, unkempt hair, the paint covering her body in colorful smudges, concealing her tattoos and a few scars. Smiling.

Ekko had only a few seconds to take in the drawing. He held it between his fingers, fearing that if he let it go, it would disappear forever.

Jinx looked at him from the paper with that smile—that smile he could never tell if it was a taunt or an invitation to play along. Her bang fell in unruly strands, tangling over her face as if each lock were alive, chaotic but perfect in its disorder. Her eyes... her eyes had that dangerous pink glow, the reflection of a spark that could set the whole world on fire. Even with the paint covering her skin, with the colors still fresh, staining her arms and neck, Jinx looked exactly as she was—radiant, unpredictable, impossible to forget.

"It's not about erasing the past." Shoola’s voice still resonated. "It's about learning from it, carrying it with us without letting it drag us into darkness."

Someone was already in front of them with a basket full of papers. Vi, with a swift motion, wiped a tear from her cheek and extended her hand, ready to let hers go. But she didn’t.

Ekko felt her gaze on him, waiting for a signal. Because letting go of that name had never been something they did separately. They both knew that unspoken rule perfectly.

But he didn’t lift the drawing.

His breathing quickened slightly as he traced the lines with his eyes, engraving every detail in his memory. What if he never saw Jinx again, not even in his mind? What if, over time, her face became blurry, incomplete? What if he forgot the way she wrinkled her nose when something frustrated her, the way she furrowed her brows without realizing it? What if his treacherous mind let the color of her eyes slip away—that electric pink that, even when filled with fury, still held a magnetic glow? And her smile...

He couldn’t burn it.

Jinx was smiling on that paper.

He had to keep it with him, just in case. Just so he wouldn’t forget.

"Those who died for our cities didn’t do it for ideologies or flags. They did it for the people they loved, for the only life they knew. Not for rulers, not for history."

Vi’s touch on his hand shook him.

Her eyes were filled with tears. She said nothing, but her hands spoke for her. Slowly, with steady movements, she helped Ekko fold the paper.

This wasn’t new to her.

She knew exactly what was going through his mind because the same thought haunted her as well.

He swallowed hard. He let her finish folding the paper as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Maybe... maybe he could paint her again later.

If he forced himself with all his might to remember every detail, if every stroke contained the memory of her laughter, if his hands managed to capture the essence of her gaze...

Vi looked at him one last time, her eyes glassy, before gently taking his hand.

No words were needed. Her fingers closed around Ekko’s, and he felt the warmth of her palm against his. Their hands, firm yet trembling, intertwined, and within that gesture, the papers they held were trapped. The edges crinkled slightly under the pressure of their fingers.

Vi guided their hands over the basket, Ekko’s paper pressed between his sweaty palms. And then, with a shaky movement, they let go.

The papers floated for a moment before falling onto the others, blending with the dozens that already lay at the bottom of the basket. Ekko watched as his drawing, his lines, his memory, drifted away along with the rest while the basket was carried to where the counselors were waiting.

Now, they held the torches.

He swallowed hard, feeling the knot in his throat threaten to choke him.

He could paint her again later. It was just a drawing.

"Today, we all take a step forward," Shoola declared. "Not because we forget, but because we choose to move on."

Sevika lifted her torch and tilted it over the first basket.

"May the fire consume what binds us, so we may keep walking."

The flames licked the paper like a hungry creature. First, a soft crackle, then an incandescent dance that quickly devoured every piece of paper, reducing it to ashes in seconds.

The air filled with the acrid scent of burning paper, mixing with the dampness of the river. The wind carried the scents of Zaun—the stench of rusted metal, the thick breeze laden with the voices of those who lived underground. But also, the smell of street food, of steaming bowls of spiced noodles and meat grilling over makeshift stoves. Everything blended into a strange combination.

The citizens of Zaun and Piltover watched in silence. Some, lips pressed together, barely held back the tears streaming silently down their faces. Others pointed toward the smoke, showing it to the children in their arms.

Ekko didn’t cry.

He just watched.

The smoke rose in lazy spirals, carried away by the wind, drifting further and further. And over the Bridge, the crowd remained in solemn silence.

Among them were elders with wrinkled hands gripping their canes, young people in patched leather jackets staring with clenched jaws, small children clinging to their parents' fingers. There were workers with soot-stained faces, inventors with oil-streaked nails, mothers holding their children against their chests.

All watched the smoke rise.

No one spoke.

For the duration of the ceremony, there was no sound other than the crackling of the fire. And for a moment, though no one could say how long, the notion of time seemed to fade away along with the smoke.

Minutes passed, and little by little, the crowd began to disperse.

The Piltovans withdrew in groups, engaged in hushed conversations as they made their way toward the Night of Luminous Silence, their lanterns flickering in the darkness. On the other side, the zaunites went their own way—some to the Festival, where music and laughter were already filling the streets, and others, probably, to the Valley of Lights.

Ekko and Vi walked in silence for a few moments, but their path led them straight into Sevika.

The encounter was awkward. Too awkward.

They exchanged brief glances and nods. No words. None of them seemed particularly interested in prolonging the interaction.

However, as Vi observed the woman more closely, she ran a hand through her pink hair, ruffling it even more, and exhaled with visible effort. Her eyes drifted for a moment toward the smoke, now barely an echo in the night breeze, before slowly turning to Sevika.

"Are you going to the Valley of Lights?" she asked, her tone surprisingly soft, though her voice betrayed the difficulty of speaking those words.

Sevika narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to hide how the unexpected interest had caught her off guard. It wasn’t unusual for her to visit the Valley of Lights. It was unusual for Vi to care she did.

"I will when I finish something."

And yes, there were a few “somethings” to take care of. As a zaunite councilor, it was her duty to ensure that the stragglers from the Festival didn’t cause any trouble in the darker sectors of the city. To keep the fires under control, to make sure the Night of Luminous Silence didn’t end in a misunderstanding between the citizens of both regions. It wasn’t a job she wanted to do, but it wasn’t something she could avoid either.

Vi shifted her gaze toward Ekko.

She didn’t need to say anything.

He immediately understood what she was looking for in his eyes: some kind of unspoken agreement, a sign that they were on the same page. So, in response, Ekko held her gaze for a moment and then nodded slightly.

Vi turned her eyes back to Sevika.

“We’re going now,” she said, her voice firmer. “If you wanna come with us…”

She left the invitation hanging in the air, without embellishing it too much.

Sevika looked at them for a second longer than necessary. And for a moment—just for a moment—the frown that almost always darkened her face seemed to relax. Not much. Just a hint.

She didn’t respond with words. She simply lowered her gaze, let out a sigh, and nodded.

 

                                   ──────────

 

From his position, walking at a slow pace, Ekko was beginning to get a clear view of the Valley of Lights, a place that had once been his and the Firelights’ alone during his childhood and adolescence, hidden among Zaun’s ruins like a well-kept secret. Now, people came and went as easily as if they were strolling through the lower-level markets. As if it’d always been there, open to everyone. As if there’d been no need to fight, bleed, and lose everything for a place like this to exist as a refuge.

He sighed. Of course, he knew the path better than the back of his hand. He’d walked it so many times that he could close his eyes and still find every step, every crack, every branch. But seeing what had once been the Firelights’ base turned into a place of pilgrimage felt strange. Comforting, yes, but strange.

The Valley was covered with small altars and sanctuarys, built with whatever the people of Zaun had at hand. They weren’t grand monuments or golden plaques, but… simple things. Rusted gears arranged in circular patterns, gas lamps with flickering wicks, glass bottles filled with fluorescent liquids that glowed in the dim light, capturing fragments of the old fireflies that used to dance among the ruins. Some had left worn-out tools, dull blades, soot-covered work gloves. Others, discarded respirator masks or scraps of fabric in their clan’s colors.

Ekko focused his gaze on the center of the Valley. The remains of the great tree were still there, though no life remained in it. What had once been Zaun’s greatest symbol of resistance was now nothing more than a skeleton of dry wood, broken into several pieces. It hadn’t been a surprise when, after the War, the Firelights proposed building the Valley of Lights over the old base. Though the tree hadn’t survived the Hex Core anomalies, its roots were still there, like a relic. Losing it had hurt. Almost as much as losing so many people.

But somehow, life had found its way back. At first, just a few leaves sprouted from the dead soil, nourished by the remnants the old tree had left behind. Then, the Firelights brought more plants. Mosses and lichens clung to the walls with the stubbornness of someone refusing to die, ferns spread among the rubble, small but resilient flowers with pale petals barely opening in the mist of floating chemicals. And over time, those seeds of life had spread beyond the Valley, creeping into corners of Zaun where no one expected them.

Not that the city had turned into a garden, of course. It was still a rather gray place, with its damp alleyways and smog-heavy air. But now, every once in a while, someone might spot a green sprout breaking through a concrete wall or a vine hanging from an old ventilation duct.

The air in the Valley of Lights was different. Lighter. Here, the pressure in one’s chest eased, even if just for a moment.

Ekko found it ironic that this place, which had once held Zaun’s only seed of life, was now a home for the dead. But there was something undeniably beautiful about that irony.

Vi, Ekko, and Sevika walked in silence along the paths of the Valley of Lights, each with their hands in their pockets, their faces hardened out of pure habit.

The Valley stretched around them, bathed in a soft light filtering through Zaun’s rusted structures, blending with the last rays of the setting sun. In the distance, incense smoke rose in thin spirals, vanishing among the remnants of the old tree.

People worked on their small altars with quiet devotion. Some did so as families, murmuring among themselves as they carefully arranged objects. An old man with trembling hands placed a polished gear on a wooden shelf, while a child beside him tried to mimic him with a piece of colored glass. Further away, a man rested his forehead against a miniature respirator mask, lost among a collection of old tools and metal plaques engraved with names. A woman with a scarred face lit a gas lamp, while a child beside her watched with eyes full of questions that might never be answered.

Others were alone. A young woman with white-knuckled fists simply stared at her altar, doing nothing. A hunched old man lit an incense stick slowly, letting the smoke brush against his fingers. Some even seemed to speak to their dead.

The offerings covered every altar with no exception. Adults left worn-out tools, blunted weapons, watches frozen at the exact hour when the War had taken their loved ones. The elderly offered embroidered fabric scraps with family sigils, small wooden boxes with rusted hinges, books with underlined pages. The children brought the most color to the Valley: twisted metal figures in crude animal shapes, drawings made with old chalk on scrap pieces, candies wrapped in shiny paper.

Further in, the sanctuarys stood in uneven constructions. Some were little more than makeshift wooden shelters, their walls adorned with old photos protected by cracked glass. Others were more spacious, small personal chapels where the floors were covered in frayed rugs and shelves filled with objects that once belonged to the deceased. Some sanctuarys were painted in vibrant colors, decorated with ribbons and dim lights. Others were dark, with bare, cold walls.

Vi stopped when they reached the end of the path.

Before them stood a sanctuary unlike the others, its lock recognizing only three keys in all of Zaun.

There were many altars and sanctuarys they wanted to visit in the Valley. More names than any of them wanted to admit. But there was only one where the three of them could meet.

Jinx’s sanctuary. 

From the outside, the structure had the solidity of something built to last. The welded metal walls reflected the Valley of Lights’ dim glow, and the secured door bore a knife-carved symbol of a monkey bomb.

Offerings covered the entrance. They were piled on the ground, at the door’s edges, even hanging from the side bars in makeshift pendants. Some were simple: carefully aligned empty ammunition casings, nearly finished paint cans, small rusted gears someone had painstakingly polished. But there were also more elaborate gifts. A metal mask with blue and pink patterns that must have taken weeks of work. A tiny automaton that wobbled clumsily when the wind moved it. A bullet casing turned into a pendant.

Vi felt something twist in her stomach when she saw the stuffed monkey. Unable to keep her gaze on it, she took out her key and carefully turned it.

The inside of the sanctuary was, definitely, a reflection of the three of them.

Ekko had built it from scratch. Every wall, every support, every nail was there thanks to his hands. He’d designed the structure to withstand time, with solid foundations and ventilation that kept the space dry despite Zaun’s humidity. Sevika had ensured that not a single material was missing. From the metal to the tools, nothing had been lacking.

Vi had covered the walls with her own hands. Paint covered every inch of the place in vibrant, colorful strokes. A mural depicted two childhood silhouettes holding hands, running through explosions of neon colors. Another, smaller one showed a blue-haired girl laughing with her mouth full of stolen piltovan candies. On the main wall, the largest painting depicted two figures sitting on a rooftop, feet dangling in the void, watching a Zaun illuminated by fireworks.

But what had stood out most in the sanctuary over time were Ekko’s canvases.

They were everywhere. Some showed Jinx with long braids, clutching her gun with a grin. Others captured little Powder, her bright eyes staring at a homemade bomb in her palm with the fascination of an inventor in the making. One, in particular, didn’t show a girl playing—but a girl with a face that seemed to expect for someone to tell her everything was gonna be okay.

But most of the paintings depicted Jinx just as the three of them remembered her the last time they saw her. Short hair, blue and purple bang falling messily over her face. Skin covered in tattoos and paint. In some, Ekko had immortalized her in the midst of battle, weapons raised, veins tense with adrenaline. In others, she was at rest, sitting in a corner, watching a lighter spin between her fingers.

The sanctuary was warm, infused with the sweet scent of incense burning in the corners of the Valley. Despite the neon lights flickering in some areas, the dimness wrapped around the vibrant colors of the walls, giving them a dreamlike air. Vi stood still, simply observing.

It was beautiful.

She could’ve stayed there for hours, losing herself in the details of each mural, letting her fingers trace the surface of the gifts she’d left over the years. She toyed with a small pink-painted gear she’d brought months ago, spinning it between her fingers with the thought that Jinx, somehow, had touched it after she left it there.

She liked to think that if her sister were here, she would love this place. That maybe this place could’ve been a refuge for her. A place to find a bit of peace.

Without looking at or speaking to each other, the three of them began to walk through the sanctuary.

Sevika was the first to stop. She ran her fingers over a small rocket-shaped lighter, its edges worn from use. She’d left it there three years ago after finding it in one of the hideouts Jinx had used to store explosives. Further ahead, she saw a pair of welding goggles covered in colorful paint—a joke between them. "For when something blows up in your face," she’d said the last time she handed them over. Jinx had laughed, assuring her that never happened… though they both knew it did.

With a sigh, Sevika took out the gift she’d brought this time.

It was a six-sided die. Not just any die, but one of the old ones from her days in the undercity’s fight clubs. Jinx used to play with them while Sevika placed bets on the fights. She would roll the dice, do some quick calculations in her head, and make absurd predictions about how many hits the fighter would take in the next round. She was always wrong. But she enjoyed the game. "Fate is bullshit," she used to say, while Sevika kept thinking of ways to get rid of the brat and distract her with something else.

She placed the die next to the welding goggles and, without a word, stepped away.

Vi scanned the shelves, searching for an empty space. When she found one, she took out her own gift.

It was a red rope, braided with a small knot in the center. It wasn’t much, but for them, it’d been special. When they were kids, Vi and Powder used to tie ropes like these around their wrists when they slept. "So we don’t get lost at night," Powder used to say. Vi placed it on the shelf, touching the surface gently before stepping back.

Ekko, however, remained still in front of one of the paintings.

It was a portrait of Jinx with short hair. In the painting, she wasn’t smiling much, but her posture was similar to the drawing he’d burned. Ekko thought about the Jinx he’d seen that morning, about how the blue rose had illuminated her face.

Maybe, if he lit it here, she would look the same.

He placed the rose in front of the painting and activated the mechanism.

The neon lights flickered on, casting bright reflections over Jinx’s face on the canvas. At the same time, the metallic folds of the rose moved gently, syncing with the rhythm of the lights.

And she looked beautiful.

Vi, Sevika, and Ekko knelt in front of the largest painting of Jinx. The image dominated the wall. She was there, immortalized with her short hair. But it wasn’t a static portrait—Ekko had left his mark on it. Small gears and circuits decorated the edges of the image, and a couple of metallic butterflies emerged from her shoulder, giving the impression of movement. The neon ink added to the painting made her smile seem to glow under certain light.

One by one, they placed their incense in the metal holder. Vi lit hers first, bowing her head slightly as the flame touched the tip. Sevika followed, her eyes fixed on the smoke beginning to rise. Ekko, silently, lit his last. They remained there, kneeling, watching as the wisps of smoke twisted and danced in the air.

Only the slow crackle of the burning incense and their steady breaths broke the stillness. Then, Sevika was the first to speak.

"She fixed my arm once."

Vi and Ekko turned their heads slightly toward Sevika, not breaking their posture, but their eyes quickly returned to the incense.

"She said she’d make it 'less boring.'" Sevika let out a dry scoff. "She didn’t tell me she was gonna turn it into a damn carnival attraction."

Sevika rolled her shoulder, remembering the weight of that arm. Nowadays, she no longer wore the same one but a lighter version, more suited for everyday life than combat.

"It could shoot throwing stars. It also had a retractable punch that launched from a small platform." She let out a low grunt. "And flames. Because, of course, why wouldn’t it shoot flames too?"

She ran a hand over her face.

"At first, I thought, 'Well, at least it’s functional.' But then…" She paused. "In the middle of a fight, life or death, the damn arm started playing music. Fucking music. With built-in speakers." Sevika shook her head. "I was about to smash someone’s skull in when suddenly I hear…"

She took a deep breath and then hummed a high-pitched, frantic tune.

"And as if that wasn’t enough…" Sevika raised an eyebrow. "After a few attacks, the arm decided it was a great time to launch fireworks."

Silence.

Ekko blinked, Vi remained still.

Then, a short sound—a stifled, nasal snort.

And Vi’s laughter exploded in the sanctuary. She doubled over slightly, covering her face with one hand, but she couldn’t hold it in. The laughter grew and grew until her face was red and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

Ekko covered his mouth with his hand, trying to contain himself.

Sevika watched them for a second, expressionless, but something about the way Vi was gasping with laughter reached her. She let out a low chuckle, then another, and finally ended up laughing outright, shaking her head.

Ekko didn’t take long to break either. He covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking.

Vi managed to get some words out between gasps.

"She would absolutely do something like that!"

"She can literally make an advanced mechanical arm…" Ekko laughed, his stomach aching.

"But she wouldn’t pass up the chance to mess with someone!"

"Never, she wouldn’t miss it for the world."

The laughter echoed through the sanctuary, momentarily drowning out the murmur of nearby visitors.

"That fucking brat…" Sevika chuckled.

Vi could barely breathe from laughing, leaning on one knee as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

"She once called my gauntlets 'bitch mittens.'"

Sevika let out a rough laugh, and Ekko nearly doubled over from the force of his laughter.

Vi, still breathless, tried to continue.

"And then… then she slapped me!"

That only made Sevika and Ekko laugh even harder—especially Sevika.

"I didn’t even have time to blink! She was too fast!"

Their laughter slowly faded into soft chuckles, mixed with small sighs. The air was suddenly filled with a strange calm. A small, precious, and strange bubble.

Ekko was the first to break the silence.

"Once…" he said with a small smile, "we were in her hideout, working on the flight mechanism for the turbine."

Vi and Sevika looked at him with curiosity.

"She was obsessed with getting that thing to fly. Wanted to go into battle in style, she said."

Sevika snorted, and Vi smiled, perfectly picturing that moment and recalling the image of the large turbine hovering in the sky.

"The point is… I made the huge mistake of falling asleep."

Vi raised an eyebrow.

"Sleeping is a mistake now?"

"When Jinx is around, yeah." Ekko shook his head with a grin. "I woke up hours later and went back to my business like nothing happened."

He shook his head, his shoulders trembling slightly in a small laugh.

"I didn't understand why everyone was looking at me so weird. I went around, busy with meetings with the Firelights about attack strategies, flight tests for the hoverboard’s upgrades, combat training… and everywhere I went, people looked at me and held back a laugh."

Vi was already chuckling in anticipation.

"It was almost the end of the day when I finally looked in the mirror and…" Ekko paused dramatically before blurting out, "On my left cheek, in pink paint and covered in hearts, Jinx had written 'Jinxers’ Leader.'"

Vi doubled over with laughter. Sevika let out a snort so loud it almost sounded like a roar before she started laughing too.

"And I’d been walking around all fucking day with that on my face," Ekko said, pointing at his face and laughing along with them.

The laughter continued for a few more seconds, but after a moment, though Ekko still had a smile on his face, his expression shifted slightly. His gaze lowered a bit, and his tone softened when he spoke again.

"When I realized it and looked in the mirror, she was right there. She started laughing. But it wasn’t just any laugh. No, no… She doubled over, grabbed her stomach, and laughed so hard she could barely breathe."

Sevika exhaled through her nose, picturing the scene with absolute clarity. That’s how the brat used to laugh when the poor bartender at The Last Drop ended up with one of her bombs on him, or when Sevika herself tripped over one of her traps and growled at her from the ground.

"Her face turned red," Ekko continued, "and these weird sounds came out of her nose, like she was choking. She pointed at me with a finger."

Vi let out a soft chuckle, but not with the same force as before.

"I tried to get mad," Ekko admitted, lowering his gaze. "But I couldn't."

There was a pause.

"She hadn't laughed like that in weeks."

The sanctuary fell silent once more. The three remained there, kneeling, gazing at the incense still burning slowly. No one spoke, but every so often, a fleeting smile would appear on their lips, probably at the memory of another absurd Jinx anecdote. Other times, one of them would look away, discreetly wiping the dampness from their eyes, caught in memories that hurt too much.

The air was thick with perfumed smoke, an intoxicating blend of burned wood, dried flowers, and something metallic floating in the air. From the nearby sanctuaries came distant murmurs, the crunch of footsteps on stone, the occasional sound of a coin dropping into an offering tray.

Sevika was the first to move. She let out a short, almost resigned sigh and stood up with a heavy motion.

"I have to go," she grumbled, brushing the dust off her knees.

Vi looked up.

"What, got a date?"

Sevika scoffed.

"I wish. I have to talk to the merchants in the South District about the new supply regulations."

Ekko raised an eyebrow.

"Since when are you a trade advisor?"

"Since the idiots who are supposed to do it can't make a damn decision without arguing about it for three weeks."

Vi clicked her tongue.

"Sounds fun."

"Yeah, never had more fun in my life," Sevika muttered.

She turned toward the exit, giving them her back. But just before crossing the threshold, she stopped. She stood there for a second, head slightly tilted toward the ground, before turning halfway around.

"If you ever need me…" Her tone was just a bit softer. "You know where to find me."

Vi and Ekko exchanged a brief glance before responding.

"Of course."

"Thanks."

Sevika nodded once and left without another word.

Vi sighed and turned back to the sanctuary. But this time, her gaze landed on the metallic rose resting beside one of Jinx’s portraits. It still pulsed with a silent energy, casting glimmers of green, blue, and purple light. Each metal petal seemed to shift slightly, as if the flower were breathing. The lights pulsed in irregular patterns, reflecting off the polished surface of the altar.

"It’s beautiful," Vi murmured.

Ekko didn’t respond. He kept his eyes fixed on the smoke rising from his incense, watching how it twisted in the air before slowly dissipating.

"Did you make it?"

He nodded slightly.

"Yeah."

But he didn’t look away from the smoke. His eyes followed every wisp of ash floating, every spiral unraveling in the air. The scent of the incense still surrounded him, a sweet and melancholic fragrance clinging to his skin.

Then Vi’s voice came again, lower this time.

"You really loved her, didn’t you?"

He tensed instantly. His breathing slowed just a little, and he ran a hand through his hair before clearing his throat softly.

"Of course I did. Like you, like Sevika…"

"That’s not what I mean, and you know it."

He closed his eyes. His fingers clenched on his own knee before gradually relaxing. His shoulders, tense like steel cables, seemed to ease slightly. Just a little. He let out a slow, tired sigh.

His lips parted with difficulty, and when he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah. Of course I loved her."

Vi nodded slowly. It wasn’t a surprise to her. Not entirely, at least. She’d seen it in Ekko’s eyes since they were kids, in the tone he used when talking about Powder, in the way he tried to make her smile even when no one else noticed.

She’d also seen it in every brushstroke of the paintings covering the sanctuary, in the precision with which he’d captured every expression and feature of Jinx, every detail of her hair, her eyes, her scars. She’d seen it in the tattoo on his back, in the intricate design she had only glimpsed once but didn’t need to see fully to know exactly who it was about. 

But it was the first time she’d heard him admit it out loud.

"Did you ever tell her?" Vi asked, her gaze fixed on the burning incense in front of her.

He swallowed hard. He felt the knot in his throat tighten, growing more painful with every passing second. He knew exactly what it meant. If he didn’t stop now, the tears would come.

But his mouth moved before he could think too much.

"I told her once," he murmured, barely able to see through the mist of water blurring his vision. "But I’m not sure she heard me."

He remained still. His arms rested on his knees, his head bowed, focusing every ounce of his strength on not breaking down.

But it was already too late.

"I should have said it louder," he whispered.

"Je te laisserai des mots" - Patrick Watson

And a sob escaped his mouth. Small, involuntary, embarrassing.

Then he felt Vi’s arms beside him. She didn’t hesitate for even a second. She wrapped around him tightly, saying nothing.

Ekko felt Vi’s body tremble slightly. He didn’t need to see her to know she was crying too.

His body tried to pull away. Maybe one last, absurd attempt to maintain his composure, to keep any of the many walls he’d carefully built from crumbling.

But he’d already lost the battle.

Maybe he could relax his back a little.

Maybe even his arms.

And his chest.

Maybe he could lean into Vi, let her hold him, and hold her back.

At least for a while.

"I'm sure she knows, Ekko," Vi whispered through her tears. "I'm sure she knows."

Ekko let out a louder sob and let her hold him tighter. At the same time, he wrapped his arms around Vi.

It felt good.

Maybe, for a second, he could just stay like this with Vi.

And think about nothing else but how ridiculously good it felt to hold her.

They were still wrapped in the embrace when a thunderous crash echoed outside the sanctuary.

The sound was loud enough to make the walls tremble. A dry explosion, accompanied by a sharp whistle and followed by a series of bursts in quick succession.

The typical Zaun streamers. Festive pyrotechnics made with an unstable compound of fluorescent powders, designed to create a spectacle of green and violet sparks. Beautiful to look at, but loud as a damn bombing.

Ekko's body reacted immediately.

The muscles that had relaxed just seconds ago in Vi's embrace tensed as if a steel cable had shot through them. Vi hadn’t realized how calm he’d been until she felt the abrupt change in his posture, until his arms went rigid and his chest stopped moving naturally.

He began breathing in short, rapid, and labored gasps. He shut his eyes tightly and brought a hand to his face, rubbing his eyelids in his best effort to calm himself.

Another explosion shook the air.

And another.

He flinched at each one, his shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

Vi knew instantly. She thought he would be better since the last time she’d seen him like this. But clearly, he wasn’t.

"Who the hell is setting off fireworks today in the Valley of Lights?!" Vi shouted, her voice booming through the sanctuary.

More blasts echoed in the distance, and each one made him curl up a little more into himself.

"I'm gonna find the bastard making all that noise and shove those fucking streamers down their throat!" Vi continued, practically breathing fire. "Or better yet, up their ass! Let’s see if they still find it fun when they can't sit for a week!"

Ekko still said nothing.

His hand remained over his face, the tremors still shaking his body in involuntary spasms. Vi moved her hand a little closer to his shoulder, not quite letting go.

"I'm gonna find out who's doing this shit. And believe me, Ekko, I swear I'll shove it where the sun doesn’t shine."

He didn’t respond. He barely nodded.

Vi wasted no more time. She stood up in one swift motion and stormed out of the sanctuary, fists clenched.

Ekko’s body wouldn’t stop trembling.

Every fiber of his muscles was tense to the point of pain. His breathing was practically forced, each inhale feeling like it got stuck in his throat before reaching his lungs. His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven intervals—too fast—and every little sound—a distant burst, the murmur of the nearby sanctuaries, even the faint crackling of incense burning—made his body jolt involuntarily.

He felt trapped inside himself.

He brought his hands to his legs, hugging them tightly against his chest. He buried his head in his knees and let out a silent sob, feeling the wetness of his tears soak into his clothes.

He felt stupid.

Why couldn’t this shit just end already?

Why, even when everything was calm, did his mind insist on dragging him back to hell?

Another one.

The sound rippled through his brain like a shockwave, and his body shuddered before he could stop it. His fingers clutched at the fabric of his pants with desperate force.

He couldn’t keep going like this.

Ekko barely opened his eyes, just a little.

And there she was.

In the corner of his vision, blurred by his tears, a small strand of blue hair. Barely visible. Fuzzy. But there.

He didn’t know why, but the moment he saw it, his chest loosened just a little.

He exhaled.

Then inhaled.

For the first time in what felt like centuries, he could keep that rhythm without feeling like he was drowning.

Then, he felt it. Two hands on his shoulders.

There was no real weight. No warmth of human skin. But the feeling was there—strange, unmistakable.

The small tips of sharp nails tracing lightly over his skin. And between them, a mechanical finger, infiltrating where a real nail should’ve been.

Ekko felt her.

He shut his eyes tightly, as if that would help him see her better. It didn’t. But it didn’t matter. He knew she was there.

At first, he said nothing. He just breathed, feeling her.

Until, for the first time, he was the one who broke the silence.

"Would you stay with me?" he whispered. "Until it’s over?"

He couldn’t see her. But he knew Jinx was smiling when she answered.

"Always."

Notes:

Well, the tears are real. I told you I cried every second of this chapter. But don’t worry, there’s still one more character’s current life to uncover. After all, this story has the timebomb tag for a reason. ;)

If you liked this first chapter, kudos and comments are always welcome!!
Any thoughts, feedback, or constructive criticism about this story are also welcome on my Twitter account: jinxedbypow.

Chapter 2: "A Place Called Bilgewater"

Summary:

When you have nothing to lose, a sharper wit and a wilder madness than anyone else, Bilgewater sounds like a great place for a fresh start.

Notes:

New characters, and some you already know very well… welcome to Bilgewater ☠️

Bilgewater was either the best or the worst place to live, depending on who you asked.

For pirates, mercenaries, and sea monster hunters, it was a lawless paradise where you could get rich with a single well-executed scam or the right beast’s head. For everyone else, it was a death trap—a city where life was as cheap as the watered-down booze served in the taverns.

Located in an archipelago in the southeastern part of Runeterra, Bilgewater stood on a cluster of mountainous islands, surrounded by treacherous waters and even more treacherous inhabitants. To the west lay the suffocating jungles of Ixtal, but no one in Bilgewater had much reason to go there—those who tried rarely returned alive. To the northwest, beyond the sea, was Shurima, but with no stable trade routes. The only Shurimans in Bilgewater were those fleeing from something worse. And then there were the Shadow Isles, dangerously close, separated only by the waters infested with the Black Mist.

And that was one hell of a nightmare.

Every so often, it seeped from the Shadow Isles and wrapped around the city like a shroud, bringing with it specters, walking corpses, and horrors straight out of a drunken sailor’s worst nightmare. Some said the souls of the drowned returned to drag more fools down with them. Others claimed the mist was the whisper of death itself, searching for those who owed it something. What was certain was that when the Mist fell, the streets emptied, and the toughest men clung to their weapons as if that could save them.

But if you managed to ignore the constant threat of death in all its forms, Bilgewater had its charms. The weather, for instance, wasn’t too bad. It was warm, humid, and prone to sudden rains, but the sea winds kept the city just cool enough that the bodies piling up in the alleys didn’t smell too terrible. The nearby islands were covered in dense jungles, towering cliffs, and beaches littered with shipwrecks. Which meant that if you survived long enough, you could find a good haul without having to sink a ship yourself.

The locals’ fashion was as distinctive as the city itself. Linen trousers to withstand the heat, leather vests for the bare minimum of protection, and high boots to keep any sea creature from biting off a toe. Bandanas and hats weren’t just for style but a necessity against the sun and rain. And weapons… oh, in Bilgewater, everyone carried weapons. Rusty daggers, flintlock pistols with damp powder, short swords that had seen better days. Anyone without a weapon at their hip was either a fool or a soon-to-be corpse.

Tattoos were another story. Almost everyone had one, and each told a tale. Some carved sea dragon teeth into their skin as trophies; others bore anchors and compasses as symbols of loyalty to the sea. The more superstitious had protective symbols against the Black Mist—open eyes, blazing suns, or the spiral mark of Nagakabouros, the Great Kraken. Here, superstition ruled daily life as much as gold did. People spoke of the Great Kraken as if they’d seen it in person. 

The real draw of Bilgewater was its economy—or the complete lack of it. Here, the only rule was that there were no rules. Everything was traded—weapons, poisons, exotic beasts, slaves, secrets. Taverns and gambling houses were the heart of it all, where deals were made and disputes were settled with blades. Black markets offered every illegal good imaginable, from a leviathan’s horn to a pact with a sea demon. Shipyards and armories never rested because in Bilgewater, someone was always preparing for war. And if you needed work, you could always hire yourself out as a corsair or mercenary. Your past didn’t matter, only that you could hold a weapon and were willing to drive it into someone else.

Of course, the worst thing about Bilgewater was that you never knew if you’d wake up with your throat slit for looking at a pirate the wrong way. Here, disputes were settled with blood, and no one had patience for the weak. But the best thing about Bilgewater…

Was that no one ever asked a single damn question about your past.

And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.

Bilgewater was the kind of place where you could make a name for yourself in many ways. Some required cunning, others brute force, and most ended with someone bleeding on the floor. The most traditional way, of course, was by instilling fear. If you could make people afraid to say your name, you had accomplished something.

Taverns were a good starting point. Just stepping inside was enough to see how a dispute over who got the last barrel of rum could turn into a duel to the death in under a minute. Once, at the One-Eyed Rat, two corsairs nearly bit each other’s heads off because one swore he’d seen the other’s grandmother flirting with an Ixtali mercenary. Never mind that the old woman had been dead for over twenty years—pride was at stake, and in Bilgewater, pride was worth more than a bag of golden krakens.

At the markets, things weren’t much different. A misunderstanding over the exact weight of a gunpowder pouch could end with half a dozen merchants drawing knives. And at the docks, any excuse was enough to spark a fight—an anchor rope tangled, a suspicious glance, or even a particularly aggressive crab biting the wrong captain. The rules were simple: if someone doubted your worth, you proved them wrong with your fists, a dagger at their throat, or a bullet between their eyes.

However, if there was one surefire way to earn instant respect, it was carrying something with Pink-Twist tech.

Bilgewater had never been a stranger to technology. There were flintlock pistols that could blow a man’s jaw off from five meters away, crossbows reinforced with Shuriman steel, and swords coated in sea serpent venom. But the arrival of Pink-Twist had completely changed the game.

Now, anyone wielding a crossbow reinforced with a Leviathan Onyx core and bolts tipped with Kraken Glass didn’t need to speak to command respect. All it took was for someone to see a bolt’s impact create a shockwave strong enough to split an oak table in two, and they’d wisely decide that this person could keep the last swig of rum with no protest.

And if someone carried an Electromagnetic Harpoon, designed specifically to pierce the slimy hide of ghost rays, they didn’t even have to bother with explanations. A single look was enough to make the crowd step aside.

But the true king of terror was the one carrying a Crimson Hydra—a Runic Wave Cannon capable of breaching a sea dragon’s armor. If someone walked into a tavern with one slung over their shoulder, people had two options: buy them a drink or plan how to kill them before dawn and take their fortune. Because whoever had that kind of Pink-Twist tech had at least 2,000 golden krakens in their pocket—and in Bilgewater, that was practically a death sentence if you didn’t know how to defend yourself.

The same went for ships. Some sailors had equipped runic compasses that could navigate through magical storms, giving them an edge in waters teeming with monsters and specters. Others had acquired a Serpent Engine, allowing their ships to move without wind or fuel—a mechanical marvel every captain coveted.

Fights over these artifacts were daily occurrences. In the alleys, desperate sailors tried to steal Pink-Twist tech from docked ships. In the taverns, duels to the death over a single Kraken Glass bolt had become routine.

Because in Bilgewater, if you wanted something with Pink-Twist, there was only one way to get it: visit the workshop of the only crazy girl who knew how to make it.

From the docks, the city's highest peaks emerged like the sharp teeth of a sleeping monster. Steep and treacherous, their paths wound between rotting wooden shacks and the mansions of retired corsairs, rising up to what many called the Beast’s Spine: a set of cliffs where only the boldest built their shelters. There, suspended over a deadly slope, stood a workshop where the work never ceased.

To reach it, one first had to cross the Drowned Market, a place where the stench of old fish mixed with that smell of gunpowder and dried blood. Further up, slippery stone steps led to the Sunken District, a series of leaning structures that held each other up like drunks in a tavern. Then, through narrow passages and hanging walkways, the route continued toward the cliffside, where the workshop stood.

The building was a marvel in itself. Unlike most structures in Bilgewater, which seemed ready to collapse with the next storm, this place had solid foundations of black stone, likely looted from some ancient temple. The walls, reinforced with sheets of rusted metal, rose at strange angles, almost as if they’d been hammered together rather than built with a plan. A roof of crossed beams let smoke and sparks escape into the night sky, giving it the appearance of a monster of iron and fire.

At any hour of the day, the main door—a heavy steel slab with the emblem of a shark biting a gear—remained wide open. Hunters, pirates, sailors, and corsairs came and went nonstop, some to pick up orders, others to commission new weapons, and a few to try negotiating a discount with the owner. None succeeded.

Because in that workshop, amidst the clang of hammers and the hiss of cooling metal, she was always there.

She wasn’t very tall, and her skin was paler than usual for a Bilgewater resident. Her vibrant blue hair was tied back in a low ponytail with a dark purple scarf, and small loose braids adorned with black coral stones and scarlet clam shells—both as rare as they were valuable, treasures ripped from the seabed—fell among the strands.

She wore a white cotton crop top, browned with wear, laced up at the center, exposing her abdomen, where blue cloud tattoos were etched. The docks whispered that if one stared long enough, they could see them move, as if they were actually raging waves.

Her arms were covered by dark brown linen gloves that reached her elbows, worn down from use. Around her neck, she wore two pendants: the longer one was a Leviathan’s Tear stone, a translucent blue gem that, according to tavern tales, formed when a siren died of a broken heart at the ocean’s depths. The other was simpler—a necklace of shark teeth, some chipped, others razor-sharp.

Her hips, the ones that made more than one bartender spill rum and some pirates earn a punch to the jaw, were cinched by a light brown leather belt. From it hung several weapons, always changing. Sometimes, she carried flintlock pistols with barrels engraved with marine symbols; other times, curved daggers with bone handles. And when the situation called for it, a modified repeater rifle with her own Pink-Twist technology—a unique ignition mechanism that made bullets explode upon contact with the salty air.

Her pants, made of brown linen, were loose-fitting, allowing her to move with ease, but what stood out the most were her boots. Made of shark-oil-treated leather, they were reinforced with metal plates at the toes and decorated with small buckles where empty bullet cartridges were fastened.

However, what was most talked about in Bilgewater were her eyes.

They were a brilliant pink, a shade that did not exist in any other human gaze there. Because of this, every resident had their own theory.

Some swore she’d been born in the midst of a magical storm and the lightning bolt that split her cradle left that mark on her. Others said her mother was a sorceress and, seeing what her daughter would be capable of creating, stole the color from her eyes to seal her fate. There were those who whispered that if one stared into them for too long, they could see their own death reflected in them.

The truth was that those eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity when she laughed maniacally before blowing a hole through a persistent customer, when she spoke to herself in the workshop, or when she got into fights in the market or the taverns. And though many doubted her sanity, no one doubted her talent.

Because she was the mind behind Pink-Twist technology. And that meant she was both a weapon and the creator of weapons.

Inside the workshop, the morning progressed to the rhythm of metallic blows, the creaking of gears, and electrical sparks dancing in the shadows. The air smelled of hot iron, whale oil, and a salty tang seeping in from the port. Every so often, a greenish flash emerged from the cracks in the rotting wooden floorboards—evidence that the ongoing runic experiments were, in some way, working. The marine stones embedded in the artifacts crackled in blue and violet, emitting a faint glow each time their energy synchronized with the rest of the assembly.

The owner was working on two major commissions that morning. Her pink eyes narrowed in concentration as she adjusted the lens of a Deep Lantern with a small wrench. It was an expensive order—650 gold krakens, enough to buy a couple of weeks' worth of gunpowder. This lantern not only illuminated the darkest waters without attracting predators but also emitted a modulated frequency that repelled sea beasts. To achieve this, she carefully embedded fragments of Ethergusa Coral into the glass, ensuring that each rune engraved on its surface channeled the energy stably.

Beside her, on a cluttered table with scattered tools, lay the Drowned’s Net—an even pricier and more delicate commission. The net, reinforced with filaments of Shadow Tide Pearls, was designed to emit a magical vibration potent enough to interfere with its prey’s abilities. That meant synchronizing it with a small core of runic obsidian, calibrating its resonance to prevent the energy from dissipating too soon. With a pair of tweezers, she carefully adjusted the interwoven filaments in the net, making sure the magic would activate upon contact.

She was immersed in the final touches when something caught her attention.

Footsteps.

Small, quick, rhythmic.

They didn’t come from the main entrance, where customers usually dragged their muddy boots, but from the security entrance—the one not everyone knew about.

She sighed, but as the footsteps slowed and became more calculated, a small chuckle escaped her lips.

The presence was practically breathing down her neck when she spoke.

"You’re not fooling anyone, Gus. I already saw you."

She turned with a half-smile just in time to see a boy no older than eight, frozen mid-attack. His jet-black hair stuck out in tufts beneath a crude mask made of wood and dried seaweed, with two pointed shells acting as fangs and a pair of eyes sloppily painted in uneven red. Probably an attempt at a Kraken, though with a finish more adorable than terrifying.

Gus blinked behind the mask, unmoving, then straightened up and crossed his arms.

"I scared you!"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Sure. Almost gave me a heart attack."

"Almost, then!"

"No, Gus. 'Almost' doesn’t count."

The boy lowered his arms and stepped closer, tilting his head with suspicion.

"You totally got scared, but you're too proud to admit it."

She burst into laughter.

"Proud? Me?" She placed a hand on her chest. "Please, Gus, if I ever got scared by your adorable monster mask, I’d leave this rat’s nest out of sheer shame."

"It’s not adorable! It’s the Deep Kraken, the terror of the seas!"

"Uh-huh, sure. I’m more scared someone will mistake you for a seafood dish and serve you with spicy sauce."

He frowned behind the mask, clearly frustrated. But then his expression shifted to one of malicious satisfaction.

"If you say so, Miss J. But next time, I’ll make you scream."

She snorted and ruffled his hair.

"I’ve said it a thousand times, and I’ll say it again—you brats have completely ruined my name."

"What was your name?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it again and tilted her head.

She was pretty sure she’d mentioned in her early days in Bilgewater that her name was Jinx. She was also pretty sure her nickname was the result of a kid with a very bad memory. Or one who really wanted to mess with her. She didn’t quite remember, and it didn’t really matter now. Because eventually, "Miss J" had stuck, and no one called her anything else anymore.

"It doesn’t matter. The point is, no one in Bilgewater called me 'Miss J' until you and your gang of flea-ridden strays showed up."

Gus shrugged.

"'Miss J' sounds better than… whatever your name is. Besides, you're used to it now."

Jinx narrowed her eyes, analyzing him.

"Do you want me to finish the net completely, or would you rather I trap you in it and hang you from the ceiling?"

The boy stepped back, raising his hands in peace.

Jinx, with a screwdriver in her mouth and a spring tangled in her blue hair, was trying to focus when she heard the unmistakable sound of a foot clumsily sliding across the metal floor of the secret passage.

"WAAAAAHH!"

Little Ricky came rolling out of the ventilation duct, landing on a box of screws that overturned with a loud clatter. 

Jinx didn’t even look.

"Ten seconds before the others. New record."

Ricky dusted himself off and grinned with a mix of pride and panic.

"It wasn’t my fault, Nilo pushed me."

As if summoned by name, Nilo "The Quick" emerged from the same passage with an agile leap, landing on the worktable.

"I didn’t push anyone! I just… move really fast."

"You moved so fast you kicked me in the face on the way down, you idiot," Ricky complained, rubbing his nose.

"Make way, a genius is arriving!" Sprocket announced, sliding clumsily out of the vent and hitting the floor with a thud. He dusted himself off and ran toward the sparking turret. "What are you working on now, Miss J? Is it a plasma cannon? A flamethrower? A… an explosive fish dispenser?"

Jinx muttered something unintelligible with the screwdriver still in her mouth and kept adjusting a gear.

"Fewer questions and more stepping back."

But the kids, of course, never stepped back.

Nella slipped quietly through the passage and, without anyone noticing, slid over to the shelf where Jinx kept small parts. In the blink of an eye, she already had a dozen nuts in her pockets.

Zep "Black Fingers" appeared next, rubbing his soot-covered hands.

"Miss J, do you have more gunpowder?"

"If you don’t wanna blow up the workshop, no."

"And if I do?"

"Then keep looking."

Poppy "Spring Rat" arrived like a whirlwind, grabbing a spring from the floor and twisting it curiously.

"Miss J, what’s this for?"

"To trip you if you keep taking apart things you don’t know how to put back together."

Jori "The One-Eyed" entered with large strides, his dirty cloth eyepatch poorly placed.

"Arrgh, from the ship! I've returned from my voyages across the Guardian’s Sea!"

"You just went to the docks to look for crabs."

"And it was a fierce battle!"

Luz "Spark" burst into the room, eyes shining with excitement.

"Miss J, can we set something on fire again today?"

"You can set your hunger on fire because breakfast is over there," Jinx said without looking up, pointing to a corner of the workshop where large plates of fried salted fish, thick arepas, and a bowl of seafood sauce waited.

The kids attacked the food like a pack of sharks. Mags pulled a rusty knife, a broken compass, and what looked like a table leg from her bag.

"Look what I found at the port."

"The table leg?" Zep asked, mouth full of fish.

"No, the compass."

"It doesn’t work."

"But it could!"

"I help Miss J more than any of you!" Nilo interrupted. "I bring her the rarest parts."

"That doesn’t count, I get her gunpowder," Zep said.

"I ask her smart questions," Sprocket added.

"I stea— I mean, I organize her gears."

"I keep order in the crew," Jori announced, thumping his chest like a true pirate.

Jinx, never taking her eyes off her work, sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, you’re all excellent employees. I’ll give you a raise tomorrow."

"You don’t pay us!" Poppy shouted.

"Exactly."

The kids burst into laughter and returned to their food. Jinx pretended to be busy, but she already had another batch of breakfast ready for when they came back the next day. Because they always came back.

Jinx had never planned for her workshop to become a magnet for grubby-handed kids with pockets full of stolen screws. In theory, she had everything needed to scare them off—loose gunpowder, half-assembled crossbows, explosive traps for intruders. But no. There they were, moving around her workshop like it was their home, sprawled among dangerous gadgets and pirate route maps, touching everything they shouldn’t with an admirable lack of respect.

Now that she thought about it, maybe the colorful doodles on the walls had something to do with it. Jinx had always scribbled on anything she could, and it wouldn’t be surprising if, in a region full of rough, scowling pirates, that attracted the curiosity of kids. And not just their curiosity.

She wasn’t sure when they’d started appearing, but every time she blinked, there was a new one. Drawings of ships, sharks with captain’s hats, explosions, exaggerated versions of herself with weird faces. She once tried to wipe them off with a rum-soaked rag, but by the time she turned around, Nella and Poppy were already repainting everything with a mix of oil and soot.

She tried to kick them out in every way possible. Once she locked the workshop with steel padlocks and an electric trap on the door. The next day, she found Nilo inside, chewing on a hard piece of bread like nothing had happened. Another time, she released her mechanical monkey, which ran around screaming with sparks flying from its back, hoping to scare them off. Instead of fleeing, the kids adopted it as a pet and renamed it "Sparky."

She even tried absolute indifference. Weeks went by without her speaking to them, eyes fixed on her projects, hands busy with gears and gunpowder. It worked… until one particularly bad day when a supplier tried to scam her with defective parts. She stormed into the workshop in a black fury and found the kids in a circle, discussing something seriously. When she asked what the hell they were doing, Mags replied they were planning how to gut the guy who had pissed her off. It was the first time in days she laughed.

And that’s how, without meaning to, the kids kept coming back.

Of course, if anyone asked, she was firmly convinced her workshop was no place for kids. Between corsairs dropping by for deals and experiments with unstable fuels, the last thing she needed was a kid losing an eyebrow or a limb.

Which was why she’d seriously tried to keep them away. Until she ended up building a secret entrance in the ventilation system just for them. Not because she wanted them to come back, of course… but if they were going to sneak in anyway, better they didn’t do it through the front door where an angry sailor or corsair might see them.

She still wanted them gone. But every time they came back, if someone looked at her closely, they might notice the faintest hint of a smile.

The sound of a wrench clashing against steel echoed off the workshop walls as Jinx dropped it onto the workbench. She’d spent the last half hour trying to adjust the mechanism of a new compact crossbow, but with eleven pairs of eyes staring at her, focusing had become an impossible task. Gus and Nilo were perched on a table full of loose parts, their mouths stuffed with fried fish. Sprocket and Zep were dismantling something they probably shouldn’t, while Luz and Poppy rocked dangerously on wobbly chairs.

“I help Miss J the most!” Nilo exclaimed, puffing out his chest.

“Ha! And what do you do? Kick nuts and bolts around the floor?” Jori teased.

“I’m the one who runs to warn her when someone enters the workshop! That’s important!”

“Except you always come in yelling, ‘Danger, danger!’ and it never is,” Poppy said, rolling her eyes.

“I hand her tools,” Ricky chimed in.

“Really? Then what’s this?” Mags asked, holding up a hammer.

“That’s... uh... a giant screwdriver!”

A burst of laughter erupted, and Jinx, who’d been screwing a small copper plate onto her prototype, barely managed to suppress a smile.

“I know more about Miss J than all of you!” Zep suddenly declared.

“Liar!” the others shouted in unison.

“It’s true! For example… Miss J has a hidden cannon in her arm!”

“What?!” Jinx blurted out.

“Yeah! I heard it from one-eyed Tobias. He says one day some guy tried to rob her, and Miss J raised her arm and—BAM!—shot a bullet from her wrist.”

“Well, well… who’s out there revealing my secrets?” Jinx said, tightening a screw.

“And everyone knows her hair is blue because she fell into a barrel of ink when she was a baby!” Sprocket added.

“No, no, no, it’s because she sleeps with squids on her head,” Burt said confidently.

“False! It’s because she made a bet with a warlock and lost,” Nella chimed in.

“All of those stories are ridiculous!” Jinx protested, not stopping as she soldered a small coil onto the crossbow. “It’s blue because when I was a baby, I fell into a lightning storm and absorbed electricity.”

The children’s mouths formed a collective “oh.” Jinx made a monumental effort not to laugh.

“What about your eyes?” Luz asked.

“I won them from a demon in a card game.”

“Your tattoos?”

“They’re a secret map.”

“And your missing finger?”

Jinx narrowed her eyes.

“I fed it to a parrot so it would choke and shut up.”

A second of silence followed.

“...Really?”

“What do you think?”

The children exchanged glances. Then, as if rehearsed, they shouted in unison:

“Yes!”

Jinx massaged her temple with her free hand.

“Don’t you all have something better to do?”

“We wanna do what you do!” Gus jumped in. “Teach us about Pink-Twist!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, how does it work?” Zep insisted. “Is it true it makes gunpowder explode harder?”

“No, no, I heard it turns energy into blue fire,” Sprocket said.

“No, it’s pink fire!”

“No, it’s magic from an ancient god!”

“It’s not magic, it’s science!”

“Teach us, Miss J!”

“Yes! We wanna be inventors like you!”

Jinx froze for a moment, holding the half-assembled crossbow. She felt the heat of their expectant stares, full of excitement. But she also felt something else—an uncomfortable knot in her stomach.

She didn’t want them to learn from her. She didn’t want them to look at her... like that, with such bright eyes. As if she were something more than a woman with too many sleepless nights, too many voices in her head, and too many mistakes for someone so young.

And before she realized it, her voice came out harsher than she intended.

“Out. Now!”

The workshop fell into tense silence. Ricky and Luz exchanged uncertain looks, Gus lowered his head, and Sprocket dropped a nut that rolled across the floor.

Jinx clenched her jaw, feeling an immediate pang of regret.

She saw how the children’s faces shrank—some in surprise, others with a shadow of guilt, and a few with that expression of “what did we do wrong?”

Those faces. Those fucking faces that, somehow, always reached parts of her most of the time she just didn’t wanna see. 

Jinx closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and exhaled. She counted to three. Took another breath. It wasn’t working. Her shoulders were tense, her jaw tight. She dropped the tools in her hand and straightened up. There was no point in staying mad... if that was even the right word.

“Alright, alright. Listen,” she said, running a hand through her hair and looking at them with a frown, though not truly annoyed. “Do you all want me to tell you… some of my latest secrets?”

The children’s eyes lit up.

“Secrets?” Mags asked, leaning forward.

“Yes,” Jinx said with a grin. “But not just any secrets. These are about how my toys work.”

The entire group swarmed her table like seagulls on a scrap of bread at the docks. Now she had their full attention.

“You see, as you all know, Bilgewater is a... chaotic place,” she began, leaning on the table and intertwining her fingers. “There’s magic floating everywhere, curses in bottles, storms appearing out of nowhere, monsters with tentacles that eat entire ships for breakfast. And that, kids, is a problem.”

The children nodded solemnly. Everyone in Bilgewater knew weird things happened daily.

“So I thought, why not take all that madness and turn it into something useful? Like, I don’t know, something that doesn’t blow up in my face.”

Poppy burst into laughter, quickly followed by Sprocket.

“How did you do that?” Ricky asked, his eyes shining with curiosity.

Jinx leaned over the table and pulled a small black crystal from a toolbox.

“This here is a Leviathan Onyx. I took it from an underwater cave infested with specters. And you know what’s the best part about this little guy?”

The kids shook their heads, eager.

“It can absorb unstable magic without breaking. It’s like… have you ever stuffed too many candies in your mouth at once?”

The children laughed and nodded. That was the best way to steal as many candies as possible in the shortest time.

“Well, imagine this crystal is the biggest mouth in Bilgewater. It can swallow all that magical energy and store it without making a mess.”

She pulled out another crystal, this one translucent with blue hues.

“And this is a Tempest Sapphire. It forms at the bottom of the sea during… weird storms. The cool thing about this little gem is that it retains electricity. Basically, it’s like a magic eel in rock form.”

“That’s awesome!” Nella exclaimed.

Jinx laughed and took out a small metallic device with runic coils.

“Now, I combine all that with synchronization runes, and... bam! You can power weapons, ships, compasses... I could even make the harbor lanterns shine without oil. But the best part...”

She made a quick move, connecting the crystal to a small circuit, and instantly, a blue spark ran across the device’s surface.

“...is that I can use it to make things explode without them blowing up in my face.”

The kids gasped in awe.

“Will you teach us how to use it?” Burt asked, a mix of excitement and fear in his voice.

Jinx clicked her tongue and smirked.

“Maybe someday.”

She stood up and walked toward a more secluded corner of the workshop, where several shelves were stacked on top of each other, covered by a large black curtain. It didn’t take long before she heard the rush of tiny eager footsteps following her.

"But if you wanna see something really worth your time..."

Biting her lip and unable to hide a smile, Jinx grabbed the black curtain and let it fall to the floor.

"Welcome to Miss J's Market of Wonders!" Jinx announced with an exaggerated flourish, spreading her arms wide. "Here we sell only the finest in hunting technology, navigation tools, and, for an extra fee, a guaranteed pinch of fun."

The children crowded around the rickety shelves where Jinx had displayed her wares. There were pieces of gleaming metal, crackling coils, and fragments of runic crystal that seemed to breathe with an inner light.

"Is that a weapon?" Nilo asked, pointing at a menacing-looking crossbow with a dark core embedded in its center.

"That, my dear curious one, is the Deep's Resentment!" Jinx declared, lifting it with both hands. "Designed specifically for those critters that think they can disappear into the water and get away with it."

"How does it work?" Poppy wanted to know, her eyes shining with excitement.

Jinx rested the crossbow against her hip and tapped the core with a finger.

"You see, inside here is a piece of Leviathan Onyx, which basically tells monsters that rely on magic to escape, ‘No more tricks, scaly!’ It fires these lovely Kraken Glass bolts"—she pulled out a projectile and spun it between her fingers—"which explode with a shockwave on impact. Imagine someone throwing a bucket of ice water in your face just when you're trying to cheat at cards."

The children laughed, picturing a shadow shark freezing mid-escape.

"And how much does it cost?" Ricky asked, pretending to fish coins out of his pockets, grinning from ear to ear.

"Eiiight hundred golden krakens," Jinx sing-songed. "A bargain, considering it keeps you from becoming an abyssal eel’s lunch."

Sprocket frowned.

"That’s a lot of gold..."

"Sure, but think about it: would you rather stay in one piece or be turned into ceviche?"

"Hmm... good sales pitch," Sprocket admitted, nodding.

Jinx carelessly tossed the crossbow aside and grabbed a harpoon with a glowing sapphire tip.

"Now, if shocking things and making them wriggle in a funny way is more your style, I present to you the Storm Claw!" She waved the harpoon, and a small blue spark ran along its surface. "Perfect for sea serpents and ghostly rays that think they’re too slippery to catch."

"I want one!" Zep shouted, jumping excitedly.

"Uh-huh, but first, go find yourself twelve hundred krakens," Jinx said, gently pushing his forehead.

The children watched her, utterly captivated. Few things made the days in Bilgewater as fun as a morning in Miss J's workshop.

"And that net?" Mags asked, pointing at a tightly rolled black mesh with bluish glimmers between its fibers.

Jinx unfurled it with a snap and let it fall onto the table.

"Ah, the Drowned’s Net. Sounds dramatic, doesn’t it?"

The children nodded vigorously.

"Well, it is. It traps creatures that try to vanish like cowards and keeps them nice and snug. Basically, it’s like a crab trap, but in a ‘no one escapes me’ kind of way."

Nella touched the filaments curiously.

"It can’t be broken?"

"Not even if you beg on your knees. These Shadow Tide pearls sync the net with the creature’s magic, so if they try to escape, it’s like they’re wrapping themselves up tighter. Like when you get tangled in a hammock, and the more you move, the worse it gets."

Jori shivered.

"That sounds terrifying."

"Exactly," Jinx said with a big grin.

"What if I wanna make sure my ship doesn’t get lost in a storm?" Gus asked.

Jinx rummaged through her goods and pulled out a copper compass with a violet crystal at its center.

"For that, we have the Maelstrom Compass! No more drifting around like a drunk in a haunted tavern. Keeps your course steady no matter how much magic is in the air."

The children murmured among themselves, clearly impressed.

"But wait, there's more," Jinx said with a smile, pulling out a small vial filled with a sparkling liquid. "If you already have a weapon or a ship but want it to work with my tech without selling your soul to the first smuggler that comes along, you can use this."

"What is it?" Luz asked.

"A Resonance Adapter. Basically, it’s like a bridge that lets my upgrades connect to your old stuff. Spray it on, wait a few seconds, and boom—your gunpowder weapon no longer needs gunpowder."

"That’s amazing!" Burt exclaimed.

Jinx leaned against the shelves with a half-smile as the children surrounded her, their eyes shining with endless energy. Scattered all around were gears, pink energy coils sparking now and then, and a few Deep’s Resentment bolts neatly lined up in a splintered wooden crate.

"Can we try one?" Sprocket asked, picking up a bolt.

Jinx burst out laughing.

"Yeah, sure, and then we’ll collect you in little jars because there won’t be a single bone left intact."

The children exchanged looks.

"What if we shoot at something that’s not us?" Zep suggested.

"We could blow up the rotten fish barrel behind the port," Poppy added.

"Uh-huh, and then we’ll have the whole swarm of mutant crabs that live there chasing us. Do you wanna get eaten by critters with claws the size of your heads?" Jinx crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.

Silence.

"Maybe another day," Gus concluded.

"Miss J!" Jori suddenly called, changing the subject. "Why did you start doing all this? I mean, how did you end up selling weapons to pirates instead of, I don’t know… selling fish at the docks like everyone else in Bilgewater?"

Jinx clicked her tongue and leaned over the table.

"Well, when I arrived in Bilgewater, I had no idea who the bigger fishes were. I messed with the wrong guy and almost lost my head… or worse, an arm."

The children leaned in, completely engrossed.

"Who was it?" Luz asked.

Jinx paused dramatically.

"Vargo ‘Six Fingers.’"

A burst of exclamations followed.

"The Vargo Six Fingers?!" Mags' eyes widened. "They say he bit a man’s ear off just for speaking too close to him!"

"They say his ship is made from the bones of his enemies!" Burt added.

"They say he has six fingers on each hand because he made a deal with an abyssal demon!" Ricky whispered with a shiver.

Jinx snorted.

"Pfft, nonsense. He only has six fingers on one hand, and that’s just how he was born. But yeah, he’s a tough guy."

Everyone nodded.

"The thing is, I was a bit drunk at The Blind Siren—a disgusting tavern, by the way—and, not knowing who he was, I made fun of the cannon he was carrying. It had an awful flaw: the ignition spark kept jamming, and the chamber was misaligned. If he fired it, it would most likely blow up in his face."

"And what happened?" Nilo asked, completely absorbed.

"Well… he didn’t take it very well. He grabbed me by the neck, lifted me like a sack of potatoes, and growled something about ripping out my teeth and using them as dice."

The children looked at each other in astonishment and a bit of horror.

"So I thought fast," Jinx continued. "I told him: ‘Hey, that cannon of yours is a death trap. But if you give me a day, I’ll make you a better one. One that won’t blow your face off.’"

"And what did he say?" Zep asked.

Jinx deepened her voice, mimicking Vargo:

"‘You have until dawn. If not, you can kiss your arm… or your throat goodbye.’"

A murmur spread among the children.

"So I ran to the first hole I could find and worked like crazy. I used a Shadow Abyss Stone as the core—you know, that blue rock that glows underwater… and that I found out can hold runic energy without becoming unstable. I modified the chamber so it rotated with each shot, installed a faster ignition mechanism, and added a recoil stabilizer so it wouldn’t dislocate his shoulder every time he fired it."

"And did it work?" Luz asked.

Jinx grinned.

"I took it to him at dawn. Vargo looked at it, grunted something, and tested it on a rum barrel. The barrel flew so high they’re probably still looking for it on another island. He never came after me again, so I knew I was safe."

The children sighed in relief.

"But a few days later," Jinx continued, "he showed up at The Drunken Eel, where I was, and asked me for more weapons. He said he’d never fire another gun unless it was made by me. And to make sure no one messed with me and that I could work without losing an arm or waking up dead, he shouted at every folk in Bilgewater that if they had a problem with me, they had a problem with him."

The children laughed, and Gus widened his eyes in exaggerated realization.

"That’s how all the pirates started ordering from you!"

"And that’s how we met you!" Poppy added. "We spread the word, in case you forgot."

The children took the chance to nudge each other proudly, smug smiles painted on their faces.

"There wasn’t a single fisherman in Bilgewater who didn’t know who Miss J was," Mags pointed out, laughing.

Jinx rolled her eyes, but there was a glimmer of fondness in her smile.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks to you all, my name was lost to oblivion. Now the whole damn world calls me that… except Vargo, of course."

"Do you still see him?" Ricky asked.

Jinx nodded.

"Vargo would cut off another of his fingers before using weapons that weren’t made by me. He acts tough with everyone… but he’s really just a cuddly little fish."

Silence.

"A cuddly little fish that rips off ears?" Sprocket asked.

"Well, yeah, but still a cuddly little fish," Jinx said, shrugging.

The kids burst into laughter and kept throwing questions at her while Jinx let herself get carried away, enjoying the company of her chaotic gang.

"But wait, that makes no sense!" Nilo suddenly exclaimed, waving his arms. "Why Pink-twist? Your stuff explodes, shoots, and makes noise! Why not ‘Boom-twist’?"

"Or ‘Ka-Boomix’!" Sprocket added excitedly.

Jinx crossed her arms and smirked, leaning against a table cluttered with blueprints and metal scraps.

"Oh, sweetheart, I wish there was an incredible story behind the name," she said with feigned nostalgia. "Something like… ‘I heard it in a prophetic dream’ or ‘an ancient sea spirit whispered it to me while I was fleeing from an assassin squad.’"

The kids stared at her impatiently.

"But no," she went on. "I was working on a double-drum rifle with runic propulsion…"

"Oh, like the one you made for Vargo Six-Fingers!" Zep interrupted, his eyes shining with excitement.

"The very same, but without the delightful ‘smell of gunpowder and death threats,’" Jinx nodded. "The point is, I was testing a combination of marine stones: crimson coral stone, which amplifies magical energy, and abyss stone, which stabilizes runic flows. The problem? They twisted around each other and emitted a very suspicious pink glow."

"A suspicious pink glow?" Jori asked, laughing.

"Yeah, the kind of pink that makes you think, ‘This is either gonna explode in my face or give me an incurable magical disease.’"

The kids laughed, but Gus looked at her curiously.

"But… have you always made weapons? Do you like it?"

Jinx stopped smiling. Not abruptly, not obviously, but something in her expression shifted. Her eyes, always shining when they were around, dimmed for just a second. Her jaw tightened. She didn’t say anything.

The silence stretched long enough for even the most restless kids to notice something was off.

"Eh, what kind of question is that, Gus?" she suddenly blurted out with a forced laugh. "If I stay here another minute with you all, I’ll end up talking about the mysteries of Runeterra, and I’ve got things to do."

The kids glanced at each other, but before they could press further, Jinx was already pushing them toward the vent they’d entered through.

"Listen up, brats, I have a mission for you. A life-or-death mission!"

The kids looked at her expectantly.

"You have to go to the Old Dockyard and find me… the longest, strongest rope you can get!"

A brief silence.

"For what?" Poppy asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"Because… because I need it for a top-secret experiment!" Jinx said, raising her hands.

"You’re kicking us out!" Luz accused, pointing at her.

"No!" Jinx put on an offended expression. "How could you think that? You’re my favorite little fleas! But if you stay here, you’ll drive me crazier than I already am, and if that happens, I won’t finish my work, and if I don’t finish my work, there’s no dinner for anyone."

The kids gasped.

"What’s for dinner?" Burt asked urgently.

"Eel stew with brine bread."

The children's eyes lit up.

"But tonight is The Harrowing!" Ricky exclaimed. "We must find a safe place! And candles! And costumes!"

"We can stay here! And bring Miss J a costume along with her rope!"

"Get out of here, dock rats!" Jinx interrupted, grabbing a few of them by the shoulders and shaking them as if an eel was electrocuting them.

Some jumped in fright, causing the rest to point at them with laughter, as one by one they began to sneak out of the vent.

The children got out excitedly, arguing amongst themselves about who would find the best rope. Jinx watched them disappear down the tunnel, but when she was alone, for some reason, her smile faded completely.

The Harrowing. Ha, she’d completely forgotten about that.

In Bilgewater, few things were more terrifying to the inhabitants than The Harrowing. Well, maybe the Mist. Not because people enjoyed being scared, but because, unlike other holidays, this one was not a simple spectacle of macabre tales and exaggerated superstitions.

The holiday had its roots in the Ruination, that fateful event when the souls of the dead emerged from the Shadow Isles and spread like a plague over the world of the living. On this particular night, the barrier between the two realms became flimsy, like a frayed rope about to snap. And when it did, it was not flickering lights or noises in the distance that worried the inhabitants, but whispers that came from nowhere and shadows that moved even when no one was there.

It was said that the specters of drowned sailors and damned souls took this opportunity to return and haunt the town. Not out of nostalgia, of course, but because they apparently didn't find eternity at the bottom of the ocean all that entertaining. Popular belief dictated that these spirits sought companions for their doom, and that the only way to avoid a watery fate was to take every possible precaution.

Unlike other festivities in Runeterra, The Harrowing offered no excuse for fun. There were no toasts or chants, just desperate attempts to survive until dawn. Over the years, Bilgewater had developed a number of customs and rituals, some effective, some rather dubious, but all with the same goal: to prevent the dead from taking the living.

Lanterns and candles were the first line of defense. They were lit along streets and docks in the hope that wandering souls would find their way back to the other world instead of wandering aimlessly among the living. However, no one dared ask what would happen if one of those lights went out too soon.

To reinforce protection, the doors of homes were covered with sacred symbols, scrawled in chalk or, in the most paranoid cases, carved directly into the wood. Some preferred not to take the risk and hired local witches or shamans to add additional incantations. Whether they worked or not was another matter, but people slept more peacefully after seeing an old man muttering incomprehensible things while shaking a fish bone over their door.

Offerings to the sea were another surefire tradition. Coins, food, rum… anything that could calm the spirits’ supposed resentment. They were solemnly thrown into the dark waters, though no one could be sure that the recipient was the right one. Sometimes, an opportunistic drunk ended up getting more benefit from these tributes than the ghosts themselves.

The most ridiculous, but surprisingly popular method, was to trick the dead by dressing up as them. Some people painted their faces white or covered themselves in rags, hoping the wraiths would mistake them for one of their own and leave them alone. No one could confirm that it worked, but it was a great excuse for children to run around the streets wrapped in rags, terrifying their neighbors and earning themselves the occasional curse in the process.

Of course, it wasn't as if Jinx cared too much about all this. She'd heard the stories of pirates and tavern keepers, some scary enough to make a battle-hardened man turn pale. But the truth was, she'd never seen anything really out of the ordinary.

Well, actually, she saw things out of the ordinary all the time. But no one but her head knew that.

The long talks in her workshop with people who were mostly long dead had become an annoying and comforting routine. Sometimes they helped her find answers; other times, they just kept annoying her. But after so many years, their presence was more familiar than disturbing.

What was curious though, was that none of them seemed particularly interested in making her feel bad lately. With a few exceptions.

Even Mylo. Yes, even that annoyingly laughing idiot, who always found a way to annoy her with some cheap taunt. He used to try to touch her weak spot, poke his finger at her sore spot until she exploded… but lately her encounters with him ended more like a duel of wits than a humiliating defeat. Instead of making her scratch her skull and scream, their fights now consisted of exchanging insults until one of them ran out of answers. And while Mylo had a sharp tongue, Jinx always found a way to deliver the finishing blow.

Sometimes, that meant watching him turn red with fury before vanishing into thin air. Other times, the two of them ended up laughing at each other. And when that happened, Jinx rubbed her hands together, satisfied, knowing she’d won.

If anyone tended to show up more often, it was Silco.

With him, conversations were different. They would sit together, looking out over the harbor, and talk about whatever nonsense came into their heads. Often, Silco would end up telling exaggerated stories about his days in the mines of Zaun, tales so ridiculous that Jinx doubted they had a shred of truth in them. Which, in theory, was true, since her own big head had never worked in the mines of Zaun.

More than once, Silco would say absurd things, like how he once saw a guy dig so deep he found an underground lake full of fish that glowed in the dark.

Jinx would roll her eyes, but let him continue.

Then, Silco would say that in the mines it was said fish could predict the future if you whispered a secret to them. But of course, some idiot decided to eat one instead of listening. And the next day, he fell down a well.

And as always, Jinx couldn't help but laugh. Stories like that abounded. Like the time a miner discovered a vein of shiny crystal and sold it to a piltie trader, only to find out later it was actually solidified sugar. Or when a guy swore he saw a rat wearing pilot glasses leading a rodent rebellion against the workers.

It didn't make sense, none of it made sense at all. But Silco's eyes lit up as he told these things, and Jinx clung to the possibility that, somehow, as stupid as it was, these stories were true.

The hardest part was when she showed up.

Jinx knew it even before she saw her. She felt it in the air, in the pressure in her chest that always came before the small silhouette made itself present.

And when she looked up from her work table, there she was. Sitting on her table, her legs swinging in the air, watching her in complete silence. Because that was all she did: watch. Not a word came out of her mouth, exactly like when she was alive.

Jinx always pursed her lips and looked away. But that didn't stop her from glancing at her.

Blue hair with brownish traces of a hastily applied dye. Two small braids that barely reached her neck. Blue cloud marks scribbled in markers on her arms. And the helmet, always on her head, as if it were part of her.

If she made the mistake of looking at her, she would see amber eyes fixed on her, filled with that gleam of admiration that was unbearable to her.

That's why she never looked at her directly.

That's why, every time she appeared, Jinx felt the burning in her eyes and the pressure in her throat, and she had to hold back the sobs that built up in her chest.

And when that happened, when her breathing became ragged and her hands trembled on the table, he appeared.

Always.

With that damned cocky smile and those jokes that made no one in the world laugh. But somehow made her feel like everything was okay.

At least as long as he was around.

That day, Jinx wished someone would show up. Desperately.

Hopefully not the girl who never spoke.

Just someone.

Someone who would make her feel less lonely.

Because that particular day, she wanted it more than ever. And deep down, she knew exactly why.

Jinx shook her head and clenched a small screwdriver between her teeth as she fitted a metal plate to the body of her latest creation. The table was covered in scattered tools, pieces of brass and glass of various shades: some bluish and opaque, others translucent with iridescent veins. The waves hit the rocks of the harbor with an irregular cadence, a sound she never tired of.

And then, she felt it.

She didn't have to turn her head. She didn't have to check anything. She just knew he was there.

"You know what's going on today."

The voice was unmistakable: deep, calm, with that measured cadence it's always had.

Jinx exhaled slowly and set the screwdriver down on the table before turning languidly. And there he was.

Silco, in his impeccable suit, the long coat falling over his shoulders with an almost ridiculous elegance. His angular face retained the same inscrutable expression as always, although his bad eye now gave off a faint blue glow. Just as she’d last seen it.

“Today is the anniversary, isn’t it?” Jinx asked quietly.

Silco gave a brief smile and tilted his head.

“If you have to ask, it’s because you already know the answer.”

Jinx clicked her tongue and returned to her work, picking up a reddish crystal with her fingertips and observing it against the light.

“I don’t understand why my big head and my body always remember it, is it so hard to just forget everything?”

Silco took a few steps forward, slowly, with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Some scars are not on the skin, little one. But if you forget, you lose yourself.”

Jinx let out a dry laugh.

“That sounds tragic, dada. Let me guess, you have a story for that?”

Silco smiled somewhat indulgently and rested a hand on the table, inspecting the crystals with a casual gesture.

“Of course. I remember when Vander and I worked together. There was a streak so unstable that they said if you breathed in the dust, you could hear everyone else’s thoughts. Vander refused to come near it, of course. He said he had enough trouble with the idiot bosses. Me, on the other hand… well, it seemed like an opportunity.”

Jinx laughed.

“Let me guess. You breathed in the dust and suddenly you could read everyone’s minds.”

“Nothing so great,” Silco replied with feigned humility. “Only the next day, Vander punched me in the face because I apparently spent the entire night repeating his every thought out loud, including some rather… private ones about a fellow shiftmate we shared a shift with.”

Jinx held her stomach in laughter.

“Ha! What a moron!”

Silco shrugged.

“I’d say it was a successful experiment.”

Jinx grabbed a pair of pliers and began assembling a small anchoring mechanism, the smile still dancing on her lips.

“Well, it’s not the worst thing you’ve done out of curiosity.”

“True,” Silco conceded. “Though I think it still doesn’t top the time I convinced the enforcers that the chem-barons had a shipment of enchanted gold and managed to get them to fight each other for three days before they discovered it was just painted lead ingots.”

Jinx shook her head in disbelief, fine-tuning a tiny rune on one of the pieces.

“Sure, sure, and how did they believe you like that?”

He regarded her with that elegant air he had always worn like a second skin.

“Trust, my dear. Trust is the chisel with which lies are carved.”

Jinx rolled her eyes and set the pliers aside.

“Were you always like this or did you become more dramatic after you died?”

Silco let out a low laugh.

“I couldn’t say.”

Jinx stuck her tongue out at him and dropped a wrench onto the table with a thud and leaned back in her chair, kicking the leg of the workbench loosely. The crystals, scattered across the surface, shimmered faintly as she moved. Her gaze wandered between them before rolling her eyes and letting out a snort.

“Tell me something, dada,” she murmured, not taking her eyes off the stones. “What do you think Sevika is doing right now? Because, if I’m honest, I picture her drinking in some seedy dive, betting her other arm and losing to a guy who doesn’t even have eyes.”

The sound of slow, measured footsteps forced her to glance sideways.

“Sevika always knew how to choose her… distractions,” he commented with a hint of irony. “Though I doubt she’s found any that amuse her more than listening to you blow things up around her.”

She let out a short laugh and leaned across the table, taking a crimson crystal between her fingers and turning it in the dim light.

“Ha. As if she ever liked what I do. I’ll bet anything she hates me.”

“Oh, she hated you with devotion,” Silco replied. “But hate isn’t always the opposite of affection, my child.”

Jinx glanced at him, her eyes narrowing.

“And there you go again.”

“I try.”

She shrugged and continued organizing the crystals, separating the more unstable ones from those she’d already modified with runes.

“Well, let’s assume Sevika is busy with her second passion: stabbing people at bars. Maybe she’s at least… happy doing it. If she ever was.”

Silco walked over to stand beside her, watching her hands move across the table.

“We don’t all measure happiness by the same yardstick, Jinx.”

She frowned, but didn’t say anything. She stayed silent, weighing the weight of what she wanted to say before letting out a half-hearted laugh.

“And Vi?”

Silco tilted his head.

“What about her?”

Jinx ran a finger along the edge of a screwdriver, her gaze fixed on the table.

“Do you think she’s happy? I mean… maybe she lives in a nice house with curtains and armchairs that aren’t burnt or stained with… stuff. Maybe she has a dog. Or a cat, I don’t know, she always liked them. Maybe even…” she forced a laugh, though it sounded a little forced. “Maybe she’s married, with a boring life where no one shoots her, or throws bombs at her, or hits her. Picture that. With a wife and… kids running around.”

Silco’s lips curved slightly.

“An intriguing scenario.”

She fiddled with a small sea rock, rolling it between her fingers.

“Must be nice, huh? Having something normal.”

The rock slipped from her hand and fell to the floor with a soft clink. Jinx clicked her tongue and bent down to pick it up.

“But of course,” she added in a carefree tone, “that never happened because I made sure I was hovering all the time.”

Silco sighed, but she didn’t give him time to respond.

“it was always… me,” Jinx continued, straightening up and rubbing the stone with the sleeve of her glove. “I don’t know, maybe now… maybe now she can do all that.”

He came closer, placing his palms on the table.

“The chains of the past only bind us if we hold them,” he said calmly. “And your sister was never one to let herself be caught.”

Jinx smiled with a hint of sadness.

“Maybe.”

Silence settled between them. Silco watched her patiently as she rearranged the crystals, though her movements were slower now, more distracted.

Finally, she let out a whisper.

“And him…?”

But when she looked up, Silco was gone.

Jinx froze, the crystal still in her fingers.

In his place, leaning against the wall with a relaxed posture and a smug smile, was Ekko. Exactly as she remembered him: white dreadlocks pulled back into a high ponytail, paint covering his arms, chest, face—her paint, the one she’d traced with her fingers—and that damn crop top. Jinx blinked and looked at him in a mix of surprise and resignation.

“Yeah, it had to be the damn crop top…” she muttered, turning back to her work and taking a couple of small gears from a brass box.

“Hey, it looked good on me,” Ekko replied. “I mean, if I had a quarter for every time I caught you staring at my stomach instead of my face, I’d have bought all the ink in Piltover by now.”

She gave him a sidelong glance, huffing. Asshole, bastard, how was it possible that even without being real he was so attractive?

“Please, I was too busy painting my unique strokes to look at your stupid face.”

Ekko put a hand on his chest, his expression fake offended.

“Ah, so it was just a matter of aesthetics, huh? And here I thought you had fun. My bad.”

Jinx snorted, feeling a slight warmth rising to her ears, and turned her attention back to the device in front of her. She turned it in her hands, testing the resistance of an internal spring. Her voice came out more carefree than she actually felt.

“You think you're so important, huh? Fine. But tell me, what are you doing now? Not you, the one who's real.” She tilted her head with a crooked smile, and Ekko was quick to twist a mocking grin at her on his lips. “Is he a mad scientist in some tower in Piltover? A hooded rebel?” She paused. “Or a perfect husband with two children running around him and calling him ‘daddy’?”

Ekko raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I like the way you say ‘daddy,’ but not in that context.”

Jinx burst into a short, dry laugh as she dug through the table and picked up a crystal to fit into the mechanism she was building.

“Come on, tell me. Do you think he’s happy? Do you think he’ll have an exciting life, full of adventure and glory, like the leader he is?”

He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Probably. Or maybe I’m just sitting in an armchair, wondering if a certain blue-haired mad girl is happy, too.”

Jinx made a dismissive sound with her tongue.

“Pfff, please. I have everything I need. Gold, food, a bed. I even have gunpowder for several weeks.”

“Uh-huh, perfect,” Ekko commented. “But what about living?”

Jinx stopped turning the crystal in her hand and squeezed it a little harder than necessary.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You could make friends, meet new people,” she suggested lightly. “Not everyone explodes around you, I swear.”

Jinx let out a short laugh, but without a trace of mirth.

“Yeah, sure. Because I have an excellent track record with relationships.” She held up a hand and counted on her fingers. “Dead brothers, dead sister, then alive, but with the little detail of looking for me to kill me, dead father, and that counts three times over, the only one I ever fell in love with, I almost blew him up with me, and I’m sure more than once, and if we’re gonna talk about the closest thing I ever had to a friend… I don’t know, Firelight, the mortality rate doesn’t make me wanna try again.”

Ekko clicked his tongue, rocking back on his heels.

“They could shoot lead into your teeth and it would be less harsh than you are with yourself.”

Jinx frowned, going back to her work.

“Oh, shut up, don't start.”

Ekko shrugged.

“I'm not the one who's so worried about whether they're happy and forgets one tiny important detail.”

“Actually, if it's me, it's you too, genius.”

Jinx turned a small wrench in her hand, tightening a nut hard, but felt her hand tremble slightly. Out of nowhere, swallowing saliva caused her slight discomfort.

“And you know what? Probably no one in their right mind would wanna spend time with me” she said with a bitter laugh, without taking her eyes off her work. “Unless it's the damn brats. They're always running around, and one day one of them will wake up without an arm...or dead.”

“Well, I can't blame them,” Ekko replied, rolling his eyes. “If I was lucky enough to see you every day, I'd hover around you all the time too.”

She snorted and shook her head, picking up a small shard of blue seastone to fit into the mechanism.

“Please, Ekko. I’m a mess. No one would wanna put up with my quirks, my fits, my… everything.”

He stood up nimbly and leaned toward her, his elbows on the table.

“Oh, yeah, right. Because people are annoyed by cool, brilliant, dangerously funny girls. A horror movie. I get it, Jinx. You’re a menace to people.”

“Exactly!” Jinx exclaimed, pointing at him with the wrench. “Hey, wait…”

He laughed.

“Come on, how many people in all of Bilgewater can do what you do? Know rune circuits like they’re lines on the palm of their hand? Make weapons that not even piltie scholars would understand?”

Jinx grimaced, turning back to her work.

“It’s not that big of a deal…” she muttered.

“Of course it is. And on top of that, you’re fun.”

Jinx let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Yeah, hilarious. You mean when I scream alone in the street? Or when I name my weapons?”

“See? Even going crazy with you sounds fun.”

She pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile, and continued adjusting the little gears.

“Nonsense. Anyway, I’m weird too. My hair is weird. My face is weird. Let’s not even talk about these eyes.”

Ekko crossed his arms and looked at her with exaggerated contemplation.

“Hmm…” he muttered. “Yeah, you’re definitely right. It’s a real problem being the prettiest girl in this whole damn port. It must be a pain.”

Jinx glared at him and threw a small screw in his direction.

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Ekko insisted with a smile. “Eyes that shine at the most unexpected moment, the most exotic hair in all of Runeterra, that smile that can make anyone forget you have a gun in your hand…”

Jinx felt a strange pang in her chest.

A part of her wanted to laugh and keep throwing screws until Ekko’s image disappeared. But another part, very small, perhaps, wanted to believe him. Just maybe.

“You keep talking nonsense…”

Ekko leaned across the table,

“You wanna know the best nonsense of all? That anyone who gets to spend time with you would be fucking lucky.”

Her heart drummed in her chest in an annoying way, as if trying to run away before she could catch it. To say that her entire face was burning was an understatement. If she could, she would run right now to curl up in the first filthy sea cave she could find. But that wouldn't do any good, since that stupid, bastard, handsome white-haired boy would probably follow her there.

"...You're an idiot."

"And you're the most amazing pirate in all Bilgewater," Ekko replied with a charmingly smug smile. "I guess we're even."

And now, Jinx wanted to cry.

She wanted Ekko to shut up with all her might, and at the same time, cry. Completely stupid. Somehow, those silly pretty words made her wanna cry more than eight pirates surrounding her with cannons at the same time.

Because they weren't true. They were made-up nonsense. 

Maybe... some things were true? Just some. Whatever, most of them were just stupid lies from some corner of her head that was way too rotten. She wouldn't be surprised.

She decided to turn her full focus to her table. Maybe switching weapons would help.

Amidst scattered gears and jumbled tools, Jinx saw the skeleton of her latest, twisted creation: the Crimson Hydra.

Yes, that would do.

On the workbench, the main parts of the portable cannon rested. The Leviathan Onyx core, a dark, irregular gem, pulsed with a faint red light in its reinforced alloy holder. Beside it, the loading mechanism: a heavy steel cylinder, designed to channel the pulsating energy of the projectiles.

With a small wrench between her teeth and a frown, she screwed on a pressure valve with her right hand while holding a screwdriver in her left. She tightened a screw a little too hard and paused for a second, biting her lower lip in concentration, before letting out a nervous giggle.

That was when she heard the voice.

“Is it open or what?”

A sharp knock on the front door interrupted her reverie. She snorted and dropped the tools on the table with a metallic clatter.

“Depends. If you’re a safety inspector, no. If you’re someone with good taste, neither.”

“Too bad. I was hoping to find something that didn’t stink like the dock at low tide.”

She narrowed her eyes, cocking her head with a crooked smile.

“Well, if you’re looking for quality weapons, I regret to inform you that I only sell rusty shit here. I don’t wanna ruin my reputation by selling to any idiot with coins.”

“Don’t worry, honey. The way this place smells, your reputation is already ruined.”

She clicked her tongue and turned slowly toward the door.

The silhouette framed by the light from the entrance belonged to a huge, older man, too robust, with broad shoulders and a massive torso like the hull of an old galleon. His skin was weathered by years of sun and saltwater, marked with scars and tattoos: a tentacled kraken wrapped around an anchor on his forearm, a gaping shark across his neck, and on his wrist, the symbol of the Brotherhood of the Tides, blurred by time.

He was almost completely bald, but covered his head with a dark red bandana, faded at the tips. He wore a worn leather vest over a rolled-up linen shirt, showing the tattoos that extended to his knuckles. A wide belt held two flintlock pistols, both made with Pink-Twist tech. His boots were worn, with thick soles and salt stains.

But the most curious thing of all was his left hand. If you looked closely, you could notice he had an extra finger.

Jinx and the man stared at each other for a few seconds, sizing each other up, with the same energy of two alpha beasts about to fight. Jinx's eyes sparkled with amusement; the man's were dark pools of experience that could fill a hundred tavern tales.

Finally, he was the first to relent.

A low, dry laugh escaped his throat.

Jinx smiled just as malevolently, resting a hand on her hip.

"Come on, Vargo, admit it. You missed this stinking workshop more than The Blind Siren."

Vargo raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"I didn't miss the stench of corpses and rotting fish in Bilgewater as much as drinking rum with my favorite lunatic."

From the folds of his vest he pulled out a dark glass bottle, unlabeled, with a thick, amber liquid inside. Jinx whistled in recognition at the black wax seal that sealed it.

"Another lost relic from The Isles? The good kind?"

“Do I look like someone who carries trash?”

Jinx laughed, walked over to a table littered with crumpled blueprints and scattered tools, pushing them aside with a quick sweep of her arm. Then she kicked a chair over for Vargo.

“Sit down, you old bastard. Pour me one.”

Vargo grunted in approval as he slumped into the chair. He pulled out a pair of glasses that looked like they’d seen more shipwrecks than entire ships and filled them with the thick, dark rum. The scent was strong, with notes of burnt cane and peppery spice. This was not the watered-down tavern rum; this burned in your throat and left a warmth in your stomach as if you’d swallowed a torch.

While Vargo served, Jinx searched through a rickety drawer until she found a small leather case. She opened it and pulled out two long, black wooden pipes with carved bone stems. Then she pulled out a bag of dried, compacted, dark green leaves mixed with small red petals and bits of crushed root.

“Leviathan grass,” Jinx said as she filled both pipes with the mixture. “Bitter as a killer’s conscience and hits like a cannon shot.”

“I thought you didn’t smoke.”

“I didn’t smoke until I came to this shithole of a city.”

Vargo snorted in amusement and lit his pipe with a match, taking a drag before slowly blowing the smoke out.

Jinx lit hers and leaned back in her chair, boots propped up on the table. She picked up the glass of rum, took a swig, and smiled.

“So, old man, tell me. How was the trip?”

Vargo stretched out in his chair and drummed his fingers on the table.

“Still the same as ever. Shitty Isles, shitty people, and non-people. Fools trying to steal and sell anything that looks like a relic. I ran into a guy who claimed to sell a piece of the Scythe…”

Jinx raised an eyebrow.

“And?”

“I blew his ear off before he could sell me anything.”

Jinx laughed.

“Was it a trap, or did you just hate his face?”

“Both.”

“Damn, I missed you.”

“Don’t make me throw up.”

They both clinked glasses and drank.

“And you, brat,” Vargo exhaled a puff of smoke, “what did you do while I was having fun among garbage and angry ghosts?”

Jinx stretched her arms behind her head and smiled.

“Oh, the usual. They tried to rip me off again with shipments of wet gunpowder, so I did the logical.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Nah, I blew their whole store up. It was more fun to see their faces when everything blew up.”

Vargo laughed hoarsely.

“That’s my favorite lunatic.”

Jinx winked at him and took another drink.

“Oh, and some idiot tried to grab my ass at the Old Port Tavern.”

“Do I have to kill him?”

“Nah, I broke his nose with the butt of one of my guns. He won’t be able to breathe properly for a couple of years.”

“Good.”

Vargo smiled and tapped the table with a thick finger.

“Speaking of guns, I heard a couple of idiots talking about a hand cannon that could split the shell of a titanic turtle. They said only someone completely insane could build something like that.”

Jinx puffed out her chest proudly.

“Tell them to call me by my name.”

Vargo shook his head, smiling wearily.

“Jinx, you’re gonna blow yourself to pieces someday.”

“If that happens, I hope you’re close enough for it to splash you.”

They both stared at each other, sizing each other up, until Vargo let out another low laugh. Jinx, unable to help herself, laughed with him.

He shook his head, finishing his glass in one gulp.

Smoke swirled in the thick air of the workshop as Jinx leaned her feet back on the table. Vargo, sitting across from her, poured himself another swig of the dark rum.

“So?” he said, leaning an elbow on the table and looking at her. “Did you do anything besides blow the heads off of angry customers, blow up shops, or get drunk at taverns?”

Jinx laughed and leaned toward him, pipe between her lips.

“Well, if you put it like that, it sounds like I’ve been busy.”

Vargo snorted.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, lunatic. You know what I mean.”

“Oh, right, right, the great Vargo is concerned about my personal life. You’re gonna make me cry.”

Vargo rolled his eyes and took a long sip of his rum.

“I’m just saying it can’t be healthy to spend your days locked in your workshop getting your nails covered in gunpowder and grease. I mean, it’s okay to blow things up, but it wouldn’t hurt to… let someone blow you up once in a while.”

Jinx nearly choked on her laughter.

“What?!”

“You should let someone blow you up in a more fun way.”

“I don’t know if Bilgewater has anyone with the… ability to do that, honestly.”

Vargo let out a hoarse laugh and slammed his fist on the table.

“You’re saying no bastard in this rotten port is up to par?”

Jinx took a drag on her pipe and blew out the smoke with a smile.

“Let’s just say the competition isn’t very impressive.”

He frowned.

“So someone’s been screwing you over?” Because if that's so—”

“Sheesh, Vargo, no one's fucking with me.”

“Because I swear if some moron is following you or bothering you—”

“There's no one bothering me!”

“Better.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, chuckled, and tossed a wad of paper she had nearby at him.

“You're a lost cause.”

Vargo took another sip of the rum and looked at her with a more serious expression.

“Still not a good night to be alone, though.”

Jinx raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

Vargo turned the glass between his fingers and glanced sideways at the window.

“The Harrowing.”

Jinx snorted.

“Oh please, not you and your superstitions again.”

“It's not superstition, lunatic. It's a fact.”

Jinx leaned back in her chair with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah! Spirits of drowned sailors, shadows dragging you under, shipwrecks appearing out of nowhere… Oh, and the best of all: if you walk through the harbor tonight, you hear the dead captain calling.”

Vargo held her gaze, his expression hardened.

“You laugh, but more than one idiot has disappeared those nights.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. So what? The Harrowing spirits grabbed them and made them part of the ghost crew?”

“Tonight isn’t just drunken tales, Jinx. It’s the one night of the year when the waters and the dead take the living away.”

She shook her head.

“Oh, Vargo. How sweet. Are you scared? You?”

Vargo stared at her without blinking.

“I have respect. That’s different.”

Jinx leaned toward him with a mischievous grin.

“So tell me… if the dead really do come for the living, how come you’re still here?”

“Because I know how to make them leave me alone. You, on the other hand, keep tempting fate and giving me goosebumps.”

“What can I say… some collect gold, others questionable decisions, I somehow have both.”

“Just tell me you don’t plan on spending the night alone.”

Jinx frowned, sarcasm ready on the tip of her tongue, but Vargo held up a hand, stopping her before she could fire off her joke.

“Don’t fuck with me, Jinx. No offerings, no lanterns, no protection… I know what you’re like.” His voice lowered, and he pointed at her with a finger from the same hand holding his glass. “Like that time I saw you jump off the cliff just because ‘the tide looked fun.’ Or when you tried to steal a piece of armor from the chained spectre statue ‘Just to see what would happen.’”

Jinx snorted, crossing her arms.

“It wasn’t that bad! I didn’t lose any other finger on the cliff, I only broke two. And it was fun. And, what if I told you that absolutely nothing happened to me after stealing the armor? I even used it to reinforce a crossbow!”

“You’re a walking disaster, you know that?”

Jinx laughed.

“But a disaster that makes your favorite toys. Because with the Great Hunt just a few weeks away, I don’t think you came here just to talk to me about lanterns and offerings.”

Vargo sat up, and swallowing the liquid that was still in his mouth, he chuckled.

“You caught me. I know what your workshop looks like on those dates, and I’m not your best customer for nothing.”

“So?” Jinx asked, exhaling smoke from her mouth.

“I’ll be staying in Bilgewater for a few more weeks. Business.” He slammed her glass on the table. “Some score-settling with some idiot.”

Jinx giggled as she twirled a rusty knife between her fingers.

“And to ensure your equipment is renewed, I assume?”

“Right. I need to make sure the Engine is in working order. I’m off to The Isles again later. Found a spot with valuable shit that will make the market mercenaries shit themselves and empty their pockets in a second.”

“Yeah, yeah, stinking idiots and their obsession with cheap junk that looks like relics” Jinx took a long swig of rum and gave him a look that was half amused and half contemptuous. “And then what? You show up just in time for the Great Hunt, smelling like death and wanting to be the hero of the day?”

“Exactly.” Vargo took another drag. “And when I get back, I’m gonna need you to have my orders ready.”

“Are you already thinking about smashing some poor sea monster’s face in? How endearing.” Jinx rested her head on one hand. “So, which toys do you want this time?”

“First, the Crimson Hydra. I need it tuned up.” His voice grew lower. 

Jinx nodded.

“Nothing says ‘subtlety’ like a portable cannon that can blow a hole in the ocean. Anything else, Mister Destruction?”

“The Claw.”

Jinx laughed.

“And the Storm Anchor too? Or are you gonna rely on your 'legendary sense of direction' this time too?”

Vargo gave her a look that, had it been any more intense, would have set the rum on fire.

“The Anchor too. I'm not losing another ship to those filthy currents.”

“Good thinking, old man.” Jinx pointed at him with a slightly shaky finger and a slightly tangled tongue. Mixing rum and leviathan herbs wasn't always a good idea. “And because you had the decency to come before this place fills up with ranks of pirates who smell like they haven't bathed in three months, you get a discount.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, lunatic.”

They both laughed and clinked their glasses together before taking a long drink.

Barely a few seconds later, Vargo began to rise, taking one last drink before Jinx knew he was gonna announce his departure.

“Well, my orders are done. If they’re not ready in time, I’ll send a drunken corsair to poke your eye out.”

Jinx laughed.

“Please send me two. Maybe I can convince them to clean this hole out for a couple of krakens.”

He turned to leave, but stopped short. His back tensed for a moment. He turned his face toward her just barely, and began to rummage through the folds of his vest.

“If you don’t plan on doing anything to take care of yourself and your stupid ass, at least accept this.”

Vargo handed her the small package. Jinx looked at it suspiciously, but reluctantly took it, unwrapping it slowly. Inside was a set of sea stones: smooth and shiny, a deep blue with silver sparkles that seemed to contain tiny stars trapped within. They had small, antiqued bronze hoops built into them, designed to be braided into the hair, as many Bilgewater hunters did.

“What is this? An attempt to make me look like a sea whore?” Jinx arched an eyebrow, but her fingers lingered over the stones, admiring the way they caught the light.

“They’re Tidelight Stones, you idiot. They ward off ghosts and evil souls on the darkest nights. The old men of the harbor swear that whoever wears them will not be touched by the dead.”

Jinx clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes.

“And how am I supposed to put them on? Do you think I’m gonna go into the market and have some random guy with sticky hands touch my hair?”

“I don’t care how you do it, but use them.” His voice hardened. “If only to give me the pleasure of not seeing you turned into ghost food.”

She turned the stones over in her hand, feigning annoyance. But deep down… she liked them. Lately, these kinds of things—sea stones, with their deep colors and odd shapes—had a foolish way of getting to her.

“Fine, fine… I’ll use them.” She reluctantly shoved the stones into her pocket. “That way nothing bad will happen to me. Congrats, I’m ghost-proof now.”

Vargo chuckled dryly, patting her shoulder before turning toward the door.

“You better. I don’t have time to come around the harbor collecting pieces of you.”

The door creaked shut behind him. Jinx looked down at her pocket, squeezing the stones gently.

The workshop fell silent as the door closed behind Vargo. Only the faint hum of the calm tide crashing against the rocks in the distance and the shouts of a few vendors broke the stillness, but Jinx didn’t even notice. Her fingers slid into her pocket almost instinctively, carefully pulling out the Tidelight Stones.

The stones were… beautiful. More so than she would admit out loud. A deep blue, almost black, that seemed to contain the immensity of the ocean on a moonless night. When she turned them in the dim light of the workshop, tiny silver veins shimmered as if tiny stars had been trapped within. The aged bronze surrounding them was worked into tangled wave shapes, designed to delicately catch in her hair, braiding with the natural movement of each strand.

She sat on the edge of her work table, her legs dangling, and began to fiddle with the small wire hook. The design was simple in theory: twist the wire around a strand or braid, let the stones dangle, and voila. Easy… in theory.

Frowning, she tried to hook the wire around a loose strand escaping from her scarf, using only the blurry reflection of a metal tool as a makeshift mirror. The hook slipped… and tangled in the wrong place. She pulled carefully. Nothing. She pulled harder. Nothing.

She tried again. And again. But each movement seemed to tangle the wire further in her messy hair. Jinx growled, releasing the strand in frustration.

She could go downtown, ask some idiot at the market to do it… Or better yet, point a gun at their heads, see who would say no. The thought made her smirk, but the smile faded as quickly as it came.

The truth was… she didn’t let just anyone touch her hair.

And those who’d done so could be counted on the fingers of one hand.

Her mother, with her gentle fingers, would cut off newly grown, child-sized locks with small scissors to make her hair as neat as possible.

When she was gone, Vi would take care of her single braid, arranging her locks with cheap barrettes while she grumbled under her breath, saying, "This won't last half a day, Powder."

Sometimes Vander would take over when Vi was gone, with a clumsy tenderness that never quite matched his raspy voice and giant iron hands.

Later, when Vander and Vi were out of the picture, it had been Silco. He always feigned annoyance, but there was a silent care in the way he separated each strand as he braided three feet of hair. Jinx always had a suspicion that, over time, this was an activity Silco had begun to enjoy as much as she did.

And then there was Isha… who never failed to do little jumps whenever it was time to undo Jinx’s braids and, of course, whenever she could help her do it. Rarely did her eyes shine as brightly as when she watched Jinx’s braids unravel into the longest blue cascades she had ever seen.

And him…

Jinx felt a lump tighten in her throat. He had been the last one.

To him, it was surely nothing more than a small thing. But to her…

Something had stayed with her even after the scissors stopped cutting.

 

                                          ──────────

 

Ekko's room wasn’t what Jinx expected.

Though, to be honest, she didn't expect anything at all anymore, not from Ekko's room, not from anything, not from anyone. But if someone had asked her how she imagined the space of that boy who couldn't stay still, who jumped, punched the air and laughed out loud, or the refuge of the gang leader who hovered with almost impossible agility and wore masks that Jinx would never admit she found fascinating, she would’ve imagined a room with a little more life. More color. More movement. That wasn't the case.

Ekko's room was in one of the central rooms of the Firelights tree. It was large, with brown, rough walls, and the only thing that broke the monotony were the thick roots that emerged in certain parts, filtering through the planks and creating capricious shadows in the dim light. To one side, in the far corner, was a simple bed, with rumpled sheets and not much more than a thin blanket on top. Next to it was an old metal wardrobe with peeling paint, which seemed to hold more secrets than clothes. But the real star of the room was the work table. It took up most of the available space and was packed with stuff, so much that it seemed like chaos.

There were pieces of hoverboards in various states of assembly: curved metal plates with small gears, energy crystals polished to a shine, reinforced wheels with improved suspension mechanisms, and thrusters that still showed traces of burns from use. Among the tools were screwdrivers with fine and thick tips, wrenches worn from use, a small precision torch with traces of solder on the handle, and a short-handled hammer with a patched leather grip. Among all that, there were also pieces of various mechanisms: coiled springs, small disassembled motors, magnifying lenses for scopes, circuit chips with half-soldered connections and gears of different sizes that seemed to fit into artifacts still in the process of creation.

In front of the work table, a single chair. The same one Jinx was sitting in now, with her knees to her chest and her gaze scanning the mess. And it was among all that chaos of plans, parts and tools that her eyes found something unexpected: sketches and paintings hidden among the technical papers. They weren't meaningless scribbles. No. They were good drawings. Damn good. Jinx frowned, leafing through them with the same mix of suspicion and admiration that stirred in her chest every time she thought of Ekko, though of course, she would never tell him.

Some portrayed the Firelights in their daily life inside the tree: a group sitting in a circle around an improvised campfire, sharing stories and laughter; Another leaping from branch to branch in training, the hoverboards on their back ready to activate; a pair of Firelights bent over a new mask model, fine-tuning details with the concentration of craftsmen. Other drawings were different. Landscapes of Zaun from angles Jinx recognized, but with a look she’d never considered. The silhouette of Piltover's skyscrapers against a murky sky, seen from a roof full of pipes; a narrow alley lit only by the neon of a flickering sign; the distorted reflection of a tower in a dirty puddle after acid rain. Muted colors, strokes that conveyed movement even in the stillness of the paper.

On the table was a small mirror. Of course Ekko would have a mirror, and not a broken one like hers. Damn arrogant.

Jinx didn't wanna look at it. For some reason, she even knew she shouldn't. But her eyes moved to the glass without her being able to help it, and when her reflection appeared before her, a chill ran down her spine. She looked away immediately, feeling a lump forming in her throat. Disgust? Fear? Shame? Maybe all of them together.

For a second, she’d completely forgotten what she looked like. Forgotten how bad she looked.

The urge to cry attacked her again with relentless brutality. In the last week, since she’d monopolized that room, she’d done nothing but cry and stare at the cracks in the walls. She didn't even understand how it was possible for her body to produce so many tears. It was exhausting. Each sob gave her an unbearable headache, a ringing in her temples that never went away. Of course, not eating and sleeping all day probably didn't help, but, to be honest, her own reflection was more than enough reason to want to burst into tears again.

She forced herself to look up again, in the absurd hope that perhaps the image in the mirror had changed in the last few seconds. But no. There she was. Or what was left of her. Horrible. And no, it wasn’t an overstatement. Her skin, pale even by her own standards, looked sickly, tense. Her eyes, surrounded by deep shadows, gave the impression of two dark wells in which any hint of brightness had been extinguished. Sleeping all day had been of no use; the tiredness was still there, marked on every inch of her face. And her hair... dear Janna. Her hair.

Despair rose in her chest like an unstoppable tide as she ran her fingers through the messy, tangled locks. She had never looked so terrible. Her braids... her beloved braids. Those she had so carefully maintained over the years, that had always accompanied her, that had become her hallmark.

It's not that she’d ever felt especially pretty, but her braids did have a peculiar charm. Something that made her unique. Blue hair itself was already something exotic in Zaun, but the impossible length of her braids had always been a cause for wonder, even to herself.

Now, all that was left of it was a mess of untidy strands that barely grazed her shoulders. A hasty, clumsy, heartless cut. And it was awful. More than awful. 

The instant she’d picked up the scissors, she hadn't cared about anything. She didn't plan on breathing long enough to worry about how she looked afterward. Because there wasn't going to be an afterward. But of course, the damned boy savior decided to live up to his title just as she’d made her final decision.

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut. She wished she'd at least made a neater cut. She wished she didn't have to see what she saw in that mirror. She wished she could be anyone other than herself at that very moment.

But she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering back to her reflection, even though every part of her forbade it. Her fingers began to run through her hair, tangling in the knots with the same force with which she tried not to continue crying. But the more she looked, the more she convinced herself that it was impossible. Pathetic. Disgusting. Horrible.

The tears continued their silent course when she barely heard the door open. Ekko entered the room with extremely measured steps, as he usually did since she’d arrived there. For a second, Jinx felt the weight of his gaze on her, but then she felt him turn it away. It wasn't unusual to see her cry lately. To be honest, she must have looked like a fucking water fountain.

Sitting in the chair, with her knees hugged to her chest and her fingers still tangled in her hair, Jinx kept her watery gaze fixed on the mirror. She heard Ekko's footsteps approaching. Maybe he thought this was a good opportunity to make her talk, just one word. Maybe it had to do with the fact that this time she was in the chair and not in the bed.

Ekko stood beside her. His eyes followed the direction of her gaze and the way her fingers tugged at the messy locks. He seemed to understand.

“It’s not so bad, you know?” he said with a slight smile. “I mean, of course you’ll miss your long hair. Those braids were legendary, almost like a zaunite treasure. But in a couple of years it grows back, right?”

Jinx sobbed quietly. Ekko scratched the back of his head, but didn't turn away.

"Besides, it's not ugly or anything. In fact, you could even say you have a new style. Something yours. That sounds great, doesn't it?"

Nothing. Not a smile. Ekko sighed and leaned slightly toward her.

"You know, if you wanted, I could fix it up a bit. I'm not saying I've done it many times, but I've cut a few kids' hair. I swear most of them still have hair after that."

Jinx stood stock-still, her eyes fixed on the reflection. Ekko felt like he'd screwed up again. Great. Maybe it was time to leave before he made her feel worse. He turned slightly to walk away, but then, just a weak whisper escaped Jinx's lips.

"Could you... really do that?"

Ekko stopped dead in his tracks. He blinked and turned to her.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, a mix of surprise and relief in his voice. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse hair disasters. And also… new hair, new me, right?”

Silence.

Ekko sighed and took the scissors with trembling hands, still searching Jinx’s eyes for any trace of approval, any sign that would tell him to stop. But she only stared at an invisible spot, mired in that inertia she seemed to have fallen into over the past few days. When he brought the scissors close enough, her head nodded slowly. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Ekko swallowed and took a deep breath before asking,

“Do you have a preference for the cut?”

He got no answer. His lips pressed into a thin line and he decided he would have to make the decision himself. He wet his lips nervously and added,

“How about I leave the bang as it is?”

This time, at least, he got a slight nod. Ekko took that as permission to begin.

He started at the nape of her neck. The first lock fell with a slight rustle, as if the hair was letting go without resistance. The scissors creaked as they closed, and for a moment, Ekko felt the sound fill the entire room. He worked slowly, letting his fingers guide the strands before cutting them.

Every movement of his hands was measured, every brush against Jinx's skin almost accidental. Sometimes, the pads of his fingers brushed the softness of her neck. Other times, his hands gently separated a strand, caressing it for a moment before letting it fall with the others. The room was filled with the whisper of the scissors, the slight rustling of the strands as they slid through his fingers.

Jinx remained motionless, her body rigid as if she were afraid to move and ruin whatever it was that Ekko was doing. But, little by little, her eyes rose to the mirror. At first, with the same fear as before, afraid that her reflection would return to her a face that was more unfamiliar than anything else. But then, with a small, almost imperceptible curiosity.

The hair kept falling in ever smaller strands. Ekko, completely focused, tilted his head and squinted, making sure each cut was as precise as possible. It wasn't a perfect job, but he tried to make it at least look carefully done.

At times, his hand would brush against Jinx's scalp again. He didn't know if she noticed, if she even cared, but he didn't move his hand away.

Jinx blinked and her gaze focused on her reflection, this time not immediately turning away. It wasn't a huge difference, but there was something about her expression that seemed different. More present. More her.

With each strand that fell to the floor, she looked at her reflection with more and more curiosity. At first, her eyes had been lost in some invisible spot in the mirror, unable to focus on her own face. But as Ekko continued to cut, her pupils began to move with more intent.

The scissors continued their course, inching through the tangle of blue hair. As Ekko passed her, leaning slightly to make sure the cut was even, Jinx felt something new inside her chest: a tiny spark, a ridiculous thought that, for some reason, she couldn't hold back.

She whispered, her voice barely a murmur over the metallic sound of the scissors.

"Can you cut it here... so it looks like Vi's?"

Ekko paused for a second, the edge of the scissors still in the air. After a few seconds of thinking, he understood. He didn't have to ask what she meant. The Vi Jinx had in mind wasn't the one now, but the one before, the Vi that appeared in that mural, with her hair shaved on one side and the fierce determination of someone who would protect her sister with everything she had.

Ekko swallowed and gave a small smile.

"Of course I can."

With a slight movement, he adjusted his grip on the scissors and resumed his work. His cuts were more decisive now, sculpting more precisely the silhouette Jinx had requested. With each movement of the blade, the sound of hair giving way filled the silence between them. Blue locks fell over Jinx's shoulders, some sliding down to her lap, others pooling on the floor.

His fingers worked just as delicately as before, barely brushing the tips of his fingers across her scalp, measuring the length, making sure he wasn't ruining it. And with each of those touches, Jinx remained still, but not as stiff as before. Her breathing was still ragged from the weight of her earlier crying, but her eyes, this time, didn't leave her reflection.

Ekko moved forward patiently, making sure the cut was the way Jinx wanted it. When his fingers ran over the shaved part, a shiver ran over the girl's skin. But it wasn't a bad shiver.

Ekko made one last move with the scissors, cutting away the strands that were still uneven. Her breathing was light, almost imperceptible in the stillness of the room. With a sigh, he set the scissors down on the table, setting them aside with a small metallic clink. He stood for a few seconds observing his work, swallowing hard, and then grabbed the mirror with both hands.

“Well… that’s it.” His voice sounded tense, more than he would have liked, as he took the mirror and handed it to Jinx.

The reflection gave her back the image of a different girl. Her hair was short, too short. The nape of her neck completely exposed, the feeling of strange, alien lightness. Her side bang was still there, but the side… one side had more hair than the other, almost a buzz cut. Exactly like Vi had.

Jinx didn’t react. She didn’t even blink. She just stared at her reflection with wide eyes. The silence began to grow heavy, so he decided to fill it with words, any words.

“It looks good… I mean, you look good.” His voice cracked a little, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Seriously, it looks… cool on you. Really badass, you know? Like… you totally rock it.”

Jinx didn’t answer. She kept her eyes fixed on the mirror.

Ekko ran a hand over the back of his neck, uncomfortable. Had he said something stupid? Maybe he’d screwed up. Maybe she hated him now. Shit, she’d always hated him. Maybe he should just shut up, but his mouth kept working without him being able to stop it.

“Though, well, you could rock any cut, even if I’d left you… I don’t know, bald. But I didn’t leave you bald, huh. Don’t worry.”

Nothing.

“Actually… I think if you were born with this cut, no one would question it. They’d think, ‘Wow, look at that girl with that perfect cut, she must be dangerous.’ Or… or ‘she must be an underground model or something’.”

Silence.

“I mean…” He shrugged, letting out a nervous snort. “Am I digging myself into a bigger hole? I think I’m digging myself into a bigger hole.”

Jinx didn’t say anything, but she didn’t stop looking at the mirror either. Ekko, feeling like he’d done enough, stepped back, ready to walk away and give her space. But then, her voice broke the silence.

“Do you really think I look okay?”

The question was weak, with a lump in her throat that Ekko could instantly notice.

He paused. His shoulders dropped a little, his expression softening. He walked back to her and, with a little hesitation, placed a shaking hand on her shoulder. He felt the tension in her body, but Jinx didn’t reject the contact. In fact, for the first time all week, she seemed to be… okay. Or the closest thing to it.

Ekko gave her a genuine smile.

“You look amazing. I mean it.”

Jinx blinked.

Ekko tilted his head, studying his own work.

“This is definitely my best cut. I’ll have to start charging.”

And then, Jinx, almost without realizing it, let out a small smile. Just a curve to her lips, subtle, but real.

But Ekko saw her. He saw her and narrowed his eyes, sly.

“Did you just smile?”

Jinx tried to compose her expression, but it was too late. Ekko was already smirking.

“Shit, I’m good at this. I should charge double.”

Jinx let out a sigh between her nose, almost a silent laugh.

Ekko stepped back, satisfied, and started to walk away. But Jinx kept staring at her reflection. Her new reflection.

Maybe she didn't look so ugly now. Maybe she didn't feel like crying when she saw her hair.  Maybe she didn't feel so stupid for what she’d done. Because maybe... maybe the cut wasn't bad at all.

And it might even be true she looked pretty.

 

                                       ──────────

 

"Riverside" - Agnes Obel

There was a certain peace in water.

Jinx stood with her feet submerged in the brackish waters of Slaughter Bay, where the waves barely dared to touch the shore in the stillness of the night. The damp sand embraced her ankles with a sharp chill, and the ebb and flow of the sea was a hypnotic whisper that lulled her into a pleasant trance. She swayed slightly, eyes half-closed, letting the night breeze caress her skin and tousle her blue strands. Her shoulders, for once, were relaxed, and her breathing was deep, unhurried, almost as if she were asleep while standing. Over the years, she'd discovered that there was indeed something magical about the sea, something that emptied her mind and left her with nothing but the feeling of existing.

Behind her, Bilgewater stretched in an eerie penumbra, illuminated only by the flickering flames of candles and lanterns. The dim lights floated along the docks and twinkled in windows like fireflies trapped in glass—an ancient tradition to guide the wandering spirits of The Harrowing. The city reeked of fear and superstition. Most of its inhabitants had locked themselves behind doors marked with protective symbols, crude chalk and soot scribbles that promised to keep the dead at bay, though Jinx doubted a mere drawing on wood could stop an angry soul. Still, the night held an air of solemnity that even she respected—for now, at least.

In the distance, in the salty mist hovering over the harbor, the docks were scattered with offerings cast into the sea: coins gleaming faintly in the foam, bottles of rum rocking between the waves, pieces of bread soaking in dark water. Small sacrifices to appease the dead. Jinx smirked. She'd always found it amusing how the living clung to the idea of bargaining with the inevitable, as if a little liquor could buy their eternal peace.

Further up, in the narrow cobbled alleys, spectral figures moved through the shadows. They weren’t ghosts, but the most superstitious of Bilgewater, those who preferred to dress like the dead rather than face them. Faces painted white, dark rags billowing in the breeze. Jinx watched them with amusement. It was ironic how fear could turn people into the very thing they sought to avoid.

The wind carried the metallic scent of the sea mixed with melted wax and the faint trace of damp tobacco smoked in shuttered taverns. Everything was still, everything was expectant, as if the entire city was holding its breath, waiting to see whether the dead would pass by or claim what was theirs.

But Jinx did not fear the dead. She wasn’t afraid because, in some way, she had always felt that a part of her already belonged to them. And as the water lapped at her feet and the breeze whispered secrets of forgotten times, she allowed herself a truce—at least until the first candle went out.

She took another step into the water, feeling a shiver course through her skin at the touch. The tide curled lazily around her ankles, inviting her to wade deeper. The wet sand yielded beneath her feet, and each movement sent small currents of cold water licking at her skin. With a small smile, she moved forward slowly, letting the tide embrace her knees, then her thighs. With each step, the night breeze grew more distant, drowned out by the murmur of the waves. When the water reached her hips, she stopped, letting the weight of the sea merge with her own.

The night was a whisper of waves and wind, a murmur of the sleeping city behind her. She didn’t believe in superstitions or the stories of The Harrowing, but she couldn’t deny the stones Vargo had given her were beautiful. Under the moon, the crystals emitted an ethereal blue glow, reflecting light like tiny flames trapped in the copper that wrapped around them. She wore them on her wrist, woven into a copper wire that pressed against her skin with an unexpected warmth. It wasn’t as pretty as wearing them in her hair, but at least she had them with her, and they were just as mesmerizing as the first time she'd seen them.

She stood still, the water rippling around her, breathing in the salty scent of the sea. She felt the cold creeping up her body, the tension of her submerged skin in the ocean’s sway. She loved that sensation—the way the water seemed to cradle her. The distant sounds of the city barely reached her here, leaving only the murmur of the waves and the whisper of the breeze. She could stay like this all night.

She opened her eyes and looked toward the cliff where her workshop stood. Lanterns now hung at the entrance, flickering like tiny stars against the dark rock. They hadn’t been there before. She let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. If she listened closely, she could hear Nilo, Ricky, and Poppy arguing over who had placed the lanterns best. Their stomachs were surely growling by now, and they wouldn’t leave her alone for the rest of the night. But for now, she lingered a little longer, savoring the water and the quiet company of the sea.

Jinx still thought all those superstitions were complete nonsense, but as she looked at the water, her reflection trembling on the surface… something told her she had to give something to this moment. Something small. And if she could make use of Bilgewater’s traditions tonight…

She raised a hand to her neck and traced her fingers over the shark tooth necklace she always wore. Slowly, she untied it, feeling the night’s cold air against her now-bare skin. She held it in her hands, studying the irregular shape of each tooth, the edges worn down by time and salt. It was a familiar weight, almost a part of her. She hesitated before letting it go, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles paled. But finally, with a sigh that barely disturbed the air, she opened her hand and let the necklace slip from her fingers, sinking into the water with a soft splash. The waves swallowed it effortlessly, carrying it into the darkness of the ocean’s depths.

The night wrapped the sea in a cold, silent embrace, but Jinx felt… alive. Or as close as she ever did. The water caressed her skin with the softness of a whisper, the sea breeze carried the scent of salt and kelp, and the distant crashing of waves felt like a carefully rehearsed melody.

Then, in a swift motion, she knelt down, submerging her entire body in the water. The cold enveloped her head, her arms, her torso. Absolute silence surrounded her, as if the ocean had welcomed her into its secret world for a few seconds. Suspended in the liquid vastness, she felt the pressure of the water covering her completely, a sensation of weightlessness, of isolation, of absolute peace. And then, with a slight gasp, she emerged again, drenched, pushing her hair away from her face with both hands and rubbing her eyes.

She remained there, still, staring at her distorted reflection on the surface. Her fingers traced the image, blurring it with each movement. And she laughed.

Silco was right. There was peace in water. Even in the worst moments.

 

                                             ──────────

 

"Far From Home (The Raven)" - Sam Tinnesz

Jinx didn’t know how long she'd been sitting there.

Time slipped through her fingers like the damp sand beneath her body—impossible to grasp, impossible to measure. Days? Hours? Maybe weeks. Ever since her airship had run out of fuel and had descended unsteadily onto the Bilgewater coast, everything had felt blurry. The decision to land there had been nothing more than an impulse, a momentary surrender to fatigue. She hadn’t known where to go, only that she had to leave. One last, stupid chance to start over. And maybe, to allow others to do the same.

"Someone worth building it for."

She still didn’t fully understand those words. And maybe, deep down, she didn’t want to.

The Bilgewater coast was not a welcoming place. Not for the living, at least. It was a stretch of grayish, damp sand, where the waves carried the scent of salt, seaweed, and rotting wood. Around her, jagged cliffs rose like ruined sentinels, covered in moss and shadows. That beach seemed forgotten by people, a corner where not even scavengers bothered to search too much. It was lonely, as if it were waiting for something. Or someone.

She didn’t know how many days her airship had been hidden in a sea cave, the first one she had found upon arrival. The shelter was nothing more than a grimy hollow between the rocks, wide enough to conceal the airship but not secure enough for Jinx to feel at ease. It didn’t matter. There was no peace for her anyway. Even less did she know how many days she'd spent sitting on the sand, her gaze lost on the horizon. The scent of gunpowder still clung to her skin like a constant reminder. Not that many days could have passed since the war if she still smelled like that, right?

Even less so if there were still traces of paint on her skin.

The paint he'd made with his own hands.

Her dirty skin, covered in ashes, sweat, and sea moisture, had almost erased the colors. Almost. Some yellow and green hourglasses remained on her arms, though faded. Streaks of purple, pink, and blue still stained her body messily, like echoes of something trying to disappear but resisting.

Every time she watched those traces slowly fade from her skin, a knot formed in her chest. And in her throat.

He made them. With his own hands.

Jinx took a deep breath, and what reached her nose was the scent her own body was beginning to emit. A sharp mix of sweat, gunpowder, and salt, combined with other undertones she preferred not to analyze too much. The war was still on her skin, embedded in every pore. Almost as much as the endless days of travel in the airship.

The sea stretched before her, extending as far as her sight could reach. The waves swayed in a hypnotic rhythm, drawing ephemeral furrows in the sand before retreating with a hissing murmur. Well, maybe it was a good chance to make use of it.

With a heavy sigh, Jinx stood up. Her legs protested as they moved, numb from the time she'd spent motionless. She began walking slowly toward the shore, feeling the cold, damp sand compact beneath her steps. She bent down to unlace her boots with clumsy movements and set them aside before stepping forward, allowing the water to kiss the tips of her bare feet.

The contact was a frozen shock that made her shudder. The foamy waves wrapped around her ankles with cold caresses, and as she waded in, the water climbed up her legs, covering her calves with a refreshing pressure. Her toes sank into the shifting sand beneath the surface, trapped by the tide that toyed with her balance.

Step by step, she moved forward, letting the water embrace her more and more. The cold crept up her thighs, tangling around her dirty, sticky skin. Then it reached her waist, and a shiver ran down her spine. She remained there for a moment, her breath uneven, feeling her body adjust to the temperature of the sea.

Slowly, she plunged her hands into the water and slid them over her body. With firm movements, she rubbed her arms, feeling the salt cleanse the grime embedded in her skin. Then she moved to her chest, where the salty water stung slightly on the small cuts and scrapes she didn’t even remember getting. She closed her eyes as she brought her hands to her face, letting the water seep between her fingers before running it over her cheeks, her forehead, her neck. She rubbed insistently.

The water surrounded her—cold, dense, alive. With each motion, she felt the salt penetrate her skin, dragging away the remnants of gunpowder, ash, and blood she still carried. She couldn’t erase what had happened, but at least she could cleanse her body of its traces. At least, the ones she no longer wanted to see. For a moment—just for a moment—she let the sea do its work.

The last streaks of paint peeled from her skin and drifted into the water like frayed threads from an old tapestry. Stains of yellow, green, pink, and purple floated for an instant before dissolving into the saline immensity. Jinx looked at her arms, now bare, and felt a pressure in her chest, a sensation she couldn’t tell if it came from the cold water embracing her or from something that hurt far more.

When the water slid down her face, she couldn’t distinguish whether it was the salt from the sea or the trace of her own tears. It was hard to tell. The breeze was dense, sticky, and the water swirled around her with a slow, enveloping cadence. But she didn’t stop. She kept scrubbing her skin, with mechanical, almost desperate movements, until not a single trace of paint remained on her body.

And then, her skin felt empty.

She stood still, with the water swaying around her, and looked around. There wasn’t a single person. There was no one. Only the vast expanse of the sea before her. The clouds, heavy and gray, hung low, trapped between the sky and the ocean’s surface. The air smelled of salt and moisture, with a distant echo of old wood and stranded seaweed along the shore. The sea, restless and treacherous, stirred gently.

Jinx lowered her gaze and met her reflection in the water. Her face no longer bore those purple lines he had drawn, nor the careless shapes of color scattered across her skin. Her bang fell to one side, messy, stuck to her forehead from the dampness. She stared into her own eyes, framed by deep dark circles, and the expression she found wasn’t sadness, nor anger, not even resignation. It was exhaustion. A pure, profound exhaustion that seemed to have settled into every fiber of her being.

She sighed and let her fingers run across the water’s surface, distorting her reflection into uneven ripples. Once, twice, three times. Until the image in the water no longer looked like her and became something undefined. To be honest, she wasn’t sure which reflection she preferred.

But she figured she might as well start getting used to it.

She took a deep breath.

“Well, girl. It’s just you and me now.”

Notes:

I had an absolute blast writing this chapter. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve become a huge Bilgewater fan.

If you liked this chapter, kudos and comments are always welcome!!
Any thoughts, feedback, or constructive criticism about this story are also welcome on my Twitter account: jinxedbypow.

Chapter 3: “Some Mysteries Cannot Be Left Unsolved”

Summary:

Ekko makes new discoveries about the anomaly that leave him with more questions than answers. The help—and comfort—he needs might come from the least expected person.

Notes:

Lots of hilarious interactions in this chapter, along with very important moments and decisions. Things are starting to get interesting.

Enjoy! 💙

The old ventilation shafts of the mines in Zaun were gigantic cylindrical cavities carved into the rock, with walls lined with rusted metal and steel reinforcements blackened by the passage of time. In their glory days, when mining was still the lifeblood of the undercity, these caverns served as artificial lungs for the tunnels, infested with dust and gas. Up high in the ducts, enormous turbines with heavy blades spun, so large that their hum could be felt in the bones.

These turbines, powered by industrial generators, sucked the contaminated air from the lower levels and expelled it to the surface in a desperate attempt to make it more breathable. They stood on wrought-iron structures, and their operation depended on a complex system of gears and soot filters that were rarely replaced in time. The process was never perfect—the air remained dense, laden with particles that seeped into the lungs and clung to the skin. But it was better than nothing.

However, with the decline of mining, Zaun's focus shifted to the Shimmer factories. Resource extraction gradually gave way to chemical production, and one by one, the turbines fell into disuse until they stopped humming altogether. Without maintenance, their blades rusted, their engines collapsed, and their bases became overrun with mold and mechanical rats searching for cables to gnaw on.

Five years later, those vast cavities that once housed roaring turbines had become the home of a new technology: chem-tech purification tanks. These reinforced steel colossi had tubes branching throughout the cavern, absorbing the stale air and filtering it through advanced chemical processes. At the base of the tanks, massive reservoirs of greenish liquid bubbled with a reactive mixture capable of breaking down toxins and neutralizing poisonous compounds. The same process was applied to contaminated water, which, instead of being wasted, was captured, purified, and redistributed through an automated valve system.

The initial problem with these tanks had been their efficiency. The first models failed to regulate the internal temperature of the purifying compound, causing overheating that rendered the entire system useless. It was Ekko who, with his ability to see solutions where others only saw flaws, discovered the key: a simple modification to the pressure valves that allowed for gradual heat dispersion without disrupting the chemical process. A small, almost ridiculous adjustment, but enough to make the tanks the most effective purification method Zaun had ever seen.

But now, standing at the entrance to the lower circuit of one of these cavities, Ekko wasn't there to check on the tanks. No. He was there because something in his bag wouldn’t stop making an irritating noise—a deep, dissonant buzzing that was pushing him to the brink of a mental breakdown.

The cavern was dark, its ceiling so high it disappeared into the shadows. The air was thick with a sharp chemical scent mixed with the stench of corroded metal and dust settled in the crevices of the floor. The purification tank loomed at the center, its imposing silhouette outlined against the faint flickering light of a few scattered electrical panels.

At some point in the past, this cavern had an upper circuit designed to access the turbines, but now only traces of its existence remained—rusted beams, collapsed platforms, and walkways blocked by debris. The only viable access was in the lower circuit, where Ekko now stood, surrounded by scattered scrap. If you didn’t watch your step or have a reliable light source, you could easily end up face-first in a heap of mechanical junk and broken parts.

That was probably why the damn Klem had decided to come scavenging for parts here. And why Ekko was now there, tracking his steps.

He moved carefully through the scrap, kicking loose bolts and avoiding twisted metal sheets that groaned under his boots. The cavern was a minefield of mechanical debris, and though Ekko was used to moving through places like this, the weight of the device in his hands didn’t make things any easier.

The detector—his own creation—looked like an improvised metal frame, made of hastily welded pieces but assembled with meticulous precision. A curved antenna protruded from the top, blinking dimly whenever the device picked up an anomaly. At its base, a set of gears and small pressure tubes worked in sync with a rudimentary visor, projecting a map of invisible interferences.

It operated with low-frequency electromagnetic pulses, capable of detecting microscopic fissures in the structure, variations in air density, and suspended particles invisible to the human eye. So far, all it had found were traces of residual gas from the old tanks, small ionized metal residues, and the usual radiation floating around Zaun. Nothing out of the ordinary.

And yet, something inside him told him that if he kept looking, he would find more than he expected.

He'd been in the damn cavern for over an hour, after having to deal with Klem to get the exact location where he'd found the sphere. Not that he expected miracles by returning to the origin point, but if the anomaly had left traces, that was already something. Maybe those traces would give him more answers than the sphere itself, which so far had brought him nothing but questions and chills.

What was giving him answers—though none that were useful—was the blue-haired girl following him. Closer than ever in the past few days.

"You know, genius, we could be doing something way more fun right now," Jinx sang, walking with her hands clasped behind her head.

Ekko adjusted a knob on the detector and frowned when a high-pitched beep signaled another false alarm. He let out a grunt and turned the dial to recalibrate it.

"Yeah, sure. Because wasting time while this thing threatens to blow up my workshop is the dream of my life."

"Oh, come on," Jinx rolled her eyes and hopped onto a pile of rusted pipes, balancing as if on a tightrope. "We've tried everything with that sphere, and nothing worked. Nothing! Zero, kaput. So tell me, Doc, what's the plan now? Hit it with a wrench and hope it spills its secrets?"

Ekko clenched his jaw.

"That's exactly what worries me about that damn anomaly," he muttered, scanning the visor. Another fluctuation in air density. Maybe something. Maybe nothing.

Jinx dropped from the pipe, landing right beside him, leaning over his shoulder.

"Maybe the sphere is just a magic ball that hates you," she whispered. "Like, maybe it thought, 'Oh, this kid thinks he's so smart. Ha! I’m gonna fuck with him to death. Or at least until he laughs a bit.'"

"You could help me with the detector," he replied. "Oh, wait. You can't."

"That was mean. And here I was, just trying to keep you company," Jinx pouted. "Besides, let's be honest—when was the last time you were truly alone?"

Ekko ignored her and took a few more steps, focusing intently on the visor. Something was there. A faint flicker at the edge of the screen, a shift in air pressure just a few meters ahead.

"Ah, here we go again," Jinx huffed, following his gaze. "Bet it's another damn radioactive screw or something."

"Or maybe it's a clue," Ekko shot back, adjusting the device quickly and moving forward.

Jinx trotted after him, chuckling under her breath.

"Or maybe you just wanna prove you're more stubborn than a brick wall."

"And you're more annoying than a jammed gear," he grumbled, shining his handheld flashlight on the ground.

"Exactly!" Jinx exclaimed excitedly, giving him a playful nudge on the arm. "And that's why I make your miserable existence so much more entertaining."

Ekko exhaled in exasperation. His patience was wearing thin, but if he'd learned anything, it was that arguing with her was as useless as trying to reason with Jinx when she was still alive.

He crouched down, bringing the detector closer to the anomaly’s source. The signal intensified.

Something was here. And he had a bad feeling about it.

The visor lit up.

Nothing. Just more ionized metallic debris.

"Told you," Jinx laughed.

Ekko just scoffed and kept moving.

The floor of the tank cavity was a maze of rusted junk, twisted pipes, and forgotten gears. He advanced carefully, trying not to slip on the dirty metal while holding his detector firmly.

"Oh, come on, Little Genius, tell me you at least brought something to eat," she complained, effortlessly leaping over a pile of debris like it was child’s play.

Ekko clenched his teeth and kept calibrating his device. He turned a knob, adjusted the scanning field, and let out a frustrated sigh when the needle dropped back to zero.

"Yeah, sure. Because the first thing I thought about when coming to dig through trash was packing a picnic."

Jinx plopped onto a bent beam and watched him with her head tilted.

"We could be doing anything way more interesting than this," she sang, twirling in the air with her legs crossed. "Like, I don’t know... setting something on fire, or seeing how long you can stay awake before your brain decides to shut down."

"I think I’m already figuring that out," Ekko grumbled, tapping a stuck panel on the detector. "And in case you’re interested, I’d rather not set myself on fire in the process."

"Ugh, you’ve gotten so boring," she huffed, falling backward mid-air. "You used to be more reckless. More fun."

"Yeah, and I also didn’t have a damn sphere that vanishes every time I try to touch it with anything sharper than my fingers."

Jinx burst out laughing and spun in the air until she was floating upside down in front of him.

"What if you just lick it? I mean, we’ve tried everything but that."

He stopped and looked at her with an expression of pure exhaustion.

"Great. My last hope for answers comes from someone who isn’t even real, suggesting I kiss an interdimensional anomaly. What’s next? Should I write it a love letter?"

"Nooo!" Jinx grinned from ear to ear. "You write a serenade! I bet a romantic song is exactly what it needs to stop being a temporal abomination."

Ekko ran a hand down his face.

"I don’t know why I keep talking to you."

"Because I’m the only decent entertainment you’ve got," she replied. "Unless you’d rather chat with the sphere. Though I don’t think it’ll answer you."

Ekko flipped another switch on the detector and watched as the dial trembled for an instant before stabilizing again. Nothing useful.

"That’s what worries me the most about that damn anomaly," he muttered.

She leaned an elbow on his shoulder, her nonexistent weight only adding to his frustration.

"Maybe it just wants you to leave it alone. Ever thought of that?"

"Oh, sure. 'Sorry, strange sphere that defies the laws of physics and contains traces of matter that no longer exists, I won’t bother you again,'" he murmured. "Yeah, I’m sure that’ll solve everything."

"You’ll never know until you try."

Ekko pressed his lips together. He'd tried everything. Adjusting the oscillation frequency. Syncing it with his own Resonator. Applying different voltages to see how it reacted. He had even attempted to create a stabilization field around it, but the damn thing just reset every time.

"The only thing we’ve accomplished is making it disappear and come back like nothing happened," he muttered, lightly tapping the detector to make sure it wasn’t malfunctioning. "It’s like it exists in two damn states at once."

Jinx snapped her fingers.

"Then we should try trapping it in one."

"And how the hell do you suggest I do that?!" he snapped, turning toward her. "You want me to put it in a box and wait for it to decide if it’s alive or dead?"

Jinx shrugged.

"I don’t know, sounds better than wasting more time here."

Ekko shook his head and refocused on his detector. The needle wavered slightly, picking up a faint signal. Something small, almost imperceptible.

Jinx leaned in beside him, watching curiously.

"Uh-oh, did you actually find something, or is it another false alarm?"

He didn’t answer. He crouched down, carefully moving aside a pile of corroded metal plates. A trail of glowing particles hung in the air for a brief moment before fading.

She whistled.

"Well, well… at least we got a nice special effect out of it."

Ekko exhaled, his mind racing.

"It’s not just a special effect. It’s residue."

Jinx rolled her eyes.

"Oh, wow. Residue. That sounds… incredibly useful."

"Temporal residue," Ekko corrected, adjusting the detector’s dial and watching the needle tremble slightly.

"Uh-huh. And tell me, Genius, does this get us closer to an answer or just to more questions?"

He sighed and gave her a tired look.

"Both."

"Then we’re on the right track."

Ekko continued moving through the rusted wreckage, this time avoiding twisted metal pieces and burnt-out circuit boards. His detector buzzed in his hand, sparking sporadically as he tightened his grip on a stubborn knob, his teeth grinding a little too loudly.

"You’re getting paranoid," Jinx sang, hopping from barrel to barrel. "Since when does the time genius get scared of a shiny little toy?"

Ekko growled, smacking his device against the palm of his hand.

"It's not paranoia if it's real."

"Oh, sure. And what's your grand theory now? That an army of alternate versions of you is coming to beat you up because this little ball opened a portal?"

"I wouldn’t rule it out."

Jinx rolled her eyes and flopped onto a pile of gears, watching him with a grin.

"And what else? Come on, surprise me."

He shot her an annoyed look before pointing his detector at the sphere in his bag.

"If this thing leaked through a temporal fracture, it means those fractures are still active. And if they're active, it means more things can slip through. Bigger things. More dangerous things."

Jinx exaggerated a shiver.

"Monsters from another dimension? Future pilties with even worse fashion sense?"

"It could be anything." Ekko adjusted the detector's frequency, but the buzzing cut off abruptly, as if the sphere refused to be read. "The worst part is that it keeps resisting. No matter what power source I connect to it, it rejects it. It's like it doesn’t… belong here."

Jinx leaned toward him.

"And if it doesn't belong here? Then what? Do we toss it in the river and pretend we never saw it?"

He clenched his fists.

"If it collapses, I don't know what could happen. It could release an uncontrollable amount of energy."

Jinx jumped to her feet, stepping even closer.

"Oh, how exciting! What if it explodes and blows this whole dump to pieces? Because, let's be honest, this place could use a redesign."

Ekko ignored her and crouched to adjust a component of his detector. The green light flickered a few times, then went completely dark.

"Great," he muttered, smacking the device again. "I'm getting really sick of this crap."

"Maybe you should sleep more. Maybe the sphere just wants you to rest and think clearly."

He shot her a sharp look.

"If I go to sleep, maybe by the time I wake up, it'll have swallowed half of Zaun."

"Or maybe you'll wake up and this will all have been a dream!" Jinx spread her arms. "Which would make sense, considering I’m here."

Ekko exhaled in exasperation, running a hand down his face.

"It's not Hextech, is it?"

"What?"

"The sphere. It can't be Hextech."

Jinx tilted her head, her grin faltering for a fraction of a second.

"It's not. Hextech doesn’t exist anymore, remember?"

Ekko fell silent for a moment, staring at her.

"It doesn’t exist in this timeline."

Silence.

For the first time in the entire conversation, Jinx didn’t respond immediately. Her fingers drummed against her arm, her gaze briefly flickering toward the sphere.

Ekko noticed.

"See? Even you're starting to doubt."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, forcing a laugh. "The only thing I doubt is how someone so smart can be so thick-headed."

Ekko frowned, but deep down, the unease in Jinx’s voice only made his own grow. Which, if he thought about it… made a lot of sense.

For a few seconds, Ekko no longer saw her. And though he couldn’t say why, that unsettled him even more.

The device vibrated in his hand, emitting an irregular sound—more of a wail than a clear signal.

A face suddenly appeared in front of his.

"Have you found the spell to fix your interdimensional bouncy ball yet, or are we still in the denial phase?"

He jumped, instinctively clutching his chest, making her burst into laughter.

Ekko just sighed irritably, gripping the device a little harder than necessary.

"If you were a little less annoying and a little more helpful, maybe I’d have solved this by now."

"And what does that say about you, huh? Maybe you should’ve imagined someone smarter—though you and I both know that doesn’t exist."

"Or quieter. I’m sure that exists." Ekko grumbled, smacking the detector again. Nothing.

Jinx leaned against one of the walls.

"Alright, genius, what’s the brilliant excuse now?"

"It’s not an excuse," Ekko scoffed. "None of what I have works. My calibrators, my conductors, the flux capacitors… I even tried a residual Hextech energy node. The sphere rejected everything."

"Oh, how convenient. So if your little toys don’t work, how about borrowing some better ones?"

Ekko clicked his tongue.

"Like who? Piltover? The same idiots who still think Zaun is a trash heap?"

"Oh, sure! Let’s keep playing the shadowy inventor, that’s definitely working."

"It’s not just that, Jinx. No one in Piltover has the slightest idea how to stabilize something like this. And if they knew what I found, they’d take it and lock it away in some lab. Those idiots never learn and will grab anything that makes them the kings of progress again."

"Well then, Zaun," Jinx insisted, spinning mid-air and landing right in front of him. "There are tons of crazy geniuses here—surely one of them has a gadget that works."

Ekko shook his head.

"If I take this to the crazies at the Sunken Bridge, they’ll probably try to open it with acid. If I talk to the Academy guys, they’ll ask me to hand it over on a silver platter for their experiments. And if Heimerdinger were alive, he’d have slapped me three times already for touching something I don’t understand."

She shrugged.

"Eh, details."

"They're not details," he snapped, exasperated. "This could be dangerous. If the sphere keeps oscillating between two states of existence, it could collapse and release an amount of energy I don’t even wanma calculate."

For the first time, Jinx’s grin dimmed slightly.

"Yeah, sounds pretty bad when you put it like that."

Ekko clenched his jaw and tucked the detector into his belt. His hand trembled slightly.

"I don’t know what to do," he admitted quietly.

Jinx watched him in silence. Then, gently, she reached out and flicked his forehead.

"Then start with what you can do. Maybe you can’t solve it alone, but you don’t need to go shouting in the streets you found a hole in reality either. There are subtle ways to ask for help."

He lowered his gaze, his frown still there but less rigid.

"And what if it’s not enough?"

"Then you do what you always do. You find a way."

Ekko exhaled slowly and resumed his path, picking up the detector again.

The device’s faint light flickered at irregular intervals, casting bluish glows over the corroded metal surfaces.

The detector blinked again, emitting a sharp beep followed by a deeper hum. He stopped dead in his tracks, frowning as he watched the panel.

“Is that good or bad?” Jinx asked, leaning over his shoulder to look at the device.

Ekko turned the side knob, and the detector’s internal mechanism clicked as it shifted. A series of gears moved, displaying small energy fluctuations on the screen. The traces of the anomaly were faint, but they were there.

“Nothing new,” he muttered in frustration. “It just confirms the sphere passed through here. Nothing I didn’t already know.”

“Well, at least it’s not a mutant corpse or something. Look on the bright side.”

He snorted and shut off the detector with a dry click. Straightening up, he brushed the dust off himself and was about to turn on his heels when something in the scrap caught his attention.

A metal ring. Small, rusted, with an oddly familiar shape.

He frowned and crouched down, picking it up between his fingers. Its rough texture scraped against the fabric of his gloves. He turned it, examining its shape, and confusion made him swallow hard.

Another identical ring lay just a few inches away. Then another. And another.

Ekko felt a knot form in his stomach as he picked up several. They weren’t just simple metal rings.

“Well?” Jinx asked, balancing on a beam. “Did you find the key to ultimate peace, or just more trash?”

Ekko didn’t answer. His fingers closed around the rings.

Or rather, chomper pins.

There were too many. Corroded, old, but unmistakable. Scattered across the floor as if someone… had dropped them, one after another.

Ekko swallowed hard, his eyes scanning the space with a growing sense of unease. Who the hell would detonate that many chomp…?

Oh.

Fuck.

Cold sweat ran down his neck.

His fingers clutched one of the pins as he lifted his gaze, scanning the cavernous structure above his head that, suddenly, was even more familiar.

Because it wasn’t hard to picture it. Especially when Ekko’s fragile grasp on the present time was beginning to crack, little by little.

A towering ceiling.

A massive turbine.

The ledges covered in colorful doodles.

He let out a shaky breath. He could hear the echo of blaring music, smell the burnt oil and gunpowder clinging to his skin.

Ekko didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Why the fuck had that sphere appeared there? In Jinx’s old hideout?

 

                                    ──────────

 

"No matter what happened in the past..." Ekko said, his voice firm but tinged with a silent plea.

Jinx didn’t react. She remained motionless, her gaze lost in an abyss where Ekko couldn’t follow.

"It’s never too late to build something new," he added, searching her eyes for any trace of the girl he'd once known—or even a trace of his worst enemy. But neither was there. There was nothing.

Then, Jinx’s eyes moved. It was just a blink, a subtle shift that led her to glance at Ekko’s Z-drive. He followed her gaze without thinking, noticing the faint blue glow of the device and the ceaseless spinning of the tiny monkeys inside. He looked back at Jinx and, in a softer tone, let the words slip out.

"Someone worth building it for."

He stood there, watching her, his heart pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it. His right hand remained firm on the Z-drive’s cord, ready to react if the world crumbled around him once again. Jinx still held the bomb. Her pale fingers gripped it with a light yet stubborn pressure.

Her eyes—those eyes that had once been as blue as the clearest sky—now glowed with a vibrant, strange, and foreign pink. Shit. When had they changed color? Had she taken shimmer?

Ekko swallowed hard and moved with the careful slowness of someone walking on shattered glass. Every millimeter forward felt like a silent negotiation with fate.

"Jinx..." he murmured, his voice as soft as the breeze barely filtering into the hideout.

He stepped a little closer.

An inch.

Another.

"It’s okay," he whispered, carefully sliding his free hand toward the bomb. "There’s no rush. Everything will be okay."

Jinx wasn’t looking at him. She was still trapped in that invisible point. But her fingers, though rigid, hadn’t pulled the pin yet. Ekko knew it: there was still a chance.

His hand trembled slightly as he reached the bomb, but he didn’t stop. Jinx’s fingers were thin, stained with gunpowder, hardened by time.

He cupped the bomb with as much delicacy as he could.

"Just... give it to me," he asked softly. "You don’t have to do this. Everything will be okay."

Inch by inch, finger by finger, Jinx began to loosen her grip. It was such a slow process that Ekko felt the seconds stretch into eternity. His heart pounded harder, threatening to drown him. He didn’t look away, afraid that any lapse in focus would cost him everything.

And then, he felt it.

The bomb was no longer in Jinx’s hands.

For a moment, air rushed back into his lungs.

He let it go with meticulous slowness, lowering the bomb with controlled movements until it touched the ground. The moment he released it, he forced himself to take a step back, never looking away from Jinx, never letting his body betray even a hint of relief—though inside, the sensation of narrowly escaping disaster flooded him.

Ekko stared at her, his breathing ragged, his heart still hammering in his chest. Jinx remained motionless, and fear gripped him when he noticed how close she was to the edge. Without thinking too much, with extreme care, he slid his hands to her arms and held her gently.

"Jinx... please... just step away from there," his voice trembled, but he tried to stay steady. "Come with me. Let’s... let’s sit somewhere else, okay?"

She didn’t respond. Her pink eyes remained empty, lost in a point Ekko couldn’t see. A lump formed in his throat, but he didn’t loosen his grip. Slowly, inch by inch, he pulled her back with cautious, unhurried movements. His own body trembled uncontrollably.

"Please, Jinx, just... trust me. Just come with me."

Finally, she gave in. It wasn’t a conscious response—more like a lack of resistance that allowed Ekko to pull her away from the danger. With uncertain steps, he guided her toward a more central part of the ledge—still precarious, but far enough from the abyss. Ekko felt his chest deflate slightly, but the tension didn’t leave him.

"Here... here is better. Sit down, rest for a bit," he whispered, lowering his voice.

Gently, he helped Jinx lower herself to the ground, but her body seemed so drained of energy that instead of sitting, she simply lay down.

Ekko swallowed hard and quickly sat beside her, making sure not to make any sudden movements.

"It’s okay... you wanna lie down? That's fine. Just... just rest. I’ll stay here. I’ll sit here with you."

But she didn’t react. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t move, didn’t blink. Her breathing was the only thing confirming she was still there.

Ekko remained silent, watching her with a clenched heart, unable to do anything but wait.

And Jinx just... breathed.

Ekko wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Maybe an hour, maybe more. Time faded, stretched, compressed, turning into a hazy blur. Jinx lay there, on the ground, motionless, without saying a word, without moving. Not a muscle, not a gesture, nothing. Barely breathing.

But she was breathing.

That was all Ekko could confirm. Every time his gaze drifted toward her, his heart pounded harder, with an intensity he felt in his chest as if it might explode. A shiver ran through his body. A pang struck him when he couldn’t perceive anything else. But then, he saw the slight rise and fall of her chest, the faintest movement, and it brought him a sigh of relief. At least she was breathing. That, at least, was something.

Even so, the silence remained an unbearable weight. And Jinx’s stillness unsettled him deeply. What was one supposed to do in moments like this? What could he do? What should he say to her? The old friend, the former enemy… After everything that had happened, what word made sense? Ekko thought about it over and over again, but none of his ideas seemed right. Every word felt clumsy. Just thinking about what she had tried to do with her own hands made his stomach tighten.

Jinx was still there, so distant, so unreachable. Every time Ekko looked at her, wondering if there was something more he could do, the answers vanished. And as the silence stretched on, nerves began to consume him. A cold sweat formed on his forehead, and his mind urged him, somehow, to do something. Anything.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed her to react, even if only with the smallest gesture. He needed something, any sign of life. So, with a sigh, scratching his head, he decided to try something.

"You know? This place is… weird," he said, glancing around the dark hideout they were in. "It looks nice, but at the same time, it feels like walking straight into the wolf’s mouth. A wolf’s mouth with a lot of colorful lights. You’d never guess the smartest inventor in Zaun lives here, huh?"

He fell silent, waiting for some kind of reaction, anything. But nothing. Jinx didn’t move an inch.

"Well, okay, that was… that was terrible, wasn’t it?" He laughed nervously. "Okay, not funny. Sorry. It’s just that… uh… do I at least get some credit for trying? I’m pretty sure if this were a bad joke contest, I’d be winning by a landslide."

He leaned against the wall, forcing out a chuckle. He needed her to hear him, to look at him, to do something. Anything.

"Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I don’t usually talk to myself, you know?" he continued, unable to stop. "In fact, this is a full-on ‘me talking to nothing’ moment. So, if I end up losing my mind, you were the last one to hear me."

Absolute silence. Nothing. Not even a blink.

Ekko glanced at Jinx out of the corner of his eye, his heart pounding hard in his chest. He tried to suppress the rising desperation, but he couldn’t.

He kept staring at her, his mind racing, yet finding no way to escape the thick stillness surrounding them. His fingers drummed against his forearm, nerves escalating with every second of silence. If they kept going like this, there was no way either of them could bear the weight of the day, and he couldn’t leave her here.

He couldn’t.

An idea crossed his mind, small, like a spark, but it felt like the best one he’d had in hours. If she didn’t react, if they remained trapped in this muteness, they would both be stuck, in a way.

"You know what…?" he started. "It might be a good idea for you to get out a little. Some sunlight, fresh air, what do you think? I mean, I don’t know, walls can get a bit claustrophobic. Right? What we need is a breather. I know a place."

He glanced at Jinx again, searching for a sign, anything, but nothing.

"Come on, Jinx…" he said, slowly standing up, his legs trembling. "Let’s get some air. I know a place you’ll like. I’m sure of it."

Seeing no change in her, Ekko felt a new wave of nervousness take over him, and his cheeks flushed slightly, though he tried to hide it with a nervous laugh.

"Well, if you don’t get up…" he murmured, looking at Jinx. "You know how this is gonna go if you don’t. Please, Jinx."

He looked again, more urgently this time, searching for a response, any gesture. Nothing. Jinx didn’t move a finger.

"Come on…" he said, almost pleading, as he crouched slightly, trying to lift her without being too abrupt. "If you don’t make a single move, this could get really awkward for both of us. So please, do me a favor and… I don’t know, move a little. Or something."

Nothing.

Finally, with no other choice, Ekko sighed and, with a resigned expression, began to lift her gently. His hands searched for a comfortable angle to hold her, handling her with care, fearing any sudden movement might hurt her. Fuck, he hadn’t even checked if she hurt herself. Mental note: do that as soon as they reached the tree.

No matter how carefully he tried to move her, the feeling that she wasn’t making the slightest effort to help made him even more anxious.

"Well, this is gonna be a long walk," he muttered through his teeth, already struggling to keep his balance as he positioned her on his back. "Hope you don’t mind I didn’t bring the hoverboard. I know deep down you love them, but, you know, I don’t usually carry it with me when I’m coming back from alternate realities."

Jinx, of course, didn’t move a single muscle. Her breathing remained faint, a soft whisper barely filling the space between them. Ekko, carefully stepping along one of the ledges, kept talking.

"And anyway, if I had brought the board, it definitely wouldn’t hold both our weight. No, we’d need a bigger one, an upgraded one. Yeah, that. You’d know how to improve those things. You’ve always been a genius, right?"

His nervous laugh barely eased the tightness in his stomach. She, of course, didn’t even flinch. It was like carrying a ragdoll—light but completely lifeless.

Ekko couldn’t help but let out a small sigh of frustration, though he tried to mask it with a smile.

"Yeah… this is gonna be one of those moments, huh?" he said. He still had vivid memories of how Powder used to punish those who upset her in her own way. Himself included at times. "Is this what I’m in for from now on? The eternal silent treatment? Some things never change, right?"

As he carried her on his back, Ekko couldn’t pinpoint the exac t moment when everything he'd known ceased to exist.

Because everything had changed. Everything.

 

                                       ──────────

 

Stupid. That’s what this was. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And desperate.

Ekko stood in front of a house in Zaun, one that stood out peculiarly compared to the others. It wasn’t luxurious or flashy, but it had an air of solidity and resilience. While most buildings around it were makeshift structures, corroded by factory soot and covered with exposed pipes that exhaled faint, not-so-toxic steam, this house had a minimalist yet functional design.

Built with thick reinforced metal plates, its facade was devoid of unnecessary embellishments. The windows were small and protected by wrought iron bars, and the door was a steel monolith with a security mechanism that practically screamed “Not just anyone gets in here.” The roof had a slight slope, designed to divert the chemical waste that often still fell with the rain in Zaun.

Despite its austere appearance, the house had a certain charm, with clean lines and a soft light barely filtering through thick curtains. Still, everything about its design suggested a readiness for the worst.

Ekko had rarely seen anyone enter or leave. He never imagined he would now be standing at that door, heart pounding with frustration and desperation. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

And the last two days had been hell.

His first attempt to find help had led him to Zaun’s underground scientists. Going to them meant diving into the darkest corners of the city, where improvised labs operated amid shadows and corrosion. His old contacts had greeted him with skepticism. They held the sphere with precision gloves, exposed it to magnetic fields, tried to stabilize it with controlled energy charges. Nothing worked. Some even suggested he just sell it and forget the whole thing. Frustrated and feeling increasingly swindled, Ekko left empty-handed.

Next, he tried the alchemists from the lower districts—experts in chemical solutions and controlled reactions. They led him to a hidden lab beneath a poorly lit tavern. There, surrounded by jars of viscous liquids and unsettlingly colorful fumes, they attempted to break down the sphere with acidic solutions, hexchemical catalysts, and even neutralizing vapors. But the sphere resisted everything. No reaction, not even a change in its structure. Ekko walked away, feeling time slip through his fingers.

As a last resort, he visited the mechanics from the sublevels—those who lived in Zaun’s underbelly, surrounded by rusted gears and forgotten machinery. Superstitious and distrustful, but unmatched in their knowledge of technology. They examined the sphere with magnifying glasses, comparing it to old Hextech schematics. Their conclusion was obvious: it seemed like a remnant of old Piltover, perhaps something that should never have existed. But none could identify its exact design or understand how it worked. The unease on their faces turned to rejection, and soon they were whispering that it was better to get rid of it before it brought bad luck. Eventually, they threw him out.

Ekko knew he would never turn to Piltover. Not only would it be suicide, but it could make things worse for everyone. But he couldn’t give up without trying everything. And there was someone in Zaun with more contacts and influence than anyone else. Someone who, even if Ekko didn’t want to admit it, had as much reason as he did to ensure that no Hextech garbage affected Zaunites.

«If you ever need me, you know where to find me.»

"This is completely stupid," he muttered to himself.

For a moment, he was about to turn back. But with visible effort, he knocked on the door. Waited. Nothing. He knocked again, this time a bit harder. Still nothing. Finally, clenching his fist, he delivered a series of sharp, heavy knocks.

From the other side, a female voice shouted.

"If this isn’t a damn emergency, I’ll rip your face off and use it as a doormat!"

The door swung open abruptly. Standing in front of Ekko, with a scowl and a sharp, cutting gaze, was Sevika.

She wore a dark, sleeveless shirt, its edges frayed, with clear oil stains on the fabric. Her mechanical arm had some parts dismantled, as if she’d been adjusting it before Ekko interrupted. She wore loose-fitting pants and reinforced boots, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail. Despite her more relaxed attire, her presence remained as imposing as ever.

Ekko crossed his arms and clicked his tongue.

"Finally decided to open up. I was starting to wonder if you’d died in there."

Sevika leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow and scoffing.

"What a tragedy that would’ve been for humanity," she replied. "You’re an insufferable brat, you know that? I just took my time deciding whether it was worth opening the door for an idiot like you."

Ekko rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall.

"Such an honor," he said. "Honestly, I was hoping you’d be a little faster. Or are your old bones not holding up so well anymore?"

Sevika let out a dry laugh.

"Look who’s talking. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks. Actually, you reek of desperation, kid. Don’t you ever get tired of being so damn annoying?"

He crossed his arms and tilted his head, smirking.

"Funny coming from you. You always look like that. In fact, I think you’re the only person in Zaun who looks more exhausted than I do. Or is there actually someone who cares enough to be worried about you looking like an ogre?"

Sevika narrowed her eyes.

"Keep barking, and I’ll slam the door in your face."

There was a brief silence. The closest thing to an unspoken truce between them. Finally, Sevika exhaled with resignation and rested a hand on the doorframe.

"Alright. What the hell do you want?"

Ekko sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

"You said if I ever..."

He didn’t finish the sentence. Just being there was humiliating enough.

She sighed, rolled her eyes, and with obvious annoyance, opened the door wider.

"Get in before I change my mind."

Ekko hesitated for a second but finally stepped forward, crossing the threshold. It felt like walking into a wolf’s den. And maybe he wasn’t so wrong.

Sevika led him through the house with heavy steps. The interior kept the minimalist aesthetic of the exterior—no unnecessary luxuries, but with personal touches that spoke volumes about its owner: a couple of sharp knives embedded in a wooden board by the kitchen, a half-empty liquor bottle on a shelf, and some thick jackets carelessly hung on a coat rack. The dark gray walls gave the feeling of a refuge more than a home.

They finally reached the living room. A fireplace in the corner cast a faint, flickering light across the room. Sevika sank into a worn-out armchair in front of a small table, exhaling heavily as she stretched out her legs. Ekko remained standing, arms crossed, looking away with a frown.

"Well?" Sevika said, raising an eyebrow. "What the hell do you want?"

He reached into his bag and pulled out the sphere, placing it on the table with a sharp thud. She frowned, eyeing it with confusion.

"A carnival trinket? Don’t tell me you came all the way here to sell me junk."

"Oh, sure," Ekko scoffed. "Because I’ve got nothing better to do than show up just to get insulted. Look closer, this isn’t a trinket."

She spun it around with her fingers, examining it with disinterest.

"Where did you get this?"

"A merchant found it among the remains of some purification tanks," Ekko replied. "Thought it was just a piece of trash—until it started glowing and making weird noises."

"And what part of all this am I supposed to give a shit about, or think is any of my business?"

"Just...!" Ekko clenched a fist tightly, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Just listen, okay?"

Sevika sighed and drummed her fingers on the table.

"Tell me, you damn nerd. What's so weird about it besides being ugly?"

"For starters, it's not anchored to reality. At least, not this one," Ekko said, pointing at it. "When I touch it with my tools, it changes shape, like it can't decide what the hell it is. Its gears spin in directions they... shouldn't. If I leave it on the table, it disappears and reappears like it's playing hide and seek. And when I try to dismantle it, it resets itself and emits a buzz that makes my skin crawl."

She blinked slowly, clearly not understanding half of what he said.

"Translate that into normal language, smartass."

Ekko growled, rubbing his temple.

"It's like this thing exists in two places at once. Or two different times. Imagine holding a coin in your hand, but instead of being in your palm, it's also on the other side of the table. At the same time. And if you try to grab it, it chooses where it wants to be and mocks you."

She stared at him for a few seconds before snorting.

"Sounds like a headache."

"Congratulations, you got the easy part," he shot back.

"If you're such a great engineer like they say in Zaun, why the hell haven't you solved this on your own?" 

Ekko snorted in frustration, running a hand through his messy white hair. His foot tapped the ground impatiently.

"Right, because I haven't tried everything, have I? I totally didn’t spend countless nights tearing my head apart over this! I’m not completely losing my mind for nothing! No, of course not!" he snapped.

Sevika picked up the artifact with her mechanical hand, turning it between her fingers with disinterest.

"Sounds like your problem, not mine."

"Of course it's my problem!" Ekko huffed, throwing his hands in the air. "But you know what? It's also your problem, because it just so happens that the great councilor has more access to resources and contacts than any other idiot in this sewer. And unless you’ve got something better to do, maybe you could use that pretty position of yours to get me what I need."

She clicked her tongue and let out a dry laugh.

"And what makes you think I know anyone smarter than you?" she asked.

"It's not about being smarter," Ekko growled. "It's about access. My tools are designed to operate in a world without Hextech, without runes, you get it?" He pointed at the artifact. "It's like trying to plug something modern into a socket from a hundred years ago. It just doesn't work."

She watched him silently. Ekko gritted his teeth a little more.

"I need a proper power source and a way to interpret how it functions. But I don't have the slightest damn clue where to get that. You, on the other hand..."

"Me, on the other hand, what?" she interrupted, leaning in slightly. "Got a magic wand? Gonna pull the solution out of thin air because you're a spoiled brat who can't handle things not going his way?"

Ekko slammed his palm against a nearby table.

"Dammit! I've tried everything! Every tool, every conductor, every power source I could get my hands on. Nothing works! Nothing!" His shoulders heaved with each heavy breath. "So yeah, I’m desperate. Because every minute wasted on this is another minute lost. And I don’t know how many more I can afford!"

Sevika stared at him, her gaze sharp as a scalpel. Then, in a cold, firm tone, she spoke.

"Sit down."

Ekko looked at her incredulously.

"I'm fine—"

"I'm not asking. Sit."

The young man clenched his jaw, shooting her a death glare. But after a second, he let his weight drop into the chair across from her, sinking into the backrest. He exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.

Sevika didn’t speak right away. She simply stared at him, her eyes analyzing every little twitch in Ekko’s expression. He tried to hold her gaze, but the intensity of her scrutiny began to unsettle him. He shifted in his seat, restless.

And then, without breaking eye contact, Sevika murmured:

"You're as stubborn as she was, you know that?"

Ekko immediately tensed. The fury that had been burning inside him seemed to lose a bit of its strength. He didn’t answer right away, just watched her cautiously.

Sevika, unhurried, reached for a nearby shelf. Without getting up, she pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured two glasses. Then, with a solid thud, she set one down in front of Ekko on the small table between them.

He stared at the glass for a moment before looking back at her.

She shrugged, taking her own glass.

"It's whiskey. Drink it or leave it. I don't care."

Ekko exhaled through his nose and took the glass reluctantly. He turned it between his fingers, watching how the golden liquid slid smoothly along the glass. Finally, he let out a sigh and brought it to his lips.

The familiar burn ran down his throat—strong but comforting. If Sevika had anything going for her, besides her awful attitude, it was good taste in liquor.

She watched him with a half-smile.

"At least you're not a crybaby when it comes to alcohol."

Ekko shot her an annoyed look, setting the glass down on the table with a sharp tap.

"Don't start."

"Just saying," she replied. "Too many idiots in Zaun can’t tell the difference between a decent whiskey and the poison they sell in the sewers."

He rolled his eyes.

"Sure. Too bad your fine taste doesn’t extend to the company you keep."

She let out a low, gravelly laugh and took a long sip from her glass.

"You've got guts to talk to me like that, kid."

"I'm not a kid."

"Of course you are," she replied, leaning forward. "An irritating kid with a problem on his hands he can’t solve by himself."

Ekko clenched his jaw but didn’t argue. She was right.

"Haven’t you tried the underground scientists in Zaun?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before responding.

"Yeah. I reached out to old contacts, but none of them can understand the mechanism or stabilize it. They think it works on a principle they’ve never seen before."

Sevika swirled her glass in her hand, studying it like she would someone who’d just messed up in a bar fight.

"And the alchemists from the lower districts?"

Ekko shook his head.

"Been there too. They tried chemical solutions and controlled reactions, but the sphere rejects every interaction."

She frowned briefly before masking it with a neutral expression.

"And the mechanics from the sublevels?"

He let out a bitter laugh.

"They think it’s a remnant, but no one recognizes the exact design or knows how to handle it. And on top of that, they don’t even wanna touch it."

"Why?"

Ekko looked at her with irritation.

"Because they think it’s cursed. That it’s better left alone before it explodes or turns us all into mutant frogs."

Sevika snorted—not mockingly, but with the recognition that, in Zaun, superstitions like that were common currency.

"Fucking cowards," she growled, pouring herself another shot of whiskey.

He tapped his fingers against the table, his gaze fixed on the glass.

"I’ve got no one left."

The confession hung in the air between them. For the first time in their whole conversation, Ekko’s voice wasn’t laced with sarcasm—just heavy exhaustion.

Sevika exhaled slowly, resting an elbow on the back of her chair, her expression softening just a bit.

"Do you have any idea what that thing actually does?"

Ekko tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

"If I did, I wouldn’t be here."

"And what makes you think I will?"

Ekko glanced at her sideways and took another sip of whiskey before answering.

"Because you're a damn cockroach with connections everywhere."

She chuckled.

"Now you're talking with some respect."

"Not even a little."

"I like that."

He scoffed and shook his head. For a moment, he almost forgot he was asking for help from a woman he'd considered an enemy more than once. But in Zaun, allies weren’t always what you expected.

Ekko spun the glass between his fingers, watching the amber liquid reflect the flickering light of the fireplace. Sevika glanced at him sideways as she drank, calm as someone in no hurry to speak. He, on the other hand, felt his patience draining faster than the whiskey in his glass.

"So, are you gonna tell me if you’ve got any contacts, or do you just enjoy wasting my time?" he snapped, taking a long swig of whiskey.

Sevika gave a faint smile.

"I don’t like wasting your time. I love it."

"Shocking."

"Easy, kid. I wanna understand just how screwed this is before I start moving my pieces." Sevika narrowed her eyes, sizing him up. "You’ve got that look on your face. What’s so special about that trinket?"

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, making it even messier.

"It’s proof."

"Of what?"

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

"That temporal fractures in Zaun are real. And active."

She said nothing, but her expression tightened slightly.

"If this artifact managed to slip through from... wherever it came from, what else could show up?"

Sevika slowly turned her glass, thoughtful.

"Sounds like a nightmare."

"Welcome to my life."

"So what you’re saying," she leaned in slightly, "is this could get a lot worse."

Ekko nodded stiffly.

"The artifact’s oscillating between two states of existence. If it collapses, it could release an uncontrollable amount of energy."

She frowned.

"And no one in Zaun can predict what the hell something like that would do."

He clicked his tongue.

"Exactly."

She took a sip, studying him carefully.

"If it’s that dangerous, why not destroy it?"

Ekko stared at her in disbelief.

"Are you stupid?"

"Watch your mouth, kid."

"It’s an object oscillating between two states of existence. If I destroy it without understanding it, what do you think will happen?"

"Well, maybe you’ll blow your own face off."

"Or maybe I’ll break something worse," he muttered, voice low.

Sevika leaned back in her chair with a sigh.

"Of all the crap Zaun has to deal with, now we’ve got this too."

He drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair. She grabbed her glass again and took a long drink.

"We could take it to Piltover."

Ekko nearly choked on his drink. He coughed, cleared his throat, and stared at her like she’d lost her mind.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I’m just saying—"

"No. Stop. Don’t even think about it."

Sevika raised an eyebrow.

"Are you gonna explain your brilliant theory, or just keep acting like you’re the only one with a brain in this damn city?"

He exhaled sharply, resting his elbow on the chair’s backrest, pointing at her with his glass.

"Look, I’m no genius, but even I know that any official investigation over there would mean the council would snatch the sphere away from us."

"Uh-huh."

"Uh-huh? That’s all you’ve got to say?"

"Go on. I’m enjoying your little speech."

Ekko snorted and leaned forward.

"If Piltover finds out about this, they’ll do what they always do: take it, study it, mess with it until it blows up in their faces, and then blame Zaun for the disaster."

Sevika clicked her tongue.

"Yeah, sounds like them."

"And you know what’s worse? They’ll see it as a chance. You know as well as I do—they’re desperate for anything that’ll put them back on top. You think they won’t want to get their hands on this and see what they can pull from it?"

"Probably."

He rubbed his face in frustration.

"We can’t trust them."

"Oh, really? You don’t say."

Ekko dropped his hand and glared at her.

"Can you let me finish a damn thought without interrupting?"

"No."

He let out a low growl and slumped back into his chair.

"And besides," he went on, still irritated, "even if you wanted to play peacekeeper and convince them, do you really think Piltover’s council would listen to you?"

Sevika let out a dry laugh.

"Oh, but that’s nothing new."

There was a brief silence. Ekko glanced sideways at her.

Sevika’s scowl seemed to soften just a little as she watched the bubbles swirl in her glass. Her eyes didn’t hold their usual defiance—just… sadness. Or maybe defeat.

And he felt a pang.

He wasn’t sure what it was. Guilt for running his mouth without thinking? Maybe… pity? Compassion? He didn’t know for sure, and before he could think it through, his mouth moved on its own.

"Must suck. Being the only Zaunite there."

She didn’t answer right away. She turned the glass in her hands again, watching the fire’s reflection in the whiskey.

"Yeah," she finally said, voice low. "It does."

He wasn’t sure what surprised him more—that she admitted it, or the way she said it.

Sevika sighed and took another drink before speaking.

"I didn’t expect respect, but… I don’t know. They ignore me when I talk. They snicker among themselves when I walk into a meeting. And if, by some miracle, I get them to listen, it’s only because they think they can use me for something."

He stared down at his own glass.

"Bastards."

"You have no idea." She rested her elbow on the chair’s arm, running a hand down her face. "But that’s not the worst part."

Ekko looked up.

"Then what is?"

She met his gaze directly.

"The worst part is there are days when… I wonder if it’s worth it. If all this effort means anything or if I’m just entertaining those bastards while they do whatever they want."

He felt a lump in his throat. He’d thought about it before—but hearing it from her…

"That’s messed up," he muttered.

Sevika let out a laugh.

"Wow, what an inspiring pep talk."

He rolled his eyes.

"I’m trying, okay?"

"Sure."

Another silence fell, but this time, for some reason, it wasn’t uncomfortable. The fireplace crackled, whiskey burned down their throats, and for a moment, neither of them felt the need to fill the air with pointless words.

Finally, Ekko sighed.

"Look, I don’t know if it’s worth it or not, but someone’s gotta be there, right? Someone who doesn’t swallow their lies and doesn’t let them do whatever the hell they want."

She shot him a sideways glance.

"And you think I’m that person?"

He shrugged.

"At least you make their lives miserable. That’s something."

Sevika watched him for a moment before giving the slightest smile.

"Yeah. I guess it is."

Before she could notice the small smile Ekko gave back, they had both turned their eyes back to the fire.

The crackling flames filled the room with a steady murmur, casting jagged shadows across their tense faces as they sank into the worn leather chairs.

He spoke first, spinning his glass impatiently between his fingers.

"Piltover’s off the table." His voice was as rough as the liquor he downed in one quick gulp. "All they’ll do is look at you like a failed experiment. And screw it up all over again."

Sevika let out a dry chuckle, resting her arm on the edge of the chair with a dull metallic thud.

"And Zaun? No one else?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

Ekko shot her an annoyed glare.

"If I had any connections left, I wouldn’t be sitting here listening to you chew through every damn word."

"You’ve got a real talent for being unpleasant, kid," She growled, taking a slow sip, though she knew he was right.

Silence fell as both of them stewed in shared frustration. Ekko finally straightened in his seat, drumming his fingers against the glass.

"Outside of Zaun and Piltover, then?" he said sarcastically. "Great. What now, Noxus? I’m sure I’d love getting crushed by some empire-hungry brute."

Sevika raised an unimpressed brow.

"And Shurima? Maybe you can ask some sun god for a favor."

"Shurima? Yeah, because nothing says ‘scientific solution’ like being devoured by a thousand-year-old mummy," he shot back.

Sevika narrowed her eyes, exhaling through her nose, voice dropping lower.

"Targon?"

Ekko fell silent for a moment. He blinked, sarcasm catching halfway in his throat. Finally, he let out an incredulous laugh.

"Targon? Really? You want me to climb some giant mountain and beg… what? Shooting stars?"

She didn’t flinch.

"I’ve heard things. Rumors about scholars in the Star Bastion. They study cosmic phenomena, temporal distortions… things you and I can’t understand. I don’t know how reliable they are, but maybe they’ll have an answer if you ask nicely."

"And you believe those stories?"

"No. But I believe in keeping Zaun from getting caught in another damn technological disaster," Sevika said dryly, setting her glass down with a dull thud. "I don’t want another mess. If that anomaly of yours blows in our faces, there won’t be a dark enough alley to hide in."

Ekko stared into the fire, the sarcasm slowly dissolving.

"You’d help me… get there?" he finally asked, voice low, almost disbelieving.

She scoffed, but her gaze hardened.

"If it keeps Zaun out of another war, yeah. And as unbearable as you are, you’re the best shot we’ve got."

"Was that a compliment?"

"Don’t get used to it."

He chuckled softly, swirling his glass, ice clinking against the crystal.

"Alright, if you really want me to climb that damn mountain, I’ll need an airship," he said. "I’m not hiking every damn step on foot, am I?"

Sevika let out a harsh laugh.

"An airship? Sure, just let me call Piltover and tell them some Zaun brat needs a VIP pass. I’m sure they’ll hand it over with a pretty little bow."

Ekko shot her a sharp look.

"Why do you need their permission? Like it or not, you're a counselor too."

"Airships and flight routes are strictly regulated by Piltover, genius," Sevika replied with a smirk. "Any unauthorized flight would be intercepted before you could say 'takeoff.'"

He growled, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.

"So what? Can't you get authorization?"

"Even if I could, do you think they'd lend me an airship just to hand it over to a zaunite without an explanation? Don't make me laugh." She took another swig of whiskey. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be the genius behind hoverboards? Thought you had the big tech for that."

Ekko scoffed, a bitter smile curling his lips.

"Yeah, but my battery wouldn’t last halfway before exploding mid-air. And honestly, freezing to death in a free fall isn’t exactly on my to-do list."

Silence settled again.

"There’s another option," Sevika said at last, her voice low and firm.

He narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not gonna like it, am I?"

"Travel by sea," she proposed. "From Gray Harbor. Sea routes are less monitored. Piltover doesn't control the traffic like it used to."

Ekko frowned, discomfort flickering across his face before quickly being masked by a grimace.

"The sea? Really? You expect me to set sail with zero clue about ships? Plus, it's slow. And it stinks."

She rolled her eyes.

"Unlike the skies, no one’s gonna intercept you at sea. At Gray Harbor, the checks are a joke. You can leave without drawing attention. It’s your best shot."

He took a long sip of whiskey, unable to hide his distaste.

"Not a fan of water," he muttered, eyes locked on the fire, brow furrowed. "I know nothing about ships, and being stuck in the middle of the damn ocean sounds like a brilliant way to die."

"So what would you rather? Stay here and wait for that anomaly to blow up in your face?" Sevika leaned forward. "A discreet ship could get you out without Piltover catching wind. It's that or nothing."

Ekko scoffed but didn’t answer. The sea… Just the thought twisted his stomach.

And apparently, he wasn’t good at hiding it, because Sevika’s gaze pinned him immediately.

She stared at him for a moment, then glanced at her glass. Her voice, for once, softened just a bit.

"You know, my old man was a sailor."

Ekko raised an eyebrow. 

"And what does that have to do with anything?"

She shrugged. 

"Not much. I barely remember him. Died while I was making a living in Zaun’s fight clubs. Great guy, huh? Real charmer."

Sevika shook her head with a bitter laugh, but Ekko caught a flicker of something in her eyes—something he never expected to see. Pain.

She kept talking, eyes locked on the fire.

"Always grumpy. Slept little. Sometimes, he’d just... sit there, staring at nothing, bottle in hand. Once... he stayed at the kitchen table all night, dead silent. Only the damn clock ticking filled the house. Gave me the creeps."

She took a long drink before continuing.

"But when he came back from his trips, something... changed. Not much, sure, he was still the same bastard. But... sometimes he laughed. Or at least stopped growling for five minutes. Guess the sea did him some good, somehow."

The silence stretched. Ekko sighed. Sevika let out a rough chuckle.

"And I know a spoiled brat who looks just like he did."

He crossed his arms, shooting her a deadly glare.

"Since when are you a damn therapist?"

Sevika raised her glass in a mocking toast.

"Just saying, the sea might wipe that funeral look off your face. Or at least help you sleep a little."

Ekko let out a dry laugh, staring at the flames.

The memory hit suddenly, without warning, clawing its way from some forgotten corner of his mind, rotten by years of hunger, fear, street thugs, and too many dead faces around him. Two in particular, often forgotten entirely—yet stupid little things like this would drag them back.

"My father was a fisherman."

Sevika looked at him, but Ekko didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, the crackling of burning wood felt oddly comforting.

He drummed his fingers against the glass's rim. He had said more than he wanted to—more than he usually allowed himself. Maybe it was the darkness of the room, maybe the way Sevika didn’t fill the air with unnecessary words, but it pushed him to let it slip.

She didn’t need much more to understand. In Zaun, losing parents wasn’t rare, especially for someone Ekko’s age.

"Do you remember them?"

Ekko didn’t look at her directly, but if he hadn’t caught her silhouette from the corner of his eye, he could’ve sworn that voice didn’t belong to the Sevika he knew.

"I know they used to work in Zaun's factorys while they could still handle the gas in there. Both got kicked out when they got... worse. But I don’t remember their faces," he said, his voice lower than usual. "Or their voices. Not even their smell. They died long before the Bridge disaster. And since Benzo liked them, I ended up staying with him."

Sevika didn’t answer. She just turned the glass in her hand, ice clinking inside.

He simply toyed with his glass.

"I know my father’s name was Wyeth. After leaving the factorys, he used to be a fisherman… well, what they called a fisherman in Zaun. He scavenged from the canals, whatever topsiders tossed out. Some things were worth something, others..." He shrugged. "Sometimes, he caught actual fish, though Benzo told me people used to say they were more metal than flesh with all the crap they swallowed from the water."

She nodded.

"And your mother?"

Ekko stared down at his glass.

"Inna. When the gas left her barely able to breathe, she started painting. Or so Benzo said. I don’t know what she painted or if she was any good. I don’t have anything from her... Well, except for a brush so worn down it’s useless." He paused, then sighed. "I also have my father’s fishing rod. Found it in the rubble of Benzo’s shop when I fixed it up. I don’t know why I kept it."

This time, Sevika didn’t ask anything else. No sarcastic comments. She didn’t really know what to do. Maybe just sitting in silence with the kid was enough.

Ekko clicked his tongue and leaned back in the chair, picking up the sphere from the table and stashing it in his bag.

"Well," he said, lighter now. "Thanks for the whiskey, but clearly you can’t help me. And finding help by sea... not an option."

Sevika let out a low, rough laugh.

"Keep running, brat. Let’s see if you find anything better."

"Killing Strangers" - Marilyn Manson

Ekko shot her a glare, though it softened almost involuntarily before he stood up. Hands shoved into his pockets, he made his way to the door. Sevika’s narrow hallways made him feel even more tangled in his thoughts than he already was.

He reached the door, opened it without rushing, and stepped outside, leaving behind the scent of whiskey and burnt wood. For some reason, the mix was oddly comforting.

Or maybe it had nothing to do with the smell—but he’d never admit that, not even in his wildest dreams.

He took a few steps before coming to a sudden halt. His breath escaped in a heavy sigh, his shoulders sinking just a little. He stood there in the middle of the street as the night breeze tousled his hair, and the city’s distant hum carried on, indifferent to his dilemma.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting tension gather in his jaw. He knew he had to move, find a solution, but every option crumbled before it even took shape. No easy path. No help. He knew that.

And yet, he forced himself to run through every possibility in his mind, as if somewhere, hidden deep in the cracks of his brain, an answer was waiting.

But the more he thought about it, the clearer it became: he only had one option. And admitting it irritated him just as much as it made his skin crawl.

His fingers clenched, and a shiver ran down his spine. His pulse quickened, heartbeats pounding in his ears like a war drum. He swallowed hard, but his throat remained dry.

Then, he felt it.

Inside his bag, the sphere vibrated with a low hum—barely a growl—but it froze his blood. A silent taunt, as if time itself was laughing at him. Every second dragged him closer to the inevitable, and that damn sphere knew it. A cruel reminder that he didn’t have the luxury to wait, to hesitate.

Ekko exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders drop. Without a word, without letting his mind spiral further, he turned on his heel and went back to the door he had crossed minutes before.

He knocked twice with his fist.

The door opened immediately.

Sevika stood there, eyebrows raised. She stared silently, evaluating him, waiting. Ekko met her gaze with the look of someone who had already lost the fight before even stepping into the ring. A flicker of fury and surrender sparked in his eyes.

He let out one last sigh.

"How fast can you get me a ship?"

Notes:

Ekko’s journey begins!! I’m beyond excited to bring to life the ideas I have for the upcoming chapters, exploring the things Ekko will uncover on his path… and not just about the anomaly.

If you liked this chapter, kudos and comments are always welcome!!
Any thoughts, feedback, or constructive criticism about this story are also welcome on my Twitter account: jinxedbypow.

Chapter 4: "Icy Warmth, Burning Cold"

Summary:

Battling the loneliness of her workshop and a particularly cold night in Bilgewater, Jinx crosses paths with a famous and scheming bounty hunter. A peculiar request for the Great Hunt puts Jinx in a sticky situation.

Notes:

I'm back with a new chapter! This time, we're back to Jinx's side of the story—though in the next chapters, both sides of the story will start to intertwine…

If you like Bilgewater, you probably know exactly who's about to show up in this chapter.

And if not, hopefully, you'll like her… or maybe not so much.

Enjoy!

Jinx hated cold nights.

Night had settled over Bilgewater with an infernal chill—the kind that seeped into your bones and made even the most stubborn ruffians seek a warm corner to take shelter. And there were few things Jinx hated as much as those nights.

Bilgewater wasn’t always like this. Most nights were humid, sticky, thick with the stench of the sea and gunpowder hanging in the air. But when the tide changed and the wind blew in from the open waters, the cold became a curse. The ocean, in its infinite cruelty, absorbed the heat during the day and returned it as a biting frost when the sun disappeared. And if the currents carried water from the south, where the depths were colder and deadlier, the temperature dropped even further.

It was one of those nights when the Beast’s Spine turned into a freezing nocturnal wasteland. Jinx was curled up in her workshop, wrapped in a blanket so thin it might as well have been a rag. Not even the brats dared to come by. Deep down, at least for that night, she wished they would. Even if it was just to annoy her, to interrupt her thoughts with stupid laughter and irritating questions. Maybe, just maybe, to huddle under the blanket with her, sharing a bit of warmth. But of course, the brats weren’t idiots. They were probably holed up somewhere warmer in the city, far from the damned breeze that made the Spine one of the coldest places in Bilgewater.

Jinx just hoped they were safe.

The workshop didn’t help either. Even though the walls were reinforced with stone looted from some old temple—because robbing temples was easier than paying for materials—the cold found its way through every crack and crevice. Some of those cracks were courtesy of failed rune experiments, the kind where magic exploded in her face and left her crackling for hours. Others were scars from altercations with pirates too insistent on getting a discount. And then there were the intentional explosions. The cause didn’t matter; in the end, the cold always found a way in.

Jinx gritted her teeth and hugged her knees to her chest. Her body, altered by who knows how much shimmer, never retained heat like a normal person’s. Sometimes her veins glowed with that electric pink light, and though the substance coursing through her blood made her fast—faster than anyone—and unpredictable... It also made her cold. It was strange, like her body was constantly dissipating warmth instead of keeping it, as if she were in a state of perpetual combustion that never fully ignited. That’s why, on nights like this, she was forced to curl up in bed and hug herself.

Ha. As if that could make her feel any less cold. Any less empty.

Most of the time, it didn’t work. And of course, her only company on nights like this—the ghosts of those she’d lost, lingering in the solitude—were just as cold as she was.

After a while of twisting between shivers and curses, she’d had enough. She wasn’t gonna sit there trembling like an idiot. Throwing her cloak over her shoulders, she decided to head down to the market. At least there, there would be some movement, even if minimal, and something to distract her other than the sound of her chattering teeth.

Bilgewater’s market never truly slept. During the day, it was a boiling mess of shouting, haggling, and blatant scams. Stolen weapons were sold, exotic creatures were smuggled, and poisons were traded as easily as fish. But at dawn, the frenzy faded into a steady murmur. Only the most desperate merchants remained—those who couldn’t afford to close. Lantern lights flickered through the haze of tobacco smoke and burnt oil, illuminating faces hardened by salt and a life in the underworld.

Jinx strolled through the stalls, flashing mocking smiles here and there, enjoying how some people avoided her. Others, either fools or the brave, tried to bargain with her. As usual, none succeeded, but at least she had some fun watching the faces of those daring enough to make such a request to her.

After bothering the merchants enough, she decided to continue her walk. Her destination, of course, was The Blind Siren—one of her favorite taverns.

The walk wasn’t short, but she knew it by heart. From the market, she took the alley past the old shark cannery, where the stench of rotting fish mixed with brine. She passed the smugglers' dock, where shadows moved in patterns suspicious enough that Jinx always looked the other way, and crossed the hanging bridge over the Blackwater Cove, where more than one unfortunate soul had ended up floating face down. She climbed through the narrow alleys winding between slanted buildings until she finally saw the wooden sign with the siren carved into it.

She didn’t hesitate for a second before stepping inside.

"Hell Or Highwater" - Addie Hamilton

The door creaked open, and a wave of heat and noise hit her square in the face. The tavern's interior was a chaos of packed tables, spilled drinks, and clandestine bets. People laughed, shouted, and brawled with enthusiasm. Just what she needed.

The tavern stood as a rowdy, vibrant dive at the heart of Bilgewater, where filth and decadence fused with the bustle of the city's most influential—and most disgusting—figures. The Blind Siren was a seedy tavern like many others, with dark wooden walls scarred by years of brawls, gunfights, and stabbings, and a structure barely held together with old planks and fishing nets that had more than once been necessary to restrain some furious drunk.

The ceiling was blackened with soot from countless torches and oil lamps improperly extinguished, and thick ropes hung from the upper beams, adorned with makeshift decorations: massive fish skulls, empty bottles, and, according to rumors, the occasional mummified hand from those who hadn’t paid their debts. The tables and chairs were arranged haphazardly; some wobbled on broken legs, reinforced with scraps of wood, while others were on the verge of collapsing under the weight of the drunken pirates and mercenaries occupying them.

The air was thick with that intoxicating mix of cheap rum, stale sweat, and the unmistakable scent of saltwater seeping through the damp wooden planks. The roar of drunken men belting out incomprehensible sea shanties filled the air, accompanied by the clatter of gambling chips thrown onto tables and the clinking of overflowing mugs. In one corner, a group of corsairs argued heatedly over who had sunk the most ships in the last storm, while near the bar, a pair of old sailors tried to convince a waitress that their gold was as good as anyone’s, though judging by their rags, they didn’t seem to have much.

The heat inside was stifling compared to the infernal cold outside, and Jinx felt it immediately as she walked in. It wasn’t just the temperature—it was the sticky sensation in the air, the sweat of bodies packed together, the stench of alcohol-soaked wood, and the ever-present possibility that any moment could erupt into a brawl, ending with chairs—or hair—on fire.

She shrugged off her cloak and let it fall, revealing her outfit for the night: a tight black leather corset laced at the front, leaving her abdomen exposed, decorated with tattoos that coiled over her skin like trails of gunpowder. Around her hips hung a long linen skirt, held up by a belt adorned with trinkets of all kinds—lead bullets, polished shark teeth, miniature bronze anchors, and even a golden poker chip she had stolen from an overconfident captain. On one side of the belt, a sharp dagger dangled; on the other, her oldest and most prized creation—a precision rune cannon, polished and ready to blow apart anyone who dared to cross her.

Jinx strode across the sticky floor, her long blue hair cascading down her back, braided with tiny strands of coral-colored beads. She didn’t need to speak or make a gesture to draw attention—the moment she stepped inside, the noise dipped slightly, and eyes turned toward her, without a shred of subtlety.

The murmurs spread like wildfire. Some were chuckles under their breath, others were clumsy whispers between lips soaked in rum.

"Miss J!" bellowed a corsair with a scar running across his nose. "How about warming my bed tonight? I swear I don’t snore that much."

Jinx didn’t even turn, but she raised her voice without missing a beat.

"I'm not interested in sharing a bed with someone who probably cries in his sleep."

Laughter erupted among those around them, and the corsair shifted in his seat with a grin that was somewhere between amused and annoyed.

Another pirate, with a ruined eye and gold teeth, raised his mug and toasted in her direction.

"If you’re looking for a drink, babe, come have something of mine."

"I’d rather drink harbor water."

The pirate spat out his laughter, slamming his fist on the table.

Further ahead, a sailor too drunk to stay upright wobbled in his seat and winked at her.

"I heard you like explosions, doll. Well, let me tell you, with me..."

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Jinx walked past him and, without looking, patted his head.

"Come back when you have something more impressive than damp gunpowder."

Roars of laughter and jeers at the unfortunate sailor filled the air, but Jinx kept walking, unfazed.

She knew no one would dare touch her—at least not if they wanted to keep all their teeth in place. It was whispered in Bilgewater that the dreaded Captain Vargo would tear off an ear of anyone who tried to cross the line with her, though that didn’t stop the drunken mouths from moving faster than their brains.

Finally, she reached the bar and leaned on it with her elbows, crossing one leg over the other as she glanced around.

Tobias, the bartender, looked up from a barrel he was sealing and sighed in resignation upon seeing her. A tall man with broad shoulders, messy brown hair, and an eyepatch covering his left eye, Tobias was known both for his skill with drinks and his uncontrollable love for gossip. Though he never got into trouble, he certainly enjoyed watching it up close.

"Miss J, stirring up the henhouse again," he said as he pulled out a thick glass and set it in front of her.

Jinx gave him a lopsided grin and propped her elbows on the bar.

"Jorah, I’m flattered. But it’s not my fault all these guys are hopelessly desperate."

Tobias snorted.

"How many times do I have to tell you my name is Tobias?"

Jinx furrowed her brow, thoughtful.

"Mmm... No. You’re definitely a Jorah. But I’ll give you points for trying."

The bartender rolled his remaining eye and chuckled.

"A decade could pass, and you’d still be calling me that, wouldn’t you?"

"Exactly."

Tobias shook his head, already used to the stubbornness of that girl.

"Alright, J, what’ll it be this time?"

"Something strong, to make me forget ten minutes ago I almost froze my ass off outside."

"Mmm... The strongest I’ve got?" Tobias narrowed his eyes with a smirk. "You sure?"

"If it doesn’t burn my throat like a treacherous siren’s kiss, I don’t want it."

"That can be arranged," he said, turning to grab a thick glass bottle from one of the shelves behind the bar.

Jinx watched curiously as "Jorah" pulled out an old jar of dark rum—the kind only served to idiots brave enough or drunk enough to ask for it.

"Morgawr Rum," he announced, pouring a shot into her glass. "They say a drop of this could make a shark stop swimming."

Jinx picked up the glass and inspected it.

"Perfect. Hopefully, it’ll do the same to the idiot who just winked at me."

He shook his head and let out a chuckle.

"It’s always the same with you. You walk in here, and suddenly the whole tavern gets louder and the men get dumber."

She took a long sip of the rum, feeling the burn travel down her throat to her stomach.

"What can I say, Jorah? I’m hard to resist."

Tobias tilted his head with a smirk that Jinx knew all too well, giving her a brief once-over.

"You know I won’t argue with that."

Jinx laughed, narrowed her eyes, and studied him for a few seconds. Truth be told, Jorah was objectively quite attractive. Annoying and gossipy, sure, but surprisingly respectful by Bilgewater’s standards. Even acceptable enough to feel... something. For a night. Maybe...

Nah. The thought vanished as quickly as her glass did.

She swallowed the liquid, setting the glass down on the bar with a firm thud.

"What are you waiting for? Pour me another before I decide to set this place on fire."

He clicked his tongue before turning to grab the bottle again.

"J, one day, someone’s gonna make you pay for all those threats."

"That day hasn’t come yet, Jorah. Now give me more rum."

The bottle of Morgawr Rum began to empty little by little, and with each drink, Jinx’s vision grew blurrier, her laughter louder. Her stool at the bar had become a magnet for all sorts of characters who, between drinks and off-key songs, tried their luck with the famous—and infamous—Miss J.

The first to approach was a sun-worn corsair with a patch on his cheek and a grin that showed more gums than teeth.

"Miss J, I’ve always admired your work. The way you design those weapons... so deadly, so beautiful... Just like you."

Jinx took another long sip, eyeing him over the rim of her glass with a raised brow.

"if you think I’m gonna fall for you because you compared me to a siege rifle, you need to up your game."

The corsair scratched his head and walked away, and Jinx burst into laughter before pouring herself more rum.

Then came a mercenary with his hair tied in a high ponytail, wearing a red coat he’d probably stolen from some dead captain. He leaned against the bar with a confident air.

"Miss J, I’ve heard stories about you. That you’re a dangerous woman. That no one in Bilgewater has ever managed to catch you."

Jinx brought her pipe to her lips and took a long drag before smirking with narrowed eyes.

"That’s true."

"But maybe you just need a man bold enough to try."

She studied him for a few seconds, tilting her head.

"Interesting..." she murmured.

The mercenary grinned smugly.

"So?"

"So... you remind me too much of an idiot I worked with once. He ended up exploding. Literally. So..."

The mercenary walked away, cursing under his breath, and Jinx went back to drinking, feeling the alcohol warm her stomach.

Then a young sailor with a more refined look approached, his clothes too clean for Bilgewater. He settled beside her and offered a charming smile.

"Miss J, I’ve always admired women with brilliant minds. You’re the creator of Pink-Twist, aren’t you?"

Jinx lazily nodded, already feeling the mix of rum and herbs clouding her head.

"Yup."

"Then you are a genius."

She took another drag and blew the smoke in his direction. Definitely attractive. And he hadn’t tried to grab her ass yet. That was something. The thought of a slight possibility began to settle in her mind.

"And you have a good eye. Maybe too good for a place like this."

"Perhaps what I need is a woman like you to teach me what it really means to live in Bilgewater."

Jinx smirked, some interest rising like a low tide.

Until the sailor took her hand gently and said,

"Though, of course, a talented lady like you should be with a man who can protect her."

Jinx’s smile vanished instantly.

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"'Protect me'? Dude, I build weapons that could vaporize you just by looking at them."

The sailor tried to say something, but Jinx had already turned away, raising her glass.

"Jorah, more rum! I need to drown this failed attempt in alcohol before I get an aneurysm!"

And so the night went on. One after another, pirates, mercenaries, sailors, and corsairs approached, trying to win over Miss J in ways as creative as they were absurd. And one after another, they were rejected with mockery, laughter, or simple indifference.

A smuggler with golden teeth offered her a pipe with a sly grin.

"Why waste time with those weak herbs, Miss J? I’ve got the good stuff."

Jinx burst into laughter, leaning against the bar.

"The good stuff? Ha! Shorty, I have more gold than you could ever dream of, and I can buy whatever damn herbs I want. Want me to show you my private stash? Oh, wait… no, I don’t."

By the time the bottle was practically empty and the air around Jinx reeked of strong rum and thick smoke, the tavern had begun to sway before her eyes.

She let herself slump against the bar, her cheek pressed against the wood, mumbling incoherent words while Tobias wiped a glass with a resigned expression.

"J, I think you've had enough for today."

Jinx raised a solemn finger.

"You don’t boss me around, Jorah! Only fate can decide when… when… uh…"

Tobias sighed.

"You’re at that stage already. If my calculations are correct, in about twenty minutes, something in this place is gonna catch fire or explode."

"That’s not true. You lie. Just like you lied about your name."

"Uh-huh."

Jinx tried to straighten up, but her body wouldn’t cooperate, so she opted to laugh and point a finger at him.

"Jorah, you're a great guy! You really are!"

And with that, she let her head drop onto the bar with a dull thud, her laughter turning into a sleepy murmur.

The tavern was filled with noise, smoke, and, of course, the pungent scent of cheap alcohol. Yet, Jinx stood out as the main spectacle of the night. Her blue hair was messier than usual, with loose strands falling over her sweaty face, and the characteristic gleam in her pink eyes was now dulled by a thick haze of drunkenness. Her cheek rested against the sticky wooden counter, her body leaning precariously while she mumbled incoherent words to herself and absentmindedly spun her empty glass in circles.

Tobias had already abandoned all hope of communicating with her in civilized terms.

"Want another one, J?" he asked.

Jinx raised a wobbly finger in his direction without looking at him.

"Jorah…" she slurred, squinting. "Don’t try to fool me. I already know. I know what you're up to."

Tobias sighed.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly am I up to?"

"You're trying to get me drun—!" Her attempt to say "drunk" was cut short when her tongue decided to give up, and her head dropped heavily onto the bar.

He shook his head.

"Right. Like you need any help with that."

The rest of the tavern was no longer paying her much attention. Not because they’d lost interest, but because everyone knew that, at a certain point in her drunkenness, anyone could become her next target for no logical reason. She had already rejected enough advances that night. Now, the regular patrons were simply waiting to see what her next move would be.

And it didn’t take long to arrive.

Jinx suddenly straightened up, making her stool wobble.

"I need air!"

Then, with a staggering sense of determination, she slid off her seat. Or at least, she tried to. Her legs buckled, and after a couple of clumsy steps, she tripped over a table leg.

"Stupid piece of shit," she muttered under her breath.

Regaining some semblance of composure—or what could be considered as such—she made her way to the door with a clear idea in mind: shooting at some barrels outside. The problem was her feet didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm, because just as she was about to reach the exit, a rough misstep made her lose her balance entirely.

Before she could crash to the ground, a pair of strong arms caught her effortlessly.

"Careful, gorgeous."

The deep male voice echoed in her head like a distant reverberation.

And Jinx's heart stopped completely.

She lifted her blurry gaze, feeling a knot tighten in her throat, and there he was.

There he was.

Dark skin, deep brown eyes like a forest in the dead of night, white dreads falling over his forehead.

Jinx blinked with difficulty, trying to make sure what she was seeing was real. And it was… It was him. Exactly as she remembered.

Those strong arms that used to wrap around her, making her feel like everything was okay, even when the world was falling apart.

Those eyes she could get lost in for hours without ever getting bored.

That damn smug smile that always made her debate between slapping him or kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

His lips. Ekko’s lips.

It was him. There. In front of her.

Her entire body trembled with a searing heat she couldn’t blame solely on the rum. Her shaky hands, guided by an instinct stronger than her own reasoning, reached up to his face.

She touched him.

Her fingers traced his skin, fearing he would disappear into thin air. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath uneven as she devoured him with her eyes.

"You…" she murmured, her blurred vision locked onto every feature of his face—his nose, his eyes, his lips. Shit, she could stare at that face for hours, and it would never be enough.

Ekko’s arms, with no intention of letting her go, slid boldly around her waist.

"Me?" he replied with a smile.

The heat inside her spread like an uncontrollable wildfire. Her skin burned, her heart pounded frantically, her lips tingled with a need she couldn’t ignore.

"It’s you…" Jinx whispered, her voice trembling.

And unable to hold back any longer, without caring that her entire body was screaming with both excitement and confusion, she clutched his face and crashed her lips against his with force.

Against the only lips she ever wanted to kiss in this damn world.

The tavern, the cold streets of Bilgewater, her icy workshop—all of it faded away in that instant, reduced to the scorching warmth of his mouth and the insatiable hunger devouring her from within. Ekko didn’t take long to kiss her back with the same intensity, his lips parting hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth with fervor, sending a shiver down her spine.

A moan escaped Jinx’s throat as she felt Ekko catch her lower lip between his teeth, tugging on it with delicious pressure before kissing her again with almost feral desperation. The heat surged through her chest, traveled down her stomach, and set her skin ablaze. Her fingers gripped his neck tighter, pulling him closer while her lips devoured his with ravenous need.

"I want you so bad," she murmured between kisses.

Ekko growled in response, his hands trailing over her waist with firm pressure, gripping her ass boldly. Jinx moaned into his mouth and kissed him harder, her body burning under his touch.

"I need you…" she whispered against his lips, breathless.

Ekko pulled her closer, his mouth descending to her neck, leaving bites and wet kisses that made her shudder. Jinx, her head clouded and her heart about to explode, ran her fingers through his white hair and clung to him as if he might disappear.

"I love you, Ekko."

He lifted his head and looked at her with a smirk.

"Actually, my name’s Cormac. But I can be whoever you want, gorgeous."

Jinx froze.

She frowned and blinked several times, trying to focus on the man before her. Yeah, his skin was dark, his hair was white… and though he wasn’t bad-looking, he definitely was not Ekko.

Yeah, mixing herbs with rum hadn’t been a good idea.

The disgust hit her like a bucket of cold water.

Her pink eyes sparked with fury, and in the blink of an eye, her hand flew to the gun at her belt. Before the so-called Cormac could react, Jinx slammed the butt of the cannon against his nose with a brutal, dry thud.

The man fell backward with a strangled yelp, clutching his face as blood began to drip from his nose.

The tavern roared with laughter.

"Well done, Miss J!" a pirate shouted from the corner.

"That one lasted the longest before you knocked him out!" another mocked.

From the floor, Cormac groaned in pain, clutching his bloodied nose.

"And what was that for, psycho?"

She staggered toward the exit, barely managing to stay on her feet.

"For not being Ekko," she growled before continuing on her way.

Behind her, laughter and applause echoed through the tavern.

Jinx stumbled out of The Blind Siren, and Bilgewater's night wind immediately lashed at her skin, sharp as a blade that forced her to shudder. She gritted her teeth, cursing the weather, and with clumsy movements, tried to put on her cloak. The fabric tangled in her arms, and after struggling with it uselessly for several seconds, she let it go with an exasperated huff. In the end, she allowed the cloak to drape over her back without much concern. It wasn’t like she felt that cold, anyway.

Her steps led her through the back alleys of the harbor, where the sea breeze mixed with the rancid stench of rotten fish and fermenting garbage. Her boots clumsily echoed against the uneven cobblestones, her swaying gait betraying the excess of rum in her blood. Her body tilted dangerously to one side with each step, as if her balance hung by a thread, and her eyes—glossier than usual—struggled to stay open.

She needed a drink.

Not rum. Not liquor. Not whatever the hell they had served her at the tavern. Water. Or anything that could wash away the disgusting taste of that idiot who had kissed her. Because he wasn’t Ekko.

Of all the tricks her mind had played on her, that one had definitely been one of the cruelest. She had almost felt his arms around her, his skin against hers, his lips claiming her with the same intensity that she longed for him. It’d been so real that her chest tightened, and her fingers instinctively reached out to grasp something that wasn’t there. Something that was nothing more than a dream.

Of course. Because moments that perfect only existed in dreams.

With a frustrated huff, Jinx stepped into one of the empty alleys near the main market. Narrow and dark, with stone walls damp from the salty breeze, it was cluttered with old barrels and wooden crates stacked haphazardly. The air was thick with the scent of stale spices and rotting fruit, and the only light came from a couple of flickering lanterns that barely managed to pierce the night's darkness.

And then she heard it.

A high-pitched, persistent squeaking that made her frown. A rat, probably.

Jinx grumbled and kept stumbling forward, but the squeaking persisted, digging into her patience like a rusty nail. Louder. More insistent. More irritating.

"Shut up…" she muttered, rubbing her temple.

But the sound didn’t just continue—it intensified, as if the damn rat was doing it on purpose just to annoy her. Jinx gritted her teeth, feeling irritation morph into rage.

And in one swift, instinctive move, she pulled out her cannon, barely twisted her wrist, and pulled the trigger.

BANG!

For a brief moment, the gunshot lit up the alley, and in the next second, the squeaking ceased.

She let out a relieved sigh, feeling the tension drain from her body.

"Much better," she muttered, holstering her weapon and preparing to continue her unsteady journey.

But then, a deep female voice broke the silence.

"Nice shot."

Jinx’s body reacted before her mind could process it. In the blink of an eye, she spun on her heels, raising her cannon toward the voice.

And there, just a few meters away, she saw a figure sitting on a barrel.

Despite the darkness, the woman didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the fact that Jinx was pointing a gun at her. She didn’t even flinch. She simply kept smoking her pipe with exasperating calm, letting the smoke lazily dissipate into the air.

Even with her vision blurred by rum, Jinx managed to take in her slender figure, the way her head rested against the wall in a carefree posture. Her reddish hair cascaded down in soft waves, nearly the same length as Jinx’s, and adorned her chest along with a black-and-white corset that left very little to the imagination, exposing her toned abdomen.

Atop her head rested a blue hat, characteristic of Bilgewater—the same shade as her boots. Tight black leather pants hugged her legs, and hanging from her belt were two pistols whose design, though unfamiliar to Jinx, boasted an engineering so ingenious and lethal it immediately caught her interest.

But beyond all that, what truly grabbed Jinx’s attention was the woman’s demeanor.

She had, without a doubt… something.

She hadn’t even blinked.

And that both irritated and unsettled Jinx.

She tilted her head, trying to focus her foggy eyes on her better. There was something familiar about her. She was sure she’d seen her before… somewhere…

Or maybe she was just too drunk to remember.

Beside the woman, a lantern with an orange glow swayed gently with the sea breeze. The warmth it emitted was barely enough to fend off the night’s chill, but she didn’t seem to mind.

A few steps away, Jinx stood unsteadily, her inseparable cannon aimed directly at the woman. Her mismatched eyes gleamed under the lantern’s glow, but her grip on the weapon wasn’t exactly firm.

"Am I gonna have to take my cannons, or are you gonna stop pointing at me and sit down here before you freeze?" the woman asked calmly.

Jinx tilted her head and blinked several times, processing the question through a rather clouded mind. Then, she glanced down at the empty barrel beside the lantern, and after a few seconds of deliberation—including exaggerated grimaces and a look of deep focus—she lowered her weapon with a dramatic sigh.

"Fine, but only because I like warmth more than cold… and because my hands are shaking, and that makes it no fun to shoot at anyone," she muttered, stumbling toward the barrel. She plopped down with a dull thud, shaking her head to move a strand of blue hair out of her face.

The woman took up her pipe again and took a drag, exhaling the smoke with a satisfied sigh. Jinx watched her curiously, then her eyes drifted to the captain’s pistols, peeking out from her belt.

"Hey, hey… hey…" she started, pointing a finger. "Are those your cannons? Are they pocket cannons?"

The woman raised an eyebrow.

"They're pistols. Gunpowder. Double-barreled. Lethal."

Jinx clicked her tongue.

"Bah, too conventional. I bet they just go BAM! and that’s it, right?"

"Something like that. But what’s wrong with the classics?" The woman spun one of her pistols between her fingers with unsettling ease. "They’re reliable, fast, and have the perfect weight for an excellent shot."

Jinx leaned in a bit.

"Let me see… Double-barrel with simultaneous firing? Or alternating?"

"Alternating," the woman smiled. "I'm not a maniac with a machine gun."

"Well, you're missing out."

She shrugged and rested her own cannon on her lap. Then, she began sliding her fingers over its mechanism with a dexterity that sharply contrasted with her drunken state.

"Look, this baby has a runic energy feedback system. It powers the reload and adjusts accuracy with each shot. No need to worry about bullets, gunpowder, or… well, it exploding in your face. Theoretically."

The woman let out a soft whistle, resting an elbow on her knee as she watched with interest.

"Interesting. Though it lacks the elegance of a good lead bullet piercing a skull."

"Ha, that's because you haven't seen this." Jinx pressed a button, and the inside of the cannon lit up with a faint glow. "Trajectory adjustment. Shoot, and then… paf! You can correct its course mid-flight."

The red-haired woman blinked and seemed mildly impressed.

"Well, that is useful. Though a bit flashy."

Jinx narrowed her eyes at her.

"That’s… that's a compliment, right? Because it should be!"

The woman chuckled softly and passed her the pipe.

"Let’s say it is. But tell me, what do you do when that beauty jams?"

"Simple! Hit it until it works."

She laughed again and pulled out one of her pistols, showing her the mechanism.

"Look at this instead. Double-action trigger, no need to cock it between shots. And if it jams…" With a quick movement, she disassembled part of the mechanism and snapped it back into place. "It’s fixed in seconds."

Jinx leaned in a little more, her eyes gleaming with interest.

"That… that’s practical. But not as fun."

"I suppose some of us prefer efficiency over spectacle. Though you, somehow, have both," the woman said with a smirk.

Jinx fell silent for a moment, watching her, feeling increasingly puzzled. Was that sarcasm? Or a compliment? Or both? Nah. Why would a woman like her be complimenting her? It made no sense.

Finally, she scoffed and took a deep drag from the pipe before handing it back.

"Well, I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’m starting to think you might be cool."

The woman leaned in slightly, just enough for her face to be dangerously close to Jinx’s.

"If you stick around a little longer, you might just be convinced of that."

Jinx stared at her, frowning, then quickly looked away, focusing back on her weapon.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Sounding like that. So…"

"So what?"

Jinx never finished the sentence, instead fiddling with a loose thread on her skirt. It was already unsettling enough to have someone so… confident in her abilities right in front of her. More unsettling and challenging still was saying it out loud.

The woman simply smirked and leaned back against the wall, savoring her subtle victory.

The lantern’s light flickered between them as the redhead sat with innate elegance atop her barrel, one leg crossed over the other, her pipe resting gracefully on her crimson lips. Jinx swayed slightly on her own barrel, gripping her weapon in one hand while taking the pipe the woman beside her offered with the other. She took a deep drag, exhaling the smoke with a short laugh, trying to break the silence.

"Anyway… what I’m saying is that big cannons always win," Jinx insisted, pointing at the pistols peeking from the woman’s belt. "And yours are nice and all, but they look… how do I put it… too normal?"

She raised an eyebrow and let out a smile.

"Nice and normal, huh? I don’t know whether to feel flattered or insulted."

"Well… depends on how you take it."

The redhead subtly twisted her wrist, taking one of her pistols in hand before casting a playful glance at Jinx.

"When someone with such a good eye for details says it, I tend to take it as a compliment."

Jinx narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, thoughtful. Then she snapped her fingers and leaned forward.

"Now that was a trap," she said, pointing an accusing finger. "You’re trying to distract me from what’s important."

The woman shrugged.

"And what was important?"

"Those relics of yours. How do you say they fire so fast without jamming? Because they look older than a kraken’s grandma."

"The key is in the quick-reload mechanism," she explained, spinning the weapon in her hand. "It may not be runic tech… but it’s got a few family engineering tricks up its sleeve."

Jinx watched her with a mix of skepticism and growing interest. Then, she lifted her cannon and gently tapped its side.

"See this? Precision runic tech. I can fire twenty times before you even think about reloading."

The woman studied Jinx’s cannon more closely, evaluating the faint glow of the small waves pulsing within it. Jinx felt satisfied with her reaction, but the more she blinked and looked at the woman through her hazy vision, the more she could swear she wasn’t actually looking at the cannon in her hand. Instead, her gaze seemed to subtly trace along Jinx’s jawline, collarbones, and neckline. Or maybe Jinx was imagining it, just like her mind had played tricks on her back at the tavern.

Except, the more she blinked and observed, the more she was sure the woman’s gaze wasn’t actually on the cannon.

She met her eyes and gave her a soft smile.

"Impressive."

Jinx was still struggling to make sense of the debate in her head when she felt the redhead watching her with an amused expression. The woman took a breath and nodded toward an empty barrel a few meters away.

"What do you say? A little shooting contest?"

And just like that, Jinx perked up, banishing all thoughts from her mind. She stood up unsteadily, raising her weapon.

"Ha! You're gonna regret this, Red."

The woman fired first, a single precise shot that sent splinters flying from the barrel. Jinx followed with a reckless barrage that reduced the barrel to rubble.

"That counts as an extra point!" Jinx declared, spinning around with her arms wide open.

"If the goal was to destroy it instead of just hitting it, then yeah, I guess so."

Jinx dropped back onto the barrel, still laughing, this time taking the pipe herself and lighting it.

"You're good, I'll give you that. But tell me, have you ever blown up something bigger?"

Exhaling the smoke, Jinx passed the pipe to the figure next to her, who took it with a thoughtful air.

"Well... there was this one time a captain pissed me off so badly I decided he no longer needed his ship. Or his crew. Well, or his beating heart, to be exact."

Jinx immediately turned to her with an excited look.

"And how was it?"

"Let's just say The Dead Pool isn’t seaworthy anymore. And it never will be. And his crew turned into a fucking beautiful red mist. I think it was the first time I was actually happy to see a mist in Bilgewater."

The blue-haired girl chuckled, accepting the pipe the woman offered back to her.

"Now that's a way to earn respect in this rat's nest."

The redhead returned her smile, leaning slightly toward her.

"And you? Has anyone ever pissed you off that much?"

Jinx shrugged and took another long drag from the pipe.

"Oh, yeah. Plenty of 'someones.' An entire Council, to be exact."

"You blew up a building?"

Jinx nodded.

"With a shark rocket launcher."

"A... what?"

"A rocket launcher. Keep up, Red."

The woman let out a low laugh, giving Jinx an intense look that could’ve burned through the wall behind them. Jinx simply glanced at her from the corner of her eye, feeling a little uneasy under her scrutiny and not exactly sure how to react.

"That's a good way to earn respect," the figure beside her remarked.

"Pff. Earning respect," Jinx muttered, exhaling smoke absentmindedly. "Sounds nice, but sometimes it's a drag."

Serene and with a presence that defied the dimness, the woman tilted her head with genuine curiosity.

"And what’s so bad about it?"

Jinx shrugged, her fingers tapping against the barrel.

"Mmm… I don’t know. I guess one of the downsides is that you get used to being alone. Or worse. You never really get used to it at all."

The smoke floated between them as she gave her a glimmering look.

"That hurts sometimes, doesn’t it?" Her voice was soft, enveloping.

Jinx scrunched up her nose, turning her head away, quickly pushing that thought aside.

"Who cares? Better to be feared than to be… well, that. Fewer mess."

"Right, right, which is why you smell like a rundown tavern," she teased.

Jinx blinked, then laughed.

"Hey, hey, hey, that was mean. Besides… no tavern company is worth it. Some reek of cheap rum, some barely realize you’re human, and others, well… they’re disgusting."

The woman chuckled and leaned forward slightly, her green eyes glinting under the flickering lantern light.

"And none of those companions have ever been enough for you?"

Jinx opened her mouth to reply with some nonsense but stopped. Something about the way she was looking at her made her swallow hard.

"I guess no one’s enough. Or maybe I’m not. Or maybe I’m too much. Or both? I don’t know…"

She trailed off when she felt the redhead holding her gaze with an intensity Jinx hadn’t expected at all. Then, with calculated slowness, the woman lifted a hand and gently took hold of the pendant hanging from Jinx’s neck—a Leviathan’s Tear. Her fingertips traced the smooth surface of the jewel, then, without hurry, barely brushed against the skin at Jinx’s neckline, playing with an unexpected delicacy.

Jinx’s world seemed to wobble, and not because of the alcohol. Her breathing quickened, her muscles tensed, and she had no idea why. She didn’t understand what was happening. Was she… flirting with her? Was this just the booze messing with her head? What the hell was she supposed to do when someone like her flirted with her? Usually, when someone in Bilgewater flirted with Jinx, it involved either gross nonsense or unwelcome touches that made her whip out her cannon immediately. But never like this. She didn’t know what to do, so she just stayed still, lips slightly parted, heart pounding against her ribs in confusion.

The woman barely smiled.

"People in Bilgewater don’t know how to handle women like us."

Jinx frowned, trying to focus on the conversation and not on the woman's fingers against her skin.

"Like… us?"

She tilted her head, her lips curving into a dangerous smile as she continued toying with the pendant, casually letting her fingers brush over the curve of Jinx’s breast peeking from her corset. 

"Smart. Brave. Strong…" Her thumb traced a slow circle on Jinx’s skin. "Beautiful."

Jinx felt a shiver run down her spine and looked away, trying to pull herself together.

"You don’t know me," she murmured, desperately trying to regain some control.

"When you stop pretending you don’t know who I am, I’ll stop pretending I don’t know who you are."

Jinx turned back to her.

"Who said I’m pretending? I have no fucking idea who—"

Suddenly, the dim lantern light seemed to illuminate the woman’s face more clearly.

She blinked several times, trying to focus through the drunken haze, even rubbing her eyes in a vague attempt to sharpen her vision. She looked more closely at the woman in front of her—fiery red hair, sharp green eyes, full confident lips, a posture that oozed certainty…

And then realization hit her like a well-aimed shot.

Jinx’s breath caught in her throat.

No.

Was she…?

Yes, it was definitely her.

Miss Fortune. The most famous—and infamous—bounty hunter and captain in Bilgewater.

"Oh." It was all Jinx managed to say.

Miss Fortune smiled, the satisfaction of winning a silent bet glinting in her eyes.

"Oh," she echoed, bringing the pipe back to her lips before offering it to Jinx again.

With her cheeks still flushed from the alcohol, Jinx inhaled and exhaled a puff of smoke, narrowing her eyes as she studied the woman in front of her—the Miss fucking Fortune. She had a lopsided, dangerous smile, the kind that could be both a promise and a threat.

"I’ve heard a lot about you, you know?" Jinx muttered, trying to keep her composure. Her tongue still felt a little clumsy, but she did her best to maintain her usual defiant smirk. "They say you’re the most ruthless in Bilgewater… that you could shoot a man between the eyes while whispering sweet nothings in his ear."

She tilted her head, amused.

"Is that so?"

"Mhm…" Jinx nodded. "They also say you’ve never lost a duel… that you sail these waters like they belong to you, and that any idiot who doesn’t respect you ends up floating face-down in the harbor."

Miss Fortune let out a soft chuckle, resting her elbow on her knee.

"Well, sounds like I have an interesting reputation. And what else have you heard?"

Jinx squinted, trying to recall through her haze.

"That you’re the closest thing to a queen Bilgewater has. And that if someone dares to challenge you… they better have their will ready."

She held her gaze, her lips curling into a slow, calculated smile.

"You have good ears, Miss J. But you're not the only one people speak wonders about."

She leaned forward slightly, raising the pipe to her lips. Jinx watched her in silence, feeling a small flip in her stomach.

"I’ve heard that the most brilliant weapon maker in Bilgewater is a woman with blue hair and a slightly insane smile," Miss Fortune continued in a velvety voice. "That her inventions have changed the game in these waters. They say her Pink-Twist tech can pierce the shell of a titanic turtle like paper, that her bullets can blow up a Kraklath before it reaches a ship's deck, and that hunters pay obscene sums for any weapon that comes from her hands."

Jinx blinked, surprised. Was that really how people talked about her? Did Miss Fortune know about her? Jinx was pretty sure that anyone would call her a walking disaster before acknowledging her ingenuity.

"Bah, it’s not a big deal," she muttered, twirling the pipe between her fingers.

"Oh, but it is. What you've created has completely changed the hunt in Bilgewater. And everything that changes Bilgewater... concerns me."

Jinx let out a rough laugh, her gaze briefly flickering to the pistols at the woman's belt, remembering their little exchange with the barrels just minutes ago.

"So you know about weapons. Makes sense, I guess. Probably why you’ve never set foot in my workshop. You don’t need someone like me."

"Maybe that’s about to change."

Jinx raised an eyebrow, but before she could ask, the woman continued in a low voice:

"You’re Bilgewater’s most valuable treasure, Miss J. Even if many don’t know it, or refuse to see it."

Jinx scoffed, looking away.

"A treasure? I’m a mess. Ask any drunk in the taverns, and they’ll tell you."

Miss Fortune leaned in slowly, setting the pipe aside. Her fingers, warm and firm, slid this time to a loose strand of Jinx’s blue hair, twining it between them and caressing it gently.

Jinx went completely still. Once again, the closeness had caught her off guard. She couldn't be imagining all of this, could she?

Well, of course she could. She had imagined things far more vivid. But over the years, she’d learned to distinguish her fantasies from reality—most of the time, at least. And this felt real.

Her body simply froze, trapped in that unexpected touch.

"Fools in this city don’t see what I see," she murmured in a silky voice.

Jinx swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

"And… what do you see?"

Miss Fortune smiled, letting her fingers trace a lazy circle on her skin before slowly pulling away.

"A perfect girl."

A chill ran down Jinx’s spine.

No one had ever called her that before. At least, not someone else. The only person who ever had was now a corpse at the bottom of the sea, rotting with holes in his chest that she herself had put there.

Her brain took a couple of seconds to catch up, struggling to find something clever to say, but all that came out of her lips was a strangled sound.

Miss Fortune watched her in silence. As if she knew exactly what effect she had on her.

Jinx clenched her jaw and tried to focus on something else. Anything else that wasn’t the places her mind was desperately trying to drag her to. A failed tea party that ended in one of the greatest disasters of her life. A chair, with a man tied to it, bleeding out beyond repair. His eyes. His voice. His words.

Luckily, when her mind was blurred by alcohol, it was easier to pull herself out of those black holes before she even got dragged into them.

"I’m not sure what exactly I’m ‘perfect’ for…" Jinx murmured, scratching her neck.

Miss Fortune straightened slowly, brushing off the lingering traces of ash and gunpowder from her clothes before looking at her with that half-smile that seemed to hold more secrets than an ancient Kraken.

"For many things, I imagine. But for now, for getting some sleep. I want you sober tomorrow, my treasure. My crew and I will be paying you a visit."

Jinx snapped upright.

"Paying me a visit? For what?"

"I have an interesting proposal for you. So make sure no one else is in your workshop tomorrow," she replied. "Because I’m not discussing business right now with someone who can barely stay seated."

Jinx felt her pulse quicken slightly. Once again, as she watched the woman hop down from the barrel, she wasn’t entirely sure she understood what was happening. But she tried her best.

"Uh, right. My workshop is in—"

"In the Beast’s Spine. I know, treasure."

Jinx frowned, and the woman quickly answered the unspoken question hanging in the air.

"I know every single sale you make. I know who you sell to and who you don’t. I know how much you earn every day, and I definitely know who comes in and out of your shop the most. Nothing in Bilgewater happens without me knowing, sweetheart. And least of all… a treasure like you."

Jinx blinked several times, feeling her pulse hammer in her temples. She had lost count of how many times she'd been left speechless in under an hour. Had she been watching her? Her? And she had done nothing, said nothing, for years? Well, it wasn’t like Jinx had done anything out of the ordinary for a typical Bilgewater resident. Still, a shiver ran down her spine. A mix of a spark of fear and something else that made her eyes glimmer like a child’s.

Miss Fortune thought she was perfect? And wanted to do business? With her?

Jinx was still tangled in her clumsy thoughts when the redhead gave her one last glance before turning away.

"See you at the Beast’s Spine, Miss J."

Jinx watched her disappear down the alley, the sound of her boots echoing against the wet stone. She remained there, silent, feeling a strange turmoil in her chest. At that point, she wasn’t sure if it was because of the drink or Miss Fortune’s words.

"How To Be Me" - Ren x Chinchilla

She hugged herself, letting out a huff.

What the hell had just happened…?

She shook her head and tried to stand up from the barrel. Her legs protested at first, wobbling slightly, but with a grunt, she forced herself to straighten. She definitely needed to get some sleep.

She took a deep breath, letting the salty air fill her lungs. Then, with heavy steps, she made her way back to her workshop. Tomorrow was going to be an… interesting day.

Jinx walked briskly through the deserted streets of Bilgewater, arms crossed over her chest in a futile attempt to keep warm. The salty breeze from the port filtered through the narrow alleys, carrying the stench of the sea and the dampness of rotting wood.

She walked past the docks, where black water lapped against the pilings in a monotonous, hissing rhythm. Bits of seaweed and trash floated between anchored ships, and occasionally, the screech of a gull or the distant murmur of a drunkard broke the silence. Bilgewater never truly slept, but there were moments like this when it seemed to hold its breath, waiting. Almost as much as she was.

Finally, she arrived at that lonely refuge, secluded from the chaos, where her workshop stood in the Beast’s Spine.

She stepped inside and shoved the door closed. Silence stretched around her, only interrupted by the distant murmur of the waves and the creaking of wood. She collapsed onto her bed, exhaling a long, empty sigh.

No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried to keep herself busy, she always ended up here. Curled up alone in bed, trying to ignore the cold and, most of all, trying not to think.

But in some corner of her mind, she always found herself wishing someone would come and wrap her in their arms.

She wasn’t sure if she could even afford the preference of who. Most of the people whose warmth she longed for were either dead or out of reach. Even so, she closed her eyes and hugged her knees to her chest, letting her imagination give her what reality denied her.

She imagined.

She imagined a pair of strong arms wrapping around her, a warm touch gliding through her hair until sleep overcame her. She imagined hands gently rubbing her back and arms, dispelling the cold seeping through the cracks of the workshop.

She even imagined someone sleeping beside her and that, upon waking, that person would still be there. That they wouldn’t have left. That they would still be holding her even tighter.

And as she clung to those images, she tried to ignore the tremor in her bones, tried to forget how much she still hated cold nights.

But most of all, the cold nights when she was alone.

 

                                     ──────────

 

Weeks had passed with a suffocating slowness. Or at least, that’s what Jinx thought.

It’d been more than two, maybe three. It could have been four, and she wouldn’t have even noticed. Time slipped through her fingers like the dust floating in the room, suspended in the light filtering through the window. Zaun had always been an abyss of shadows, where the notion of day and night was little more than an abstraction. But in the Firelights' tree, the sun still dictated the course of things. Jinx had learned to distinguish it not only by the golden light bathing the room during the day but also by the relentless rhythm with which Ekko moved around the base.

From morning onwards, she could hear the hustle and bustle of the Firelights going about their routine. Ekko’s voice blended with the sound of hoverboards starting up, the clash of metal, and the crackling of tools against circuits. Sometimes he gave orders, other times he laughed with someone, and more than once, his voice rose to quell some altercation.

"If you're gonna fight, do it in real training!"

Jinx had seen him intervene in more than one of those disputes, separating two Firelights grappling or pushing away a third who had jumped in to cheer on the fight. She also saw him leading training sessions in the clearing below the tree, where the Firelights tested their combat skills and maneuvered with the hoverboards. Ekko supervised every move, giving instructions, sometimes even getting on a hoverboard himself. And if he wasn’t at training, he was in the workshops, his hands covered in grease, sleeves rolled up, calibrating engines or fixing circuits. Other times, he seemed stuck in long meetings with the rest of the members.

And when the day finally ended, Ekko would appear at the door of the room, his back hunched from exhaustion, eyelids heavy, and his face covered with a layer of fatigue that was all too familiar to Jinx. Even so, he never went straight to sleep.

He always tried to talk to her.

Sometimes he would tell her how one of the new recruits had nearly smashed their face attempting an advanced maneuver, letting out a chuckle as he dropped into the chair, then saying he wasn’t sure whether to admire their confidence or their stupidity.

Sometimes, he managed to make her laugh, and they would chat for a bit. Other times, Jinx just rolled her eyes. Ekko didn’t push too hard either. At some point, he would take out some food and leave it within her reach. He never forced her to eat, but his gaze spoke for itself. An unspoken “do it for me.” Jinx rarely gave in.

And then, he would fall asleep. Sometimes in the chair, head tilted against the backrest. Other times, he simply let himself drop to the floor, an arm over his eyes, his body tense from exhaustion.

Jinx would watch him from the bed. She would listen to his breathing—long and slow—as the weight of sleep dragged him under. 

And right now, for some reason, the sight of the three broken hoverboards on the worktable became unbearable.

They were there, waiting for him.

One had a suspension system failure. Jinx had noticed it at a glance: the pneumatic dampers on the underside were deformed, unable to absorb impacts. Another had a propulsion system malfunction; its power core was miscalibrated, causing unstable sparks when ignited. The third one… well, the third was barely even a hoverboard in its current state. It was missing one of the stabilizing plates, and its steering circuit had a faulty solder that would likely make it spin in circles.

Jinx narrowed her eyes.

She could fix them.

The thought hit her hard, like a revelation. It was absurd, really, but in her mind, the process had already started unfolding automatically. She knew exactly what to do with each one. She could see the tools she needed without even looking for them: the torque wrench to adjust the dampers, the soldering iron to fix the steering circuit, the calibrator to adjust the power core. Everything was there, within her reach.

And before she even realized it, her fingers were wrapped around the torque wrench.

Not that she wanted to do it. Not that she wanted to do anything at all. 

But she did think about Ekko coming back, exhausted, seeing those hoverboards still waiting for him on the table after everything he did all day… She couldn’t get it out of her head.

It was the least she could do.

Even if her fingers were still clumsy. Even if her limbs still felt numb.

The cold metal vibrated under her hands, though not as much as her own fingers.

Jinx forced herself to grip the torque wrench tighter, but even then, her pulse was unsteady. A shiver ran down her spine, shaking her from the nape of her neck to the tips of her toes. Damn it. She hated that feeling. She hated the cold. Her body trembled uncontrollably, and it had nothing to do with fear or exhaustion—it was a dry, relentless cold that slithered through her veins like a parasite.

She knew the reason. Shimmer had left her like this, for the most part. Her body burned from the inside out and, paradoxically, was more prone to the cold than ever. She had learned that the hard way. But the last few days had been hell.

Holding the tools in one hand, she wrapped herself tighter in the blanket she’d found on Ekko’s bed, clutching it against her chest. Even so, the icy air still seeped through the gaps, curling around her skin. Her short hair—the same hair Ekko had cut with his own hands—left her nape exposed, where the cold settled like an icy dagger.

Her lips were numb. Her fingers, nearly rigid.

But at least, her hands didn’t shake as much when she worked.

Ekko’s worktable was covered in tools, nuts, loose parts, and an open jar of motor oil off to the side. In front of her, the three hoverboards that, just a while ago, had looked like a pile of useless scrap.

The first now had its pneumatic dampers replaced. Jinx had found some in good condition on the shelf and adjusted them with the torque wrench, making sure they wouldn’t bend under pressure again. She had also recalibrated the power core of the second hoverboard, using the electromagnetic calibrator to stabilize the output and eliminate the unstable sparks. As for the third… well, she’d nearly rebuilt it from scratch. The missing stabilizing plate was easy to replace, but the steering circuit was a mess, so she soldered the broken connections with Ekko’s soldering iron and adjusted the cable tension with a precision screwdriver.

It was strange.

She could still feel the cold embracing her, the goosebumps on her arms, the stiffness in her legs. But somehow, her mood had improved.

She was even humming.

It was barely a murmur, a nameless melody slipping between her teeth as she tightened one last nut. Not that she wanted to do it. Actually, she felt more like burying herself under the blankets and not moving all day. But… it felt good. It felt good to hear the sound of the tools, the click of gears fitting together, the smell of oil. It felt good to be doing something.

The sound of the door opening pulled her from her thoughts.

Ekko walked in unceremoniously, shutting it behind him with his foot. Jinx didn’t turn, but she heard the crack of his neck as he popped it, followed by a long sigh as he stretched.

"Dear Janna..." he murmured, dragging out his words. "I thought I was gonna pass out in the middle of training today."

Jinx rolled her eyes, still not looking at him.

"Why? Did you finally realize you're not invincible?"

"Nah. I'm just seriously considering sleeping for more than three hours."

Ekko walked over to the table, and Jinx felt his presence right behind her. There was a long silence.

"Are you... fixing them?"

He didn’t sound surprised. Well, he was, but he was trying to hide it.

"No. I'm just wrecking them to see how you react."

Ekko let out a chuckle through his nose and leaned over the table.

"How did you fix this one?" he asked, pointing to the hoverboard with the broken suspension system.

Jinx twisted the wrench one last time before responding.

"I replaced the shock absorbers with some from the shelf. Also realigned the axle."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Why didn't you just reinforce the absorbers with a bit of welding?"

"Because I'm not a damn amateur, Ekko."

"I'm not saying it's the best solution, but it would’ve been faster."

"Yeah, and you also would’ve left the poor idiot who uses it with one less vertebra."

Ekko raised his hands in surrender.

"Well, maybe you're right. Maybe. And this one?"

She lightly tapped the energy core with the back of the wrench.

"It had a crappy calibration. I had to adjust the power with the electromagnetic calibrator."

"The electromagnetic calibrator?" Ekko looked at her, skeptical. "Why didn't you just adjust the valve manually?"

"Because I'm not a grandpa working with outdated tech."

He crossed his arms and tilted his head.

"You know what? I wanna see that."

Jinx tossed the electromagnetic calibrator at him without warning. Ekko barely had time to catch it before it hit his face.

"Do it yourself," she challenged, crossing her arms.

He looked at her, then at the hoverboard, then at the calibrator in his hand.

"...Well, that was faster than I expected."

Jinx smirked smugly.

"What did I tell you?"

He sighed and set the calibrator on the table.

"Alright, I'll admit it. But if it catches fire mid-flight, I'm saying I had nothing to do with it."

She rolled her eyes.

"If it catches fire, at least it'll do it flying properly."

They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into quiet laughter.

Ekko shook his head, a tired but genuine smile on his face.

"Alright, mechanical genius. What did you do with the third one?"

"I rebuilt it."

He blinked.

"...What do you mean you rebuilt it?"

"I mean I rebuilt it," she repeated, pointing at the parts. "Replaced the stabilizer plate, welded the steering circuit, and readjusted the cable tension."

Ekko watched her for another second, then let out a long sigh and dropped his back into the chair.

"In half the damn time it would've taken me."

Jinx grinned.

"That sounds like defeat."

"That sounds like you're gonna be the one fixing the hoverboards from now on."

She laughed and tossed him the wrench.

"Only if you pay me."

He caught the tool in the air and twirled it between his fingers.

"I could pay you with extra blankets. You seem to need a few."

"Shut up."

Jinx let the tools drop, the metallic clang echoing against the workbench, still tinged with the scent of oil. She stared at them for a moment, fingers numb from the cold, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. A slight tremor ran through her legs when she tried to move, and the moment she reached the bed, she collapsed onto it without ceremony, curling up against her own knees. Her teeth chattered involuntarily.

Ekko watched from the chair, elbows resting on his knees.

"You look like a swamp goblin trying to hibernate," he commented, raising an eyebrow.

She barely lifted her gaze from the folds of the blanket.

"I don't get how you're not frozen, Firelight," she muttered through clenched teeth. "How the hell are you still alive in that shirt? Are you immune to the cold? Do you have the internal thermostat of a damn dragon?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"It's not that cold."

"My damn bombs, it's not that cold," Jinx buried her head in her knees and groaned. "In fact, I'm pretty sure even my bombs would feel this cold."

Ekko watch ed her silently for a moment before speaking again. When he did, his voice was softer, but also more resigned.

"Jinx... it's not the weather."

She didn't respond. She just buried her head in her knees a little deeper.

"You haven't eaten in days," he continued with a long sigh. "That's probably why you're so cold."

Jinx felt her throat tighten at his words. She buried her head further, trying not to see Ekko’s concerned expression. She wasn’t doing it to annoy him. Or to worry him. But every time she imagined herself taking a bite, her stomach twisted, and any trace of hunger vanished. Thinking about a proper meal exhausted her, which was a cruel irony, because that very lack of food was what was leaving her so weak.

The silence stretched until Ekko decided to break it with a lighter tone.

"I'll let it slide for today. But if you don’t eat tomorrow, I’ll be forced to cook for you."

She snorted.

"Ha. I'd like to see you try."

"I'm serious. I'll dig up my old culinary skills and make you… I don’t know… maybe… rice with eel and spicy sauce."

Jinx's head shot up, eyes wide. Damn Ekko knew exactly what he was doing.

"No!"

He smiled, victorious.

"Yes."

"You can’t threaten me with good food!"

"Of course I can."

Jinx scowled and pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

"How the hell do you even remember that was my favorite?"

"Because when you were seven, you threatened to burn down Jericho's stall if he didn’t give you another serving."

She smirked, still curled up.

"You're right, that dish was the best. Do you remember the rice? Perfectly sticky but with that crispy touch from the sauce."

"And the eel with just the right smoky flavor," Ekko added, eyeing her sideways. "You’re not fooling me, you’re still thinking about it."

"Yeah, but I refuse to give in."

Ekko smiled tiredly, leaning back in the chair and cracking his neck and back. Jinx glanced at him. The sound of his joints popping was almost as loud as the sigh he let out afterward. He hadn’t just been busy—he’d spent countless nights sleeping on any surface that wasn’t his own bed.

A pang of guilt hit her.

"Long day?" she asked, not looking away.

"Pff. Just had to fix the ventilation system, check the power supply, and stop some idiots from setting one of the workshops on fire because they wanted to see what would happen if they overloaded a hoverboard’s capacitor. Oh, and I had to review the daily patrol routes. Nothing major."

"So, almost nothing."

"Almost nothing," Ekko repeated, massaging his neck.

Jinx looked at the bed. Then at him.

"If you wanna lie down here, I can make some space."

He stared at her for a moment before quickly looking away.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You literally sound like a badly nailed wooden plank every time you move."

"I don't need the bed."

"I'm not inviting you, I'm ordering you."

Ekko raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm the queen of this mattress, and I say you're gonna lie down here before you fall apart like a rag doll."

He sighed, but the exhaustion in his shoulders won.

He stood up, took a few steps, and let himself fall onto the bed next to Jinx with a sigh, settling onto the mattress with heavy movements. His back rested against the soft surface, and his gaze fixed on the ceiling, trying not to turn his head toward Jinx. If he did, she would immediately notice the slight blush burning on his cheeks.

He placed one hand under his head to get more comfortable, while the other arm stretched out beside him… right next to Jinx. The angle at which he lay gave Jinx a clear view of the curve of his muscles, clearly defined from years of all kinds of effort, and a glimmer appeared in her eyes. But as soon as she realized what she was looking at, a faint blush crept onto her pale skin, and even more so when her cold, trembling cheek accidentally brushed against Ekko’s shoulder.

The first thing she noticed was how ridiculously warm he was compared to her.

“I hate you,” Jinx suddenly muttered.

Ekko turned his head slightly toward her, confused.

“What?”

She pulled the blanket tighter around her body, shivering from the cold.

“It’s not fair your skin is so warm. It’s completely unfair and cruel.”

Without thinking too much, she rubbed her cheek against Ekko’s shoulder, trying to absorb even a little of his warmth.

He felt the contact and swallowed nervously.

“Look, if you need to… you could…”

He hesitated, measuring his words.

“I could… you know… for the cold…”

Jinx lifted her head and shot him a suspicious look, knowing exactly what he meant.

“‘For the cold’?”

“For the cold,” Ekko reaffirmed, stubbornly staring at the ceiling.

Jinx continued rubbing her cheek against him.

“Mmm… I don’t know, firelight. That sounds suspiciously like an excuse.”

“It’s not,” he rushed to say. “It’s just a simple exchange of body heat. Basic survival.”

She looked at him once more, trying to murmur another tease, but the warmth of his skin overpowered her need to annoy him. Finally, still trembling, she slid closer, resting her head on his chest and letting one of her hands rest there as well.

Jinx’s heart pounded as she realized the position she was putting herself in, and she blushed even more. But Ekko’s warmth wrapped around her in a strangely comforting way. Against all odds, that sensation ended up overpowering her discomfort, and without thinking too much, she snuggled closer against his body.

Ekko, still uncertain if he was crossing a line, took a few seconds before reacting. Slowly, his arm curled around Jinx’s back, pulling her a little closer. The embrace was clumsy at first. Neither of them seemed to know exactly how to position themselves. But when Ekko felt her small body trembling against his, uncertainty was replaced by a stronger instinct.

Without further hesitation, he brought his other hand to her, beginning to rub her arms and back with slow, firm movements.

She let out a relieved sigh, feeling how the cold that had tormented her just minutes ago began to fade. Without thinking, she pressed herself closer against Ekko, savoring the warmth radiating from his body. Ekko, sensing how Jinx sought more contact, fully wrapped his arms around her, making sure there was no cold space left between them.

With her head resting on his chest, she could swear she heard a fast, steady pounding beneath her. At first, she thought it was the activity from the base, or maybe just her own mind. But the more she listened, the clearer the sound became.

And she wasn’t entirely sure it was coming from anywhere other than Ekko’s heart.

For long minutes, they remained in silence.

Jinx stayed curled against Ekko’s chest, her small hand still resting on him, while her shivers became more sporadic. Her breathing, which had been erratic at first, began to sync with his, unintentionally following the rise and fall of his chest.

Ekko kept rubbing her back and arms, his fingers gliding over the rough fabric of the blanket and sometimes brushing against the cold skin peeking from beneath it. He wasn’t sure how long they had been like this, but the feeling of Jinx’s body against his was… strangely pleasant. Warm, even though she was the one seeking his heat.

He could feel his own heart pounding hard, aware of every point of contact between them. The way Jinx’s cheek remained pressed against his chest, the way her breath filtered through the folds of his shirt, sending small shivers down his spine.

Jinx felt something similar. Even though her body had stopped trembling, a new kind of shiver ran across her skin, completely different from the cold. She still felt the faint blush on her face, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to pull away. It felt good. Damn good.

At some point, Ekko’s fingers stopped moving mechanically and began to caress her with more care, with more… intention. Gently, he traced slow circles on her back with the tips of his fingers, and the contact sent a shiver down to the base of Jinx’s neck.

She shifted slightly, pressing closer to him, and with an almost unconscious gesture, she slid her hand across his chest, pausing for a second when she felt his heart pounding strongly beneath her palm.

He tensed slightly at the touch, but he didn’t pull away. In fact, his arms held her even more firmly.

She opened her mouth to say something, but it took her several seconds to find the words. Her question had been on the tip of her tongue for days, waiting to be asked. Ever since Ekko had taken her to see that mural he’d painted with his own hands, where he’d portrayed all the people he had been lucky enough to meet in that reality he had spoken of, one that seemed straight out of a storybook. Even the portrait of herself that he’d made—or rather, of the other version of herself—looked like it belonged in a fairytale. Powder, with her tanned skin, full cheeks, short hair, her face… marked by expression lines that hinted at daily smiles. But she wasn’t entirely sure. And she was dying to ask. And even though she hadn’t yet, now, with Ekko’s warmth surrounding her and the intimacy of the moment, it was even harder to get it out of her head.

Finally, with a slightly clumsy voice and evident nervousness, she said:

“Hey, firelight… did I ever tell you I hate that other Powder?”

Ekko blinked, confused.

“What?”

“Yeah.” Jinx pressed her cheek against his chest, curling up slightly. “I hate her.”

He let out a soft laugh, though the blush on his face didn’t fade.

“Uh-huh… can I ask why?”

“Because,” she murmured, drumming her fingers against his chest, “she looked better. You know, better than me. She even looked prettier.”

Ekko felt how Jinx’s shoulders tensed before she added, in a murmur:

“She wasn’t as pale… or as bony.”

He narrowed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow with a sigh.

“Jinx…”

“No, seriously. Was she a Powder with vitamins and decent food? A happier Powder? I bet everyone loved her, and she had friends, and—”

“Jinx,” Ekko repeated, with a firmer tone.

She fell silent, but she didn’t look up.

He slid one of his hands to her hair and, with more care than he’d ever had, ran his fingers through her blue strands.

“She was happy, yeah.” His voice sounded strangely calm. “She had friends, she had… family… but, you know? I don’t think she reached her full potential. Vander used to talk to her about that a lot.”

Jinx frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Ekko ran his hand from her hair to her back, pulling her a bit closer.

“She was really smart. Like you. She even…”

He paused for a moment, realizing what he was about to say.

She tilted her head, intrigued.

“She even what?”

“Nothing.”

“No, no.” Jinx shifted slightly, not lifting her head. “Come on, firelight, spill it out.”

Ekko looked away, feeling the heat in his cheeks intensify.

“She just… she figured out I came from another reality.”

She blinked.

“What? How?”

He swallowed. He knew perfectly well there was no way out of this now.

Unless, of course, he wanted Jinx insisting all night for him to talk. Or if he lied to her. But he couldn’t do that—not to her.

The warmth between them had settled into an enveloping calm, but the nervousness was still there, floating between their steady breaths. Jinx kept her head resting on Ekko’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing against her cheek. Her fingers drummed an erratic rhythm on his chest, expectant, while Ekko’s kept slowly sliding down her back.

“There’s actually… well, there’s something I didn’t tell you about… her.”

Jinx narrowed her eyes.

“Was she some kind of parallel reality seer who saw right through you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then?”

Ekko huffed.

“Well… turns out Powder had suspicions that something was… off, even before we started building the Z-Drive.”

“Uh-huh…”

He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself.

Without further ado, he let it out.

“She said she realized something was wrong because her boyfriend was acting weird when she touched him.”

A brief silence followed.

Jinx blinked.

“…Excuse me?”

“Yeah, because I was acting weird with her. And also because, according to her… I hadn’t kissed her in weeks.”

Another silence.

A long one.

Ekko felt Jinx’s body subtly tense in his embrace.

“Wait, wait, wait…” Jinx sat up slightly, pressing a hand more firmly against Ekko’s chest. “Are you telling me… in this reality… you and I… we were…?”

He looked away, the blush creeping up his dark skin.

“Yup.”

She blinked several times. Then, she narrowed her eyes in disbelief.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes, Jinx, yes.”

Jinx opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

“No.”

Ekko dropped his head with a groan.

“You’re so annoying.”

Jinx let out a laugh before resting her cheek against his chest again, shaking her head.

“Well, that explains a lot…” she murmured, still with an amused smile. “But I also have questions.”

He sighed.

“I knew I was gonna regret th—”

“For example… why did you omit that tiny, little detail?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I didn’t think it was relevant.”

She lifted her head again, looking at him.

“You didn’t think it was relevant?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So it just slipped your mind to tell me that, in another reality, we were together and you were probably dying to kiss me.”

Ekko let out an ironic laugh. The come-back was at the tip of his tongue, but letting Jinx know that he had, in fact, kissed her would only make him dig his own grave a little deeper.

“Oh, yeah, you have no idea how much I was dying for it. Having to build an interdimensional device was a total joke compared to that.”

“I know.” Jinx smiled, leaning against his chest again. “Must be hard for you.”

He rolled his eyes, though the blush on his cheeks betrayed him.

“And why’s that?”

“Because you probably wish you’d stayed with her and kept on being her sweet little boyfriend.”

“If I wanted to be with her, I would’ve stayed in that reality and never come back, dummy.”

The comment landed with an unexpected weight in the room.

Jinx felt her body tense immediately.

Of course, Ekko wasn’t lying.

Because he was here. Not in the other reality, where everything was better. Where Powder was happy, kind, and… different from her. And that was saying a lot.

He’d chosen to stay in this world. With her.

She felt her heart pounding harder against her chest.

Could it be possible… that Ekko was okay with this broken and twisted version of her? And didn’t wanna stay with… Powder?

She didn’t know.

But his warmth, his arms firmly around her, and the way his breath was still uneven made her think that maybe… maybe he was.

The silence between them was… strangely comfortable. Barely interrupted by the soft sound of their breathing. Jinx remained curled up against Ekko’s chest, her fingers idly playing with the hem of his shirt. Her skin still held a slight trace of cold, but Ekko’s warmth gradually wrapped around her, dissipating it.

Her hands moved subtly, without much thought. She slid her fingertips over the rough, worn fabric of his clothes, feeling the heartbeat beneath her palm—though calmer than before, it was still strong. Ekko kept a lazy motion on her back, tracing distracted lines with his fingertips.

“So…” Jinx suddenly broke the silence, her voice sounding lazy. “What was she like?”

Ekko tilted his head, his chin brushing against Jinx’s hair.

“Powder?”

“Who do you think?” Jinx rolled her eyes. “Yes, Powder.”

He chuckled.

“You know how she is. Clever, pretty, smart…”

“Smarter than me?”

“Just as smart.”

Jinx narrowed her eyes, clearly doubtful.

“Prettier than me?”

“You two are literally the same p—”

“Answer me!”

“Alright, alright. She’s not prettier than you.”

She pursed her lips. She took a deep breath. And this time, she spoke without a trace of mockery.

“She wasn’t… she wasn’t a mess like me, was she?”

She pressed her lips tighter together, her hand stopping on Ekko’s chest. She felt the strong, steady heartbeat beneath her palm. She tried, somehow, to merge with it—to find some calm.

A long silence followed.

After a few moments, she heard him let out a soft sigh.

“Jinx… even though you two are very different in many ways, and even if you don’t believe it… you’re both still the same.”

Jinx frowned. 

Of course, despite many of the things Ekko had told her about Powder sounding as foreign as breathing fresh air, she couldn’t help but feel strangely familiar with many others. She couldn’t help but think that they were things she would definitely do or say…

If things around her had been different.

Ha. It made sense.

“I’m still a mess, though.”

Then, he let out a soft laugh, and before Jinx could react, she felt something that completely shocked her.

A kiss on her head. 

Ekko had planted a kiss on her head.

The shiver ran down her spine before she could stop it, and her heart jumped inside her chest like a spring.

“If you say so. But somehow,” he whispered, holding her tighter, “you’re the mess I want.”

Jinx froze, her brain processing at an extremely slow speed—for her standards—what had just happened.

Her heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt. Her hands instinctively clung tighter to Ekko’s shirt, and before she could stop herself, she pressed even closer to him, trying to melt into his arms. Into his chest. Into his heartbeat. Into his skin. Into him, if possible. It wasn’t physically possible to be any closer, but she tried anyway.

“Hey, Jinx.”

“Mmm?”

“Tomorrow, you’re not escaping.”

She frowned.

“Escaping from what?”

“We’re cooking.”

“What?”

“We’ll cook your favorite.”

Jinx scoffed.

“Pff, yeah, right. There’s a tiny problem, firelight: I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

“I know.”

“So why would you put me through such torture?”

He smiled.

“Because I’m a disaster in the kitchen too.”

“So who’s gonna cook, huh? The bugs?”

“We are.”

“Mmm… nah.”

Ekko laughed, letting his fingers run through her hair, tucking a few loose strands behind her ear.

“Come on, Jinx.”

“No.”

“Jinx.”

“No.”

He sighed.

“Alright. If we cook together, I promise I won’t make you eat anything that tastes like burnt rubber.”

She paused, thinking. Strangely enough… her stomach was starting to twist with hunger. And the idea of eating a good meal, instead of making her want to throw up… suddenly didn’t sound so bad.

“Mmm… alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ll cook something.”

“And you’ll eat?”

“Yeah, I’ll eat.”

Ekko smiled, satisfied, and hugged her a little tighter.

Jinx remained pressed against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping her.

She still hated cold nights.

But… the coldest nights weren’t so bad when she was in the right arms.

And somehow, Ekko’s arms felt more than just right.

 

.                                   ──────────

 

Jinx had been stationed at her window all morning.

From her workshop, she could see the docks teeming with ships of all kinds: salt-crusted merchant vessels, pirate ships with sails tattered by the wind, and, in the distance, the dreaded Fortress of the Hanged, its walls blackened by moisture and the secrets it concealed. Closer, the Lower Quarter buzzed with activity: smugglers negotiating on street corners, mercenaries counting their coins, and street children darting between stalls of rotting fish. Normally, Jinx found a twisted pleasure in watching all that chaos from the safety of her workshop, but that morning, she couldn't care less about the view.

The sudden change in weather didn’t interest her either. Now, a sticky heat reigned, and the air carried the salty scent of the ocean mixed with the stench of the city. Jinx didn't give a damn. She’d woken up late, her mouth dry as a damn desert and her head pounding, a pain she barely managed to ease by throwing water on her face.

After running a hand through her hair a couple of times and dressing in a long-sleeved white shirt and leather pants—her cannon hanging from her belt as a reminder that she wasn’t in the mood for games or trusting any crew member of The Red Fortune—she’d planted herself at the window, waiting to see a red-haired figure approaching her workshop. Her fingers drummed impatiently on the windowsill, her foot tapped against the floor in an erratic rhythm, and her jaw remained clenched.

She wasn’t stupid enough to leave the door open. Not that morning. The Fortune Sharks were coming, and Jinx had no intention of being caught off guard. She locked every bolt—the standard ones and the explosive traps that only she could disarm—checked her arsenal, and ensured that anything even remotely fragile was out of reach in case of a fight. Because, well, with that crew, trouble was more certain than the rising tide.

As she waited, her mind began to wander over what she knew about the Fortune Sharks. Honestly, they seemed more like a collection of bar joke characters than a real crew.

First, there was Salazar "Salt-Eyes" Harker, the navigator. An old man with an eye patch and a strange ability to "read" the sea. According to him, the tide whispered secrets to him. According to Jinx, he was either crazy or had water in his brain. He was also a devoted worshipper of Miss Fortune, convinced she was destined to rule Bilgewater. Jinx found it amusing to imagine him praying to the ocean, waiting for the waves to give him leadership advice.

Then there was Ivy "The Reaper" Thorne, the gunner. Jinx had a certain respect for Ivy, if only because the woman loved gunpowder as much as she did. Though, in Ivy’s case, it bordered on fetishism. She had lost a leg in an explosion—which, in Bilgewater, was practically a rite of passage—and replaced it with a prosthetic full of compartments for ammunition. In Jinx’s opinion, that made her the most fun and dangerous person on a ship.

The helmsman, Malik "The Mast" Farren, was a former smuggler from Ixtal with the talent to pull off impossible maneuvers without crashing the ship—something admirable considering he also had the talent for making impulsively terrible decisions. He always had an unlit cigar in his mouth, which Jinx found suspicious. Why the hell would anyone carry a cigar without smoking it? Maybe it was part of his "mysterious attitude," but to Jinx, it just seemed like a stupid way to waste tobacco.

Ronan "Razor" Voss was the swordsman and second-in-command. He had a scar on his jaw and looked like it screamed ‘I will kill you if you so much as breathe in my direction’. He used to be loyal to another captain, which meant his moral compass was a disaster, but after Miss Fortune defeated him, he decided to follow her. Jinx wondered if he would ever find someone he didn’t want to kill. She doubted it.

Darla "Two Fingers" Merrow was the medic and sea witch. A former healer from a marine cult, she had only two fingers on one hand, but that didn’t stop her from being absurdly precise with a needle. She mixed traditional medicine with rare potions that could either heal or kill you with equal ease. Jinx wasn’t sure whether to admire her or fear her. Probably both.

And then there was Lysander "Seven Lives" Crane, the spy. A man who had been betrayed so many times that his nickname was basically a joke. He had no firm loyalties and always followed whoever he thought was going to win. Jinx figured he probably had an escape route mapped out in every corner of Bilgewater and a bag of gold buried somewhere in case he needed to disappear.

Finally, the captain: Miss Fortune. Jinx didn’t need to go over her history—she already knew it by heart. Strong, cunning, and with enough charisma to make people follow her even when they knew she could kill them without blinking. There wasn’t a soul in Bilgewater who didn’t respect her… or at least pretend to, to avoid ending up at the bottom of the sea.

Jinx wasn’t planning on receiving any other customers that morning. But of course, that didn’t mean the workshop was empty.

Even with the door locked tight, the brats had found a way in, like they did every morning, crawling through the ventilation shafts like rats with too much energy.

Luckily, not all of them had come. That morning, there were only four: Nella, Sprocket, Luz, and Gus. Not the worst-case scenario.

Nella had claimed a corner of the workshop with the authority of a captain on her own ship. Sitting on a stool with her legs crossed, she held a piece of toast covered in thick eel paste in one hand and a spring bolt in the other, twirling it between her fingers with the dexterity of someone who had no idea what they were doing but refused to admit it.

Sprocket had taken a different approach: after devouring his portion of preserved fish with seaweed bread, he decided the best course of action was to experiment with a couple of detonators Jinx had disassembled on the table. They had no gunpowder, of course, but he didn’t know that. Or maybe he did, but that didn’t stop him from pressing them against Luz’s ear, convinced they would click at any moment.

Luz was busy arguing with Gus. Or rather, they were yelling at each other while holding a marine crystal each, comparing them as if they were the greatest experts on the subject.

"Mine is a Leviathan scale fragment!" Luz exclaimed, holding up her greenish crystal.

"Ha! You don’t know anything. That’s just a piece of hardened coral. Mine is an actual scale. Look at the texture," Gus retorted, shaking it in her face.

"Texture means nothing, idiot! This glows in the dark!"

"So do corals, you pickled fishbrain!"

Meanwhile, Jinx stood at the other end of the workshop, deliberately ignoring them.

Her gaze was fixed on the window.

It wasn’t that the kids bothered her—well, they did, but also, they didn’t—, but she wasn’t in the mood to deal with them. She would have preferred if they hadn’t come that morning. But if they hadn’t, they wouldn’t have had anything to eat. And she couldn’t stomach that thought. So, as she did every morning, she waited for them.

But she was also ready to kick them out the moment she saw a red mane approaching.

And there it was.

In the distance, the unmistakable figure moved through Bilgewater’s alleys with the confidence of someone who knew no one would stand in their way. The red hair flared like a beacon, drawing all eyes. But Jinx didn’t just focus on her.

Behind her, six figures followed closely. Her crew.

Jinx reacted instantly.

She turned to the kids, still caught up in their own world.

"Out!" she snapped.

Only Gus seemed to notice that something was going on.

"What? Why?"

"Come on, come on, out!" Jinx waved her arms as if she were shooing seagulls off a dock.

The kids looked at her without moving much.

"Why?" Sprocket asked, his mouth full of toast.

"Because."

"That's not a reason," Nella said, crossing her arms.

"It's the best reason there is. Now, out!"

Sprocket clicked his tongue.

"I don't wanna crawl through the vent again. Luz always kicks me in the face."

"That's because you shove your big head in first!" Luz protested.

"Because someone has to lead the way!"

"But you do it wrong!"

Jinx gritted her teeth. She was in a hurry, but she didn’t want the kids running off in sheer panic either. She took a deep breath.

"Look, I need you to do something for me," she said with a smile she hoped looked convincing.

That got their attention.

"What is it?" Nella asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"I need you to keep an eye on the alley. Remember those red-haired twins snooping around?"

"Old Pete’s kids," Gus said with a nod.

"Those ones. I want you to scare them off."

"Can we yell insults at them?" Luz asked, excited.

"As long as you don’t kill them, do whatever you want."

"Ha! We’re gonna make them cry!" Sprocket smacked his fist into his palm with enthusiasm.

"And if you do a good job…" Jinx pulled a bag of candies wrapped in oiled paper from a shelf. "You get this."

The four kids lit up.

"Are they shark honey candies?" Luz asked, her voice full of excitement.

"The best ones."

The vent debate died instantly. Sprocket climbed up first, with Luz right on his heels. Nella rolled her eyes but followed. Gus was the last, making sure Jinx was actually going to hand over the bag later.

As soon as they disappeared into the duct, Jinx let out a sigh and turned toward her workshop.

She quickly scanned the space.

The shelves were still in place. The crossbows hung on the wall, lined up next to wire nets and boarding hooks. The rifles were still in their locked case. The detonators… well, better not think about what Sprocket had done with them, but at least none were missing.

Then she touched her hair.

Tied in a ponytail.

She leaned toward a reflective metal piece and checked it quickly.

Didn’t smell bad.

No springs tangled in it.

Everything was fine. Everything was—

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Jinx froze.

For a moment, her mind went blank. Then she shook her head and took a deep breath.

Natural. You have to look natural.

She straightened her back, ran her hands over her shirt, checked her ponytail once more, and walked to the door.

She couldn't keep them waiting.

The door creaked open, and there she was.

Miss Fortune.

Her red hair fell in shining waves over her shoulders, framing a fair-skinned face with green eyes that could see straight through people with a single glance. She wore a dark leather corset, fingerless gloves, and her twin pistols strapped to her belt. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew everyone around her was looking… and that it was exactly what she wanted.

"Hello, treasure."

Jinx stayed still for a second too long before clearing her throat.

"Uh… hey."

Behind Miss Fortune, her crew lined up at the workshop entrance. Six figures, each with their own imposing presence.

Salazar Harker leaned on a gnarled wooden cane, his single eye scanning the place with a mix of curiosity and distrust. Ivy Thorne threw her head back and laughed with a booming cackle. The prosthetic on her leg creaked as she stepped forward, the small compartments in it jingling with the weight of the ammunition hidden inside. Malik Farren pulled a cigar from his jacket and placed it between his lips without lighting it. Ronan Voss remained stoic, arms crossed, while Darla Merrow examined the place with the calculating expression of someone measuring every corner, every jar on the shelves, every scent in the air.

Lysander Crane smiled like he knew something the others didn’t. His gaze was clearly that of someone taking mental notes to use later.

"You look more sober than yesterday," Miss Fortune remarked, her eyes sweeping over Jinx with barely concealed amusement.

"Well, today I’m ready to do business," she replied, trying for confidence—one that cracked when Miss Fortune stepped forward, invading her personal space.

"I hope so," she whispered before stepping aside with a smile and walking into the workshop like it was hers.

The Fortune Sharks followed without hesitation.

Jinx watched, feeling both pride and nervousness as each crew member spread out through the workshop.

Salazar leaned over a repeating crossbow, running his fingers over the polished wood while murmuring something about wind direction.

Ivy picked up one of Jinx’s experimental grenades, spinning it between her fingers with a satisfied grin.

"Does this explode strong or pretty?" she asked with a dark chuckle.

"Both," Jinx answered.

Malik inspected a shotgun with a professional air, taking the cigar out of his mouth for the first time to test the weapon's weight.

"Not bad… but the recoil looks brutal," he commented.

"That’s what arms are for, right?" Jinx raised an eyebrow.

Ronan examined a curved sword with terrifying concentration, testing its balance with a slight flick of his wrist.

Darla was more interested in the jars of marine oils and chemical compounds Jinx had on a shelf.

"Interesting selection…" she murmured, tilting her head.

Lysander, however, had leaned over a weapon design blueprint without asking permission.

Jinx had to bite her tongue to keep from cursing. She wasn’t about to lose an arm today.

Miss Fortune, meanwhile, didn’t touch anything. She just watched. She strolled through the workshop with the same ease as a shark patrolling the waters.

"You have some interesting toys here," she said, turning to Jinx with a half-smile.

Jinx took a breath and rubbed her hands together before moving to one of the tables where her best weapons were laid out. Miss Fortune watched her with that half-smile, one hand on her hip, while her Sharks roamed freely.

"Well, I have some little things you might like…"

The woman tilted her head slightly, expectant.

Jinx first pulled out a dark-structured crossbow, its surface engraved with spirals that seemed to absorb the light.

"This baby is called Deep’s Resentment," she said, tapping the side of the weapon. "Fires bolts tipped with Kraken Glass. Know what that does?"

Miss Fortune took the crossbow with curiosity, turning it in her hands.

"Enlighten me, darling."

"When it hits a target, it releases a shockwave that temporarily paralyzes them and nullifies any magical defenses. Perfect for abyssal eels, shadow sharks, and anything that relies on magic tricks to escape."

The redhead set the crossbow back on the table, giving Jinx an appreciative look.

"Clever. Like you."

Jinx felt her ears burn but quickly cleared her throat and pulled out the next artifact: a black steel harpoon with sapphires embedded in the grip.

"There’s more," she murmured nervously. "The Claw. This doesn’t just pierce—it also releases an electric pulse that fries the creature’s nervous system."

Miss Fortune ran a finger over the metallic surface of the harpoon, smiling.

"Interesting… though I like it better when you say it."

Jinx let out a choked laugh.

"Ha! Yeah, well… uh… this is perfect for sea serpents and phantom rays. If you’ve fought one, you know they’re slippery and annoying."

She smirked, her green eyes locking onto Jinx’s.

"You sell your creations well, treasure," she said, her smile like a hook waiting for someone to bite.

Jinx swallowed hard and forced herself to nod.

"Yeah… I mean, sure, of course. I only build the best."

"No doubt about that."

And though she had examined each weapon with genuine interest, she hadn’t shown any sign of leaning toward a particular one. Jinx shifted uncomfortably.

"So… any of them catch your eye?"

"Maybe…" she murmured, running her fingers along the edge of the table. "But before I decide… I want to hear which one you think would be best for me."

Jinx blinked a couple of times.

"What?"

"Come on, tell me. If you were me, which one would you choose?"

She looked at the weapons on the table, then at Miss Fortune, then back at the weapons.

The redhead waited patiently, amused by her reaction.

She swallowed.

"Uh… well…"

"I'm just messing with you, sweetheart. Don't get so shaky. Your toys are nice, but none of this interests me. I don’t want just any weapons, darling. I want something exclusive. Something made just for me."

Jinx drummed her fingers on a table cluttered with prototypes, cartridges, and half-assembled mechanisms. Her mouth twisted into a nervous smile.

"But... but this is the best you'll see in this port. Do you know how many fingers—I mean, lives—it cost me to get these parts?"

Miss Fortune smirked and leaned over the table, close enough that Jinx could smell the salt and gunpowder on her skin.

"I don’t want weapons that anyone with a bag of golden krakens can buy, doll. I need something for the Great Hunt."

Jinx swallowed hard and looked away, her mind working quickly.

"Uh-huh... And what’s so special about it? Can’t you just, I don’t know, go shooting wildly at a sea dragon like everyone else?"

The woman let out a soft laugh, a low, dangerous sound.

"Oh, honey, the Great Hunt isn't just a pastime for pirates looking to play hunter and win the big pot at the betting houses. It’s the real test of who rules Bilgewater. You do know that, right?"

Jinx felt a chill run down her spine.

"I know, I know, so… you want weapons for… a big fish?"

"Not just any big fish. I want the biggest one. I want to hunt a Megatusk."

The air in the room suddenly felt heavier. Even Salazar, the navigator, looked up with an incredulous expression.

"Megatusk?" Jinx laughed nervously. "Ah, yeah, sure, just… the damn Leviathan of the depths. No big deal. Not at all."

Miss Fortune leaned on the table, crossing her arms over her chest, tilting forward just enough to force Jinx to meet her gaze.

"I don’t wanna waste my time with second-rate weapons. If my Sharks are gonna win the Great Hunt, we need gear designed specifically to take that beast down. And that’s where you come in."

Jinx felt her stomach twist with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Uh-huh... And what exactly do you have in mind?"

The redhead snapped her fingers, and Malik Farren pulled out a parchment with sketches of a modified harpooner.

"We need reinforced harpoons with kraken filaments, something that can pierce a Megatusk’s hide without breaking. I also want explosive charges that stick to its flesh and detonate with a rune timer."

Jinx frowned, considering the details.

"Mmm... I could add a grip rune, something that doesn’t just blow it up but also tears it apart from the inside..."

Miss Fortune smiled, pleased.

"I like how you think. I’ll also need armor-piercing rounds designed to go through the bony plates on its head. And net launchers with heavy chains to hold it down."

Jinx rubbed her hands together, her mind already racing with ideas.

"I could make an upgraded electrified net... Something that delivers a good shock when it tightens."

Miss Fortune straightened up, her smile sharp as a knife.

"Perfect. Now you’re speaking my language."

Jinx eyed her cautiously. She knew exactly what she had to say now, and she was sure the captain did too. And though she wasn’t about to shut herself in her workshop and work like crazy without getting paid, that didn’t stop a shiver from running down her spine when she spoke.

"This… won’t be cheap."

"Don’t worry about the price. Ask for whatever you want. But make sure these weapons are unique. If I find out you sold anything… similar to another captain..." Her fingers traced the stock of the nearest rifle. "...well, you’re smart, treasure. You know what’ll happen."

Jinx swallowed and laughed nervously.

"Me? Sell something twice? Nah, I’d never do that. Sounds like trouble… and I already have plenty of that..."

Miss Fortune stepped closer, reducing the space between them.

"You’re an artist, Miss J. You know that, right?"

The compliment caught her off guard. Jinx swallowed hard and looked away, pretending to adjust a loose screw on her worktable.

"Well, you know, it’s nothing, nothing a good pair of greasy hands can’t d—”

"But there’s something else I need from you. Something… special."

Jinx stopped pretending to work and gave her a cautious look, muttering under her breath.

"Not gonna lie, that smile gives me the creeps."

"The good kind?"

"Not sure which ones are the good kind."

"Oh, gorgeous, one day I’ll show you which ones are the good kind."

Once again, heat shot up to Jinx’s ears, and she suddenly felt the urge to hide in the nearest hole she could find. Yes, the woman was undeniably hot, but there was something about her that gave Jinx chills… and not the good kind.

Miss Fortune chuckled and took her time speaking.

"I’ve been keeping a close eye on your clients. You know, nothing personal. I have to watch what happens in this port."

Jinx felt a faint shiver crawl down her spine.

"Uh-huh…"

"And I’ve noticed Captain Vargo comes and goes from your workshop more than anyone else."

Jinx narrowed her eyes, her brain trying to find the angle in this conversation.

"Uh… well, yeah. He’s a good customer. Pays on time. Doesn’t try to kill me. Big advantage in Bilgewater, if you ask me."

The woman let out a low chuckle, but her gaze turned sharper.

"You two get along, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess you could… say that…"

"Because the docks whisper that Captain Vargo would rip the arm off anyone who crossed the line with you. Curious. He must be fond of you."

"Well, I don’t know if I’d say that. But yeah, he likes coming here, buying weapons, drinking rum, telling me stories—"

"Then I assume he told you he used to work with Gangplank.” 

The workshop fell into tense silence. 

The temperature seemed to drop suddenly, as the Fortune Sharks stopped in their tracks one by one. Even Ivy stopped fiddling with the gun and looked at Miss Fortune with a frown.

"What?" Jinx blinked rapidly. "Vargo never told me anything about that."

Miss Fortune tilted her head.

"No? That’s curious too. Because he and Gangplank used to close many deals together. Even sailed on the same crew for a while. They stopped crossing paths, sure, but no one in Bilgewater knows exactly why… or if that’s even true. A great captain, if you ask me, that’s for sure. Shakes up the market like crazy, so a bullet to his head wouldn’t do me any good. And Vargo has earned and still earns a lot of respect… too much, I’d say."

Jinx frowned, her nervousness turning into confusion. She’d heard many rumors and stories about that Gangplank… and none of them were pretty. Many were convinced he was still lurking in the shadows, ready to take back what the red-haired woman in front of her had stolen by force.

Of course, Jinx had never given it much thought. She built weapons, and that was it. But the more she pieced things together in her mind, the less she liked where this was going.

She cleared her throat nervously.

“Gangplank?”

“Oh, darling. Don’t tell me you didn’t know. Or that you also didn’t know Vargo refused many of my offers to join me.”

Jinx blinked rapidly, shaking her head.

“No, I didn’t know. I mean, I know he goes to the Isles a lot, that he looks for weird things… you know, from when the poor ones were still blessed… but I had no idea about… that.”

“Is that what he does on his little trips, Miss J? Goes to the Isles?”

The red-haired woman’s smile seemed to fade for a few seconds, like a mask slipping for a brief moment, which made Jinx shudder.

“That’s what he says…”

“And do you trust him?”

Jinx stopped, pressing her lips together and looking away. She hoped the woman in front of her wouldn’t notice how her nails had started digging into her palms. Of course, there was something undeniably comforting about spending time with Vargo, about passing long afternoons in her workshop talking about meaningless things. Not just because Jinx felt less… empty when he was around, but because, in some way, she’d grown fond of the old man. Just a little.

And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t really know anything about him. And truth be told, he didn’t know anything about her either. But it was absurd to think she had any knowledge of the old man when clearly, she didn’t. She wasn’t angry, of course. But part of her felt a little offended for not having that seemingly important information about the old man with whom she had shared countless bottles of rum.

She took a deep breath.

“Listen, I don’t know what he did before, but I swear he doesn’t tell me campfire stories about his days at sea. No one in this rat’s nest tells others about their past.”

Miss Fortune studied every little tic in Jinx’s expression. After a moment, she slowly nodded, stroking the grip of one of her pistols.

“I believe you. But that doesn’t change what I want from you.”

Jinx bit her lip, feeling that something worse was coming.

“And what… what exactly do you want?”

“It’s simple, sweetheart. Vargo has surely already placed his own orders for the Great Hunt. But maybe, on that day, his weapons will have some… little issues.”

Jinx felt her stomach twist. She knew exactly where this was going, but she preferred to pretend she didn’t and not think about it.

“Little issues?”

“You know. Ammunition that explodes at the wrong moment, damp gunpowder, rifles that jam when he needs them most, poorly combined runes…”

And then, Jinx felt an even worse knot in her stomach. In fact, she was sure she could throw up right there.

“W-what? No, wait, wait. He trusts me. I can’t—”

Miss Fortune closed the distance between them again, this time stroking her chin with a finger.

“Yes, you can.”

Jinx froze.

“B-but if he finds out…”

“Then make sure he doesn’t. No one knows better than you how to do it… subtly.”

Jinx swallowed hard. Her mind was racing a mile a minute, searching for a way out, an excuse, anything. She drummed her fingers against the edge of the table, trying to appear distracted, as if the conversation wasn’t wrapping around her like a lurking serpent.

It was Miss Fortune who spoke again, regaining her usual smile.

“You know, treasure,” Miss Fortune’s voice slid through the walls and the damp air, as smooth as the finest rum in Bilgewater, “I was never good with runes. Always seemed like something for geniuses or mad people. You seem like both. And you seem to handle them quite well.”

Jinx swallowed hard.

“I-I don’t know… Vargo is buying an arsenal for the Great Hunt. What if the weapons fail at a critical moment and—?”

“Miss J… You don’t have to carry that guilt. You know as well as I do there are more… elegant, subtle ways. How about a small flaw in the stabilization of the ignition runes? Nothing too serious, just enough to make the explosions… let’s say, unpredictable.” Her smile widened just a little. “Or maybe a slight delay in the feedback circuit. Nothing he would notice right away, just enough so that at a critical moment, the weapon doesn’t respond as expected.”

Jinx shifted in place, swallowing even harder.

“If…” she murmured, feeling each word weigh heavily on her tongue. “I mean, if something goes wrong… he could…” She trailed off, avoiding looking at her directly.

“Die,” Miss Fortune completed. “But come on, treasure, he’s Captain Vargo. He’s not a little boy playing with wooden pistols, is he? I’m sure he’ll manage. And if not… well, the next Great Hunt is always just around the corner.”

She pressed her lips together. Her stomach churned—not just bad, but worse. But… the woman was right.

She barely knew anything about Vargo. He’d never told her about Gangplank, about his time in his crew, or about what he really did in the Shadow Isles. If that was even where he went. And, after all, he was just another client. Like Miss Fortune.

And Miss Fortune was paying.

She felt something thick in her throat.

Betraying a client went against all the rules, even the ones she usually ignored. And though she felt sick to her stomach, Miss Fortune was right about one thing: she didn’t really know Vargo. He was just another captain. Another face in Bilgewater.

And so was Miss Fortune.

Only she was paying a lot. A whole lot.

And then, with a voice like a caress scented with gunpowder, Miss Fortune whispered:

“You know, a woman like you shouldn’t be wasting away in this workshop. You’re too beautiful, too brave, too smart to squander yourself like this. I could use someone like you on The Red Fortune… Or maybe, one day, who knows, leading by my side.”

With that, Jinx felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Trouble" - Cage The Elephant

Even though she’d never sought to be the center of attention in Bilgewater—though she always ended up being so anyway—the idea of being… someone else, of being part of something bigger… was tempting.

She could stop being a mess.

She could be Miss J, Miss Fortune’s crewmate…

Or even, one day… the captain of The Red Fortune.

That sounded better than being a mess. Than holding herself night after night, trying to imagine that someone else did.

She could be someone else. Anyone but herself.

And maybe, just maybe, stop walking in circles all the damn time. 

The silence stretched between them until Jinx took a deep breath and spoke, her voice weak, almost trembling:

“I… I could check Vargo’s weapon runes. Maybe… a small delay in the cooling runes. A slightly misaligned stroke in the balance runes. Nothing that would explode, just… something that won’t work properly at the right moment.”

The woman smiled, wide and satisfied.

“That’s my girl.”

She let out a heavy breath. Saying her head was a mess at that moment was an understatement.

Was she really gonna do this?

Before she could think too much about it, the red-haired woman’s voice interrupted her again, this time extending her hand toward her.

“Do we have a deal, treasure?”

Jinx looked at the hand extended before her. She hesitated, her stomach churning, her mind screaming that this was a mistake. But it was also screaming so many other things at once that it was hard to pick out a clear thought.

Her fingers trembled as she reached out, and when Miss Fortune’s skin touched hers, the first thing she noticed was the warmth.

Her skin was warm. Not like Jinx’s own cold skin—that cold she so deeply hated. 

She hesitated just a moment more.

And then, finally, she shook her hand.

Notes:

Jinx keeps stumbling over the same stone, my girl 🥲 though I can't blame her. I'm really excited about the direction this story will take from now on.

If you liked the chapter, kudos and comments are more than welcome! Any thoughts, opinions, or constructive criticism—I’ll read them here or on my Twitter account: jinxedbypow.

Chapter 5: "Dear Stars: Am I Doing Enough Now?"

Summary:

Ekko's journey begins, but his fear of the sea won't be the only thing he has to face. Where the mount's peak touches the sky and the sun dictates the fate of lives, finding the Lunari will be no easy task. A confrontation with the Rakkor offers Ekko one last chance for answers—or a guaranteed sentence.

Notes:

Hey!! I'm back with a new chapter, and once again, we have another Ekko-centric chapter— and a pretty long one (not sure if 25k words is acceptable, hehe). Not gonna lie, this is quite sad, even by my standards. But I still hope you’ll enjoy diving deep into Ekko with me.

New regions finally make an appearance in this chapter! Shurima will be briefly explored, and we’ll be diving straight into Targon and the beginning of Ekko’s journey there.

Lastly, in case anyone isn’t too familiar with Ekko’s route (and how close/far he is from Jinx), I’ll leave a link below for those who want to check it out <3 It’s an interactive map of Runeterra:

https://map.leagueoflegends.com

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the read! 💙

"You know what would make this easier?"

Ekko sighed before turning his head, making sure the cloak he was wearing didn’t stop covering his features for even a second.

Jinx was sitting on one of the barrels, swinging her legs in the air.

"Let me guess…" he replied, exasperated. "A grenade?"

She clapped her hands and pointed enthusiastically.

"Yes! Picture it: a little gunpowder here, a spark there, and boom! The crew of the ship you're looking for will go running in terror, leaving it ready for you. Pure efficiency!"

He rolled his eyes.

"Or we could try something that doesn’t get me into a fight with half of Zaun’s lunatics."

"But that would be boring." Jinx puffed out her cheeks and looked toward the dock. "Alright, alright, we’ll do it your way. Let’s see… dark ship, medium size, pretentious name. Sounds like at least half of the floating wrecks here."

Ekko simply pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply.

For the tenth time in the past twenty minutes, he wondered if suffocating in a zaunite port full of criminals and corrosive chemicals was the worst way to go. It was definitely on the podium.

Gray Harbor was exactly what its name promised: a place where the predominant color ranged between the gray of industrial vapors and the gray of rusted metal. The nearby factories—at least the ones still active—pumped columns of smog that blended with the mist, covering everything like a sticky sweat. Lights flickered through the haze like dying firelights trapped in the gas. The harbor water had the consistency of thick, oily soup, and every now and then some floating debris—a boot? A hand? Better not ask—rose to the surface before being swallowed again by the filthy tide.

Around them, commercial activity bustled as usual. Merchants with skin toughened by chemical exposure haggled with inventors who reeked of burnt oil, while scarred bruisers with swollen knuckles stood guard next to cargo suspiciously covered with tarps. Stolen technology transactions were common, as were crates marked with warning symbols suggesting their contents would probably explode if looked at too hard.

Ekko sank deeper into his black cloak, trying not to attract attention. He was crouched between a pair of rusted barrels that had once held something flammable—and probably still did—with his backpack securely strapped to his back. Inside, he carried the essentials: clothes, weapons, books, tools, provisions, and the unpleasant feeling that Sevika might have sent him into a trap.

He clenched his teeth, scanning the area with irritation. He needed to find his ship. Or rather, a ship. Sevika only told him it had a matte dark hull to avoid reflections and that it wasn’t too big or too small. She’d also given him a name: The Wandering Wind. But, of course, in a port full of deteriorated and unmarked ships, those instructions were about as useful as an umbrella in a chemical explosion.

Ekko scrutinized the ships in the fog. Some were too large, with masts and sails reinforced with metal plates, making them easy targets for any patrol that bothered to look. Others were too small, barely more than shells on the verge of sinking.

"That one?" Jinx asked, pointing at a ship with a dark hull, but covered in blinking lights and excessive decorations.

Ekko looked at her in disbelief.

"Do you think someone trying to stay unnoticed would choose a ship that looks like a damn Christmas tree?"

She shrugged.

"Maybe they’re trying to throw people off. Or maybe they just have style."

"Or maybe they’re an idiot smuggler with an artist complex." Ekko shook his head. "Next."

They kept searching. There was a ship with a matte dark hull… but it was overcrowded with cargo and thugs with suspicious faces. Too big and too busy. Then another, the right size… but its hull gleamed with a polished shine that screamed, Look at me, here I am! Another discard.

Finally, in a more secluded part of the harbor, they spotted a different one.

It was large enough to withstand the journey but not so big as to be an obvious target. Its hull was a dull matte tone, with no reflections, and there wasn’t much activity around it. Just a few workers finishing up the mooring adjustments, without the rush of the main cargo ships.

Ekko crossed his arms.

"That one could be it."

Jinx whistled.

"Or it could belong to some guy who just wants to escape his ex and ended up in the worst port in Runeterra."

He shot her a sharp look.

"Do you have anything useful to say?"

She thought for a second.

"Yeah. Don’t forget to buy rat repellent. Or maybe you’ll take a rodent friend as a souvenir."

Ekko closed his eyes for a moment, holding his breath, before shaking his head and cautiously moving toward the ship.

Gray Harbor was definitely not a place for the squeamish. Ekko walked with an overly cautious gait, hidden under the cloak that, truth be told, barely concealed his presence in the crowd. His boots echoed against the rusted metal of the docks, where the air was saturated with a nauseating stench: salt, rotting seaweed, fish in various states of decomposition, and an unmistakable hint of chemical waste seeping from Zaun’s ducts. A mix as interesting as it was cruel, turning every breath into a personal assault.

Every step he took among the docked ships and the shouting merchants reminded him how absurd this mission was. Of all the ideas he’d had in his life, boarding an unauthorized ship and sailing toward a mountain no sane person would try to climb had to be in the top three most ridiculous ones.

But what other choice did he have?

Doing nothing, standing by while Zaun faced a potential disaster right before its eyes, one that even its best minds couldn’t comprehend? That was madness. No matter how stupid it sounded, if there was even a chance that Targon held an answer, he had to try. Even if it meant enduring the stinking harbor air, the uncertainty of a gruesome death at sea, and the mental exhaustion of preparing for a journey with no guarantees.

Saying the last four days had been hell was an understatement.

Since Sevika had promised to pull some strings to get him a ship, Ekko had been in a whirlwind of activity, running back and forth between Piltover and Zaun to gather any useful lead. His nights were spent between musty books in hidden libraries and negotiations with shady merchants, where he had to deal with all kinds of characters: from old men with more gold teeth than real ones to traffickers who spoke in riddles just for the fun of it. Sleep? Of course, it was overrated.

The fragments of the Lunari—those in Targon who, apparently, were the moon’s biggest fans and worshippers—were the first thing he found. A relic dealer had sold him, for an absurdly high price, some ancient texts mentioning artifacts "outside of time." Were they real? Who knows. But the idea that the Oracles of the Mountain might interpret the anomaly in his possession stuck in his mind.

Then, an old traveler with breath smelling of cheap liquor and clothes that had seen better decades told him about the Aspects of Targon, cosmic entities with superior knowledge of time and space. Of all the rumors he’d heard, this one seemed the hardest to believe… until he remembered that he himself had jumped between realities on a few occasions.

The final piece of the puzzle came from Piltover’s archives. Among forgotten documents, he found references to explorers who had attempted to use Targon crystals to power Hextech. Of course, the Lunari rejected them, which only fueled the intrigue. If these crystals were important enough for the Lunari to protect them so zealously, then maybe… could they be the key to understanding what was happening with his anomaly? Who knew. At that point, he was willing to try anything.

As much as part of him wanted to dismiss the connection between technology and mystical beliefs, the evidence told him otherwise. No matter how much he’d tried to apply his own knowledge, the anomaly kept on mocking him. There were no clear patterns, it didn’t respond to the laws he knew as it should. Maybe, just maybe, he had a temporal anomaly in his hands… but not entirely technological. And if something in Targon could help him understand it, he had to see it with his own eyes.

Mount Targon was not a common destination. There were no clear maps or established routes, only tales from madmen and dreamers who had tried before. But Ekko had no time for doubts. He took a deep breath—and almost regretted it when the stench of the port hit him full force—before continuing forward through the shadows.

Every breath Ekko inhaled reminded him how far from home he was and how stupid all of this was. But it would be even more stupid to let the anomaly spiral out of control and threaten his people. It would be even crazier to sit idly by while Zaun continued to lack the life it deserved. So he swallowed hard, adjusted his hood, and kept moving forward, the weight of his baggage pressing on his shoulders.

The docks were a chaotic flurry of activity. Cranes creaked as they hoisted cargo, sailors shouted barely comprehensible orders, and the pounding of boots against the worn wooden planks created an incessant rhythm around the port. He navigated through the narrow pathways between moored ships, stepping over damp, slippery boards that threatened to send him face-first into the foul water below. The repulsive stench now seemed to mix with a subtle hint of dried vomit. Apparently, some sailors didn’t have the stomach for life at sea. Ekko didn’t judge them—he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t be the next one throwing up over the dock railing.

As he walked, he adjusted the belt that held a peculiar yet strategic combination of weaponry. On one side, his trusty baton, which had saved his ass more times than he could count. On the other, a pair of sharp knives—because having options never hurt. And, of course, not just a fire cannon but also a couple of pulse bombs and some improvised explosive devices, because you never knew when you might need them.

But his baggage wasn’t just weapons. Ekko was prepared for any weather—or at least, he hoped so. He carried lightweight clothes for the heat, a thick coat for the cold, and several in-between layers, because according to the books, Targon could shift from temperate weather to a frozen hell in a matter of hours. He also had a pair of reinforced gloves and sturdy boots, because if he was gonna climb the damned mountain, he might as well try not to freeze or destroy his feet in the process.

He packed basic supplies: a first aid kit with bandages, ointments, and a couple of revitalizing tonics; some canned food, and an old canteen that had probably seen better days. Most of these things had been packed out of pure obligation by Vi, who, upon hearing her friend was embarking on a long work trip, had rushed to his workshop to make sure he had everything he needed. Watching Vi talk about the importance of carrying basic first aid, Ekko internally thanked his decision not to tell her the whole truth. She had enough on her plate already. Besides… he wasn’t sure if she wouldn’t drag him back to Zaun by his ear if she knew what he was actually about to do.

Amidst the clutter of his workshop before leaving, he’d found his father’s fishing rod, covered in dust and forgotten in a corner. Without thinking too much, he stuffed it into his baggage. Who knew—maybe he’d catch something out at sea… or at least use it to smack some idiot if the situation called for it.

He also brought his old hoverboard. And, of course, a notebook where he kept his sketches and doodles from moments of inspiration or pure boredom. Or from moments when she looked too beautiful not to immortalize.

Books took up a good portion of his load. Some were purely informative, like “Ascension and Fall: The Tragedy of the Aspects”, “The Bearers of Fate: Stories of the Chosen of Mount Targon”, “Solari: Dogma of Eternal Light”, and “Cartography of Runeterra’s Seas”. But others he carried purely for entertainment, because being trapped at sea with nothing to read sounded like a nightmare worse than the anomaly. Some abandoned texts had caught his attention in Piltover’s library. “The Wars of the Three Sisters”, “The Twenty Wisdoms of Nagakabouros”, “The Mystery of the Watchers”, “From Earth to the Void: The First Encounters with Horror”… yeah, reading about cosmic creatures while alone in the middle of nowhere sounded like a brilliant idea.

The walk to the end of the dock felt endless, and with every step, he kept reminding himself how much he hated the sea. But then he saw it—a modest-sized ship, its sails worn by wind and salt, with an inscription on the side that read The Wandering Wind.

Ekko frowned.

Beside him, Jinx let out a squeal of excitement.

“Yes!” she said, bouncing around him. “That’s our ship! Look at that beauty!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re not real. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening to me,” he muttered to himself.

But there she was, spinning in place as if she were about to embark on the best journey of her life. And Ekko, with his massive load on his shoulders, his unnecessary fishing rod, his hoverboard, and his portable library, couldn’t help but think that, indeed, he was about to do the most ridiculous thing he’d ever done.

With a leap, he climbed onto the deck of the ship, closely followed by the blue-haired girl.

“Oh, finally! A real ship!” she exclaimed excitedly behind him.

Ekko suppressed a sigh. He had no time to deal with Jinx, but that never stopped her. She was already darting around the deck, inspecting every detail with the same enthusiasm as a child opening birthday presents.

“Look at those sails! They’re so… neatly cut! Not like those rags the Guard idiots use. What is this? Piltover silk? Ugh! Too fancy for my taste, but well, I suppose functionality matters or whatever.”

He ignored her comments and focused on inspecting the structure. The hull was solid, dark, and matte, designed to avoid sun reflections and make the ship less visible. He noticed the strategically placed metal reinforcements at key points to absorb impact. Smart. Not as smart as him, of course, but decent enough.

“Oh, look at this automatic rowing system!” Jinx continued, jumping from one side to the other. “Pedals! It’s like a bike, but without the fun part of running over idiots in the streets.”

He calmly examined the mechanisms. The pulleys and gears seemed well-designed. It could move without wind, which would be useful for a silent escape. He took a few steps toward the helm and analyzed the tension cables. Everything felt firm, efficient.

“And this anchor? This is spy-grade! Silent and blackened. Perfect for throwing it at someone’s face without them hearing you. How do I not have one of these?”

Ekko rolled his eyes and kept moving. He approached the cabin entrance when something caught his attention. Right beside the door, on the ground, was a folded piece of paper. He picked it up carefully and found a single word written in large strokes:

“Brat.”

Definitely Sevika’s handwriting.

Ekko sighed, unfolded the letter, and started reading.

“If you’re on the ship, it means you’re still alive. What a surprise.

I’ll make this quick because I don’t have time to write pretty letters. So pay attention.

First, there’s food and water for several weeks. Don’t be stupid and waste it all in two. But if you choose to play smart, the water filter can save your ass if it rains. If not, well, enjoy drinking salt water until you pass out.

The cabin is small (like your patience) but enough to sleep without going crazier than you already are. If you realize someone’s following you, use the concealment tarp. No one will find you if you use it properly. And don’t make light like a dumbass. If you need illumination, use the reflector lantern and cover it. I don’t wanna hear in a week they found your floating corpse because you decided to send smoke signals to the wrong sailor.

In calm waters, use the segmented sails. If the wind isn’t helping, pedal. Tired? Too bad.

If there’s a storm, lower the sails and secure everything you don’t wanna lose. Use the current turbine to maintain control. And if you think you’re gonna capsize, do something useful and pray.

If you’re being chased, stay close to the cliffs, use the fog, row in silence. If you see a patrol, shut everything off and wait. If they see you, you’re screwed, but you already know that.

At night, use the compass. If you lose your way, the stars aren’t just for romantics, they keep you from shipwrecking too. If you need light, cover it. I already told you, but I know you, and you’ve probably already forgotten.

Don’t die. Not because I care, but because it’d be a waste. Zaun needs people who aren’t completely useless.

Good luck, brat."

Ekko folded the letter with a soft nose exhale, almost a silent laugh, tucking it into his pocket and looking toward the horizon.

"Something tells me the ogre has a little soft spot for you," Jinx sang, rocking back on her heels.

Ekko shook his head and focused on the ship. Time to set sail.

He dropped his bag onto the deck with more force than he intended. The weight of the luggage barely made the treated wood of the Wandering Wind creak, but in his head, the noise was a thunderclap that would give him away to anyone in the port. Gray Harbor was getting busier. Too much movement, too many eyes that could turn suspicious if someone noticed a brat untying moorings and preparing to leave without permission.

Stay calm, Ekko. Just do it quickly. No doubts. Like in Zaun.

Running through everything he’d read in the past few days in his mind, he got to work. First, he checked the wind direction. The sea breeze was coming from the southeast, meaning he’d have to maneuver a bit to get out without relying on the current. He adjusted the segmented sails to a proper position, using the pulley system from the cabin without having to run back and forth like an idiot. Then, he crouched to untie the main mooring from the port, making sure the boat wouldn’t lurch suddenly when he did. The knots were tight—if Sevika had seen him taking his time with them, she’d have already yelled at him for wasting valuable minutes.

His heart was pounding.

Don’t screw this up, Ekko. Don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up, don’t—

He released the secondary mooring and quickly climbed back onto the deck, sliding into the cabin. With his foot, he disengaged the current turbine’s lock, letting the foldable blades start to unfurl. The Wandering Wind shook slightly. Ekko rushed to turn the wheel, feeling the cold metal against his sweaty hands.

"Hey, what if we crash before we even get out? Huh? That’d be EPIC!" Jinx’s voice rang out over the deafening wind.

Ekko didn’t look at her, but he felt her presence flitting around the deck, climbing the masts, swinging on the pulleys like a damn carnival monkey.

"Jinx, shut up."

"I CAN’T, I’M TOO EXCITED!" she shouted, arms outstretched, spinning in circles. "We’re going to the sea, Ekko! THE SEA! Do you know how many crazies, pirates, and sea monsters could kill us out there? SO MANY!"

"If you don’t shut up, Jinx, I swear I’ll jump into the water right now."

She let out a cackle that seemed to come from high up in the sails.

"YOU CAN’T SWIM WITH BOOTS, GENIUS!"

Ekko grunted, gripping the side control bar harder than necessary, guiding the ship through the port’s crowded vessels. The smell of salt and damp wood mixed with the rancid stench of fish from the nearby holds. His stomach lurched.

Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t—

"THERE’S ONE COMING!" Jinx yelled.

Ekko looked up just in time to see a sailboat heading straight for him.

"SHIT!"

There was no time to turn the helm properly, so he slammed his foot against one of the automatic oar system’s pedals with all his strength, causing the boat to veer sharply to starboard. The Wandering Wind barely scraped past the other ship, close enough to hear the water slapping against the wood. From the other ship, someone cursed loudly.

Ekko barely had time to exhale in relief before Jinx doubled over laughing, perched on the mast.

"WE ALMOST DIED IN THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES! AND WE HAVEN’T EVEN LEFT THE PORT!"

He shot her a tense-jawed glare.

"Don’t yell like that again."

"Of course, Captain Ekko. Next time you’re about to die, I’ll say it calmly."

"Thanks. I appreciate your damn effort."

Finally, the Wandering Wind reached open waters. Piltover’s cityscape shrank in the distance, bathed in the glow of the setting sun. The port noise faded, replaced by the sound of waves slapping against the hull.

Ekko exhaled. The immediate danger had passed.

But now he was alone at sea.

The night chill was settling in, bringing with it the realization of how far he was from solid ground.

He gripped the helm and kept his gaze ahead. Targon was northeast, beyond Piltover’s patrol routes and the fog banks he could use for cover. He’d have to sail near the reefs south of Shurima before catching the right current to cross the ocean.

There was no room for mistakes.

Jinx hopped off the railing and approached him with a grin.

"Have you realized that if we screw up here, no one’s gonna save us?"

He swallowed.

"Yeah, thanks. I didn’t notic—"

"Welcome to the sea, Little Man!"

A sudden emptiness hit him.

Despite everything, he had to admit—Sevika had done a good job getting him this floating junk heap, considering the entire deal had been as illegal as anything coming out of Gray Harbor.

The wind whipped against the sails, and the choppy waves made the boat rock unpredictably. Ekko clenched his teeth, gripping the helm with both hands, trying to find balance in the erratic motion. Every time he attempted to correct course, the ship responded with jarring shifts—too fast, then too slow—almost spinning out more than once. He tried leaning into the turns, compensating for the waves' pressure with his arms on the wheel, but nothing he’d read before setting out was helping.

After a while, he glanced back and saw Gray Harbor fading into the horizon. The jagged towers and overcrowded docks were now mere silhouettes against the distance. The thick mist shrouding the coast was behind him, along with the port’s stench.

The air here was different. Fresher, but not in a good way. Ekko wrinkled his nose. The sea breeze carried a potent mix of salt, decaying seaweed, and rancid fish. A dense, penetrating stench that seeped into his throat and clung to his tongue. He pressed his lips together in a grimace of disgust. It was nothing like the smells of Zaun when he soared through the skies on his hoverboard. There, the air was thick with factory smoke, static ozone, the acrid stench of chemicals spilled in the alleys, and the unmistakable smell of burnt rubber and old oil.

But this… this was worse.

Nausea began to churn his stomach, and the urge to throw up hit him all at once. Great. He hadn’t even set a single propeller into Targon’s waters, and he already felt like the smell was going to kill him before anything else did.

Ha. Maybe that was why Benzo always said his father reeked of fish.

«I don’t know, kid, but with how much your old man sweated, if he ever shipwrecked, the fish would’ve surely adopted him as one of their own. He didn’t have blood in his veins, Ekko—he had salt water.»

Ekko half-smiled, though his head throbbed.

Was this the scent that had always surrounded his father? Maybe that was why Benzo never got tired of making fun of him and—

Enough, Ekko. Focus.

He quickly gripped the helm with enough force to make his knuckles ache. The ship rocked with each wave, gliding across the water as he tried to recall everything he’d read about navigation.

«Keep a steady course using reference points on the horizon.»

Alright, easy. Reference points. Ekko lifted his gaze, searching for something in the distance. But the problem was that the open sea wasn’t as generous as Zaun’s alleys. There were no buildings, no rusted bridges, no signs he could follow. Just water and sky. And when he finally thought he’d locked his sight onto a fixed point on the horizon, a larger wave shoved the ship sideways, abruptly throwing the Wandering Wind off course.

“Shit!” he growled, turning the helm in an attempt to correct it.

«Don’t fight against the currents—use them to your advantage.»

He tried to remember how he was supposed to do that. Leaning over the side, he observed the water. The tide seemed to be moving south-southwest. Alright. If he just turned the ship slightly in that direction…

The moment he touched the helm, the ship swung sharply, too fast, nearly making Ekko stumble forward.

“No, no, no—shit!”

He clutched the helm again, straightening it as best as he could. The ship swayed, the mast creaked, the sails flapped against the wind.

“Ha! This is so fun!” Jinx sang from the deck, hopping in sync with the rocking waves. “Look at me, Ekko—I’m flying!”

He didn’t even glance at her.

“Shut up and let me focus!”

“I can’t!” she exclaimed with a laugh, spinning on the tip of one foot. “It’s like flying!”

Ekko ignored her, returning to his task.

«Use the wind to your advantage. Adjust the sails according to the breeze’s direction.»

He tried, but every time he let go of the helm, the ship veered erratically again.

“Look, Ekko!” Jinx insisted, spreading her arms, leaning with each sway of the ship. “It’s like the sea is carrying me wherever it wants!”

“That’s exactly what’s happening, and that’s why we’re screwed!”

“No, dummy, I mean… the rhythm of the waves is fun. It’s like flying!”

Ekko was ready to tell her off, but he hesitated halfway through.

"It’s like flying."

His grip on the helm loosened. He lowered his gaze to his feet, feeling the ship’s sway beneath him. The way it moved with the waves… it was constant. A rhythmic pattern, almost predictable. And if he thought about it… it was strangely similar to the rocking of his hoverboard whenever he rode it.

Maybe Jinx wasn’t entirely wrong.

Maybe this was like flying.

And there was no one who knew how to fly better than him.

Ekko took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the salty air, then let it out completely.

His fingers tightened around the helm once more.

This time, he didn’t try to correct every jolt. Instead, he let himself move with the rhythm of the waves. He felt the sway beneath his feet, let the current’s momentum travel through his body until it reached his hands. He adjusted his direction little by little, guiding the ship with the water instead of against it.

As the minutes passed, he started to understand. He moved the helm with less force, allowing the ship to… speak? to him through the ebb and flow of the sea. If he relaxed a bit and felt the rhythm of the waves instead of trying to impose his own, the ship started to obey. The feeling was strange—almost like learning to ride his hoverboard for the first time again, though with less speed and a much higher risk of drowning.

It was… odd. And stupid. 

To think his hands could be in sync with the wind and the sea.

But it worked.

The Wandering Wind no longer lurched erratically from side to side. Instead, it started gliding with more stability, adopting a rhythm of its own, almost automatic.

For the first time since setting sail, Ekko felt like he wasn’t losing his mind.

He kept his hands steady on the helm, adjusting the direction with smoother, more instinctive movements, no longer with the same desperation as before. His shoulders were still tense, his jaw still firm, but his breathing had become deeper, even steady.

The sensation continued to surprise him more than he’d admit—feeling how the ship’s rhythm aligned with his own, how the swaying no longer felt like a threat but like part of a harmony he was beginning to understand.

With his gaze still fixed ahead, he couldn't help but let his eyes briefly drift toward a school of silver fish leaping over the surface. However, his focus quickly returned to a fixed point on the horizon.

But not Jinx’s.

"Ekko, Ekko, Ekko! Look at that, look at that!" Jinx sang from the railing, right in front of him.

He didn’t look away.

"I'm busy."

"But there are fish jumping!" she insisted, leaning dangerously over the edge. "And not boring fish, no sir! They're fish that look like they've had way too many cups of coffee!"

Ekko sighed.

"I can't look, I'm keeping the course."

He surprised himself with the way he said it. Cold, yes, but calm. Too calm for what he expected.

"But they're jumping in a row!" Jinx completely ignored his refusal. "Look, look, look! It's like they're playing a game of not touching the water! Like I do when I try not to step on the cracks in the street!"

He didn't respond.

"Come on, Ekko! They're acrobat fish! Circus performers! Nature’s jugglers!"

He rolled his eyes.

"Jinx..."

"Oh, come on, just a quick glance! Just one! I swear you won't regret it!"

Ekko exhaled in frustration, but, unintentionally, his pupils once again drifted slightly from his invisible point on the horizon.

And there they were.

A group of silver, shimmering fish broke the surface of the water in perfect coordination, jumping in small arcs, one after another. Their bodies gleamed in the sunset light, leaving trails of droplets suspended in the air for a second before plunging back down.

Ekko watched them for a few seconds, not realizing his grip on the helm had relaxed just a little.

But he quickly snapped out of the trance and fixed his eyes ahead once more.

Though, curiously, a small curve formed on his lips.

A smile.

••••

Ekko lost track of how long he’d been sailing.

A few hours at least, maybe more. The monotony of the water and the constant movement of the ship made time blur, turning minutes into an indistinct succession of moments.

Of course, even while keeping his course, he’d made sure everything was in order at all times. He wasn’t about to let some dumb distraction put him in danger. He’d checked the ropes, making sure the halyards and sheets were taut, with no unnecessary knots or wear on the fibers. The rigging was firm, the mast secure, the sails free of tears.

He’d also inspected the hull and the bilge because any leak would be a serious problem if he didn’t catch it in time. He checked the fuel level, the engine oil, and the battery condition. He looked at the compass repeatedly, studied the nautical charts, adjusted the drift with the log, and took the time to listen to the ship’s sounds: the creaking of the wood, the water lapping against the hull, the snap of the pulleys tightening with the breeze.

Even with all those tasks, Ekko hadn’t counted the seconds, the minutes, the hours. Something about the deck’s rocking felt strangely comforting. The sound of the wind filling the sails, the murmur of the ocean, the way the waves crashed against the hull… there was something in all of it that made his body feel lighter. At least by his standards. For a few moments, it might’ve seemed like he was simply enjoying the rhythm of the tide—but no, because all of it was part of his survival. A change in the sound of the sails could mean a shift in the wind’s direction. A new pattern in the waves could signal an incoming change in the weather. Every detail mattered. So no, he was not some idiot swaying with the waves for fun. He was just paying attention to the sounds because it was useful… and if it also let him breathe a little easier, well, so be it.

But now, after what had probably been several hours of sailing, he felt like he needed to focus on something other than his hands on the helm. Get some sleep, even if just for a few minutes. Not too long, of course. He wasn’t dumb enough to close his eyes for hours and wake up eaten by a Kraken—or worse, intercepted by some maritime patrol.

Ha. Maybe his priorities were a bit questionable.

He had a few options to rest. He could drop anchor if he found a suitable bottom, but considering he was in open waters, the possibility of the seafloor being a damn endless abyss didn’t exactly thrill him. Besides, dropping anchor at a significant depth meant carefully calculating the length of the line. And honestly, the thought of doing math at that moment made him want to throw himself overboard.

He could turn off the engine and let the ship drift. Sure, if his goal was to become a floating target for any unpredictable current or a merchant ship that didn’t see him in time, that was a brilliant idea. Or he could let the wind do its thing and trust that his ship wouldn’t end up somewhere undesirable on the map.

There was a third option: controlled drift with a sea anchor. In other words, using a drag anchor to slow down without completely losing course. It wouldn’t stop the ship entirely, but at least it would give him a bit more stability.

Yeah, that seemed like the smartest choice.

First, he grabbed the sea anchor, making sure it was in good condition. It was basically a cone of sturdy fabric with a rigid ring at the opening, designed to submerge and create drag in the water. He tied it to a mooring line long enough, then secured the other end to a bitt at the stern.

Then, carefully, he tossed the anchor into the water and let it sink just enough before releasing more line. He didn’t want the boat to lurch suddenly or the sea anchor to sink too deep. He adjusted the length of the line until he found the sweet spot where the ship slowed down but didn’t lose stability.

It worked. It didn’t stop completely, but now the rocking was gentler, more predictable. Just enough for him to close his eyes for a while without worrying that the ship would decide to go on an adventure without him.

He let out a breath, resting his head against the wooden helm. Just a few minutes. Just enough to keep from going insane from exhaustion. After all, you couldn’t fight the sea without a little rest.

He exhaled as he walked toward the deck and dropped down, resting his arms on his knees. The salty air tangled in his dreads, cooling his skin with a soft, steady breeze that seemed to carry away the weight of accumulated fatigue in his muscles.

He lifted his gaze without thinking too much about it, maybe in some absurd attempt to follow the direction of the sea breeze. And then, for a brief second, he felt the air leave his lungs.

The stars.

Of course, he’d seen stars before. In Zaun, a few managed to peek through the thick smog when the pollution thinned on the coldest nights. In Piltover, with its clearer skies, the firmament unfolded more distinctly, showing fragmented constellations between the towering buildings and artificial lights. But never like this.

The sky stretched above him like a black velvet cloak, speckled with brilliant lights that seemed to burn with impossible intensity. The stars twinkled with a vividness that felt almost unreal, forming figures, patterns, dancing among themselves in a synchrony he’d never witnessed before. Some shone with a cold white light, others flickered with a faint bluish or golden hue.

The constellations were drawn with a clarity he never would’ve thought possible. There was the serpent coiled upon itself, the dragon’s claw reaching across the sky, the silhouette of the huntress with her bow. Every imaginary line between the stars seemed to come to life in his mind, forming ancient figures that had guided sailors for centuries, figures he’d only heard about in stories and legends.

It was fucking beautiful.

A buzzing sound abruptly snapped him out of his trance.

He blinked, and turned his gaze toward his backpack. Among the shadows of the deck, a faint glow filtered through the fabric, pulsing in rhythm with the buzzing sound that intensified and then faded, like mechanical breathing.

He sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. He couldn’t afford to get distracted.

He reached out and grabbed the book beside him: Cartography of the Seas of Runeterra. Maybe that would help him stay focused, to prepare for whatever he might encounter along the way. And maybe, if he was lucky, reading would help him calm down a bit. His mood had already been in the gutter ever since he realized that, instead of his sketchbook, he’d packed one of Benzo’s old notebooks. He hadn’t looked at it closely, but he didn’t need to. He’d seen others like it among Benzo’s things—pages and pages filled with scribbles, probably schematics of objects that were never built or improved. Nothing useful to him.

He forced himself to focus on the book, turning the pages slowly, trying to absorb the information inside. Or at least, that’s what he wanted to believe. Convince himself that his thoughts weren’t tangled up in memories, in nights in Zaun, in the neon lights that could never compare to the purity of this sky. But in the book.

Of course, that wasn’t what Jinx did.

She was lying on her back beside him, arms crossed behind her head, eyes fixed on the stars. Her blue bang spread over the wooden deck, barely moving with the breeze. She wore an unusually calm expression. Serene.

“They’re beautiful,” she murmured.

Ekko didn’t respond. Instead, he turned the pages of the book slowly, his eyes scanning the maps and notes with mechanical effort. The sea breeze still played with his dreadlocks, but it no longer felt refreshing—just another distraction among many.

“Look at them, Firelight,” Jinx murmured, raising an arm and extending her fingers toward the sky. “It’s like someone grabbed a handful of shiny dust and blew it over a black canvas. Or like…” She pursed her lips, thoughtful. “Like the sky has freckles. A bunch of pretty little freckles.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the book.

“They’re burning gases and plasma,” he said, turning another page. “Light traveling for thousands of years.”

She huffed.

“Oh, come on. That’s so unromantic. You make it sound like they’re just floating balls of fire in the void.”

“Because that’s what they are.”

She rolled onto her side slightly, propping herself up on one elbow while still pointing at the sky with the other hand.

“Look at that one,” she said, completely ignoring him and pointing to a constellation where several stars seemed to form a tilted arc. “It’s like… a cosmic banana.”

Ekko exhaled through his nose.

“That’s the Celestial Hunter. It’s one of the oldest constellations.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it looks like a banana.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Well, I see a banana. Maybe the universe is hungry.”

He shook his head and fixed his gaze even more stubbornly on his book.

She lay back down on the deck, eyes never leaving the sky.

“You don’t see stars like this in Zaun,” she whispered after a moment. “Or in Piltover.”

Ekko swallowed.

“Because of light pollution. In Zaun, the smog blocks the sky. In Piltover, artificial lights drown it out.”

“Uh-huh. And here, there’s none of that,” Jinx said, waving a hand in the air. “Just darkness and water as far as you can see. Nothing ruining the view.”

“Exactly.”

Silence stretched between them. Jinx stretched her arms over her head, her fingers barely grazing the vast emptiness of the night sky. Her eyes danced between the stars with a brightness full of life—ironically so, considering there was nothing alive in her.

“Hey, Firelight,” she sang, “let’s play a game.”

Ekko didn’t even look up from the book.

“No.”

“Oh, come on! It’s easy. Just look at the stars and find shapes. Like when you look at clouds and see weird things. But better, because they glow.”

“Stars don’t have random shapes,” he replied, turning another page with impatient air. “They’re arranged into constella—”

“Yes, yes, ‘The Celestial Hunter’ and ‘The Great Spark’ and all that shit. But tell me, doesn’t that look like a grasshopper with a broken leg?” She pointed at a cluster of twinkling stars. “Look, it even has a little head.”

“That’s the Horizon’s Vessel constellation.”

“Well, I see a bug.” Jinx rolled onto her back again and glanced at him sideways. “And that one over there… that’s clearly a half-eaten lollipop.”

He let out a sigh, frowning at his book.

“That’s the Northern Crown.”

“Lollipop,” Jinx nodded confidently. “One of those raspberry ones you love.”

He shook his head, pressing his lips together to avoid taking the bait.

“This is a waste of time.”

“Oh no, no, no. You know what’s a waste of time? Reading that book.”

“I’m preparing.”

“Preparing for what? For when the stars decide to attack us?”

Ekko didn’t answer. He just turned another page, harder than necessary. Jinx crossed her arms, exhaling dramatically.

“You are so, so boring…”

Silence stretched again. She looked back at the sky, and after a few seconds, her voice softened.

“Hey… that one over there looks like a fish with bulging eyes. Do you see it?”

He resisted with all the strength he had left. Kept his eyes locked on the letters, the navigation lines, the currents and coordinates. But the words were starting to lose meaning.

“And that one…” she continued. “It’s a squirrel with a giant tail.”

“A what?” he grumbled.

“Don’t you see it?”

Ekko clenched his teeth. He felt the insistence in Jinx’s voice like a faint tickle at the nape of his neck, like an invisible tug. 

Finally, with a resigned sigh, he closed the book with a sharp thud and looked up.

“Let's see…,” he murmured, squinting. “It’s not a squirrel. It’s more like… a fat cat.”

She laughed, rolling onto her side to look at him with a triumphant smile.

“I knew it! That was my second option.”

He shook his head, trying to suppress the ghost of a smile.

“And that one… looks like a broken hammer.”

She studied it for a second and then nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! A broken hammer. Or maybe… an upside-down umbrella.”

“An upside-down umbrella? Nah, it looks more like an anchor.”

“Oh, but look closely! It even looks like raindrops are falling from it.”

“Or seawater drops.”

Jinx watched him, sticking out her tongue quickly, a gesture he immediately returned. She stretched out her arm again, pointing at another constellation.

"That one over there looks like... a rabbit with a bent ear."

He narrowed his eyes, analyzing the shape, and then, in a tone that no longer sounded so cold, said,

"No... it looks more like a toppled hourglass."

Jinx smiled, and truth be told, her smile was contagious.

"That one looks like a firelight. Look! It even leaves a trail. Or maybe it's just farting."

"Very funny," Ekko scoffed. "But it looks more like a rat from the lower districts. With wings."

"Oh! And that one? It looks… like a torque wrench, but with a twis—"

"With a twisted handle. Yeah, I’ll give you that one."

She smiled triumphantly before continuing.

"And that one over there… a fish with its mouth open. Or maybe a shoe, one of those big ones like Benzo used to wear."

That made him stop.

She simply kept going.

"You know? Maybe it is one of Benzo's shoes. And he's there. Like in those fairytales we used to read."

The comment hit him like a punch to the chest.

"Chasing Cars" - Sleeping At Last

Ekko looked up a little higher, lips slightly parted. The stars twinkled above them, forming irregular patterns that seemed to dance in the overwhelmingly open sky. They were so immense, so bright and distant… and yet, they were in constant motion. They were balls of fire thousands of miles away. But…

No. It was stupid. Even embarrassing to think about.

But that didn’t stop his thick skull.

What if… some of those stars were them?

It wouldn’t be that far-fetched. He’d seen stranger things.

His gaze traveled across the sky with new energy. What if Vander and Benzo were up there, like tiny flickering lights? He could picture them sitting next to each other—Vander with his arms crossed and Benzo smoking his pipe, arguing about annoying customers from Benzo's shop and The Last Drop, competing over who dealt with the most idiots on a daily basis.

Beyond them, maybe Mylo and Claggor were in the middle of some dumb fight. Mylo insisting he could climb higher than anyone, and Claggor laughing, betting he could lift him with one hand. Mylo would probably end up landing on his ass, getting up and pretending it hadn’t hurt at all.

Maybe even the Firelights who hadn’t survived the War were up there. Maybe sometimes their stars left green trails between the constellations, and someone, somewhere in the world, would be lucky enough to see them, not knowing what they really were.

Ekko swallowed hard.

And Jinx?

His gaze settled on a particularly bright star. Yeah, he could picture her there. With how beautiful they were, it didn’t surprise him that she’d be among them. Her beauty fit perfectly with those stars. And she would definitely have fun being a shooting star, appearing and disappearing at high speed, drawing everyone’s eyes, just like she did when she was alive.

Maybe she was happy there. Maybe she was at peace.

Without a mind full of torment making her life impossible.

Without people hunting her down, deciding her existence was worthless.

And… maybe, just maybe… his parents had been there all these years, too.

Maybe sometimes they watched over him. Looked out for him. And that was why, somehow, he’d always managed to—

No.

The thought dragged him down too fast, and Ekko shut it down abruptly, shaking his head and inhaling sharply. He focused on his pages with the same intensity he’d given the stars moments ago.

Letting himself sink into those kinds of thoughts was dangerous.

It was like adding more weight to a table already on the verge of breaking. And Ekko did everything he could to keep that table standing, using whatever he had at hand—nails, tape, glue, anything. But when thoughts like those hit, it was hard to tell if the table wouldn’t shatter into a thousand pieces under their weight.

And he wasn’t willing to find out what would happen if it did. What would happen if that pile of broken pieces scattered across the floor, beyond repair, with no one to come pick them up. Because no one should have to pick up those damn pieces.

He couldn’t.

So he took a deep breath and buried his eyes in a chapter about the most dangerous climate coordinates in the Guardian’s Sea.

"Come on, keep playing with me," Jinx sang. "We were having fun!"

Ekko flipped the page without reading a single word.

"Shut up."

"Ohhh, come on, little man. Are you scared I’ll beat you? Because I see a turtle right there, and I know you can’t top that."

"I said shut up."

"Or what? You gonna throw me across Zaun? Oh, wait…" She put a hand to her chest. "You can’t do that."

Ekko clenched his jaw and kept reading, not responding, trying to swallow normally without feeling like a damn apple-sized lump was blocking his throat.

"Just look at them, Ekko. You don’t have to play. Just look at them with me."

Shut up. Please. I’m begging you. Just shut up.

"Why don’t you wanna look at the stars with me?"

"Of course I wanna look at the stars with you!" he snapped, unable to take it anymore, slamming the book shut. "I’d give everything in this damn world to be able to!"

Jinx didn’t respond.

"I’d love to be on this shitty deck with Mylo, Claggor, Vander, Benzo, even my parents… all of us just chatting about the ridiculous shapes in the constellations. Look at that one!" He pointed at the sky with a sharp motion. "Looks like a cat with a broken wing. And that one… a damn shoe. Hell, there’s one that looks like Singed with that awful hunchback!"

His laugh broke in his throat before it could be born. His voice trembled as he continued.

"I’d die and kill to sit here all fucking night with you and laugh about the shapes we could find. But I can’t."

She never even got to learn how to ride a hoverboard. And now she never would.

"I can’t because you’re dead."

You should’ve known. You should’ve gone back for her first. You should’ve seen the signs.

"And you’re dead because I didn’t do enough."

He shot to his feet, breath ragged, the pounding in his temples furious.

"Just like I didn’t do enough for Benzo that night. For Vander. For Mylo and Claggor. For Heimerdinger. For the Firelights. For Zaun."

You gave them the tip. They went on that job because of you. And you didn’t even make it to the factory in time. You didn’t save her from Silco. You didn’t even keep trying. You gave up on her.

"I didn’t do enough for you."

Who did you save, Ekko?

"And now we can’t look at the stars together. You can’t look at them with anyone. You can’t even look at them alone. You can’t look at them at all! Because you’re fucking dead. Like all of them. Because I didn’t do enough."

Ekko shut his eyes tightly, feeling something inside him spill over like a river in a storm.

No. No. No. Focus, Ekko. Focus.

"But now I can do enough. Or at least try. For the people in Zaun who are still alive. For those who still have family, friends… for the damn lucky ones who still have someone they love."

He snapped the book open again.

"So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep reading about the damn dangerous climate coordinates of the Guardian’s Sea."

His fingers trembled on the pages.

He stayed still for a moment, his vision blurry, his body burning with the adrenaline of the outburst. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he realized.

Jinx was gone.

He didn’t have to turn his head to confirm it. He knew. He felt it.

And that should’ve relieved him, right?

That was the point.

But no. Not seeing her there only made him feel even more miserable.

Ekko buried his gaze in the book with difficulty, trying to focus on the words. But the ink blurred on the page, smudged by the haze of tears clouding his vision.

••••

Four days.

Four days since Ekko had last entered his room. Four days without sleep. And no, that didn’t mean he had slept little. He hadn’t closed his eyes even once. He couldn’t. Not when there was so much to do.

He’d spent those days surrounded by screams, blood, and dust. He’d stitched wounds with trembling hands, feeling torn skin beneath his fingers. He’d bandaged limbs that would never move again and held the hands of those who, even with fever-glazed or death-clouded eyes, had begged him to save them. Some survived. Others didn’t.

The wounded were too many. There weren’t enough hands to care for them, nor enough water to wash away so much blood. Gunpowder clung to the air, mixing with the stench of war that still hung in every corner of Zaun and Piltover. Ekko couldn’t remember how many times he’d pressed towels against open wounds, trying to contain the life spilling out in dark torrents. Or how many times he’d looked someone in the eye and told them they would be fine when they both knew they wouldn’t.

But it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t stay still. So he led scouting teams, searching through rubble for anyone who might be trapped. Some they found alive. Others they found too late, bodies crushed under collapsed structures, barely recognizable. Young people. Children.

And then there was the other part. The cruelest part. Searching for corpses. Pulling them from the wreckage, identifying them when possible. When not, doing their best to give them a proper farewell. Ekko had held cold, rigid bodies—small bodies, bodies of people he’d known, people he’d cared for. Bodies he’d failed to protect.

By the time he entered his room, every fiber of his being ached with a crushing intensity. His muscles were tense, his skin felt like it would tear with every movement. He had wounds on his arms, ribs, legs, and face—cuts he hadn’t let anyone tend to because others needed help more, and supplies were running out at a terrifying rate. He had bruises that made him stagger with every step. But the worst pain was the one he couldn’t see.

And now, all he wanted was to reach his room and, like every night, curl up in bed with Jinx.

To feel her small arms around him, even though they could never fully wrap around him. To notice how her legs tangled with his during the night, receiving accidental kicks that would make him tease her in the morning. To argue about hoverboards, about whether they were actually well-designed or not. To laugh, to truly laugh. To fall asleep with her warm breath on his neck and wake up the next day hearing her snore, stifling a quiet chuckle so he wouldn’t wake her. To hold her tighter.

"The One That Got Away (Acoustic Version)" - Katy Perry

That thought, for a moment, brought a fleeting warmth to his chest. For a moment.

Because when he opened the door, the room was empty.

And Jinx wasn’t there.

Of course. Because she was dead.

And now, Ekko’s room was steeped in unmoving dimness. The sheets on the bed were messy, wrinkled as always. Because Jinx never slept still. She moved, rolled, tangled herself in the blankets until she took up almost the entire bed, and he had to fight for a little space. But in the end, they always ended up tangled together.

Her scent still lingered in the fabric. A mix of gunpowder—stubbornly clinging to her clothes—with a faint sweet trace of the powder puff dew that grew not far from that room, the same flowers Ekko had caught Jinx watching more than once.

On the worktable, the usual chaos remained. Scattered clockwork pieces, tiny gears, half-assembled circuits, a couple of screwdrivers, and precision tweezers. Nuts Jinx used to spin between her fingers when she was bored, screws she’d stolen from the other workshops just because she liked them. Now, everything was covered in a fine layer of dust.

A little further, small paint containers in many colors—violet, blue, green, yellow. The same ones they had used to paint each other’s bodies, tracing lines on each other’s skin, laughing like children, not caring how ridiculous they looked. The paint was still there, but their giggles were not. And even less, their kisses.

If Ekko squinted and looked closely, he could see a single blue hair caught in a crack in the wooden floor. Thin, long, tangled. From that time he’d cut her hair. The same time he had to make a monumental effort to sound casual when Jinx asked if she looked pretty. Because somehow, it was hard to believe that Jinx couldn’t see what he saw, that she couldn’t see the same beauty he saw and could have watched for hours.

Now, that hair seemed to be the only thing left of her in the room.

Ekko couldn’t understand how four days had passed.

Four days since he’d found Vi hugging her knees on one of the ledges. Her face was unrecognizable—swollen, dirty, her skin tight from crying so much. And still, Ekko had asked. He’d asked where Jinx was.

Vi had only hugged herself tighter.

An answer Ekko had understood from the very first second. But he’d preferred to pretend otherwise. Preferred to pretend Vi was just exhausted, that she’d seen too many horrors in the war, like everyone else. That Jinx would show up at some point, that she’d appear somewhere, that maybe she wasn’t even hurt. That perhaps she was just messing with him, laughing at how dramatic he was being.

Four days since he’d been searching for her with the scouting team, even when Vi had gathered her strength and tried to convince him it wasn’t worth it. Her voice was so choked she could barely speak, but she told him that, given how she’d died, there was likely nothing left to find.

Ekko had searched anyway.

He searched, searched, searched, and searched.

And he found nothing.

Four days.

Four days since Ekko had shed a single tear. Not one.

Not even when Jinx’s death became impossible to deny. When every second without her became a cruel, growing mockery. When the traces of her—her voice, her laughter, her loud footsteps—faded into the noise of a world that kept spinning without her.

But Ekko didn’t pay attention to that. He couldn’t.

He spent four days without sleep, without stopping, without a second of stillness. He walked, ran, soared over the shattered city. There was too much to do.

Out of nearly 150 Firelights, more than 70 were dead. And the ones left were wounded. Some with fractures and hemorrhages barely contained, others with minor injuries but scars that would mark them forever. Scars that would never fade.

There were arms to splint, wounds to stitch, burns to cover with ointments that weren’t miracles but at least soothed the pain. There were bodies to recover from the rubble, corpses that couldn’t even be identified, names no one would ever call again. There were mouths to feed, though hunger was the last thing on many minds.

And in the midst of it all, Ekko kept going. Step after step, without stopping. He didn’t know what would happen if he did, and he didn’t want to find out. So he hadn’t stopped.

Until now.

Until this moment, standing before his worktable, his knuckles white from gripping the edge. Facing a small, dirty mirror, cracked in one corner. The same mirror in which Jinx had stared wide-eyed at her new haircut.

The same mirror where, not long ago, Jinx had dyed her bang violet with an old brush and her own hands. Where she’d frowned upon noticing a smudge on her forehead.

Ekko lifted his gaze and looked at himself.

The paint on his body was gone.

Only blurred traces remained, faint lines barely distinguishable among the ash, dried blood, and sweat clinging to his skin. Fading purple streaks on his collarbone. Some marks on his arm. A nearly unrecognizable, smudged cross on his chest.

But there was nothing left.

The paint had faded. Just as Jinx had faded from his room.

From his bed.

From his arms.

From his life.

Because Jinx was dead.

In the dimness of the room, something caught his eye.

A long shadow behind the wardrobe, barely visible among the clutter. Ekko stepped closer, a shiver running down his spine. He moved a few things aside, and when his hand touched the metal edge, his breath hitched.

It was a hoverboard. Or rather, the hoverboard.

The same one he’d been secretly building. His surprise for Jinx.

Ekko stood still, his trembling fingers tracing the unfinished structure. It was a lightweight model, designed to be fast, agile. He’d worked on it for countless afternoons and nights, imagining the moment he would show it to her.

Jinx would probably want to race. She would insist she could outfly him, and even though Ekko knew that wasn’t possible, he would let her try.

He pictured her with eyes shining with excitement, a huge grin on her face. He imagined her laughter, her blue bang floating in the wind as they soared through Zaun’s sky, as if nothing in the world could reach them, as if nothing else existed. As if everything was part of a fairytale, like the ones they used to find in the trash when they were kids and read together in secret.

Maybe they would’ve convinced themselves it was, indeed, a fairytale, enough to kiss midair, not caring who might see them.

But no.

There was no flight. There was no laughter.

Because this wasn’t a fairytale. 

This was reality.

And Jinx was dead.

He felt the pressure in his chest rise, something invisible crushing his lungs. He swallowed, but his throat was dry, as if he’d swallowed dust. His hands shook as he held onto the hoverboard, his knuckles white from the strength of his grip.

His chest rose and fell erratically, too fast. He couldn’t breathe properly. And it was starting to hurt. The air burned as it entered his lungs, and his vision blurred at the edges. A deafening ringing filled his ears, drowning out every other sound.

The hoverboard was too heavy in his hands.

Heavy like everything that would never happen.

Heavy like the truth he could no longer avoid.

Jinx would never see it.

She would never ride it.

She would never feel the wind on her face.

And he would never kiss her again

Because Jinx was dead.

Ekko's chest heaved too fast, too hard. His hands trembled, but it wasn’t just that—his whole body was shaking. His throat burned, a lump forming that made it impossible to swallow.

He couldn’t breathe.

The air came in and out in short, uneven gasps. His vision blurred with tears he didn’t remember allowing to fall, and his head buzzed as if he were trapped underwater.

His fingers clenched around the metal of the hoverboard.

Why?

Why had he been so stupid? Why had he thought they would ever have time for this? For a race, for laughing at each other if they fell, for kissing midair. Why had he believed everything would turn out fine?

The hoverboard slipped from his hands, hitting the wooden floor with a dull thud. Ekko stared at it, lips parted, his chest shaking.

A ragged sob escaped his throat.

With a choked cry, he grabbed it and smashed it against the ground with all the strength he had. Because it was useless.

The impact snapped one of the stabilizing fins with a dry crack, but that wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough.

Nothing had been enough. He hadn’t done enough.

He lifted the hoverboard again with trembling hands and slammed it onto the table.

One of the propulsion nozzles broke off, rolling across the floor with a hollow sound. Ekko barely saw it. He barely saw anything.

You failed.

With a strangled gasp, he tore off what was left of the aerodynamic shell, his fingers slipping over the sharp edges of the metal. Something cut his forearm, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered.

Because Jinx was dead.

Because he’d lost her.

Because all those Firelights were dead.

Because everything was broken, and he’d done nothing to stop it.

He smashed what remained of the hoverboard against the floor, over and over, until the structure shattered into pieces. Until his arms ached. Until he was out of breath.

Until only fragments remained. Until there was nothing left.

Ekko collapsed onto his knees, his hands gripping the metallic wreckage, gasping as if he’d run for miles. His shoulders shook with every sob, his throat burned, his head pounded with unbearable pain.

But nothing hurt more than the truth.

Jinx was dead.

And he would never bring her back.

The hoverboard lay in pieces on the floor. The wreckage was scattered, the metal frame split in two, wires twisted and loose, the propulsion nozzle broken and bent.

But Ekko couldn’t see it clearly. His vision was blurred with tears that wouldn’t stop falling. His whole body trembled with every sob that tore from his throat. His lips were slightly parted, trembling, unable to form words. His hands were still clenched into fists, knuckles white, nails digging into his own skin. Blood continued to seep from his forearm, and that sharp sting seemed to be the only thing fighting to pull him back. Strangely, it was working. If he focused hard enough on the blood trickling from that cut and not on everything else, he could start breathing without feeling like he was dying.

When his vision finally cleared from the black haze, he noticed a silhouette in the doorway.

Scar stood there, watching him with concern. He didn’t say anything at first.

Ekko lifted his gaze, his eyes red and wild. His pupils were dilated, his jaw clenched. For a second, he just stared at him—his face stained with tears, his brows furrowed.

“What’s the report on the wounded?” Ekko asked, his voice hoarse and unsteady.

Scar blinked. He didn’t answer right away.

“Ekko, you should—”

“And from the scoutings?” Ekko interrupted, raising his voice.

Scar swallowed, stepping forward cautiously.

“Ekko…” His voice was low, careful. “Why don’t we sit down for a moment? If you need—”

“What I need is answers, Scar! Answers about the wounded! About the fucking scouting reports!”

The shout that tore from Ekko’s throat could’ve made the walls shake.

Scar remained silent for a few seconds. Then, with a resigned sigh, he spoke quickly.

“Most of the wounded are stable… but some are still critical. There are over fifteen in serious condition, and many have infections. We’re doing what we can, but we’re low on supplies.”

Ekko breathed heavily, his jaw tight, his gaze locked onto Scar, his expectant eyes urging him to continue.

“The scouting…,” Scar hesitated. “Some of the passages have collapsed, but we found new routes. We don’t know if they’re safe. We’re still checking—”

Ekko wiped his face furiously with his uninjured forearm, brushing away the tears with harsh movements.

Get your shit together, Ekko. There’s no time for this.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice still rough but steadier than before.

Scar frowned.

“Ekko, I can handle—”

“I said let's go. There’s no time to waste.” he shot him an intense look, already stepping through the doorway. “There’s too much to do.”

••••

Ekko had learned to enjoy the helm more than he had expected.

At first, it’d been just a necessity—someone had to take charge of the ship’s course, and of course, he was the only one on board. But over time, it’d stopped being just an obligation and had become something more visceral.

The helm responded to his every movement with a precision that fascinated him. When he turned it slightly to starboard, he felt how the ship tilted gently, yielding to his touch, trusting that he would guide her along the best path. If he turned it more forcefully, the wood creaked slightly under his grip, and the hull cut through the water with determination. In a way, Ekko enjoyed that response—it wasn’t just him steering the ship; it was like a dialogue between them, a tacit agreement between his will and the weight of the ship on the sea.

What he liked the most was that moment when he had to adjust the direction just a little, tilting the helm with only the tips of his fingers, noticing how the ship obeyed with a slight sweetness. In those moments, he allowed himself thoughts that were quite stupid by his standards, and he began to feel it—the way the ship breathed with him, moved with him. The sound of the waves hitting the hull, the creaking of the wood, the exact tension in his arms… it was something he’d never experienced before.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time he’d learned to steer a helm. The last time had been… with Jinx. But that had not been the same. For starters, what he’d learned with her had been the basics. Moving in a turbine with a flight mechanism had nothing to do with sailing in open waters. That had been rushed, with Jinx shouting instructions without any logical order while laughing uncontrollably and spinning the controls as if she were playing. Often, he would play along, and both of them would end up laughing, completely forgetting what they were doing. Ekko barely had the chance to understand how everything worked before she decided he’d learned enough and started doing aerial stunts in the turbine’s first flight tests, forcing him to hold on for dear life to avoid being flung off.

Thinking about that made him realize how much he missed Jinx. Of course, he missed her in all her forms and versions, every day, every second. But this time, he specifically missed that version of her that he hadn’t seen in a long time.

Since that exchange on the ship’s deck three weeks ago—or maybe a little more, it was hard to keep exact track of time—Jinx had started appearing less and less. At first, Ekko had tried to convince himself that it was for the better. It did him no good to have a voice lingering in his head, getting under his skin, murmuring with annoyance that everything was boring and that he could be doing something more fun. He thought that without her, he would be calmer, that he could focus better.

But as the days passed, Jinx’s absence started to feel like he’d lost an arm. It wasn’t just the silence, nor the fact that he no longer even talked to himself. It was that reading a book didn’t feel right without seeing her jump in front of him, trying to snatch it from his hands with a mocking laugh. Sitting on the deck didn’t feel right without hearing her voice breaking through the air with some ridiculous comment. He missed her. He missed her face, her voice, her laugh, her hair, her little jumps, her taunts… damn, he missed her too much.

And even though he knew it was ridiculous, part of him stubbornly clung to the idea that Jinx was on this journey with him. That she’d seen the same tides as he had, that she was on the ship with him, that she saw the same moon and the same stars. That she felt the same waves. He knew it wasn’t possible, but he liked to think it was.

It wasn’t that Jinx had completely disappeared. Sometimes, in certain moments, she still appeared. Especially when the tide wasn’t the only thing that was overwhelming.

The first time he saw her again was when the storm took him by surprise and almost threw him overboard. His heart pounded, the water struck his face, and his hands trembled as he clung to the helm. And then, out of nowhere, Jinx appeared, standing on the railing with her arms open and a smile that defied the wind, telling him to keep going—that if they capsized, at least it would be funny.

He couldn’t help but laugh, even though there was nothing funny about the situation.

Another day, while he was trying to repair one of the sails torn by the storm, Jinx appeared again, suggesting they burn the piltovian silk sails to make a bonfire. When Ekko mocked her, he ended up losing his focus—and his balance—falling face-first into the water. Jinx’s laughter—and the weird snorting sounds coming from her nose—still echoed in his dreams.

But not all of her appearances were so loud.

One night in particular, the sea felt too empty, too vast. There was no moon, no stars, only darkness and the sound of water moving through nothingness. Ekko sat on the deck, hugging his knees. He’d never thought nothingness itself could be more terrifying than a minefield of sounds and lights.

And then Jinx appeared beside him.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t do anything. She just sat with him, crossing her legs and swinging her feet in the air.

Ekko didn’t try to talk to her. He knew that if he did, she would probably disappear.

So he just stayed there, with her, staring at nothing together.

There were moments when he wished with all his might that Jinx were there, at least to make fun of him. And to be honest, he would’ve deserved it.

Because nothing—absolutely nothing—he’d read had prepared him for his maritime paranoia episodes.

From the moment The Wandering Wind got far enough from Zaun, Ekko felt like something was watching him. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe too much focus on every tiny movement of the ship, or maybe just the fact that the sea had that special ability to make you feel small and exposed. But then he heard it—a bubbling sound, something thick and dense slithering beneath the hull.

“No way…” he muttered, freezing with his hand on the helm.

His first encounter with a “creature from the depths” happened on the second day of sailing, just when Ekko was starting to trust his ability to maneuver the ship without feeling like he was going to capsize and drown in the jaws of a leviathan at any moment. The sensation of something beneath the water followed him for hours—long enough for his fear to reach absurd levels. He convinced himself he was being stalked by a Ghol’lah, the ship devourer, a legendary beast that, according to Bilgewater myths, had a special fixation on lone ships.

He decided to prepare for the inevitable battle with a sea monster the size of a building. He grabbed anything that could serve as a weapon—which made no sense because what the hell could he do to a hundred-ton beast with a baton, a harpoon, and a cannon? He tied a rope around his waist in case he had to cling to the mast during a surprise attack, and, in a moment of pure panic, even considered speaking to the sea in a serious, threatening tone.

“I know you’re there, you son of a bitch,” he growled, staring at the water. The water, of course, did not respond.

An hour later, he finally saw the “monster” with his own eyes. What emerged from the water was not an ancient beast but a group of curious dolphins, looking at him as if he were the strange phenomenon and not them. Ekko fell silent for a moment, processing the information, feeling like a complete idiot.

Perfect. Just what I needed for my dignity.

Still, something inside him relaxed.

The dolphins seemed entertained by the ship and followed it for a while, jumping and zigzagging under the waves. A dumb part of him even thought that if Jinx were there, she would’ve laughed and tried to give them ridiculous names.

But Jinx wasn’t there.

And though Ekko wouldn’t admit it, that thought weighed on him more than the idea of a real monster lurking beneath the sea.

On the eighth day of his journey, when Ekko had finally decided that maybe the sea wasn’t as hellish as he’d thought—but still held a healthy dose of distrust towards it—another event occurred that reinforced his oceanic paranoia.

It was early morning. The sky was still tinged with deep blue, and the sea was calm enough for Ekko to relax without feeling like the ship was about to split in two. He’d been checking the sails, making sure everything was in order, when he felt something slide against his leg.

Frozen, he looked down.

Nothing.

But as soon as he took a step, the sensation returned. Something wet and slippery brushed against his ankle.

His instincts screamed at him to run, to climb up the mast and never come down, but instead, he forced himself to take a closer look. He lit his lantern and aimed it at the wooden floor.

And then he saw it.

A tentacle.

Black, wet, slowly writhing near his foot.

Ekko felt his heart leap into his throat.

Kraken. A fucking kraken. I’m screwed. It’s over.

No, wait, it can't be a Kraken. If it were, I’d already be at the bottom of the ocean, digesting in the belly of a nightmare beast.

Ruling out immediate death, he moved on to the next theory: Ny'Guloth, the tide stalker. A creature feared in Bilgewater myths, supposedly capable of infiltrating ships through tiny cracks and devouring the crew from within.

Great. Perfect. Just what I needed, a murderous cephalopod inside my ship.

Ekko slowly backed away, evaluating his options. Attack it? Run? Try to reason with it? (Definitely not the last one.) He looked around for a stick, a rope, anything that might be useful, but when he looked back…

The tentacle wasn’t moving.

Something was off.

He cautiously stepped closer, squinting, and then he saw it.

It was seaweed.

A piece of seaweed tangled in the cord of his boot, moving like it was alive thanks to the wind and moisture.

Ekko let out a heavy sigh and dropped his head back, staring at the sky.

I’m gonna lose my mind before I reach Targon.

Ha. As if I haven’t already.

With a grunt, he got rid of the seaweed and returned to the helm, but for the rest of the night, he kept a wary eye on the water, convinced that next time, it really could be a monster.

Because, of course, with his luck, sooner or later, the ocean was gonna decide to swallow him whole.

If I make it back to Zaun alive, my next tattoo will be "I fucking hate the sea." Right on my forehead.

But luckily, when Ekko went through moments that were truly critical—and not just anecdotes he’d never tell anyone unless he wanted to sound like an idiot—Jinx was present for every single one of them. In her own way, of course. Like that time he almost became a maritime prisoner.

Of course, he’d read about maritime checkpoints before setting sail. He knew that some regions were patrolled by official ships ensuring no one was smuggling illegal goods, transporting slaves, or, in his case, sailing without the proper permits.

He knew they existed, sure.

But he never thought they’d find him in the middle of the ocean like a shark smelling blood.

It was the second week of his journey, and by then, Ekko had developed a functional routine: sailing, eating, training, documenting his experiences in his journal, and occasionally trying to fish with his father’s old rod—with no success. He was enjoying an unusually peaceful morning—a rare thing at sea—when, on the horizon, he spotted the worst possible sight at that moment: a border patrol ship sailing with far too much pride.

“Shit.”

Instinctively, he ran to the mechanism that would save The Wandering Wind from being detected, praying it wasn’t too late. But it was. The patrol ship was already moving in his direction with a precision that made it obvious.

Okay, don’t panic. They just… ask questions, right? Questions like “Do you have navigation permits?” “Where are you coming from?” “What’s your cargo?” Small details.

As small as the fact that he didn’t have any of those answers in order. Shouldn’t be a problem.

Except it totally was.

Alright, Ekko. What’s the plan?

“You could jump into the water and pretend you shipwrecked,” Jinx whispered.

Ekko rolled his eyes. Right, a castaway with a perfectly functional ship floating right next to him. Great idea.

He weighed his options. If he tried talking to them, they might ask for documents, and if he didn’t have them—which he didn’t—they’d detain him for questioning. Or worse, they’d tow him to the nearest port, and that would be the end of the journey. And if the sphere in his cargo decided to collapse along the way, it wouldn’t just be the end of the journey.

So he decided to do what any smart, mature person would do in his situation:

Run.

He yanked the helm sharply and adjusted the sails, using the wind to his advantage. The Wandering Wind wasn’t the biggest ship in the world, but it was fast if you knew how to handle it, and Ekko had learned a few tricks.

The patrol ship noticed his maneuver instantly. In the distance, he heard the echo of a warning through a megaphone:

“Stop! Halt immediately!”

Yeah, sure. Right away.

The chase began.

Ekko leaned over the helm, feeling the vibration of the ship as it cut through the waves at high speed. He moved the sails quickly, adjusting every rope and angle to squeeze out as much speed as possible. Every now and then, he glanced back, seeing the patrol trying to close the distance.

“Ohhh, this is exciting!” Jinx appeared beside him, sitting on the edge of the ship. “What if we throw something at them? A flare? Your shoe? Your dignity?”

“Shut up,” Ekko muttered through gritted teeth.

He didn’t have time to argue. He needed a strategy.

A few steps ahead, he spotted a narrow area of rock formations jutting out of the water. It was tight, dangerous, but if he could get through without smashing the hull of his ship in the process…

Oh, he was definitely going for it.

“Hold on, buddy,” he murmured to the helm, steering with precision.

The ship sped through the rocks. Ekko felt the adrenaline spike as he passed mere meters from jagged formations that could rip his ship apart with a single mistake. Behind him, the patrol ship slowed down. They couldn’t risk following him through such a tight path.

Ekko held his breath until he made it out the other side. When he finally looked back, the patrol was turning around. They gave up.

He slumped against the helm, feeling his heart hammering in his chest.

Jinx, still sitting on the edge, whistled.

“You can’t tell me that wasn’t fun.”

Ekko exhaled, covering his face with a hand.

“It wasn’t.”

But the slight tug at the corner of his mouth said otherwise.

And how could he forget the day he thought he already had enough problems without adding pirates to his list of concerns?

But there they were.

At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him—which wouldn’t be anything new—but when he looked again, he saw a large ship on the horizon, its design practically screaming Bilgewater smuggling. Not that he had experience with sea criminals, but honestly, when you see an old ship covered in algae, with patched-up sails and a couple of shady figures moving on the deck, you can assume they’re not exactly in the business of trading exotic flowers.

Ekko tried to think fast, deciding whether he should turn around and pretend he hadn’t seen them or if it would be better to act like he was part of the scenery. Maybe if he stayed still...

You’re not a damn fish, Ekko. Move.

Okay. Think fast.

Option one: run.

Option two: run with style.

He carefully turned the helm, making sure not to move too suddenly. If he sped up too fast, they’d notice. If he went too slow, they’d also notice. It was a delicate game of don’t look suspicious, which was hard when you were in the middle of the ocean with no one else around.

He kept sailing in the opposite direction, feeling the invisible eyes of the ship on him. Maybe they’d leave him alone. Maybe they hadn’t noticed him. Maybe—

“Oh, looks like they’re turning,” Jinx sang.

A chill ran down Ekko’s spine. He glanced sideways.

“They’re not turning.”

“Yes, they are.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Look again.”

He did.

“Shit.”

The pirates—or smugglers, or whatever they were—were changing course. And yes, they were definitely heading toward him.

He didn’t wait to see if they just wanted to chat about the weather.

He leaned over the helm and adjusted the sails, this time without worrying about being subtle. The ship tilted with the change in direction, and the wind slammed into the sails with force. The Wandering Wind responded immediately, surging forward so fast he nearly lost his balance.

“Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

The pirates seemed hesitant. Maybe they were watching him, debating whether he was worth chasing. Ekko didn’t stick around to find out. He kept sailing at full speed, weaving between small islands and reefs, making sure to take routes that would be a nightmare for larger ships.

After a tense half-hour of pursuit, he finally looked back. The pirates had disappeared over the horizon.

He exhaled sharply, feeling the adrenaline fade.

“That was amazing!” Jinx appeared, sitting on the mast with a huge grin. “You could’ve thrown something at them! Or at least made a dramatic taunt before escaping!”

“No. I don’t even wanna imagine what Bilgewater pirates are like,” Ekko muttered, rubbing his face. “And I never wanna see them again.”

“Ugh, boring.”

Ekko ignored her, his heart still pounding.

And so, in his journal, he hastily wrote:

"Day 13. Almost became a seafood platter. Lesson of the day: if you see a ship that looks like a pirate ship, run. Don’t look back. Don’t make eye contact. Just run."

But sometimes… Jinx actually helped.

Like when Ekko was losing his way in a storm, and she, with an odd calmness, told him exactly what to do to avoid disaster.

“I don’t get how, but sometimes you actually know things,” he muttered, turning the helm as she’d suggested.

She smiled, tilting her head.

“Is it me who knows things, Ekko?”

He didn’t answer.

But that night, when he sat down to write in his journal, he wrote something different.

"Day 26. Maybe I’m getting used to the sea. Maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe."

And today, on day 28, he was becoming more convinced of that absurd idea.

Ekko stared at the compass with a frown, as if focusing hard enough could make the needle move faster. But no, there it was, lazily spinning northwest, exactly where it should. On the navigation table, the map stretched out with a precision he could never have drawn without tools and a lot of patience. The route he’d marked led straight to the eastern coast of Shurima—specifically, to the Qayanis Bay.

Shurima. Perfect. Just what he needed—sand in his shoes, suffocating heat, and probably scorpions the size of his forearm.

Not that he had many options. Docking at the Qayanis Bay was the best way to continue his journey overland to the base of Mount Targon. But if he were honest, he’d rather sail around the entire continent than set foot in a Shuriman city. He wasn’t thrilled about the idea of running into mercenaries, raiders, or any other kind of trouble that, knowing his luck, was probably waiting for him.

He yawned. His eyes burned, and his muscles ached after so many hours—so many days—of sailing. Maybe he could take a break. He couldn’t fall asleep completely—not with those treacherous currents—but at least a controlled rest with the floating anchor wasn’t a bad idea.

He moved across the deck with the ease of a fish in water. Weeks ago, dropping the floating anchor would have been a disaster; now, it was almost automatic. He unrolled the rope and tossed the conical device into the water, feeling the slight tug in the line as it deployed. He adjusted the line to keep the ship steady and prevent it from drifting too fast. Then he checked the tension, made sure the current wasn’t pulling him off course, and, satisfied with his work, leaned against the railing with a sigh.

He waited.

Not out loud, of course. He wouldn’t even admit it in his own mind.

But he knew that, under normal—normal?—circumstances, Jinx would already be there.

By his side, leaning against the railing with her usual grin, probably pointing out how ridiculous he looked securing the floating anchor like a professional. Or maybe just trying to convince him to keep swimming all the way to Shurima because, well, she was Jinx. But there was no one there. Only the wind, the gentle sway of the ship, and the vastness of the sea.

He sighed, letting his head fall back. Not that he needed her there. No. Not at all. He just… wanted to draw. And she was the best muse he could ever have. Not even the northern lights reflecting off the peak of Mount Targon could compare to the perfection of her face. But now she wasn’t there, and the horizon offered him nothing but rocky peaks and open water.

With another sigh, he reached for his bag and pulled out his notebook. Or rather, the notebook he’d been using as a journal because, in an act of supreme stupidity, he’d forgotten his sketchbook and brought an old one filled with Benzo’s schematics instead.

As he lifted it, a piece of paper fluttered down onto the deck.

Ekko blinked.

He leaned down to pick it up, puzzled. He didn’t usually keep loose papers in his notebook. He unfolded it curiously, reading the first words:

“My beloved Inna…”

He snapped the paper shut. His breath hitched.

He inhaled deeply, forcefully, trying to calm the sudden hammering in his chest. His eyes flicked back to the notebook he’d been carrying around without really looking through it. He held it with both hands, staring at it as if he were seeing it for the first time. Which, technically, he was.

It was one of the many he’d unpacked from Benzo’s old things. One that had somehow gotten mixed up in his belongings, and for some reason, he had assumed it belonged to the old man’s schematics. But now, looking closely, he noticed something he’d previously overlooked.

In the lower corner of the cover, etched in small letters, was a name.

Inna.

Shit. Out of all the piles of old notebooks Benzo had, out of all the notebooks that could’ve gotten mixed up in his luggage, how the fuck had one belonging to his mother ended up among his things without him realizing?

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the pain pulsing behind his temples as his thoughts flapped wildly in his head. The paper trembled between his fingers. He shouldn’t read it. He knew that with absolute certainty. He knew perfectly well that he wouldn’t be able to handle even two fucking words written in that letter. Because even though he didn’t know who’d written it, he had a pretty clear and obvious idea of who it could be.

And even though he knew he shouldn’t, his curious, traitorous fingers didn’t seem to agree with that thought. Neither did his eyes, which started devouring the words inked onto the page:

“My beloved Inna,

If this letter reaches you, it means some good samaritan managed to get it out of this damned factory before the smoke from the strike turned it to ashes. Don’t worry, the factory hasn’t burned down (yet), but with everything going on in here, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the guys decided to light a bonfire in the middle of the assembly floor just to heat up their rationed soup.

I’m writing to you from Ironpulse, where we’ve been locked in for several days now. As you know, this shitty strike started as a simple work stoppage, but now it feels more like a carnival with no way out. Picture this: a hundred workers trapped inside, shouting slogans, stealing food from each other, and trying to negotiate with the foremen who, of course, have no intention of budging. And even if they did, they’d have to come to an agreement with the topsiders, and it’s no secret they couldn’t care less about us.

Yesterday, some guy tried climbing onto one of the assembly lines to hang a banner of an enforcer with horns, but he slipped and landed face-first in a barrel of lubricant. I haven’t seen anything that funny since Ekko tried walking in your shoes and ended up tangled in his own feet.

Speaking of our little boy… Inna, I miss him with all my heart. It pains me to think these days away from home are days I’ll never get back with him. Does he still laugh with that bubbly sound when you blow on his arm? Does he still try to climb the kitchen furniture like a little monkey? Tell me he still makes that giant pout when he’s angry, staring straight at you (because the little devil knows damn well we can’t resist those eyes). You have no idea how much I’d give to see him running toward me, his little arms flailing.

And you, my love… there isn’t a single night I close my eyes without picturing your face. Your skin, radiant like bronze under the workshop light, those deep, lively eyes I could stare at for hours. I miss your moon-colored hair, the one that I know could never match the beauty of your locks (even though it can’t be seen from the undercity. I don’t need to see it to know that). I miss the curve of your nose, the way you furrow your brow when something annoys you, but most of all, I miss your smile. That smile that caught me from the first day.

Have you been taking care of yourself? Don’t lie to me. I know you have trouble resting, and I know after everything that’s happened… the fumes have left you weaker than you admit. Promise me you’ll drink the herbal teas I left you, that you’ll get enough rest, and that if you feel unwell, you’ll go to Felicia or Connol. And please, if they’re too busy chasing after Powder (because we both know that little girl is a whirlwind), go to Vander or even Silco. Yes, yes, I know what you’re gonna say, but admit it: Silco listens when you speak, and deep down, I think he cares about us.

Almost forgot. I found something for our little boy. While we were scavenging through Piltover’s discarded junk (because they always throw away the good stuff), I found a book. It’s called The Boy Who Built Stars. It’s about a boy who wanted to reach the sky, and instead of giving up, he built machines, invented things, and in the end, he managed to light up his world with his own creations. The moment I saw it, I knew it was meant for him. Because I know Ekko will be the smartest kid in this city. And even if he’s not, it doesn’t matter. I’ll make sure he’s happy anyway.

But above all, I wanna make sure you are happy. I can’t wait to come back and see what you’ve painted these past days. I’m sure it’ll be something beautiful, no doubt about it. I can’t wait to come home, to hold you, to kiss you. Someday, my love, we’ll find a place in this world where we can be at peace, where we can watch our son grow without fear, without hunger, without wars that aren’t ours.

I love you, Inna. I love you with every heartbeat, every breath, every thought. And I love our little boy, our sun in this city of shadows, who, no matter how much he grows and becomes a man, will always be our little man.

I’ll be back soon. I promise.

Wyeth.”

Ekko finished reading the last line and felt something in his chest tighten until it hurt.

The air became insufficient. Painful to inhale. He tried blinking, tried scanning the notebook’s pages, but everything blurred. Not from tears, but because the whole world seemed to sway. His stomach churned, and an icy shock ran down his spine. For a moment, he thought he was gonna be sick. Or faint. Or both.

Breathe. Breathe. Come on, idiot, it’s just a letter.

But his body wouldn’t listen. His heart pounded against his ribs, trying to escape. Trying to scream, scream, and scream louder. His hands shook so much he could barely hold the notebook.

He shouldn’t have read it. Not now. Not here.

But he had.

It should’ve been you instead of them. 

They could’ve been happy, not miserable. Like you are now.

It should’ve been you. 

Ekko felt his chest tighten. He staggered. The notebook slipped from his hands and hit the floor with a dry thud.

No. There was no time for this. Not now.

He gripped the nearest metal railing. The cold burned his skin like an anchor in the middle of a storm. In a way, that’s exactly how he felt. He clenched his fingers tightly, digging his nails into his palms, feeling the rigidity of the metal pull him back, little by little. The pain in his hands and the blood beginning to seep from them turned out to be a pretty effective anchor as well. The darkness clouding his vision started to fade.

When he finally managed to lift his head, still gasping, his heart stopped once again.

There it was.

Qayanis Bay stretched before him, framed by the golden dunes of Shurima’s eastern coast. From a distance, the water reflected the sun in flashes of bronze and deep blue, while the wind stirred small waves over the pale sand. In the distance, the silhouettes of ancient docks stood, some already crumbling with time, others still standing. Beyond them, shrouded in the golden haze of heat, lay the half-buried ruins of an ancient civilization—remnants of a time no one remembered anymore.

Ekko closed his eyes for a second.

Focus, Ekko. Focus.

He shook his head and leaned over a bucket of fresh water, splashing a handful onto his face. The cold struck his skin like a slap.

Breathe deeply. Tense your muscles. Hold the air. Don’t shake.

This was not the time to fall apart. Not now.

He spun on his heels and ran toward the controls of The Wandering Wind. The ship was still in controlled drift, with the floating anchor deployed to keep the waves from pushing it too far. First, he deactivated the current stabilizer, allowing the hull to feel the pressure of the waves again. Then, he adjusted the aerodynamic conduits, closing the valves to regain maneuverability.

The engines rumbled beneath his feet as he released the rudder lock. The ship groaned with a metallic creak as it regained full directional control. Ekko gripped the acceleration lever and shoved it forward in one swift motion.

The water split beneath The Wandering Wind’s bow, propelling it forward.

The shadows of the ancient structures grew larger as the coastline approached. Ekko felt a knot in his stomach. Nerves? Fear? He didn’t have time to figure it out.

He adjusted the angle of the side fins to reduce impact with the water and began slowing down. The waves battered the hull, and the wood groaned as the ship glided toward the half-submerged dock of the bay.

Ekko fixed his gaze on the shore. Just a few meters left.

With a quick motion, he activated the displacement brakes, partially locking the propellers to reduce speed without losing stability. Then, he grabbed a thick rope and, with an agile leap, landed on the weathered platform of the dock.

He tied the ship down with firm knots.

There he was. Standing on the shores of Shurima.

He had arrived.

If there was one thing to say about Qayanis Bay, it was that it had character. Not necessarily a good character, but at least no one could accuse it of being boring.

The coastline stretched in a blanket of golden sand and rock formations that looked like they’d been designed by a sculptor with a questionable sense of humor. Some jutted out like menacing fangs, others resembled bony fingers pointing at the sky, and a couple had shapes that Ekko decided not to analyze too much. Between them, the tide left salty pools where unfriendly sea creatures lurked, waiting for fools who wanted to stick their hands where they shouldn’t.

The bay’s wildlife was quite the show. From scavenger birds circling overhead like food critics waiting for their turn, to scaly lizards slithering between rocks with an attitude of "this is my territory, and if you look at me wrong, I’ll bite you." Some, in fact, had already tried in the short time he’d been on land.

The few people passing through the bay were just as peculiar. There were merchants draped in worn-out tunics, mercenaries with more scars than teeth, and travelers with faces full of regret for having taken this route. On the docks, a group of workers unloaded cargo with the precision of people who’d done this their whole lives and yet somehow still seemed to be improvising.

Ekko had mixed feelings about Shurima. There were plenty of things he liked—the warm sun on his skin, the ancient architecture with inscriptions that seemed to hold interesting secrets, and the constant sense of adventure lurking around every corner. Almost as many as the things he absolutely hated: the unbearable heat, the sand getting into places it had no right to be, and the alarming number of things with sharp teeth.

But he wasn’t here to play tourist.

According to the maps and books he’d studied—complete with discouraging annotations like “difficult passage,” “danger zone,” and “Explorer X died here”—his route to Mount Targon was not gonna be a pleasant stroll.

First, he had to cross the Rahorak Desert, an endless stretch of sand with temperatures that swung between "hellfire" during the day and "deep freeze" at night. Sandstorms were frequent, and according to some accounts, creatures lurked beneath the dunes, waiting for the reckless. How reassuring.

Next, he would reach the Valley of Lamentations. Yes, that was its real name. Apparently, it was a place with bizarre rock formations where the wind howled in eerie ways and where locals claimed to hear whispers.

Then came the Path of the Colossi, an ancient road lined with gigantic statues. Some texts claimed they were remnants of a forgotten civilization; others suggested they might be petrified guardians. Ekko wasn’t ruling anything out, but he sincerely hoped they stayed in their inactive state.

Finally, the base of Mount Targon. That’s where the real challenge would begin—but that was a problem for later.

His hoverboard was his best bet for crossing the desert quickly without exhausting himself, but if the sand or the conditions forced him to go on foot, he was prepared. His boots were built for this—sturdy, resistant to extreme temperature shifts, and with soles designed for any kind of terrain.

His clothing wasn’t random either. A light cloak to shield him from the sun but breathable enough to keep him from overheating. Fitted yet flexible attire that let him move freely without getting tangled in fabric. Goggles to keep the sand out of his eyes and a scarf to cover his face when needed. Not his usual style, but better uncomfortable than buried in a sandstorm.

Now, the plan.

If the old records weren’t exaggerating—which they often did—his best bet upon reaching Mount Targon was to seek out the Lunari. From what he’d gathered, the Lunari and the Solari were opposites, which in fanatic group language probably meant they got along as well as oil and water. Still, Ekko knew they existed, and they couldn’t be so secretive that they were impossible to find.

The Lunari seemed to have knowledge of cosmic phenomena and temporal distortions, making them his best lead. The strange thing was that most of the texts he found focused on the Solari.

The Solari, it seemed, were a group obsessed with the sun—perhaps too much for Ekko’s taste. Their doctrine revolved around worshipping the sun as an absolute deity. Their warriors trained to be the elite in combat, and their society was structured around this solar dogma.

The lack of information on the Lunari made him think they were either less influential or that the Solari had done a very good job ensuring only their version of history survived.

Either way, Ekko had a long journey ahead of him.

And now, as Jinx would say, the real fun was about to begin: finding the best way to reach the base of the mount without dying in the process.

He rubbed his eyes, checked the map once more, and tried to convince himself that coming here hadn’t been a mistake. The route from Qayanis Bay to Mount Targon wasn’t a simple stroll—it was a mess of treacherous trails, scorching terrain, and probably people with the kindness of a rock to the head. He’d read enough to know that every stretch of this journey had its own way of trying to kill him.

At least he had his hoverboard—his biggest advantage. Covered in a sand-resistant material and equipped with stabilization systems to keep every gust of wind from tossing him around like a rag, it was the key to covering long distances without his boot soles fusing to the ground. That was, of course, if everything went well. And when everything went well, it usually meant something very bad was about to happen.

The first part of the trip wasn’t too terrible. Ekko sped over the sand, leaving the bay behind and entering a vast sea of dunes that seemed endless. The hoverboard glided smoothly, slicing through the warm air as Ekko adjusted his speed to avoid getting buried in a wave of sand.

The Suthra Dunes were famous for two things—neither of which were written in any book.

First, the unpredictable winds. One minute the air was still, and the next, a gust would rip your hood off.

And then… the sand bandits. Whom Ekko was very eager NOT to meet.

These bandits were the Shuriman equivalent of a bad flu—hard to avoid, annoying, and with a tendency to ruin your day. Their methods varied: traps in the sand, ambushes on hills, or just running after travelers while shouting threats.

Ekko had no plans of giving them the chance. He kept a low trajectory, avoiding sudden movements that might draw attention. Fortunately, he had dealt with enough bandits and thieves in his life to know that the best way to go unnoticed was to look like more trouble than you were worth. So, when he spotted a group of figures in the distance, he activated a function on his hoverboard that released small sparks of crackling energy into the air. If the bandits saw him, they might think he was riding an unstable and dangerous contraption. And no one wants to steal something that might explode in their face.

It worked. The bandits watched from afar but didn’t approach. Points for Ekko.

He would’ve preferred if the bandits had been his only problem, but no. The second stretch of the journey took him through the Valley of Serpents, and it wasn’t called that for fun. Here, the sand didn’t just move with the wind—it also moved with things that had no business being that long or having that many fangs.

He dismounted his hoverboard at certain points. Sometimes, it was better not to make noise and walk in silence. He gritted his teeth and carefully moved between the cliffs. The valley had a strange beauty: wind-eroded rock formations, remnants of ancient structures covered in inscriptions that no one had read in centuries, and a silence so absolute that every step felt like a shout.

He tried to avoid the most open areas, but in a moment of carelessness, he spotted the body of a sand serpent slithering between the rocks, its pale skin reflecting the sunlight. It was enormous—way too long for his liking. He stood still, praying to any entity in the universe that it wouldn’t notice him.

The serpent sniffed the air, tilted its head… and moved on.

Ekko let out a sigh of relief and swore to himself never to read about these places at night again.

As he continued forward—and he’d already lost track of how many hours he’d been at it, even with the speed mechanism he had installed on the hoverboard’s throttle—the air became drier, and the sand gave way to firmer, rockier ground. He had reached the Plateau of the Shattered Sun, a highland where the sun beat down so fiercely it seemed to want to split the ground in two. Here, the paths were clearer—but also more dangerous.

Why? Because now, it wasn’t just about serpents or bandits. This was where the Solari started appearing.

He’d seen them from afar. Tall, clad in golden and orange armor, marching in groups as they patrolled the roads like the sun had given them a personal mission to make life miserable for everyone. They didn’t seem to have a sense of humor or much patience.

Ekko stuck to the edges of the path, hiding in crevices when necessary. He still didn’t understand why these guys were so hostile, but he had no intention of finding out.

A couple of times, he was nearly spotted, but his speed and ability to hide saved his ass. Still, something nagged at his curiosity—why were they so obsessed with patrolling these roads?

The hours kept passing, and finally, Mount Targon appeared on the horizon. It wasn’t just a mountain. It was a monstrous slab of rock reaching for the sky.

Here, the vegetation began to change. The golden sands gave way to greener terrain, with hardy shrubs and wind-twisted trees. The air grew cooler, and for the first time in a long while, Ekko didn’t feel like he was about to evaporate.

But there was no time to relax. He tackled the final stretch on foot, following narrow trails between the rocks. He couldn’t use his hoverboard here without being seen, so he stored it in his portable capsule and moved forward with careful steps.

The sounds changed. It was no longer just the wind—there was the murmur of distant water, the calls of unknown birds, and the echo of his own footsteps on the stone.

Finally, after miles of sand, heat, bandits, serpents, and hostile patrols, Ekko reached the base of Mount Targon.

He stopped, taking a deep breath as his eyes roamed over the massive stone formation towering before him. It was absurd. From below, the mountain didn’t look like something you could just "climb." It was a vertical madness, as if a piece of the world had been ripped from the ground and glued to the sky with zero regard for the laws of physics.

But here he was, ready to try. Or at least to pretend he had a plan.

He’d come for one reason: to find the Lunari.

Ekko made a quick mental list of what he knew about them:

1. They worshiped the moon (Duh).

2. They had some little issues with the Solari. Which automatically made them more likable.

3. They had knowledge of cosmic, temporal, and energy-related phenomena. Which could be useful for someone who literally played with time.

But of course, he hadn’t found much information about the Lunari. Most texts were about the Solari—their beliefs, their structure, their obsession with the sun.

Ekko had read descriptions of Solari temples, their priests, their warriors, their grand solar “blessings,” and their endless list of rules. Everything revolved around the sun. Honestly, it reminded him a bit of Piltover—powerful people controlling who had access to knowledge and who was deemed "worthy."

And the Lunari?

They had no grand temples or imposing structures.

They weren’t in official records.

They didn’t seem to be very popular in Targon.

Ekko had reached a simple conclusion—either they were very discreet, or they were nearly extinct. Otherwise, why would they have to stay so hidden?

Still, ancient books mentioned that the Lunari had dealt with cosmic events and temporal distortions in the past. They didn’t go into details, but they spoke of strange happenings in the skies, of people who "disappeared" and "reappeared" in impossible places. If anyone had useful information about how time worked, it was them.

If they still existed.

Now came the hard part—how the hell was he supposed to find them?

The Solari patrolled the roads near the mountain, almost as if expecting someone to try sneaking in. And from what Ekko had read about them, they probably weren’t the type to offer a warm welcome to outsiders.

So his plan was simple:

1. Climb without being seen.

2. Find the Lunari.

3. Don’t die trying.

Yup. Easy peasy.

There was a trail the Solari seemed to patrol frequently. That meant it wasn’t his best option. Instead, there was a crevice further west where the terrain became steeper and harder to climb. It wasn’t the safest choice, but it was definitely the least traveled.

He adjusted the straps of his gear, braced himself for a rather unpleasant climb, and started moving.

As he ascended, Ekko observed everything with a raised eyebrow. So this was the legendary Targon.

He’d expected something more… mystical, perhaps. Something that made it feel like he’d arrived at a sacred, ancient place full of cosmic secrets.

Instead, what he saw was a bustling village, full of rugged people with furrowed brows and a fashion style that screamed "optional ritual sacrifice on Tuesdays."

The village at the base of Mount Targon wasn’t particularly large, but it looked like a place where people were born, grew up, and died without ever leaving. The houses and buildings were made of pale stone, with thick wooden roofs and simple but sturdy decorations. Nothing ostentatious, but strong enough to withstand whatever Targon's climate threw at them.

There was a small market where merchants sold dried meat, furs, and carved bone trinkets. A few children ran between the stalls, some barefoot, others wearing leather sandals. Ekko noticed that people here didn’t smile much. Not that they seemed miserable, but their faces carried a deep-set seriousness.

The dominant colors in their clothing were earthy tones, deep reds, golds, and ochres. Heavy fabrics, thick cloaks, and embroidered symbols that seemed to represent the sun in many ways. Some wore fur shoulder pads, others metal bracelets engraved with intricate designs. Warriors walked around with spears and dark wooden shields, patrolling the village as if an invisible army might attack at any moment.

Ekko frowned.

Luckily, he’d read about the Rakkor before coming.

They were a warrior tribe that lived at the foot of Mount Targon. Devoted to the sun, disciplined to the bone, and famous for their combat prowess. The records described them as strong people, hardened by mountain life, with an almost fanatical devotion to their mission of protecting Targon. Ekko thought they sounded like a bunch of religious soldiers with too much free time and not much interest in making friends.

What the books didn’t mention was that they all looked like they’d break your nose if you asked them why the sun was so bright.

Some men and women were sharpening weapons, others practicing hand-to-hand combat in an improvised training yard. In one corner, a woman in golden robes was carving inscriptions into a stone slab while others watched in silence.

Ekko felt an uncomfortable pressure in his chest.

He had assumed he’d find some Lunari presence here, in the farthest reaches of the mountain's base. Maybe a hidden sanctuary or a market selling things more related to the moon than the sun. But all he saw were Rakkor and Solari, with their absolute devotion to the golden star.

If the Lunari were here, they were hiding incredibly well.

Of course, Ekko wasn’t stupid. The Rakkor didn’t seem like the kind of people who welcomed outsiders with open arms. That’s why, before starting his ascent, with the speed of someone who had hidden in holes many times in his life and knew exactly how to do it, he’d slipped into a discreet corner and pulled out his emergency outfit.

He’d prepared something before leaving, just in case he needed to blend in. A sort of "Ekko" version of the Rakkor-Solari style.

A lightweight tunic in ochre and gold tones, with geometric embroidery mimicking the sun symbols he’d seen in the texts. Dark leather wrist guards with metal details, sturdy enough to cover his own protective gear. Loose pants and travel boots—because, as cool as the Rakkor aesthetic was, Ekko wasn’t about to wear sandals on a freezing mountain. And finally, a thin hooded cloak to cover his long white hair. As much as he liked it, it was a pretty distinctive feature that worked against him when trying to stay unnoticed.

Ekko walked along the first trails of Mount Targon with measured steps, making sure to keep pace with the other travelers. He didn’t want to draw attention, and so far, his improvised outfit seemed to be working.

The path was steep and rocky, with stone steps worn down by time. Some parts of the trail were lined with low carved stone walls, covered in inscriptions in a language Ekko didn’t fully understand. They seemed to be prayers to the sun or some kind of warning, but since none of them said "beware of the white-haired outsider," he decided not to worry too much.

The people climbing alongside him were diverse: Rakkor warriors with spears on their backs and dark wooden shields. Solari monks in golden robes, some with shaved heads and others with braided hair, murmuring prayers as they ascended. Merchants and pilgrims, probably from distant settlements, carrying offerings wrapped in embroidered cloth.

He observed discreetly. Apparently, he wasn’t the only outsider, but he was definitely the youngest and the one who fit in the least.

As he climbed, the landscape changed. Vegetation was sparse but resilient, with dry shrubs and sharp-edged leaves growing between the cracks in the rocks. Small orange flowers seemed to absorb sunlight with an almost mystical intensity, and thick roots jutted out from the ground.

Between the rocks, Ekko spotted a few scaly lizards with golden crests, basking motionless in the sun, and some dark-feathered birds gliding between the cliffs. A small, ashen-furred monkey gave him a look of utter indifference before vanishing into the underbrush.

Well, at least someone here isn’t obsessed with the sun.

Then, Ekko heard it.

A strong, resonant female voice coming from a structure further up the path. She wasn’t yelling, but her tone carried unquestionable authority.

The pilgrims and warriors near him began moving with more determination, as if they knew it was important to get there.

Ekko looked up.

The building the voice came from was a pale stone structure with carved columns supporting a golden-tiled roof. The entrance was wide, with a thick wooden door adorned with gleaming metal sun symbols. On either side of the entrance, two large torches burned with orange flames, despite the daylight.

It was, without a doubt, a Solari temple.

Ekko watched the crowd gathering inside. It seemed like the kind of place he could enter without raising suspicion. Besides, if anyone in there didn’t look like they wanted to skewer him with a spear, maybe he could ask about the Lunari without dying in the process.

He took a breath and stepped inside. And, to be honest, the interior was even more impressive.

The ceiling was incredibly high, with massive wooden beams decorated with golden carvings. In the center, an opening let in direct sunlight, which fell upon a carved stone altar. The walls were adorned with red and gold tapestries depicting scenes of warriors engulfed in solar flames, figures raising their arms to the sky, and what appeared to be representations of deities. On the smooth stone floor, monks and pilgrims had gathered in a large circle, all bowing with their foreheads nearly touching the ground.

Ekko stayed on the outskirts, observing.

The ceremony seemed to be at its peak. The monks chanted a kind of litany in an ancient language, while some warriors stood with their hands on their chests.

At the center of the circle, in front of the altar, stood the woman with the commanding voice he’d heard.

She was tall, with a firm posture and a straight back. Her dark hair was tied into a long braid adorned with small golden rings. She wore a white tunic with golden details, cinched at the waist with a wide, finely crafted leather belt. On her wrists, metallic bracers reflected the sunlight.

The most striking thing about her was her long, deep red cloak that draped over her shoulders and brushed the floor as she moved. She was a leader, without a doubt.

Ekko felt a chill.

Something important was happening in Targon today. And he couldn’t tell whether it was an advantage or a disadvantage for him.

He slipped through the crowd with the discretion of a relic thief, keeping his head down and his hood over his hair. He blended in with a group of middle-aged pilgrims, who were too absorbed in their religious fervor to notice his presence.

What they did notice—and what nearly gave him away—was the hum of the sphere in his bag.

Ekko clenched his teeth. The sphere glowed and dimmed beneath the fabric as if it were breathing. Great. Nothing like a pure energy artifact buzzing in a fanatical temple.

Luckily, the preacher’s voice dominated the hall, loud enough to keep their attention away from him—and the damn sphere. It was strong, commanding, with a tone that didn’t ask for attention—it demanded it.

“The light is order. The light is purity. The light is the path of Mount Targon.”

The faithful bowed their heads in devotion.

“Since the dawn of time, the sun has guided us. The Solari are the will of the star upon this earth, the only true faith in the Ascension. Without the light, we would fall into darkness, into heresy, into chaos.”

Ekko let out a snort. So dramatic.

“The ancient Rakkor knew this. When the world was young and shadows devoured the souls of the weak, the first warriors of the light climbed this mountain and saw the truth. They understood the sun is not just a star in the sky, but a constant judgment upon our lives. It is a fire that purifies us. A guardian that watches over us. A trial that only the worthy can overcome.”

Ekko moved forward a little more, avoiding a monk who had knelt with such devotion that he nearly stepped on his fingers. He glanced around discreetly. If there were Lunari in the temple, they were hiding very, very well. Maybe… they only came out at night? To avoid fights?

“The Solari are the spear and the shield of Targon. We protect the truth. And because we protect the truth… we fight against lies.”

The preacher paused. The murmurs ceased.

“The Lunari…”

The name floated in the air like a curse.

“The heretics who hide in darkness. The traitors who deny the light.”

Ekko felt his muscles tense.

“They skulk in the shadows like rats. They slip through the cracks of our mountain, whispering lies, infecting the weak with their poison.”

A few Rakkor warriors clenched their fists.

“The Lunari preach falsehoods about the moon, as if it were a force equal to the sun. As if the night could match the day.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow. What did they have against the night? Night was fine. It had stars and everything.

“But darkness can never equal light.”

The faithful repeated the phrase like a sacred echo.

“And that is why, every time the moon rises, the Solari crush it. Every time the Lunari try to resurface, we exterminate them.”

Ekko froze. Well. Guess they really didn’t get along.

Shit.

“And that is why they have disappeared.”

The murmurs turned into whispers of approval.

“We hunt the heretics. We purify them with the fire of the sun. There are few left. Very few.”

Ekko swallowed. Yeah, they had a good reason to hide very, very well.

“The night is fading. And when the last Lunari falls, Targon will see the light in full.”

Ekko felt a knot in his stomach. Finding the Lunari was gonna be harder than he thought.

The preacher raised her hands.

“But today, we are not here just to speak of darkness. Today, we are here to celebrate the Ascension.”

The crowd’s eyes lit up. Some of the faithful smiled.

“Today, some of our brothers and sisters will challenge the mountain.”

Ekko looked up. Climbing to the peak? Ha. Lunatics.

“With every generation, the bravest ascend to the peak of Mount Targon, seeking answers, seeking the truth that only the sun and its Aspects can reveal.”

The pilgrims nodded fervently.

“Those who reach the summit… are blessed.”

A chill ran down Ekko’s spine.

“Some return as champions, illuminated by the truth of the sun. Others return transformed, with Targon’s fire within them.”

The warriors pounded their shields with their fists.

“But many… do not return.”

The murmur of the crowd swelled into a wave of voices as the Solari priestess raised her hands, calling for silence.

“The time has come!” she declared, extending her arms toward the sun rising at its zenith. “Today, as in every cycle, we bid farewell to those brave enough to answer the call of destiny. Not out of ambition, not out of whim, but because the sun has marked them.”

The people around him began to move as one. It wasn’t just a shift in position; it was an orderly flow, almost like a rehearsed choreography. Some formed lines, others advanced with bowed heads in reverence. Ekko, with his hood low and shoulders hunched, slipped among them, imitating their movements with a seriousness he didn’t feel.

Beside him, an elderly man with a face lined with deep wrinkles murmured softly,

“The Stone Ring. That is where we bid them farewell.”

Ekko followed the current of bodies until the rocky ground opened into a wide space, encircled by monoliths eroded by the mountain winds. At the center, standing as if preparing for war rather than a pilgrimage, were those chosen to climb the mountain. Seasoned warriors, young people with determined gazes, even a few figures wrapped in robes—priests, perhaps.

A man of imposing build stepped into the center of the Stone Ring. His chest was crossed by hardened leather armor, his hair tied in thick braids, and his skin bore scars, likely from old battles. When he spoke, his voice rumbled like clashing swords.

“Sons of the sun!” he exclaimed. “Today, we bid farewell to our brothers and sisters who have heard the call of the mountain. Not all understand its voice. Not all are worthy of its challenge. But they…” he gestured toward the climbers, “have proven, through their faith, their strength, and their will, that they are deserving of the trial.”

The crowd roared in approval. Ekko, staying in the shadows of the monoliths, watched intently. He wondered if the Lunari had similar ceremonies. Or were their journeys silent, without crowds to cheer them on, without farewells or blessings?

The Rakkor leader continued,

“The mountain is a path without promises. It offers no riches, no certainties. It offers destiny. Those who reach its summit do not return as the same person. Some do not return at all. But those who do…” he paused, letting the suspense grip the crowd, “are touched by the Aspects.”

Murmurs of reverence and fear rippled through the audience.

The leader raised his gaze to the sun.

“Today, we honor their bravery!” he exclaimed. “And if the sun is merciful, if its will is just, it will grant them the right to ascend and know the truth.”

The crowd erupted into chants and drums. He felt the vibrations of the sounds in his chest. This whole spectacle, this whole ceremony… and not a single mention of the Lunari. Not a trace, not a clue.

I’ve seen enough sun in Shurima. There’s nothing here for me.

He adjusted the strap of his bag, feeling the anomaly inside, still vibrating in erratic intervals. He needed to move, find another path, try a different strategy. Maybe he’d find traces of the Lunari in the caves, in the most hidden cliffs of the mountain. Maybe—

“You.”

The word dropped like a stone in his stomach.

Ekko felt the stare of a Rakkor warrior piercing him. A tall man, with a spear resting on the ground and eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“I don’t know you.”

He swallowed hard. He smiled with the same carefree attitude he used to slip out of trouble in Zaun.

“I’m new around here,” he said with a shrug.

The warrior didn’t seem convinced.

“What tribe are you from?”

The crowd was starting to pay attention. Some heads turned toward him.

Ekko felt a shiver.

Shit.

He felt a pang in his stomach as more heads turned in his direction. A restless murmur rippled through the crowd. At first, just a few whispers, then louder words, and finally, shouts of open suspicion.

"He's an outsider!"

"He's not one of us!"

"How did he get here?"

"Who allowed this stranger to set foot on our mountain?"

The noise swelled, the crowd pressing in to get a closer look, their eyes alight with distrust. And then, the accusations began.

"He's a Lunari spy!" a woman clad in golden armor shouted, the symbol of the sun emblazoned on her chest plate. Her hand gripped the hilt of a long spear with a gleaming blade.

"He's a thief!" accused another man, tall and broad-shouldered, with a sword strapped to his back and a scar across his cheek. "He's come to steal the secrets of the Mountain!"

"No!" an old man bellowed. "He's here to sabotage the ascension! To weaken the will of the climbers!"

The shouts wove together like a whirlwind closing in on him. Ekko felt his pulse quicken, his breathing grow shallow. But he couldn't give in. He couldn't let them corner him without a fight.

He took a step back, but the circle of people was already closing in. More warriors began to approach. They were tall, strong, their skin bronzed by the relentless sun of Targon. Their armor gleamed in gold and silver tones—some with light capes that billowed in the breeze, others clad in heavy plates adorned with symbols of the sun and war.

Some carried long spears with golden tips that reflected the firelight. Others wielded broad swords with hilts engraved with ancient inscriptions. A few had bows, their quivers filled with metal-tipped arrows fletched with white feathers. There was no doubt—they were seasoned warriors. And there was no mercy in their eyes.

Ekko slowly raised his hands, trying to appear less threatening.

"Hey, hey…" he began, "I’m not a Lunari spy. Or a thief. Or a saboteur, or—"

"Lies!" a man shouted, his spear pointing directly at Ekko’s chest. "The moon is cunning! Your hair could be part of its deception!"

Ekko frowned.

"My hair? Really? Dude, of all things—"

"Silence, heretic!" another warrior roared, stepping forward. "You shouldn’t be here! You have no right to breathe the Mount’s air!"

He felt the pressure in his chest grow—not just from the shouts but from the way the warriors moved, inching closer, like predators stalking prey.

"Listen," he said, trying to sound firm. "I didn’t come here to disrespect anyone. I didn’t come to desecrate your ceremony or steal your secrets. I just… need help."

Someone let out a mocking laugh.

"Help?" scoffed a woman with a curved sword at her hip, her hair braided with golden ribbons. "An outsider like you thinks Mount Targon is a place to ask for help?"

Ekko clenched his jaw.

"Listen, there’s something where I come from that’s… broken," he said, urgency creeping into his voice. "Fractures, anomalies that no one understands. I’ve seen them! And I’ve followed every clue, every lead that’s brought me here. I’m not your enemy!"

But his words did nothing. Instead, the crowd turned even more hostile.

"He speaks in shadow tongues!"

"We shouldn't listen to him—we should kill him!"

"He's an abomination! He has no blessing from the Sun!"

Ekko felt anger start to bubble inside him. He wasn’t gonna let himself be intimidated.

"Look, if your damn Sun is so wise and all-powerful, maybe it put me here for a reason!" 

Silence fell instantly.

The warriors tensed, the murmurs froze. And then, chaos erupted.

"BLASPHEMY!"

"Kill him!"

"Let his blood cleanse this sacred ground!"

Weapons were raised. A chill ran down Ekko’s spine. His body was already on alert, his mind searching for escape routes, but the warriors were fast. And they were ready to kill him.

The spears were lifted.

The firelight of the ceremony reflected off the edges of weapons, off the armor plates, off the fervent eyes of the Rakkor warriors. Ekko took a step back, only to feel even more trapped. The stone beneath his feet seemed narrower, the air heavier.

"I’ll say this one more time. I’m not your enemy," he growled, muscles tensed, ready to move.

"Then renounce your heresy and surrender!" one of the warriors roared, stepping forward with his spear high.

"I don’t know what the hell you think I have, but it’s no damn heresy."

And then, it happened.

A faint hum began in his bag, a subtle yet insistent vibration. Then, a pulse of blue light seeped through the leather seams. Ekko felt his stomach drop.

Oh no. Fuck.

The glow intensified.

The murmurs of the crowd turned into shouts of alarm.

"Look at that!”

"It’s Lunari heresy!"

"It’s an abomination!"

Ekko gritted his teeth, gripping the straps of his satchel tightly. The damn artifact had chosen that moment to react to something, but he had no idea what. Maybe the Mountain’s energy, maybe the intensity of the ceremony, maybe the fact that he was seconds away from dying.

"I said kill him!" one of the warriors shouted.

"The Mountain does not tolerate heretics!"

"If the gods’ will is fair, his blood will spill right here!"

The Rakkor weren’t just shouting anymore. They were moving.

The first spear flew at him, slicing through the air with a deadly whistle. Ekko dove to the side, rolling over the stone, feeling the impact of the spear embedding itself into the ground where he’d stood just a second before.

"Damn it!" he cursed, pushing himself up.

The warriors charged.

Ekko reacted instantly. He ducked beneath a sword slash, spun on his heel, and landed a kick to a Rakkor’s stomach, making him stumble back. But there were too many. He dodged another spear, blocked a blow aimed at his head with his forearm, threw a punch at another man’s side—only to feel his skin was as tough as steel.

A boot slammed into his chest, sending him crashing to the ground. He coughed, feeling the cold stone against his back, and rolled just in time to avoid a sword slicing his collarbone.

He wasn’t gonna last much longer.

"Listen!" he shouted, trying to get up. "I just want answers!"

The warriors didn’t stop. One of them, holding a spear ornamented with solar runes, lifted the weapon high, ready to deliver the final strike.

"Enough!"

The voice cut through the air like a sharp blade.

Everything fell silent.

Breathing heavily, Ekko turned his head toward the figure that had stepped between him and death.

It was the Solari priestess.

She observed Ekko for several long seconds before speaking.

"You are an outsider."

Ekko spat blood onto the ground and wiped his lip.

"Yeah. I figured that out."

She didn’t smile.

"You say you seek answers."

Ekko nodded, still on guard.

"And you came all this way for them?"

"Yeah."

The priestess examined him closely, and Ekko couldn’t shake the feeling that her eyes saw beyond his skin, beyond his flesh.

"And what are you willing to do to get them?"

He swallowed. Something in her tone told him he was about to regret his own answer.

"Whatever it takes."

The murmurs returned. The priestess tilted her head slightly.

"Then you will find your answers at the peak."

"The peak?"

"Of Mount Targon."

The crowd erupted in exclamations of astonishment. Some nodded, believing it to be a fair punishment—it was no secret that most who climbed to the peak never returned alive. Others whispered among themselves, scandalized, claiming that the outsider was not worthy of the challenge.

Ekko felt a knot in his stomach.

"Wait, wait, wait. You want me to climb the mountain?"

"If what you say is true, if the will of the gods is on your side, if your spirit has what it takes… when you reach the peak, you will find your answers."

Ekko looked at the Mount. The peak was lost in the clouds.

"And if I don’t make it to the peak…?"

The priestess held her gaze steady.

"Then, we won’t even need to kill you."

The weight of the sentence fell on Ekko like a stone.

In his head, he analyzed his options.

Option one: stay here and be killed immediately by religious fanatics armed to the teeth.

Option two: climb an absurdly tall mountain with a minimal chance of survival… and maybe, just maybe, figure out what the hell was going on with the artifact in his bag.

Both options sucked. But one at least gave him a tiny chance of still breathing.

He let out a snort, ran a hand over his face, and stood up. There wasn’t much to debate.

Alright. Climb to the peak of Mount Targon. It was just…

The tallest mountain in all of Runeterra.

How hard could it be?

Notes:

That’s it!! Oh my god, you have no idea how EXCITED I am to continue this. Even though it might not seem like Ekko’s side of the story could connect to Jinx’s in any way, trust me—IT WILL (and it has from the very beginning…).

If you liked the chapter, I’d really appreciate it if you left a comment with your thoughts! And if you have any suggestions or questions, I’ll be reading and responding as well <3

My Twitter account is active again, though I won’t be around much. But for those interested, you can find me as @jinxedbypow

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 6: "These Patterns That Bind Us"

Summary:

Bonds waver and old wounds resurface on a morning at the Bilgewater market. When a mission aboard The Red Fortune doesn’t go as expected, Jinx finds solace—and answers—in a safe place cherished in her memories. The souls of two childhood friends, enemies, and lovers intertwine in an inevitable fate.

Notes:

Hello!! I’m back with another chapter, this time once again set in Bilgewater. Without giving too many spoilers, you have no idea how excited I was to reach this part of the story. I’ve had it in mind since this fic started, and while crafting it was a challenge, I’m really happy with the result. I hope you enjoy it because things are about to get very interesting.

Lastly, regarding the final scene: it might be a little confusing for those unfamiliar with the lore. But don’t worry! Everything will be explained eventually, especially when the big event arrives.

With nothing more to say, enjoy the read!

"You’re distracted," Vargo grunted.

Jinx didn’t hear him. Instead, she kept walking through the market as if she and her thoughts were the only things that existed. Honestly, that wasn’t too far from the truth.

Bilgewater’s black market sprawled like a labyrinth of dark alleys and twisted passages, wedged between rotting docks and rowdy taverns. That day, the humidity thickened the air with the stench of rancid fish, gunpowder, and the sweat of unshaven sailors. The chatter of hoarse voices and the shouts of merchants mixed with the screeches of opportunistic seagulls and the splashing of sea rats slipping through loose planks.

The stalls were crammed together in chaotic disorder, manned by a colorful assortment of buccaneers, scoundrels, and merchants with more scars than teeth. Some sold weapons of dubious origin—sabers with traces of dried blood, pistols that still smelled of gunpowder, and rusted hooks with history. Others offered potions in grimy bottles, swearing they could cure anything from scurvy to bad luck, though most seemed more likely to cause blindness than heal anything.

Men wrapped in grimy cloaks and women in patched-up dresses haggled with the fierceness of a starving shark. An old man with a peg leg shouted about the effectiveness of his explosive powders while dangerously waving a lit fuse, causing several buyers to back away hastily. In another corner, a merchant with golden teeth was trying to sell supposedly enchanted bullets meant to kill sea beasts, though the only real magic seemed to be his ability to empty people’s pockets.

The market was frantic, even more than usual. The Great Hunt was approaching, and everyone wanted to be prepared. Monster hunters—especially those without enough gold to buy Pink-twist—inspected harpoon after harpoon, checked metal nets laced with poison, and argued with blacksmiths about the durability of their spears. A broad-backed man was holding a harpoon so massive that, when he turned suddenly, he sank it into the hip of an unlucky spice merchant, who let out a yelp and fell onto his own wares, scattering turmeric powder and dried chilies across the ground.

Near the docks, a smuggler displayed a collection of marine creature fangs, claiming that each one belonged to a different leviathan. A skeptical customer picked one up and, after inspecting it closely, pointed out that it looked like it had been carved from cow bone. The seller, unfazed, whispered that if desired, for a few extra coins, he could dye it blue to make it look even more authentic.

At a stall covered with a red tarp, a woman was selling supposedly authentic maps of shipwrecks full of treasure. A corsair-looking man eagerly examined one until he noticed that the paper still had the local tavern’s seal and part of a menu printed on the back. The vendor winked at him and offered a discount, assuring him that the true magic of the map lay in the adventure, not in its authenticity.

Further ahead, an alchemist with hands stained in a striking green hue was offering potions that, according to him, guaranteed superhuman strength. A gullible young man, convinced by his speech, took a sip from one of the bottles and, within seconds, started convulsing as his skin took on a suspiciously greenish tone. The alchemist, far from alarmed, took the opportunity to assure the buyers that his potion worked—though with "minimal" side effects.

The market was a boiling pot of trickery, wit, and desperation on the eve of the Great Hunt. Everyone bought what they could, hoping to return with glory… or at least with their lives.

Jinx walked through the market, zigzagging between the crowded stalls. Her blue hair swayed with each step, and the metallic jingle of her belt echoed among the merchants’ shouts. Hanging on both sides of her hips were her inseparable toys: a pair of customized pistols with elongated barrels, overflowing with rune modifications of her own technological brand. One had a small automatic spinning device for burst shots—lethal and efficient—but the other had a spare ammunition system haphazardly attached with wire and suspicious glue. Jinx wasn’t usually careless with the weapons on her belt, but that morning, the hangover from the previous night had taken its revenge. Just like yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that.

With every step, the bag of golden krakens hanging from her belt jingled cheerfully, reassuring her that, as usual, she had enough funds for her shopping… and maybe for some last-minute fun.

Her shopping list was simple—at least for her.

Enhanced recoil cannons: Perfect for giving her shots extra power—or for launching someone several meters backward if she installed them in reverse (mentally noted).

Explosive ammunition with steel shards: No cheap gunpowder; if she was gonna hunt Megatusk, Bilgewater’s most annoying sea monster, she needed bullets that did more than just make holes. And combined with anchoring and precision runes… the outcome would be interesting.

Reinforced gears coated in krakenium: Because regular gears were boring and melted when she spun them too fast.

Modified ignition coils: Essential to make everything explode at just the right moment.

But, of course, getting the parts wasn’t the hard part. The real challenge was fulfilling the other half of her mission: sabotaging the weapons of the pirate walking beside her.

The last few days had been absolute chaos. The Great Hunt season had begun, and Jinx had worked tirelessly, buried in a whirlwind of orders, runes, stones, gunpowder, and customers coming and going from her workshop like a parade of hungry seagulls at the port. At first, the flood of commissions had seemed fun—desperate people demanding reinforced Crimson Hydras, willing to pay double. Personalized orders where, with luck, the clients understood half of their own instructions—but soon it became a logistics nightmare.

When she realized that if she took one more order, she’d have to start making weapons out of her own ribs, she decided to put a stop to it. She shut her workshop doors with a huge sign that read:

"CLOSED! (If you have an incredible offer, knock three times and say the magic word. The magic word is NOT gold. If you try to guess it, I reserve the right to shoot you with something.)"

That gave her some relief. No more annoying customers barging in. But that didn’t mean her workshop was empty. Not at all.

The kids still came every day, as always. To get their daily meals, to tell absurd stories from the docks, to dismantle Jinx’s projects just so she had to put them back together again, to paint her walls… and more than once, just to watch her work—or, in most cases, to keep her from doing so with all kinds of distractions.

But the kids were the least of her problems.

More than once, Miss Fortune had settled into her workshop as if she owned the place. She claimed that, as her "favorite client," she had the right to supervise Jinx’s work. Which, of course, meant giving her opinion. And giving her opinion meant sticking her hands into the weapon-making process. At first, Jinx had rolled her eyes and huffed in frustration, though of course, she hadn't had the guts to contradict her.

Because working on her inventions wasn't something Jinx enjoyed doing with company... until she noticed how skilled the redhead was with artillery. Miss Fortune wasn't just a captain with impeccable aim—she knew exactly how weapons worked on the inside. At least in the traditional sense, the kind Jinx usually shoved into the deepest corners of her mind.

What started as a few ideas about technical functions turned into hours of conversation. Sometimes about unbearable clients. Other times about hilarious anecdotes from Bilgewater—like the drunkard at The Blind Siren who serenaded every woman that walked in with The Kraken in a Hat—and other times, about Miss Fortune’s adventures at sea.

And more than once, in the middle of a particularly funny story, Jinx would let out a laugh without realizing it. More than once, the redhead would point out how pretty she looked when she laughed.

The comment would make her frown and abruptly change the subject, fiddling with an imaginary screw on her rifle or hitting something harder than necessary. But later, when the workshop was silent and all that remained was the creaking of the wood with the tide, she would catch her reflection in a glass pane and find herself staring. Watching her own smile. Wondering if it was really as pretty as Miss Fortune said.

There were nights when rum became part of the equation.

Jinx didn't remember when the woman had first pulled out a bottle from seemingly nowhere, but she did remember she hadn't taken long to accept it. Amid laughter, improvised toasts, and a never-ending stream of stories that made less and less sense, the conversation would grow more relaxed. And it was in those moments, when the warmth of alcohol crept up her neck and the world felt a little lighter, that Jinx, watching her, began to seriously consider not sleeping alone that night.

Maybe, even, not waking up alone.

But then, without fail, the nausea would come.

Because alcohol couldn't erase why Miss Fortune was there in the first place. Why they were talking. What Jinx was really doing, what weapons she was building… and more importantly, what weapons she was sabotaging.

And to top it off, that morning, Vargo had come to visit her.

It wasn't as if the pirate had been frequenting her workshop lately. He knew well that Jinx was buried in work, with orders piling up like damp gunpowder in a barrel and clients far too impatient for her taste. Besides, he himself had been busy, making sure his crew was ready—a task Vargo detested. As much as he wanted to be a lone pirate, big challenges like the Great Hunt always required a backup crew—, his weapons sharpened, and his gear perfectly prepared for the event.

But the few times he’d come back, Jinx had been avoiding him.

Not too obviously—or at least, she thought so—but with just enough subtlety that every conversation was shorter than usual, every glance diverted before it could become uncomfortable, every opportunity to share a longer moment reduced to a simple "we'll talk later." Because if she talked too much with him, if she looked at him for more than a few seconds, her stomach twisted like she had swallowed a half-assembled time bomb.

Vargo, however, didn’t seem to suspect anything. Maybe because he was too focused on his goal, or maybe because, after all, Jinx had always had peculiar mood swings. No one expected her state of mind to be predictable—not even herself—and Vargo knew her well enough not to take it personally.

Still, that morning, he’d shown up at her workshop.

It was the old man’s last day in Bilgewater. Then, he’d be off to the Isles, from where he wouldn’t return until the day of the Great Hunt. That’s why he’d come to the blue-haired girl’s workshop with a request—or rather, a demand, upon seeing the deplorable post-hangover state of Jinx—that they go to the market together for their respective shopping.

A part of Jinx wanted to say no. That she had work, that she still needed parts to finish her orders, that she’d rather go alone later, that her head hurt too much. But another part of her felt a small knot in her chest, remembering that Vargo was, in fact, leaving today, and even more so when she noticed that the old man genuinely wanted to spend time with her before he left.

And she couldn’t help but find that… kind of sweet.

Sweet in a way that made her grit her teeth, because just as her heart softened, guilt bit down hard.

The big day was approaching. And Vargo had no idea what was coming for him.

That’s why another part of her—a more reluctant, more distrustful part—wanted to pull away. Not give him the satisfaction of spending time with her. Because the more she shared with him, the harder it became to ignore Miss Fortune’s words.

"Is it really worth worrying about someone you know absolutely nothing about?"

"Someone who’s very likely lying to you?"

"Someone who might have only used you to climb up in Bilgewater?"

The thought had stuck in her head like a splinter she couldn’t pull out. Jinx had never been naïve—or at least, she thought so. She knew the world was full of liars, opportunists, and traitors. She knew people used her, needed her when it suited them, and forgot her when it didn’t.

But at least, Miss Fortune didn’t hide it. At least with her, everything was clear from the start, and at least—

"Jinx," Vargo spoke again, more insistent this time, turning his head toward her without slowing his pace.

She blinked and glanced at him before shaking her head slightly.

Focus, idiot.

"Mhm?"

"You're gonna trip over a damn knife if you keep walking around looking half-dead."

She blinked a few times and clicked her tongue.

"What has to be dead are the sea monsters that my weapons are destined for, in case you forgot. You can’t blame me for daydreaming about runes, crossbows, and nets."

"That’s what you get for being a lunatic with a brain bigger than this port. What do you need to buy?"

Jinx shrugged and started counting on her fingers.

"Ammunition, gears, coils, small parts..."

"Hmph. And here I thought with that arsenal of yours, you didn’t even need to breathe."

"You flatter me," she grinned innocently. "And what about you? Buying more of that rancid tobacco, or did you finally give up?"

Vargo frowned.

"Provisions, a decent manual compass… and rations for the trip."

Jinx lowered her arms and tilted her head.

"Vargo, that sounds so boring. You could at least buy something exciting, like… a curse from a warlock? A pet that swears? A barrel of rum?"

"I'm going to the Isles, not on a bender," Vargo scoffed, not looking at her. "And from experience, the last thing I want is a cursed animal screaming at me while I try to sleep."

"Mmm. Good point."

The murmur of the crowd blended with the shouts of merchants. They passed by a stall where a man was selling bloodstained daggers, each with an accompanying story. At another, a hooded figure was offering "authentic" amulets that supposedly protected against specters. Jinx picked up one with a gleaming red stone and examined it.

"Oh, this one's pretty, look how—"

He snatched it from her hand and tossed it back onto the pile of trinkets.

"Are you really gonna buy that, or would you rather get scammed with something more expensive?"

"You're worse than a nagging father."

"And you're worse than a cursed animal."

They both burst out laughing. Moments like these allowed Jinx to forget the nausea, at least for a few seconds.

They kept walking until Vargo stopped in front of a merchant selling maps. While he browsed through the scrolls—even though none of the maps sold in the market were really of interest to him—Jinx leaned over the counter and casually remarked:

"By the way, did you hear about that ship near shuriman waters?"

He grunted.

"You mean those idiots, Harkan and his gang? Of course, I heard. They wanted to raid it, but the crazy bastard piloting it had them chasing him for half an hour until he pulled a maneuver through the cliffs and made them look like fools."

Jinx let out a loud laugh.

"Tell me you saw Harkan’s face when they told him."

"Pale as a doomed man. I don’t know what they expected, trying to rob someone with an aim like that."

"He must be a damn good sailor. Or one with more luck than brains..."

They both laughed again, but Jinx’s smile slowly faded. The topic of Vargo’s trip kept creeping back into her thoughts.

"Hey, old man..."

"I'm not old."

"Oh, excuse me, respectable and youthful pirate lord," she mocked, then lowered her voice. "Are you ever gonna tell me what exactly you do on the Isles?"

He set the map down on the table and glanced at her sideways.

"You already know. Relics. Work."

Jinx drummed her fingers on the counter.

"Yeah, well… what kind of work?"

"The kind you shouldn't be getting into."

"Uh-huh… So it's shady."

"You sell illegal weapons in Bilgewater and you're calling my work shady?"

She let out a nervous chuckle but refused to let him change the subject.

"Vargo, I've known you for five years, and I still don’t know exactly what the hell you do there."

The pirate didn’t answer immediately. His sea-hardened eyes studied her seriously. Then he shrugged.

"Some mysteries are better left alone, Little Fish."

Jinx pursed her lips, uncomfortable. Guilt sat heavy in her stomach. If only Vargo knew she was hiding something from him too. And that she was trying, with all her might, to find a reason to convince herself not to go through with it. But the old man’s vague answers weren’t helping at all.

They had barely walked a few meters when the first vulture appeared.

"Miss J!" A nasal voice made her turn with a grimace of annoyance. A lanky pirate approached with a grin as fake as a gambler's promise. "Friend, colleague, genius of hunting… what do you say we work out a little discoun—"

Jinx aimed her cannon at him immediately.

"What do you say we work out your funeral instead?"

The pirate raised his hands.

"Come on, don’t be like that, you know we need the best—"

"Aha! And I need mental peace, but it looks like we’re both screwed."

The man frowned and opened his mouth to insist, but a low growl from Vargo made him freeze.

"She said no," the big man grumbled, stepping in front of Jinx.

The pirate swallowed hard and backed away, muttering, though not without shooting a sideways glance at Jinx.

"Oh, come on, Vargo, I could’ve handled him."

"Sure. But I'd rather avoid you blowing someone up in the middle of the market."

She puffed out her cheeks in indignation, tucking her cannon back into her belt. But they had barely taken a few steps before someone else blocked her path.

"Miss J, gorgeous!" exclaimed a hunter in a tattered leather jacket. "Hey, I know your commissions are closed, but… what if we made an exception? I need something special for—"

Before he could finish, Jinx pulled a small explosive from her belt and flicked it to life with a snap.

"Sure, sure! I'll make you a special weapon… for free!"

The hunter’s face lit up—until Jinx shoved the lit bomb inside his jacket.

"You’ve got five seconds before it blows. Run!"

The man let out a shriek and bolted through the stalls, flinging the bomb into the water just before it exploded with a deafening boom.

Vargo sighed.

"Sooner or later, someone’s gonna break your face."

"And what will you do? Put them on a waiting list?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I'll just watch and laugh."

"You're getting sweeter by the day, you know that?"

But the wave of opportunists didn’t stop. A trio of mercenaries tried to butter her up with promises of future rewards, a captain offered twice the price if she broke her own waiting list, and an old artilleryman attempted to convince her that she owed him a favor she didn’t even remember. She got rid of them all with ease—sometimes with a few threats, other times by simply lighting a fuse right in front of their faces.

The last one to approach was a burly guy with a scar on his cheek and his left arm wrapped in bandages.

"Miss J, glad I found you. I need you to make me a new pistol."

Jinx aimed her cannon at him without hesitation.

"My commissions are closed."

The man paled and raised his hands.

"Oh, come on, I’ll be generous—"

"Generous like last time when you tried to pay me with bronze krakens?"

"It wasn’t bronze! They were just—"

She fired a shot at the ground near his feet, making him jump.

"Scram!"

The man ran off without looking back.

"You let a scammer go alive? Quite an achievement for you, if you ask me," Vargo remarked with a chuckle.

"Yeah, maybe I’m getting soft. Remind me to blow someone's head off today so I don’t lose the habit."

They kept walking, weaving through more vendors and buyers. Though the stroll had turned out to be more entertaining than she’d expected, Jinx wasn’t willing to let herself get distracted and give up.

"Alright, big guy, explain it to me again," she said as she adjusted the purple bandana in her hair. "You go to the Shadow Isles, you stay for what? Two, three weeks? And then you come back like you’ve been on vacation at some cursed resort. How the hell do you pull that off?"

"You already know, Jinx."

"Pfff, yeah, yeah. ‘I go for relics,’ you say. ‘I have my ways of protecting myself,’ you say. ‘I sell them here,’ you say. But something doesn’t add up."

"What doesn’t add up?"

"I don’t know… everything."

He clicked his tongue and kept walking without answering. Jinx narrowed her eyes.

"Look, I know you’re ugly, but not so much that the specters wouldn’t want to rip your face off."

"If they try, I’ll give them yours."

"How kind of you. Now tell me, how do you survive there without ending up like one of those poor bastards who lose their heads, or their skin… or their guts?"

Vargo let out a grunt and pulled a black coin from his pocket, flipping it between his fingers.

"I already told you. I have my ways."

"Oh, yes! ‘My ways.’ What a great explanation, Vargo!" Jinx threw her hands in the air. "Now everything makes sense!"

The pirate glanced at her and pocketed the coin.

"What if I'm just good at what I do?"

Jinx tilted her head and gave him a smile.

"Oh, sure, old Vargo, master of stealth, expert at escaping unimaginable horrors. Uh-huh. Totally believable."

"You said it."

"Oh no, no, no. You’re not weaseling out of this one. Why do you keep going? I mean, I get it, those relics are worth a fortune, but… is that all? Just the money?"

He shrugged and kept walking.

"Everything has a price."

She felt a chill run down her spine.

"That’s the vaguest, most suspicious answer I’ve ever heard."

"That’s because you ask too many questions."

Jinx narrowed her eyes but didn’t press further immediately. She knew that if she pushed too hard, Vargo would shut down even more. So she changed tactics.

"Then… if there are specters, black mist, soul-devouring monsters, and all that… have you ever seen something that actually scared you over there?"

Vargo remained silent for a moment.

"I’ve seen worse things outside the Isles."

"And?"

He stopped in front of a stall and picked up a glass jar containing a dark liquid. He shook it slightly, observing it closely.

"Then, Jinx, there are things better left unknown."

He paid for the jar, tucked it into his coat, and kept walking.

She frowned.

Vargo was hiding something from her—there was no doubt about it anymore. And it wasn’t something small.

They kept moving as the market’s clamor grew around them. Jinx tilted her head with feigned indifference, trying a new approach with the ton of questions swirling in her mind.

"Tell me, old man… if you win the Great Hunt, you’ll go from being a big fish to the fattest fish in Bilgewater… any special plans for that?"

Vargo snorted.

"Surviving each day is enough of a plan."

"Oh, come on, don’t give me that. There’s gotta be something."

"Bilgewater is a rat’s nest. Doesn’t matter who sits on the throne, the city still reeks of blood and cheap rum."

She whistled.

"Alright, let’s say you’re neutral, then. Or is there a side you like better than the others?"

Vargo stopped. So did Jinx. This time, his gaze turned hard.

"I sail alone. You know that."

She felt a chill run down her spine. But she pressed on, forcing a smile.

"And have you always sailed alone? Come on, you can’t have been a lone fish forever. Never had a crew, an ally… a best drinking buddy?"

His face tensed.

"Of course I had allies," he growled. "But that’s all in the past. Now, I sail alone."

"Yeah, sure, but if you had to choose to follow som—"

"I will never follow anyone in Bilgewater who is a blind, lost, and wandering soul."

Jinx fell silent and swallowed hard.

For the first time in a long while, she felt the port breeze colder than usual.

Did she really know anyone in this damn port at all?

Even as that thought spun in her head, she noticed it—Vargo had stopped paying attention to their conversation. His dark eyes were fixed on something between the stalls, and his expression had hardened instantly.

"Uh… Vargo?" She tilted her head, but before she could press further, he looked at her again with his usual expression.

"Nothing, kid. Let’s go."

Jinx narrowed her eyes but didn’t push it. Getting information out of Vargo was harder than making a shark smile.

They kept walking until they reached a crossing of foul-smelling alleys. Jinx noticed how the old man’s expression locked onto a distant point and hardened once more. With a huff, he stopped and crossed his arms.

"Well, we probably won’t see each other until I’m back from the Isles…"

Jinx felt a sharp pang in her chest.

"You’re leaving already?"

"Yeah. I’ve got everything I need."

She nodded slowly.

"But before that…" the pirate continued.

"Here we go," she rolled her eyes.

"Don’t get into unnecessary trouble."

"Me? Never."

"Don’t drink too much."

"I barely touch rum."

"Get out of your workshop every once in a while."

"Oh, sure, because Bilgewater’s air is so pure."

Vargo scoffed.

"You still carrying the tidelight stones I gave you?"

She placed a hand on her chest with feigned indignation.

"Of course! I always carry them. I never leave without my elegant and totally not suspicious marine jewelry."

"You better."

He studied her for just a few seconds, a flicker of something different crossing the old man’s eyes. A flicker Jinx had seen more than once, though he always managed to erase it with perfect skill.

In a lower tone, the pirate spoke again.

"And don’t die."

This time, Jinx felt a sudden knot in her throat, but she swallowed hard to push it down. Don’t cry, idiot.

"Don’t die either, old man."

Vargo smirked.

"Don’t make me laugh."

And with that, he vanished into the market crowd, leaving Jinx with a hollow feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with midday hunger.

She decided to keep wandering through the market for a while. But, of course, it wasn’t the same alone.

She stopped in front of an improvised mechanics stall, where all sorts of metal parts and spare components were piled chaotically on a rickety counter. Gears, detonators, reinforced steel tubes… everything needed to build something lethal. Jinx dropped a bag of coins onto the table and grinned.

"I need a quick ignition system, a high-voltage coil, and a reinforced cannon with a delayed-explosion core. Oh, and if you have something that explodes in a particularly terrifying way, I’ll take that too."

The vendor crossed his arms.

"Let me guess—another one of your toys to blow up taverns you don’t like?"

"You have such a bad impression of me. It’s for a monster. Megatusk is on my list of things to blow to bits."

He whistled.

"Megatusk, huh? You’ll need more than weapons; you’ll need some god’s blessing."

Jinx leaned on the counter, elbows down, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"That’s why I need your best gear. I don’t want it to swallow my weapon—I want it to choke on it."

The man chuckled, shaking his head, and started rummaging through his supplies to gather the components. Just as he was about to hand her the first package, a massive shadow loomed over the stall.

"I need heavy-caliber ammunition. Now."

The man who spoke was a broad-shouldered pirate, his face lined with scars, his voice deep and rough. He stepped between Jinx and the vendor as if she didn’t exist.

She blinked, surprised, before bursting into laughter.

"Oh, look! A rude idiot. Did someone hit you on the head, or are you naturally stupid?"

The pirate looked at her with disdain.

"I don’t have time for games, brat."

"Oh no, I’m so scared! Look at this big guy, thinking he’s important! But you know what? I was here first. So move your massive ass before I make it fly faster than a cannonball."

He frowned and dropped a hand to his pistol’s grip.

"You’ve got a mouth too big for such a small body."

Jinx grinned from ear to ear.

"And you’ve got a brain too small for such a big body. Guess nature has a twisted sense of humor."

The market air grew tense. Some merchants and mercenaries started paying attention.

"Butt off, brat. If you keep talking like that, I'll rip out your tongue and use it to wax my ship's deck."

"Oh, I love it when big guys think they can intimidate me. It reminds me how fragile their egos are before they explode into pieces."

The pirate drew his pistol.

"You wanna test me, you crazy freak?"

Jinx pulled out her cannon with a manic grin.

"Test you? Nah, I'd rather blow you to bits and see how far your guts can fly."

The market fell into expectant silence. Two of Bilgewater's most dangerous figures were about to settle their dispute the only way the port knew how.

The pirate kept his gun aimed straight at Jinx’s face, his scowl growing even darker.

Merchants backed away. Some customers ran for cover. Others watched with amusement, while a few looked on with disinterest, used to these kinds of altercations.

The man growled, his knuckles turning white as he prepared to pull the trigger and end the duel.

Then, something whistled through the air.

A small metal sphere, with a makeshift fuse and a dented casing, smacked against the pirate’s back and got stuck in the straps of his leather vest.

Jinx blinked.

"What the f—?"

A spark flashed in Jinx’s eyes as she analyzed the bomb in an instant. It was a rushed job, made from leftover gunpowder, a tiny mechanical detonator, and what looked like a spring from a pocket watch—a clear attempt at a rudimentary timer. The casing had signs of sloppy welding, and the fuse—too short—was sizzling dangerously.

The pirate tried to turn and see what was on his back, but it was too late.

The bomb exploded with a deafening blast.

The shockwave sent him flying forward, crashing into a weapons stall and rolling across the ground as black smoke engulfed him. The explosion didn’t kill him, but the shrapnel and burns left him badly wounded, groaning in agony as he writhed.

The market reacted as usual; some laughed heartily, clapping each other on the back. Others just rolled their eyes and went about their day. A couple of merchants muttered in annoyance as they brushed splinters off their goods.

Seizing the moment, Jinx turned to the vendor with a wide grin.

"Well, well, well! Looks like we can finally finish our deal without interruptions. Where’s my junk?"

The vendor sighed and pulled out a box with the pieces he’d gathered.

"I don’t know if I should sell it to you or charge you for the entertainment."

"Oh, charge me for both! I'm in a great mood now."

Jinx tossed him a few extra coins with a giggle, grabbed the box of parts, and walked away with a light, victorious step.

As she disappeared into the dark corridors of the black market, her mind drifted back to the bomb.

Who the hell threw that thing?

Because whoever had tossed that bomb—if the pirate found them… they were doomed.

Oh, well. Not her problem. 

Jinx kept walking briskly between the rickety stalls, her eyes darting around more out of instinct than genuine interest. The thrill of roaming the market had faded since Vargo had left. Without someone to trade bad jokes with or shove into crates just for fun, the place felt… less amusing.

Still, she had to finish her shopping. She stopped at a stall where a hunched old man was selling gears supposedly coated in pure gold, though Jinx would bet her last stick of dynamite it was more like dried fish grease with a suspicious shine. She grabbed a couple, paid without arguing, and continued on, passing a vendor offering shark teeth. ("Freshly pulled from the beast’s mouth, girl, it hasn’t even had time to miss ’em!")

After a while, she decided there was no point in wandering any longer. With an exaggerated yawn, she spun on her heel and took the path back to her workshop. She cut through a nearly empty alley, where only the echo of her boots resounded against damp brick walls. Just as she was about to light a cigarette, a high-pitched, familiar voice shattered the silence.

"Miss J! Did you see that? Did you see it?"

She turned just in time to see Gus leap from a stack of barrels, landing with a clumsy stumble that nearly sent him face-first into the ground. His messy hair was covered in dust, his cheeks smeared with soot, and his brown eyes sparkled with that kind of excitement only kids and lunatics could sustain for too long without collapsing.

"Uh… see what exactly?" She asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"My bomb! Did you see my bomb?!"

Jinx froze.

Something in her spine locked up, as if an invisible hand had just grabbed her by the nape. A familiar burn ignited in her chest before her brain could fully process the words.

"Your what?"

"My bomb! The one that exploded in the market!"

Her fingers twitched. A faint tremor ran through her arms.

"Gus… tell me you’re joking."

The kid burst into laughter and shook his head, puffing out his chest with pride.

"No! It was really my bomb! Pretty awesome, right? I saw that pirate bothering you, so I threw one at him. Boom! He flew like a drunk seagull!"

The air felt heavier. Cold sweat clung to her back, sticking her dirty shirt to her skin.

"Gus." Her voice came out harsher than she intended. "Tell me you didn’t do that."

"Of course I did!" Gus exclaimed, not noticing the way Jinx’s expression had changed. "It took me a while ’cause I was missing some parts, but I stole a couple from your workshop. And it worked!"

Jinx’s ears began to ring. Her breathing turned erratic, caught in her own throat. She felt… trapped. Like the alley walls were closing in, like the air was lead, crushing her chest.

"VI! IT WORKED!”

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

“Did you see me? My monkey bomb finally WORKED!"

See what you’ve done?

It’s your fault.

"ISHA!"

"Pew."

Her heart pounded like war drums in her chest.

Of course, it's your fault.

She raised a hand to her throat, as if trying to loosen something that wasn’t there.

Sooner or later, you’ll jinx him. Just like all the others.

Gus kept talking, laughing, moving in front of her with that idiot innocence Jinx had no idea how to handle.

He’ll die. Like them. Like her.

She forced herself to breathe, but it was like swallowing knives.

The world blurred into a washed-out chaos of shapes pulsing to the frantic rhythm of her heart. Her breathing turned shallow, ragged, as if the air refused to fill her lungs. Her skin was cold and sticky, an icy sweat running down her nape, while her hands trembled uncontrollably at her sides.

It’s your fault. Your fault!

Everything you touch dies.

Gus kept talking, his voice distant, distorted, like it was coming from the depths of a dark ocean.

"At first, it didn’t work, but then I realized it needed a stronger spark!" he said, waving his hands excitedly. "So I took some parts from your spare box. The ones in the blue tin. And I added a couple of springs from that rusty thing you keep on the top shelf. I figured you never used it, so…"

His laughter sliced through the ringing in Jinx’s ears.

She used to laugh, too.

Her chest clenched so tight she thought she’d split in two.

She wanted to be like you, too.

And you let her

"And when I saw that pirate bothering you, I knew I had to do something. You always do something! So I thought… well, if Miss J can do it, so can I."

The echo of his laughter shattered what little stability she had left.

If Miss J can do it, so can I.

The air grew even thicker, as if she were swallowing ashes. Her vision blurred, the edges of her world darkening.

Who do you think was to blame for her death, huh?

You know the answer. You know it.

How long until he dies too?

How long until you bury him like the others?

It’s coming...

He’s getting close...

You know what happens to everyone who gets close.

And you allow it.

Her chest tightened even more, her whole body trembling. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms.

"And it exploded just in time!" Gus kept saying, a grin stretching from ear to ear. "Pow! The pirate went flying like a wet rag! I’ve never seen anything like it in my life, it was awesome! Now I can be an inventor like you!"

No.

No. No. No.

He couldn't be like her.

She was a mess. She was poison.

"Gus..." she murmured, but her own voice sounded weak, broken.

He didn’t hear her.

"I'm gonna make more!" he exclaimed, pulling something from his pocket and showing it to her with pride. "Look, I was already testing other designs to make them more powerful. I think if I use more of the fuses you have on the shelf—"

You're killing him.

You're killing him.

You're killing him!

The pounding in her head became unbearable. Her entire body was paralyzed.

With the last of her strength, she let out a thunderous scream.

"YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT!"

Gus blinked, confused.

"What...? But I—"

"You shouldn't be making bombs!" Jinx continued, her pulse racing, her breathing erratic. "You shouldn’t be meddling where you don’t belong, or watching me work, or going into my fucking workshop! Don’t you have anything better to do?!"

The boy frowned, confused. He never saw Miss J yelling at him like that. 

"But... I just wanted to help you," he murmured, his voice trembling. "I wanted to make good bombs... like you."

A chill ran down her spine.

Like you.

"Well, don’t!" she roared, stepping toward him, her hands clenched at her sides. "Don’t help me! Don’t follow me! Don’t imitate me! I don’t want you to, do you understand?!"

Gus's face slowly crumbled. His lower lip quivered, his eyes filled with thick tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

"But..." he tried to say, his voice barely a whisper.

Only a sob came out.

Jinx felt something inside her shatter.

But she couldn’t stop. She mustn’t stop.

Keep going. Push him away. Make sure he never wants to come back.

"I don’t wanna see you in my workshop again!" she spat, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them. "Go anywhere else, just stay away from me!"

The tears finally spilled down Gus’s cheeks.

Jinx clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached.

That expression. That damn expression. That broken, wounded look that reached parts of her she didn’t just want to avoid—she wanted to bury.

A cold emptiness crushed her chest, and for a second, just a second, she wanted to say something. To explain. To apologize.

But she didn’t.

Because if she stayed a moment longer, if she kept looking at that face, she would break too.

So before she could regret it, before she could collapse into tears alongside Gus, before she could reach out, run her fingers through his hair, and tell him how sorry she was, Jinx turned around and walked away in hurried steps.

She barely felt the weight of her own body as she made her way back to the Beast’s Spine. Her steps were automatic, her feet knowing the path on their own, while her mind was trapped in a whirlwind of dark thoughts, and her blurred vision could barely distinguish the lights and shadows of Bilgewater.

Her fingers trembled, twitching in an involuntary spasm as she crossed the Brine Alleys. Someone glanced at her from the entrance of a dive bar, but she paid no attention. Her chest felt crushed, as if a band of iron were tightening around her ribs, keeping her from breathing.

Everyone who’s ever gotten close has died. Mylo, Claggor, Vander, Silco. Isha.

They all had a life ahead of them. And now they don’t. 

Why? Because they crossed paths with you.

"Shut up," she murmured, but her own voice sounded distant, as if she were trapped at the bottom of the ocean.

She kept walking. She passed by the docks of the Sunken Harbor, where battered ships rocked with the tide. A group of men unloaded barrels, chuckling among themselves. One of them glanced in her direction and opened his mouth, but Jinx had already turned the corner. Her head pounded, her pulse a frantic drumbeat in her temples.

The streets narrowed as she ventured into the Sunken Passages, where the wood creaked beneath her feet and salty water seeped through the cracks in the floor. Everything felt too bright and too loud at the same time. The whole world was suffocating her.

Her chest rose and fell frantically, and a sharp ringing began to echo in her ears.

You never learn.

You did it again.

You let him get too close.

And now he’ll blow up too!

Her stomach clenched, and her hands balled into fists until her nails dug into her palms. She stumbled as she climbed the slippery walkway leading to the Beast’s Spine.

By the time she reached her workshop door, her legs barely held her up. Her vision darkened for a moment, and she felt the ground shake beneath her feet, though she knew it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

She pressed her back against the door, closed her eyes, and let out a trembling gasp. No matter how many times history repeated itself. No matter how much she tried to ignore it.

It always ended the same way.

All you had to do was stay away.

"No..." she gasped, her own voice broken and hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

All you had to do was be alone.

"Stop!"

That’s all. It was simple.

"I said stop!"

But you couldn’t even do that right.

"Please... stop..."

She pressed her hands against her ears, pushing hard, trying to crush the voices somehow, but the whispers turned into screams, the screams into a chorus of cruel and relentless taunts.

You don’t learn. You never learn. You always hurt. You always wound. You always kill. You never learn! Never! Never! Never!

The words tangled with the ringing piercing her skull. Her breathing turned ragged. Every attempt to inhale was a cruel, losing battle. She felt the ground sway beneath her, though she knew it wasn’t moving. Her pupils were dilated, her pulse hammering against her temples like a war drum.

You should live in a black hole. A place where no one can find you. A place where you rot.

"No!" she sobbed, her voice breaking, slamming the back of her head against the metal door. "I already stayed away! I stayed away! I’ll stay away more! Whatever it takes! Just shut up, please!"

But the voices didn’t stop. They mocked, they laughed, they twisted inside her head like venomous parasites. Her body convulsed in a spasm, her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the rough, damp floor of the Beast’s Spine.

Her chest burned. Her throat tightened. A knot formed in her stomach, so strong and painful she almost puked right then and there. Her vision went completely black.

You don’t change. You destroy. You doom them. He’ll be next. And there will be more. You know it. You know it. You know it!

A ragged gasp tore from her throat.

She curled in on herself, wrapping her arms around her torso in a desperate attempt to hold herself together.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there, lost in her own mind, drowning in an ocean of terror.

She barely heard a voice. One that didn’t belong to her head. One that, apparently, had been calling her for the last minute.

"Hey, J!"

The voice sounded distant, muffled by the chaos in her mind, but persistent. Something inside her recognized the urgency in the tone. She lifted her trembling head, blinking to try and focus her blurred vision, and amidst the flickering lights of the Beast’s Spine, she made out a silhouette.

Red hair. Intense green eyes locked onto her with such genuine concern that it hit her like a punch to the gut.

"J, what the hell is wrong with you?" Miss Fortune’s voice had an edge of alarm Jinx didn’t remember ever hearing from her. "Are you okay? What the fuck are you doing like this?"

She tried to form words, but only a shaky gasp came out. Her chest convulsed violently, and she clung to the wall, pushing herself upright.

"G-get... away..." she managed to whisper, her voice barely a rough thread.

"J, what’s wrong? Tell me."

Jinx clenched her teeth and averted her gaze, feeling the burn of unshed tears in her eyes.

"Go to hell," she tried to snap, but the words got caught in her ragged breathing.

It only took the redhead a few more seconds for something to click in her mind.

If Jinx had been in her right state, she definitely wouldn’t have missed how disturbingly fast the woman seemed to understand the situation.

Suddenly, she took a step closer and, without hesitation, placed both hands firmly on Jinx’s shoulders.

She tensed like a coiled spring, her skin raw at the contact. But before she could react, Miss Fortune forced her to look at her, leaning in just enough so that she had no choice but to lock her clouded eyes onto hers.

"Look at me, J." Her voice was no longer just concerned. It was firm. "I’m not going anywhere."

Jinx tried to look away. She tried to break free.

“G-go away.”

This time, the woman placed both hands firmly on her cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere, damn it.”

Jinx felt the tears overflow even more.

Go away. Go to hell. Leave me alone.

Don’t go.

Leave me alone.

Please, don’t go.

Go to hell. Go away.

Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me alone.

“J, I need you to take a deep breath.” Her voice was still firm, but there was something in her tone that Jinx didn’t quite recognize.

She shook her head violently, her breathing growing even more erratic, her fingers clenching the air, searching for something to hold on to.

“I can’t,” she sobbed, her voice broken.

Miss Fortune tightened her grip.

“Yes, you can. Look at me.” She leaned in closer to her face, making sure she had no choice but to focus on her. “Listen to me. Just do what I do.”

She took a deep, slow breath through her nose, then exhaled calmly through her mouth.

“Do it with me.”

Jinx’s lips were slightly parted, her chest rising and falling chaotically, but her eyes—though still wide and bloodshot—locked onto the woman in front of her. The voices were still in her head, buzzing like a furious swarm, but Miss Fortune’s voice was clearer. Because it was real.

She gritted her teeth, her body still trembling with spasms, but she tried to follow. She inhaled, but the air came in as a ragged, trembling sob.

“That’s it, again. Slowly.”

Jinx tried again. This time, the air entered with less violence, though her chest still trembled with each exhalation.

“Good. Now again.” She repeated the process with her.

Minutes passed with the same routine. Inhale. Exhale. Follow Miss Fortune’s voice.

Little by little, the fog in Jinx’s head began to lift. Her blurred vision stabilized enough to notice the details on the woman’s face—the line of worry on her brow, the tension in her jaw. The ringing in her ears was still there, but it was no longer deafening.

The voices… the voices still murmured deep inside, but they were growing fainter, more distant.

And Miss Fortune… waited.

She waited.

Waited.

And waited.

When Jinx’s breathing finally stopped being a chaotic mess and her trembling had reduced to sporadic spasms, she loosened her grip a little, pulling away.

“Better?” she asked, watching her cautiously.

The blue-haired took a while to respond, still dazed from the exhaustion, but eventually, she nodded slightly.

Suddenly, a heavy silence. Dense.

Jinx could still hear her own pulse pounding in her ears, though not as intensely as before. She expected, of course, that Miss Fortune would get up at any moment, turn around, and leave now that the disaster had passed. Hell, the woman would probably even cancel her orders. No one wanted a lunatic building their weapons.

But she didn’t. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She didn’t leave.

Jinx swallowed, her throat still dry and raw from the frantic breathing. Her knuckles were white from clenching her fists over her knees, and she could feel the sticky cold sweat on her skin.

She didn’t know what to say. What was she supposed to say?

“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” Miss Fortune asked, breaking the silence with a softer tone than Jinx had expected.

She nodded slowly, not looking at her.

“Yes.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“Does this happen often?”

Jinx bit her lower lip, drumming her fingers against her knee in a nervous gesture.

“Yes… but not always like this.” She rubbed her face with both hands. “This time was a fucking nightmare.”

Miss Fortune said nothing at first, but her expression didn’t change.

Jinx drummed her fingers on her skirt, restless.

“Why did you stay?” she asked in a whisper.

The woman watched her for a few more seconds before looking away with a heavy sigh. This time, it was Jinx who turned her gaze toward her, and she was surprised to see her—perhaps for the first time—unable to hold eye contact.

The redhead pointed her chin toward the coastline visible from their spot on the Beast’s Spine hill.

“See that pile of rocks near those planks?”

Jinx looked. Indeed, there were three rocks leaning on each other, forming what seemed like a naturally made cave.

“I lived there for a long time, you know?” The woman still wasn’t looking at her. “After…”

She suddenly stopped, making Jinx frown.

With a deep inhale, she continued.

“After what I used to call ‘home’ turned to ashes, and what I used to call ‘family’ became charred bodies.”

Jinx felt a sudden pang in her chest. She wanted to say something, but no words came out.

“All I had were these two pistols,” she nodded toward her belt, “too many burns, and too much noise in my head. And believe me, J…”

She paused. And this time, she looked at her.

“I would’ve given anything not to be alone when the noise in my head became an unbearable hell.”

And once again, Jinx felt a stronger pang in her chest. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to step into that territory, not with her, not with anyone… but something in the way the redhead had said it—and maybe, something about the situation they were in—made her want to at least try.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, not knowing if it was enough.

But meaning it.

Miss Fortune gave her a half-smile, one that held no mockery or disdain, just a trace of exhaustion.

“Me too.”

And then, silence. A strange silence, overwhelming… and somehow, comforting.

Jinx, staring blankly at the ground, felt her body grow heavier. Her muscles were tense, her head foggy. She had no desire to move, to speak, to think.

Finally, she let out a sigh and began to stand up. Her body felt slow, as if exhaustion had struck all at once, concentrated in a single, precise blow. She brushed the dust off her pants and straightened up, determined to open the workshop door.

“You leaving already?” Miss Fortune asked, not moving from her spot.

Jinx hesitated for a moment, still with her back to her.

“My head’s not working for anything today,” she answered dully. “Better to be alone.”

In her mind, the idea of locking herself in her workshop all day took hold. Maybe the best thing would be to down a bottle of rum until she forgot her own name.

“If your head’s not working, the best thing you can do is clear it.”

The woman’s voice made her turn her face slightly.

“You’ve been working like crazy,” she continued. “You need to get out a little.”

Jinx scoffed and shook her head.

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

Miss Fortune clicked her tongue, and suddenly, her expression took on a mischievous glint.

“I’m taking you to a surprise.”

Jinx narrowed her eyes.

“A what?”

“Something that’ll make you feel better.”

“Pass.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.”

She scowled, but the redhead kept talking before she could argue.

“Technically, I’m still your client, aren’t I?”

She tilted her head, suspicious.

“I guess.”

“Well then, this is part of the job. You can’t say no to me.”

Jinx stared at her for a few seconds, frowning and pressing her lips together. She knew perfectly well that she could refuse Miss Fortune if she wanted to, but at this point, she also knew the woman well enough to know she wouldn’t give up easily.

Finally, she huffed.

“Fine.”

Miss Fortune smirked triumphantly.

“Put on something suitable for the sea. And make sure to bring some weapons.”

••••

Well, Jinx definitely didn’t see this coming.

When Miss Fortune practically dragged her out of her workshop, forcing her to grab her cannons, chompers, and as many weapons as she could fit on her belt and sling over her shoulder, Jinx hadn’t imagined this was what awaited her. She hadn’t suspected it either when the redhead demanded she wear something suited for the sea, and she, amid protests and curses, chose an outfit that, while functional, didn’t lose her signature touch.

She donned a black leather corset with red lacing details, tightly fitted over a lightweight, long-sleeved white blouse, its frayed fabric revealing glimpses of her skin in places. She rolled the sleeves up to her elbows, as the ocean heat was unbearable for heavier fabrics. For her legs, she opted for flexible, slightly loose black pants, secured at the ankles with wraps to ensure the freedom of movement she needed. A belt with multiple straps and buckles held her arsenal, while her trusty pair of high boots completed the look. As a final touch, she tied her unmistakable blue hair into a single messy braid that fell over her back, with a few loose strands framing her face.

But despite all that effort, not even for a second did she imagine she would end up standing on the deck of The Red Fortune, surrounded by none other than the Fortune Sharks, the feared crew of Captain Miss Fortune.

Leaning against the ship’s railing, Jinx watched the sea stretch out in all directions as Bilgewater faded into the distance. The water, a deep blue speckled with reflections, rolled in undulating crests that crashed against the hull. The breeze tousled her loose strands and carried with it the unmistakable scent of salt and damp wood. In the distance, a few seagulls circled in the sky, signaling the proximity of land.

Miss Fortune had said the plan wasn’t to go too far, just enough to reach Shattered Isle, a treacherous place where the remains of countless shipwrecks lay among shallow waters and hidden reefs. For some reason beyond Jinx’s understanding—perhaps because she wasn’t paying much attention—that was crucial to the situation. She vaguely recalled hearing Miss Fortune mention something about “a little warm-up before the main event,” but at the time, her mind had been too clouded to process it.

She exhaled slowly, letting her gaze wander across The Red Fortune. The ship was a beast in every sense, with a reinforced wooden hull and red sails billowing in the wind, bearing its captain’s emblem. Ropes and nets hung with both grace and precision, another hallmark of the captain’s meticulous nature. Cannons peeked from the gun ports, ready to spit fire and lead if necessary. Everything about that ship spoke of strength and control—something Jinx, at that moment, felt she completely lacked.

She rested her forehead against the railing and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. Her mood was still in the gutter, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the weight of shame clung tightly to her chest. Of all the people in Bilgewater, it had been Miss Fortune who’d seen her at one of her lowest moments.

And that killed her.

Miss Fortune’s laughter echoed across the deck, loud and carefree. Apparently, something Ivy, the crew’s gunner, had said was extremely funny.

The laughter went on for a few more seconds, this time closer to Jinx, signaling that the source of the sound was steadily approaching her.

The sound of boots against wood stopped right beside her. Jinx didn’t need to turn to know that Miss Fortune had leaned against the railing next to her.

“You know, the sea is darker at night because the moonlight doesn’t reach deep enough to light it,” she said. “So if you fall in, it’s like being swallowed by nothingness. You can’t see what’s beneath—you only feel it.”

Jinx tilted her head slightly, still staring at the horizon.

“Great. Now every time I fall into the water, I’m gonna think I’m being devoured by the void,” she muttered without enthusiasm.

Miss Fortune let out a brief chuckle and knocked on the wooden railing with her knuckles.

“Well, technically, you would be.”

The wind ruffled both their hair, and for a moment, only the sound of waves crashing against The Red Fortune’s hull filled the silence.

Jinx bit the inside of her cheek before speaking.

“About before…” Her voice was barely a murmur, almost lost to the wind. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

The captain let out a theatrical sigh and stretched exaggeratedly, enjoying the sea breeze.

“For fuck’s sake, J, do you even know what city we live in? I’ve seen things that would make even my toughest men puke. The last thing that scares me is watching you have a mental breakdown.”

The blue-haired girl clicked her tongue, unable to find a response to that.

“We all have our own black hole, you know?” she continued, looking at the water. “Didn’t think you’d be the exception.”

Jinx crossed her arms and lowered her gaze, watching the waves lapping against the hull.

“I guess.”

“What you shouldn’t do,” Miss Fortune added, turning slightly with a small smile, “is let it swallow you. You can survive despite it.”

Jinx remained silent for a few seconds before muttering, with a hint of doubt:

“Maybe surviving isn’t the same as living.”

“Honestly, there’s no difference,” she said with conviction. “And you’ll learn that in time.”

Before Jinx could respond, the redhead turned on her heel and walked off to speak with the helmsman.

Jinx didn’t dwell on it too much. She remained leaning against the railing, watching the waves with a distant look. For the first time since boarding, her mind wasn’t completely clouded. The sound of the sea had something hypnotic, something that made her feel… not at peace, but a little less chaotic.

Between the murmur of wind and waves, she caught voices coming from the deck.

“She’s a damn lunatic,” said a man with a raspy voice. “No wonder she’s so good at making weapons. You’ve got to be a little unhinged to come up with stuff like that.”

“I won’t deny her skill,” added another voice, sharp and female. “Her weapons are the best Bilgewater’s seen. But she has no clue what it means to actually hunt at sea.”

“Then what the hell is she doing here?” a third voice, younger and skeptical, interjected. “Why did Sarah bring her?”

Jinx gritted her teeth but blinked at that last part.

Sarah?

Oh… right. Miss Fortune.

So that was her real name.

The discovery caught her off guard, but irritation quickly settled in her chest. Why hadn’t she told her? Not that she cared, but… ugh, no. She did care.

The murmurs continued.

“Because she’s her new pet, of course.”

Jinx felt her muscles tense.

“She won’t last long. After the Great Hunt, Sarah will get rid of her,” the raspy voice declared with conviction. “She’ll realize she’s just a lunatic who doesn’t belong on this ship.”

“I don’t know, she seems to enjoy her company,” the woman commented with a note of doubt.

“Or she’s using her. You know, to sabotage Vargo and take the prize for herself.”

“Or to warm her bed,” added the other male voice with a chuckle.

Jinx felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a bitter feeling that first resembled sadness. But it was brief. Very brief. Because as soon as the words settled in her mind, the sadness began to burn.

Because she was tired of being sad.

So I don’t belong on this ship, huh?

Lunatic? Pet? Whore?

Jinx gritted her teeth, feeling the fury push everything else aside. If those idiots thought she didn’t have what it took to be there… well…

Jinx smiled. Because she wasn’t some damn pet, nor someone easy to dismiss.

She was still boiling inside when she barely noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that the ship had stopped. The Red Fortune floated motionless on the water, and Malik, who usually manned the helm, was no longer at his post.

Before she could process the change, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

“On deck, you brats!” called Miss Fortune.

Jinx watched as the crew quickly began moving, abandoning their tasks and heading toward the center of the ship. Snorting, she forced herself away from the railing and joined the group.

The captain strolled in front of them with a relaxed gait, hands on her hips and a smile on her lips.

“Well, you all know why we’re here,” she said, pausing for a moment to look at them. “We’re not diving into the Great Hunt without a little warm-up first. If we plan to take down a Megatusk, we need to make sure we’re not just a bunch of fools who’ll end up at the bottom of the sea before our time, right? So, as a little appetizer before the main course, today we’re hunting something smaller.”

She spun on her heels and pointed at the Shattered Isle ahead. It was a rocky, desolate piece of land, with the remains of a massive shipwreck strewn along one side of the shore. Torn sails still clung to fallen masts, and the hulls of several ships were tangled together in a trap of rotting wood.

“There,” Miss Fortune said, a spark of excitement in her green eyes, “is where our target lives.”

The group tensed. Jinx tilted her head in curiosity.

“Today, we’re hunting a Deep Scylla.”

A murmur spread through the crew. Jinx didn’t get too excited; it had been a while since she’d built weapons specifically for monsters like a Scylla. Most of her clients eventually moved on to bigger, more expensive prey—which, of course, directly impacted Jinx’s product lineup.

Miss Fortune continued:

“For the rookie hunters…”—she gestured toward Jinx, who stuck her tongue out in response—“the Deep Scylla is a cunning beast. Not as big as a Megatusk, but fast and aggressive. It hides among shipwrecks, waiting for some fool to get too close before launching in to tear them apart.”

She placed a hand on her chin, recalling something with definitely unnecessary drama.

“It’s got dozens of spiked tentacles, a mouth that could snap a ship in half, and a shell as hard as Salazar’s head.”

The man in question scowled, but Miss Fortune just laughed.

“Now, the plan. Listen carefully, because I don’t want anyone ending up as Scylla bait.”

The crew nodded silently. The woman began pacing as she spoke.

“First, we tie a nice big chunk of bait to the largest harpoon we’ve got. These things love rotten meat, so the more disgusting, the better.”

She gestured with her hands as if painting the scene in the air.

“Then, we approach the wreck slowly. Not too close, because if that Scylla gets tangled in the ship, we’re in trouble.”

The crew nodded. Jinx was starting to get impatient.

“The key to pulling this off is landing a clean first shot with the harpoon.”

She paused and turned toward Jinx with a playful smile.

“And that’s where our special guest comes in.”

Jinx snapped upright.

“You, little nutcase, will be the one to fire the harpoon.”

Jinx’s heart skipped a beat.

“Me?” she asked, feeling a sudden rush of excitement mixed with disbelief.

Miss Fortune winked.

“You’re a nice shot, aren’t you?”

Jinx felt a spark of adrenaline race down her spine. Yeah, of course she was a nice shot. Damn, she was way more than an excellent shot. 

But before she could revel in the moment, she heard the murmurs of disapproval around her.

“Her?” Salazar muttered, crossing his arms.

“This is a joke, right?” Lysander whispered.

“She has no idea what she’s doing,” Ronan added coldly.

Jinx felt her euphoria evaporate in an instant. Her fingers clenched into fists. Miss Fortune seemed to ignore the comments, but Jinx didn’t.

If anyone doubted her, she would make sure they swallowed their words.

The redhead spun on her heels and picked up the heavy harpoon from the prepared weapons. Her expression was relaxed, but there was a sharp glint in her gaze as she held it out to Jinx.

“All right, doll. You’re gonna make this count.”

Jinx felt adrenaline surge through her veins as she took the weapon in both hands. The harpoon was heavier than she expected, but its design was perfect: solid, balanced, with a mechanism that guaranteed impeccable accuracy. It could have been designed by her, even. 

“You’ve got one shot,” Miss Fortune continued. “Make sure it’s clean and silent.”

Jinx barely heard that last part.

“The Scylla is lurking down there, waiting for something to stir its appetite. We’re going to give it exactly what it wants.”

The captain pointed at the bait tied to the harpoon: a hunk of rotting meat that reeked of death and salt.

“When you’re ready, aim right into the shadows of the wreck. If your shot is precise, we’ll lure it to the surface without alarming anything else. If you miss… well, we all like having legs, don’t we?”

Jinx smirked.

“When have I ever missed a shot?”

Miss Fortune let out a laugh.

“That’s my girl.”

Jinx took a deep breath and adjusted her grip on the weapon. She knelt at the ship’s railing, one eye closed, the other aligned with the sight. The sea breeze tousled her blue hair, but she barely felt it. Everything narrowed to her target.

She placed her finger on the trigger.

Silence weighed over the deck. Her heart pounded, adrenaline flooding every fiber of her body.

One shot.

She exhaled slowly.

And fired.

The harpoon sliced through the air with pinpoint precision. It plunged into the exact spot within the shipwreck’s shadows. The rope pulled the bait tight, leaving it floating exactly where it needed to be.

A clean shot. Perfect.

The redhead whistled in approval.

“Not bad, doll,” she murmured with amusement. “Now we wait. That son of a bitch will be ours.”

The air grew tense. The entire crew held their breath, gripping their rifles and cannons. Miss Fortune raised her voice slightly:

“Take your positions! I don’t want anyone missing their shot when that thing comes up!”

The hunters moved efficiently, each finding the best angle on the deck. Jinx watched with interest as they readied their weapons. They all carried thick rifles with similar barrels. Once again, Jinx didn’t recognize any of the designs as her own, but she didn’t care.

Her fingers slid to her own belt.

There was her cannon.

She smiled. An idea sparked in her mind like lit gunpowder.

Before Miss Fortune could even notice the mischievous glint in her eyes, Jinx pushed off and sprinted toward the main mast. In the blink of an eye, she began climbing with the agility of a monkey, her hands and feet finding support in the ropes and wood.

“What the fuck are you doing, you idiot?!” Miss Fortune bellowed from below.

Jinx didn’t stop climbing.

“You said to find a good shooting spot, didn’t you?”

Her laughter echoed over the sea breeze as she kept climbing.

Jinx scaled the mast with fierce agility, her fingers finding footholds in the ropes and the aged wood. Every muscle in her body vibrated with the electricity of adrenaline. The wind whipped through her blue locks, and the sticky salt of the sea clung to her skin as she climbed higher and higher.

“Damn it, get down from there right now!” Miss Fortune bellowed from the deck.

She just laughed.

“Relax, captain! You’re gonna wrinkle more than the Great Kraken!”

The woman muttered a curse, but Jinx no longer heard her. Her boots squeaked against the wood as she finally reached the top of the mast. She perched on the thin horizontal beam, with a perfect panoramic view of the ocean and the nearby island.

Her heart pounded fiercely, pumping blood at a frantic rhythm. Her pupils were dilated with a glowing pink, her breathing ragged. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but her pulse felt like a war drum—strong, determined, unstoppable.

Then, the water near the wreck stirred, and a shadow emerged from the depths.

The Scylla.

Truth be told, at first glance, it was a monstrous creature. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of an octopus and a leviathan, with dark, viscous skin that seemed to absorb light. Long, knotted tentacles slid out of the water, each covered in suckers as large as shields. Its head was elongated and skeletal, with rows of small, gleaming eyes that blinked with an unnatural glow. From its jaw hung long, curved fangs, dripping a thick saliva that bubbled upon touching the water.

A shiver ran down Jinx’s spine… but not from fear.

It was pure euphoria.

Her mind worked fast. Three key points.

One at the base of the skull. Another at the junction of the tentacles with the torso. And the last one, right in the mouth, between those terrifying fangs.

Piece of cake.

She had no doubts about her aim. Jinx slid the cannon from her belt and gripped it with both hands, aiming. Her grin widened.

From below, Miss Fortune saw her take position and felt the blood freeze in her veins.

“Oh no… no, no, no…”

Because the redhead knew that the crew’s cannons were a special model, designed with a damping mechanism that compressed the shot before releasing it in a contained, silent explosion—so as not to disturb the waters of this region. Because that was the last thing they wanted.

Jinx’s, on the other hand…

The captain went pale.

“J, don’t you dare!”

But Jinx didn’t hear her.

She fired.

Once, twice, three times.

The bullets tore through the air at lethal speed, striking with a series of deafening blasts precisely at the points she’d calculated.

The Scylla convulsed. A strangled shriek escaped its throat before its body collapsed, its flesh torn apart by the precise shots. With a loud splash, it fell lifeless onto the shore of Shattered Isle.

Jinx smiled, triumphant.

Now, all that was left was to approach, take the monster’s corpse, and return to Bilgewater in glory.

But when she looked down, the celebration she expected to see from the crew wasn’t there. No one was smiling. No one was applauding her perfect aim.

Instead, they were all pale.

Eyes wide as plates. Hands trembling as they gripped their weapons. Miss Fortune’s face was frozen in shock.

Jinx frowned. But before she could think too much about it, she felt it.

A vibration.

It crawled up the mast like a shiver, coursing through the wood, climbing straight into her bones.

The ship trembled again.

Stronger.

Deeper.

Miss Fortune shouted from below once more.

“Our cannons have a damn sound suspension, you idiot! Because we’re not supposed to make loud noises in these waters! Shit! FUCK!”

The color drained from Jinx’s face.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

The salty air burned her throat as Jinx tried to steady her breathing. Her hands, desperately clutching the mast’s wood, were drenched in sweat, making the descent even more difficult. Her boots slipped slightly against the structure, and each vibration of the ship beneath her made her feel as if the whole world was collapsing. The Red Fortune trembled, a strange pulse coursing through the ship as if it were breathing in agony.

She lowered one foot, then the other, and nearly let herself fall the last few meters, landing awkwardly on the deck. Her knees slammed against the wood, and without thinking, she quickly stood up, her throat burning with urgency.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I—” Her words broke in the air when she realized no one was listening. Not even looking at her.

The crew stood frozen, their eyes fixed on the darkness of the ocean. Cold sweat shone on their foreheads, trailing down their temples. Their breaths were caught in their throats, their knuckles white as they gripped their weapons. Malik held his rifle with both hands, his teeth clenched as if he expected it to fire on its own at any moment. Ivy held a rapier in her right hand and several grenades, but even she was trembling, a nervous tic twitching her eyelid. Salazar gripped a cutlass, its blade still stained with fresh blood, his lips parted, murmuring an almost inaudible prayer. Ronan had two pistols, one in each hand, but his jaw was rigid and his gaze was lost, locked on the shifting waters. Darla held a butcher’s knife and a short shotgun, but her fingers were clenched, gripping them with an inhuman force. Lysander kept a crossbow raised, his index finger barely resting on the trigger, sweat trailing down his neck. And Miss Fortune held her two double-barreled pistols firmly, her chin raised, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her.

They were all waiting.

The ship trembled again. The waves rose higher, crashing violently against the hull of The Red Fortune. Jinx could barely breathe. With difficulty, she raised her runic cannon, though it was a cruel irony—this same cannon had put them all in this situation in the first place.

Or rather, Jinx had.

A sharp ringing filled her head. Her chest tightened. She couldn’t breathe properly. The tips of her fingers tingled. She felt like she was gonna throw up.

Then, silence.

A second later, the water split in two.

A deep, rumbling roar reverberated through the air as something colossal emerged from the depths. At first, only tentacles. Enormous, covered in gleaming suckers, with spine-like protrusions rising along their black, leathery skin. Then, the monstrous head broke through the surface—an amalgamation of squids and abyssal beasts, with a snout full of circular jaws and eyes as red as burning embers.

“AGHIR-KRAKEN!”

The crew broke into panic.

Its skin was covered in scars, and from its mouth dripped viscous fluids that sizzled upon touching the water. A guttural, vibrating sound rumbled from its throat. Every tentacle moved, searching for the source of the sound that had drawn it.

“To the sails! We’re getting out of here NOW!” Miss Fortune roared, spinning around swiftly.

Lysander ran toward the cannons, fumbling as he tried to load gunpowder with trembling fingers. Malik tried to stabilize the helm, though the waves made it impossible to keep control. Ivy and Salazar fired their weapons at the creature, but the bullets bounced off its thick skin. Darla cursed under her breath and began throwing knives as if her life depended on it. Ronan fired his crossbow, but the projectile was lost among the tentacles.

Jinx couldn’t move.

And the Aghir-Kraken lunged.

The ship tilted sharply as a tentacle brushed dangerously against the railing, ripping wooden planks apart as if they were paper. Thick, black water splashed onto the deck. Jinx pulled the trigger without thinking, feeling the recoil shake her arm. She didn’t know if she’d hit the target. She didn’t even know if she was still breathing.

She only knew one thing.

If they didn’t escape right then, they were all going to die.

"Don’t let the tentacles touch the deck!" roared Miss Fortune, her voice cutting through the chaos like a sharp dagger. "If it breaks, we’re dead!"

Malik turned the wheel with all his strength, his face contorted and the muscles in his arms straining from the effort. The ship swerved abruptly, barely dodging a tentacle that crashed into the ocean, sending up a wall of salty water. The helmsman was drenched in sweat, his knuckles white around the wood, his teeth clenched with exertion.

Salazar roared as he loaded his blunderbuss and fired straight at the creature’s face. The shot struck one of its many eyes, making the Aghir-Kraken let out a guttural roar, like underwater thunder. Darla, wasting no time, threw a flurry of sharp knives at the suckers of the nearest tentacles. Ronan, wielding both his pistols, fired shot after shot while Ivy darted between the cannons, lighting fuses with trembling hands.

"Cannons ready!" Ivy shouted, her voice shaking but firm.

"FIRE!" ordered Miss Fortune.

The cannons roared with a deafening explosion. Iron balls tore through the air and struck the beast’s torso, ripping chunks of its slimy flesh apart. But the Kraken didn’t stop.

A colossal tentacle wrapped around one of the sails’ masts, snapping it with a horrific crack. Lysander was struck in the head and fell to the ground, his crossbow sliding out of reach. Darla was thrown by the impact, crashing against a barrel, her side bleeding.

Jinx curled up in a corner, arms over her head, her breath coming in erratic gasps.

Shit. Shit. No, no, no, no, no, no.

Now was not the time. But it wasn’t like she could stop it.

Air slipped from her lungs in spasms. Tears burned her face, and the shaking in her hands was uncontrollable. Her chest tightened, the world reduced to a distant, muffled sound.

You jinxed them.

A tentacle slammed into the deck inches from her, splintering part of the railing. Jinx screamed and clumsily rolled away, colliding with a pile of ropes. Her fingers desperately closed around a fallen pistol, but her grip was weak. She held it with both hands, but they trembled so much that it almost slipped from her grasp.

"J, SHOOT, DAMN IT!" Ronan roared, leaping past her as he drove a cutlass into the Kraken’s flesh.

She raised the gun, but her vision was blurry. Her finger pressed the trigger.

BANG!

The bullet missed, vanishing into the void.

A tentacle struck a pile of barrels with brutal force, sending Ivy and Salazar sprawling. Ivy hit her head against a broken crate, dazed.

Miss Fortune leapt onto the railing with ease and fired point-blank, hitting one of the Kraken’s open wounds. Sweat and blood covered her face, her breathing was ragged, but her eyes burned with fire.

"Lysander, light the gunpowder barrel fuse!" she commanded.

Lysander, staggering and with blood trickling down his forehead, ran with his rifle raised. He knelt beside a gunpowder barrel and struck a spark against the fuse. Time seemed to freeze as the flame raced down the rope.

"NOW!" Miss Fortune shouted.

The barrel exploded just as the Kraken lifted a tentacle over the crew. An inhuman scream echoed through the air, fire consuming parts of its slimy skin. The creature writhed in agony, its tentacles convulsing in violent spasms.

Jinx, her legs still trembling, saw an opportunity. She forced herself to stand and fired again, this time hitting one of the creature’s maws. 

The monster roared in fury, but it still wouldn’t give up.

Jinx fired once more. Her heart pounded violently against her chest, as if trying to tear itself apart from the inside.

Run, run, run. Don’t let it touch you.

Her mind spat out frantic commands as her legs moved clumsily, dodging purely on instinct. She lunged to the side as a tentacle slammed down with brutal force, shattering the wood right where she’d been a second ago. The impact sent her rolling across the deck, her back slamming against a splintered barrel.

She tried to get up, but her limbs wouldn’t respond properly. Her ears rang, her vision wavered between the present and the incessant noise in her mind.

Look what you did!

You know why this happened.

Because you’re a jinx!

You jinxed them.

Just like you jinxed everyone else.

A sob caught in her throat, but Jinx swallowed it down forcefully. She couldn’t break any more than she already had. She clenched her teeth, her chest rising and falling violently, and lifted the pistol with both hands, trying to aim at the beast.

"Shit, shit, shit." Her finger twitched on the trigger.

She fired.

The bullet hit one of the tentacles, barely making the Kraken shudder. It wasn’t enough. Nothing she did was enough. It never had been.

A roar shook the air, and before she could react, a tentacle struck her right arm full force. A white-hot pain shot through her, tearing a scream from her throat. Her skin split open in a deep gash, blood quickly spilling over her clothes and dripping onto the wooden deck.

Jinx staggered, clutching her arm with her other hand. Her head pounded frantically. The battle around her raged on, the crew fighting with everything they had, but she saw only the monster.

The Kraken loomed over her, preparing another strike.

But Jinx, this time… didn’t move.

She stood still. And suddenly, her entire body felt light.

Yes. Do it.

This is what you deserve.

This is the least you can do.

Die and disappear.

That’s what you should have done all along.

The voices, for the first time in a long while, were comforting—almost sweet, almost soothing.

And as the tentacle came down with lethal speed, Jinx closed her eyes, and kept them closed.

Waiting to see nothing, hear nothing, be nothing.

A gunshot echoed through the air, followed by the sound of steel slicing through flesh. And the impact never came.

When Jinx opened her eyes, Miss Fortune was standing in front of her, one of her pistols still smoking in one hand and a scimitar in the other. The blade was still dripping with the creature’s black blood.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” the captain roared, turning to Jinx with eyes blazing with fury.

Jinx couldn’t answer. Her throat tightened, sobs clogged her chest, and her mind was still trapped in limbo. A deep gash stained Miss Fortune’s side. The redhead gritted her teeth, her breath labored from pain, but she didn’t back down.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...” Jinx’s voice trembled with every sob. Tears began to fall again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so—”

The sharp crack of a slap from Miss Fortune’s hand cut her off.

Jinx’s head tilted to the side from the force of the blow. Her skin burned instantly.

“Stop crying and get up, damn it! FIGHT!”

The blue-haired girl fell silent, stunned.

The captain turned away, firing a bullet at a tentacle that threatened to take Salazar down.

Jinx inhaled deeply, then exhaled. Inhale. Exhale. She clasped one hand over the other in a violent attempt to stop them from shaking. She even slapped herself once more.

Every fiber of her being, every shred of strength she had left screamed at her not to do it. That she would ruin everything even more. And she knew it was true. She knew it with absolute certainty, like a movie she’d seen too many times, its ending engraved in her mind. She knew every step of the sequence with overwhelming clarity. A single move, a single action, or a single mistake was enough to send everything to hell—because she was a jinx. And if she tried to help, if she tried to give anything of herself to the situation, even if it was just to fix it, everything would only get worse. Because she was a jinx.

She knew. She knew how this would end just as well as she knew the beat of her own heart, the lines on her palm, the cracks in her own weapons. She knew because it was a simple, familiar, and predictable…

Pattern…

“Can I tell you a story?”

Jinx’s eyes—and her mind—drifted away once more, but this time, they didn’t get lost in that overwhelming storm. They found calm instead. That place where she knew she could always, always, always return to, whenever she needed it, whenever she wanted to feel warmth and believe that maybe, just maybe, the world wasn’t such a terrible place. Whenever the strength to keep going began to waver.

"You’re not trapped in a cycle, Pow-Pow," he whispered, his thumb tracing a slow path over her cheekbone.

Whenever, instead of wanting to forget with all her might, she wanted to remember. To remember and keep those memories locked away in a little glass box where no one else could touch them.

To remember his face, his touch, his voice, his words... that even five years later still felt like anchors in the middle of the storm.

Damn it, Ekko. You’re always gonna be with me one way or another, aren’t you?

••••

Jinx slowly opened her eyes, blinking heavily as the sunlight filtered through the leaves of the Firelights’ tree and slipped through the window, landing directly on her face.

To anyone else, the scene might have seemed almost poetic—the warm morning glow gently caressing her skin and all that crap. But Jinx couldn’t care less. She let out an involuntary grunt, her brow furrowing in annoyance. She didn’t want the sun in her face. She wanted to keep sleeping.

She grumbled under her breath once more and, without thinking too much about it, buried her face against the warm surface beside her—the one that had become as familiar as the scent of gunpowder.

Ekko’s chest.

"Fools In Love" - Inara George

She was curled up against him, her arms unconsciously clinging to his body as she slept. Even her legs were intertwined with his, tangled together as if, somehow, she couldn’t be away from him even in her dreams. Ekko was still asleep, his breathing calm and deep, but his embrace remained firm even in slumber. This had already become a routine—one that Jinx had embraced as an extension of herself.

It had happened almost without them noticing. That night, they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, only for Ekko to discover the next morning that his back pain had significantly improved. So, when that day ended, Jinx insisted they share the bed again. She did the same the next day. And the next. And the next.

Even when Ekko’s back pain disappeared and Jinx’s cold spells got better, they both found the dumbest, most ridiculous excuses to keep sharing the bed. And, honestly, neither of them ever questioned the other’s excuses. Instead, they would always, with absurd speed, reach the agreement that the smartest decision was to keep sleeping in the same bed. 

The few—almost nonexistent—nights when she didn’t sleep curled up against Ekko and the mornings when she didn’t wake up in his arms felt worse than losing a limb. That habit had become a silent necessity, a comforting certainty. And though she would never admit it, she liked it. She liked having, in some way, regained what once seemed like a shattered friendship. If that was even what she saw in Ekko…

Jinx pressed her lips together and shook her head, driving the thought away before it could take root.

Her and Ekko? Nah, that was never gonna happen.

The small movement seemed to disturb the stillness of the figure holding her. Ekko furrowed his brows slightly, stirring just a little, and his breathing changed, becoming more conscious. Slowly, he began to wake up.

"Jinx, if you keep making a snoring orchestra every time you fall asleep, I swear I'll take the drill out of your throat myself," he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.

Jinx narrowed her eyes, burying her face in his shirt.

"I don't snore."

Ekko let out a soft laugh, pulling his other arm around Jinx's back and squeezing her tighter.

"Yes, you do. You sound like an enraged bull with breathing problems."

"You sound like an idiot who doesn't know how to sleep without complaining."

"I'm not complaining, I'm informing."

She gave him a small punch to the side without fully letting go. He faked a groan and then shifted slightly, trapping her even more tightly in his arms.

"You're suffocating me," Jinx grumbled, her face buried in his chest.

"Too bad."

Jinx barely lifted her head, exhaling against the curve of Ekko’s neck, wondering for the thousandth time in the past few days if all this still fit within the spectrum of "just friends."

She preferred not to think about it too much. His arms felt way too good.

"Besides," he continued, "you also steal all the blankets. And all the space."

"You're lying."

"Oh, really? Then why am I practically falling off the bed?"

She smiled against his skin before lifting her head to meet his eyes.

"Because I keep beating you at everything. Even conquering bed territory."

He huffed, giving her a gentle shove, trying to reclaim some space for himself.

"Whatever you say, bed conqueror," he murmured, his nose brushing against Jinx’s forehead before pressing a kiss there.

Jinx felt her chest tighten. She really liked it when he did that. Maybe too much.

Well, that was normal, right? It wasn’t every day you got back a friendship lost to time.

"If you don't like it, go sleep somewhere else," she mumbled, burying her face deeper into his neck.

"And miss your snoring show? Not a chance."

She chuckled and playfully hit his shoulder, making no effort to pull away.

"You're annoying."

"And you're a threat to auditory health."

Jinx giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Now you sound like Isha."

Ekko pulled back slightly, frowning as he looked at her.

"Who's Isha?"

The room froze.

Jinx felt her own heart stumble. A sharp pain shot through her chest, and there it was again. That feeling that made her think she was vanishing in the air. Like she wasn’t really there, but anywhere except in her own body. Like nothing was real. And sometimes, she wished it wasn’t.

For a few seconds, she’d forgotten.

When she was with Ekko, with his arms wrapped around her, with the warmth of his body against hers, with the soft touch of his lips against her hair or her forehead, she could forget.

Forget, at least for a few seconds, that her little girl was dead.

The feeling grew, grew, grew, and grew.

It wasn’t immediate but a slow drag, as if her body were sinking into a sea without water, into an absolute absence of weight and presence. Her skin became a distant echo, the boundaries between her and the world blurred. She was disappearing. Ceasing to exist. Becoming something neither solid nor ethereal, trapped in a space between nothing and everything.

But no matter how much she faded, the world wouldn’t let her go.

A touch on her back. Barely a whisper of contact, but enough to remind her that her skin was still there. A rub on her arms, warm, persistent. A thumb sliding gently down her cheek.

And his eyes.

Ekko’s eyes, locked onto her with that mixture of expectation and sweetness that made her feel so terribly present. Those eyes that never changed, that always looked at her as if he could see her even when she couldn’t see herself.

Then, in that uncertain space between wakefulness and oblivion, Jinx remembered.

Her girl.

The blue of her hair, her small braids twisted with a charming carelessness, the helmet scratched with hurried doodles, with drawings only they understood. Her tiny hands, reaching blindly for warmth on the coldest nights, even when Jinx had never been particularly warm.

And her smile.

Janna, her smile.

Her eyes. Amber eyes that shone as if the world had yet to snuff out their light.

Each time that image became clearer, the knot in her throat tightened. Her chest shrank, her vision blurred, and the pressure inside her turned into an unbearable weight. But she didn’t hold it back.

Because, for some reason, being in Ekko’s arms made her want to break like never before.

And so she did.

The first sob escaped as a shaky gasp, almost surprising her. But barely a second later, the wave overtook her completely. A deep, trembling cry spilled from her throat as she clung to Ekko’s chest.

“Hey, hey, hey… it’s okay,” he whispered. 

And Ekko moved.

He tightened his embrace, holding her closer. His hands moved slowly over her back, with the clear intention of anchoring her, of reminding her that she existed. From time to time, his lips brushed her hair, her forehead, her cheek.

Jinx’s sobs grew—not like a desperate outburst, but like an overflowing river.

She leaned further into Ekko, seeking his touch with a need she didn’t fully understand. She clung to him, burying herself in his chest. And he held her. Not to stop her crying, but simply with the certainty that he wasn’t going to let her go.

Not this time.

Jinx’s body trembled in Ekko’s arms, curled up against him as if she wanted to disappear into his warmth. The tears kept falling onto his chest, soaking the fabric of his shirt, but her voice finally emerged between sobs, broken and choked.

“She was my girl…” she whispered at first. “She was my little girl…”

Ekko felt his own heart clench in his chest. She gasped between tears, clutching him tighter.

“She’s dead,” her voice cracked. “She’s dead… she’s dead because of me.”

Her hands tightened around his back. He held her more firmly, pressing her against him, his arms wrapping around her with unwavering warmth.

“Shhh…” he murmured into her hair, his lips leaving a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’m here.”

But Jinx didn’t stop.

“I…I jinxed her… I jinxed her…” she continued, her voice shaking as much as her body. “It’s always like this… it always ends the same way…”

Ekko felt her shudder from head to toe as she curled even deeper into his embrace.

“They all die…” she whispered, and her voice sounded like a knife sinking into her own flesh. “I kill them… I let them get close, and they die…”

The words repeated, over and over again, like a cursed mantra tearing her apart from the inside. He ran a hand down her back, tracing slow, comforting circles. His other hand moved up to her nape, threading his fingers delicately through her hair, guiding her gently until her forehead rested against his neck.

“No,” he murmured, his mouth brushing her temple before kissing it. “No, Jinx.”

But she kept repeating it.

“It’s always like this… they all die… all of them… it always ends the same way…”

Ekko held her tighter. His lips brushed her damp cheek, her jawline, the bridge of her nose. Soft, constant touches.

Jinx cried silently against his chest for long minutes, her breathing still uneven, her body still shaken by involuntary tremors. But little by little, the sobs became less violent, her chest stopped rising so abruptly, and the knot in her throat began to loosen.

He kept holding her. His hand moved up to her cheek, caressing her damp skin with his thumb. His other hand remained on her back, keeping her close, making sure she knew she wasn’t alone.

Jinx tilted her face into his touch, seeking the warmth of his skin, clinging to his embrace. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, with less desperation than before, but with the same need.

Ekko lowered his head and kissed her hair, feeling her breathing grow steadier against his neck.

He had a pretty good idea of who Isha might be. He’d seen the drawings in her hideout—hurried scribbles but filled with an evident tenderness. They’d caught his attention, but he hadn’t mentioned them. And now, hearing her speak of her with such raw anguish, they fit all too well with what he’d imagined.

It was strange. Almost unthinkable that Jinx had formed a bond like that with someone. But at the same time, it didn’t surprise him at all. Because, against all odds, Jinx had a good heart.

Broken, yes. Shattered and trampled on countless times. But a good heart.

Even so, he said nothing about Isha. Not at that moment. Jinx had already gathered enough courage to mention her, and that was more than he could’ve hoped for.

Ekko was simply grateful that her tears had overtaken her in the arms of someone who loved her.

Though, of course, he would keep that part to himself for now.

They had lost track of how long they’d been like this. The world outside felt unreal, like a distant memory that didn’t matter at that moment. Only their intertwined bodies existed, their breaths mingling, and the warmth shared between silent tears.

Jinx was still clinging to him tightly. Her face, damp with quiet tears, was buried in his shirt, her trembling breath seeping against his chest.

Ekko’s hands moved over her back in slow motions, up and down with a gentleness that contrasted with the desperation in his embrace. Sometimes, his fingers tangled in her blue hair, massaging her scalp in soft circles before sliding to her nape and holding her there, against his chest. He planted occasional kisses on her forehead, her temple—unhurried, even if only to remind her that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, deep and soft against her ear.

“Can I tell you a story?”

With a sniffle, Jinx gave a weak nod. Ekko continued.

“You see… A few years ago, when I started building my first hoverboards, I thought I had everything figured out. The design, the calculations, the materials… Everything made sense on paper. But every time I tried to take off, the rear stabilizer vibrated like it was possessed.”

His hands followed the contours of her back, moving up to her shoulder blades, where he traced small circles with his thumb. 

“Sometimes it wouldn’t even lift off the ground,” he continued, pressing a slow kiss to her crown. “And when it did… the damn thing always ended up tilting. Sometimes I managed to stabilize it for a while, but then again: shaking, tilting. In the worst cases, it crashed straight into the ground.”

Jinx shifted slightly, the faintest brush of her nose against his collarbone. Ekko slid a hand down to her bare arm, tracing along it until he reached her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers.

“I checked everything. The support alloys, the gyroscope calibration, even the damn shock absorption system. I changed the screws, reinforced the structures, redesigned the circuits. No matter how many times I tried… it always failed the same way.”

He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent, savoring the faint powder puff aroma that had begun to cling to her lately.

“Tilting. And sometimes… crashing.”

Jinx trembled under his touch, her fingers gripping his shirt more tightly. She didn’t say anything, but Ekko felt the way she leaned just a little closer to him.

He held her tighter, his hand sliding down her back, tracing each vertebra with his fingertips before pressing gently between her shoulder blades, pulling her closer against his chest. 

“It was like I was trapped in that sequence,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy against her ear. “And I knew it by heart.”

Ekko took a deep breath before continuing.

“The out-of-control vibration. The tilt to the side. That feeling that I was going to crash at any moment.”

Jinx let out a barely audible sigh as Ekko’s hand slid from her waist to her lower back, her skin prickling under his touch. She clung tighter to his shirt, fingers digging into the fabric.

“There came a point where I even braced myself for the impact,” he went on. “And the worst part is, sometimes it didn’t even come.”

His hand moved up her side, brushing over the curve of her ribs.

“I spent a long time like that,” he whispered, pulling her even closer, their legs tangling just a bit more. “Until I started to realize that maybe the problem wasn’t just the design…”

Jinx barely moved, but Ekko felt the way her breath hitched for a moment.

“Every time I got on one of those prototypes,” he continued, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along her arm, “I was already expecting it to fail.”

His embrace tightened slightly as he said it.

“I even remember how my body felt before takeoff,” he went on, his voice quieter. “It tensed up, muscles rigid, my hands gripping the controls just as tightly as they had every time before… my foot always pressing against the opposite side of the tilt, like an instinct, you know?”

His lips brushed her hair in a slow, unhurried kiss, and his hand slid down her arm to intertwine his fingers with hers again.

“And without realizing it… I kept repeating the exact same reactions that led to the same crash.”

She buried her face deeper into his chest, squeezing her eyes shut.

He rested his chin on the top of her head, closing his eyes for a moment before letting out a soft laugh, though without any real humor.

"And for the longest time, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head that it was an absurd paradox."

His free hand slid up to her cheek, his fingers brushing over her skin with care.

"But a paradox nonetheless."

He gently squeezed Jinx’s hand in his grasp.

"Do you remember those physics books we read once on Benzo’s shop roof?" he murmured.

She didn’t answer right away, but her breathing deepened, and after a second, she let out a weak laugh. She nodded without lifting her head.

"Yeah… the ones the pilties threw out because they were ‘outdated,’" she murmured, her voice still broken.

Ekko smiled against her forehead, holding her closer to his chest.

"We were so bored we ended up reading them just to keep us from dying of boredom," he continued, stroking her hand with his thumb. "Even though we didn’t understand half of it."

Jinx let out another sigh, this one calmer, and he felt her body relax just a little against his.

"That day, we read about patterns," he said, taking their intertwined hands and pressing them against Jinx’s chest. "You’re smart, Jinx. You know as well as I do what a pattern is."

She didn’t say anything, but he felt the slight movement of her head against his chest.

"In physics, a pattern is a structured repetition of events," Ekko continued. "Something that keeps happening because the conditions that create it remain the same."

Jinx tensed slightly under his touch.

"And back then, the more I thought about it… I couldn’t stop thinking about the hoverboard’s failure," he said quietly, his lips brushing against the skin of her forehead with each word. "The constant pattern of failure."

His other hand moved down to the curve of her back, gliding slowly.

"And how one of the conditions of that pattern was… well… my body tensing before takeoff," he went on. "My hands gripping the controls. My feet pressing in the opposite direction, trying to keep it from tilting."

Jinx shifted slightly, and Ekko held her tighter, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer against him. With that movement, their intertwined hands were trapped between their chests.

"And of course," he whispered, "the precautions I took in advance to avoid crashing… even when sometimes I wouldn’t crash at all."

She inhaled deeply against his neck, and he felt the shiver that ran through her when she slid her fingers along the back of his neck.

"I tried changing every possible condition to stop the pattern," he whispered, his thumb tracing over the skin of her waist. "But at the end of the day… I never tried those."

Ekko sighed, squeezing her hand even more.

"Because… if I always reacted the same way… if I always expected the same ending…" he murmured against her skin, "how could I ever get a different outcome?"

She didn’t answer, but her hand slowly rose to the side of his face, her fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheek. Their bodies remained tangled together. And even though she didn’t say it out loud, Ekko knew she understood. Of course she did.

"So I did something different," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin as his hand traced the curve of her waist. "Before modifying anything else on the hoverboard, I changed my approach."

His other hand tried to intertwine with hers even more, though it wasn’t physically possible.

"I stopped anticipating the failure," he continued. "Instead of gripping the controls with tension, I relaxed my hands."

Their heartbeats seemed to start synchronizing, trapping their entwined hands between them.

"I changed the way I leaned my body before takeoff," Ekko went on. "I adjusted the angle of my movements in the air…"

Jinx let out a shaky sigh and buried her face even deeper into his neck, her breath tickling his skin.

"And besides…" he whispered, sliding a hand up her back until his fingers tangled into her blue hair, "I prepared myself for the possibility of an imminent fall."

He felt her tense slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Ekko pressed a long, silent kiss to her forehead, then continued.

"And when it took off… it worked."

Even after breaking the kiss, he didn’t move his lips away from her forehead.

"To this day," he said softly, "I still suspect the failure had been fixed a long time ago…"

She let out a breath—almost a quiet, weary laugh.

"But that was the change needed for the flight to go right."

Ekko gently turned his head, resting his cheek against her forehead.

"It was just a subtle change…" he murmured, "but enough to… break the pattern."

She didn’t respond, but her hand slid to the back of his neck, gripping him with silent desperation.

He moved carefully, shifting his position on the bed without letting her go. This time, they ended up face to face. Her pink eyes, swollen and drenched in tears, stared at him through the blurry veil still streaming down her cheeks.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer, making sure there wasn’t a single space left between them. With his other hand, the one still holding hers—never letting go for even a second—he traced his fingers down her damp cheek.

Jinx leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. She nestled deeper into his palm, seeking more contact, more warmth, more of him.

Ekko lowered his head until their foreheads met. His breath mixed with Jinx’s, their warmth intertwining in the silent air of the room.

"You’re not trapped in a cycle, Pow-Pow," he whispered, his thumb tracing a slow path over her cheekbone. "It’s just a pattern that’s repeated too many times."

She shivered and let out a shaky sigh. There was something about the way Ekko said her name that didn’t make her hate it—in fact… quite the opposite.

Her nose brushed against his in an unintentional touch, barely a second, barely a whisper of contact.

"That’s all," he continued, his voice low and steady, his fingers gliding down to her jawline. "A pattern."

She inhaled and opened her eyes. And he was still there.

"That doesn’t mean you can’t change it," he murmured. "It doesn’t mean you can’t break it."

Jinx pressed her lips together tightly and moved closer, seeking refuge in the space between his neck and shoulder. But Ekko didn’t let her hide.

He gently lifted her face, cradling it between his hands, and pressed a long, firm, loud kiss to her forehead.

"You just have to dare to fly differently. Or at least try, okay?"

••••

Pink eyes suddenly opened, taking in the terrifying scene that still enveloped The Red Fortune. 

Don't do anything. 

Jinx snorted and stood up, starting to pace. They were starting to get on her nerves. 

You'll make it worse. 

"How could this get any worse, you idiots?" she snarled, dodging with lightning speed and a pink flash in her eyes as a pile of planks hurtled straight toward her. 

You're gonna jinx them again.

"No." 

Just like always. 

Jinx's heartbeat pounded like a racing drum. A pink glow that could light up all of Bilgewater tinged her eyes in a flash. 

Because it’s always the same.

Enough. She'd had enough. 

"NO!”

She moved in the blink of an eye.

Her hands grasped a rifle that lay on the deck, and with a pink streak following her movement, a bullet was fired, hitting with precision a tentacle that threatened to slice Ivy’s torso in two. The woman barely had time to blink before a head of blue hair was in front of her, helping her up with one hand while holding the smoking rifle that had just fired the shot in the other.

A glance and a slight nod between them was enough.

An explosion made the deck tremble. Jinx sprang to her feet. Her mind clicked in an instant: The crew was fighting, but they weren’t winning.

She could fix this. Or at least, try. There was nothing to lose.

She grinned, the gleam in her eyes growing brighter and brighter.

She grabbed the first thing within reach: a runic hunting harpoon abandoned on the deck, still dripping with the beast’s black ichor. She gripped it with both hands, spun swiftly on her axis, and drove it with all her strength into a tentacle that was about to grab Malik. The weapon vibrated with runic energy, activating its internal mechanism, and in a flash of bluish light, it discharged an explosive pulse directly into the monster’s flesh. The tentacle writhed and immediately recoiled, releasing the helm’s railing.

“Malik, keep us moving!” Jinx shouted, her voice cutting through the din.

Malik gave her an incredulous look but didn’t waste time. He spun the wheel furiously, trying to keep The Red Fortune afloat.

A tentacle descended toward Ronan, who was loading a runic bolt rifle. Jinx saw the attack before he did.

She leaped onto a barrel and propelled herself with another long jump, leaving behind a pink trail and the whistle of the wind. She pulled one of the spherical bombs she’d taken from the ship’s armory—one of the most unstable ones—from her belt and hurled it precisely at the tentacle’s base.

The blast lit up the air, the explosion sending chunks of rotting flesh into the sea and freeing Ronan at the last second.

Salazar was trying to cut a net tangled in the deck’s wreckage, but a tentacle emerged from overboard, ready to drag him into the water.

“Oh no, you’re not taking him!” Jinx snapped.

She ripped a heavy hunting crossbow from the wall and, without pausing to aim, fired a steel bolt straight into the Kraken’s nearest eye.

The monster roared with a thick sound, twisting in pain. In the process, it released Salazar, who fell onto the deck with a strangled gasp.

“Move!” Jinx shouted, sliding toward him with a swift push and grabbing his arm before another tentacle could reach him.

She yanked him forcefully toward the safety of the quarterdeck stairs. Salazar panted, still in shock, but managed to get to his feet.

Jinx didn’t stop.

Darla and Lysander were trying to maneuver a heavy cannon, but the beast seemed to anticipate their every move. A tentacle knocked over the powder barrel beside them, covering them in splinters and rendering the cannon useless.

“We need fire, NOW!” Lysander shouted.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, so impatient!”

Jinx sprinted toward the ammunition reserve, dodging debris with frantic movements. She grabbed a fire oil flask and hurled it directly onto the Kraken’s exposed flesh. She pulled a flintlock pistol from her belt and, with a wild grin, fired.

The flames erupted like a miniature sun, engulfing the monster in a blazing burst.

Darla seized the opportunity to load the cannon with a reinforced shot and fired a direct hit to the creature’s center. The Kraken roared, writhing in fury.

But it wasn’t dead yet.

Miss Fortune was still fighting on the front line. She was covered in blood—her own and others’—but she didn’t back down.

However, when Jinx turned, she saw a tentacle rise behind the captain, ready to crush her.

Oh no. 

She lunged without thinking.

With brutal speed, she jumped onto the rigging ropes and used them to propel herself. Midair, she hurled three bombs at the tentacle’s base, ensuring they exploded on impact. The monster thrashed violently, letting out a monstrous screech.

Miss Fortune spun instantly, firing two bullets into the Kraken’s mouth, forcing it to recoil even further. Jinx landed beside her, a trembling grin on her face.

“Missed me?”

The woman shot her a look and chuckled.

“You wish.”

Before Jinx could reply, a rough, spike-covered tentacle came crashing down on them with impossible speed for something that size. The redhead swiftly grabbed Jinx’s arm, sliding both of them across the deck to dodge the blow.

Just as another crushing strike seemed about to hit them, Jinx grabbed a chomper from her belt, pulling the pin with her teeth and throwing it in the opposite direction.

The explosion detonated inches from the tentacle, diverting it just enough for the two women to stumble out of harm’s way. The monster shuddered, growling with a furious resonance that made the planks of The Red Fortune tremble.

But what caught Jinx’s attention wasn’t its rage—it was its reaction.

The Aghir Kraken hadn’t just attacked on instinct; it had responded to the blast.

She tilted her head, curious.

She pulled out another bomb, spun it in her palm before yanking the pin, and tossed it far into the ocean.

The water erupted in a foamy wave. And the Kraken reacted. It turned its massive head toward the point of impact, its tentacles moving in that direction with a predatory interest.

Jinx’s eyes immediately gleamed.

Of course. Drawn to sound, movement… and humans.

Her lips curled into a fierce grin.

What better bait than sound and movement combined in a single human package?

Amidst the chaos, while the crew shouted orders, struggled to keep the ship stable, and fought off the attacking tentacles, Jinx grabbed the emergency tension cable—several meters long—beside her and began wrapping it around her waist.

Miss Fortune, still catching her breath, watched her with a mix of disbelief and horror.

“J… what the hell are you doing?”

Jinx kept tying the cable quickly, strapping as many explosives and chompers to her belt as possible and adjusting her arsenal over her shoulders. She carried cannons, crossbows, and several sharp and pointed objects of varying sizes that she’d collected across the deck.

“You see, Captain, being quiet has never been my strong suit. Even when I’m alone, there’s never silence.”

She tightened the cable with a firm tug and hooked a couple of extra grenades onto the laces of her corset.

“And it turns out this little tentacled friend speaks my language. Maybe we’ll even become pals.”

Miss Fortune blinked.

And the moment she understood what she’d just heard, her eyes widened in shock.

“No. No, no, no, no. Don’t you dare, J!”

“Too late, Red.”

“Are you completely insane?!”

“Yes. Next question.”

“You can’t do that, you idiot!”

Jinx laughed and pointed at the cable.

“Don’t get all shaky. It’s easy. You wait for my signal and catapult the cable back to the ship, see? And if it goes wrong… well, at least you’ll have a great story to tell about my death.”

Miss Fortune shot her a murderous glare.

But Jinx was already climbing the mast, agile as a monkey.

The woman ignored the pain in her body and stepped forward. With a swift motion, she caught Jinx’s wrist with surprising strength.

“Don’t do it,” her voice was firm, unyielding. “I’m the captain of this fucking ship! And I say get down right now!”

Jinx turned her head with a grin. For a few seconds, she gently took the redhead’s wrist that was holding hers.

“With all due respect, Captain…”

And with a quick movement, she broke free from Miss Fortune’s grip and kept climbing.

“…I don’t give a shit.”

The captain watched, heart pounding, as Jinx ascended the mast, the cable tied around her waist and explosives jingling around her.

The roar of the Aghir Kraken shook the ship’s planks like thunder in the middle of the storm. Jinx felt the vibration in her hands as she climbed the mast, each knot in the rope sliding through her fingers with almost insulting ease.

Below her, Miss Fortune kept shouting.

“You damn lunatic! If that thing doesn’t kill you, I swear I’ll climb up there myself and make it worse!”

Jinx let out a cackling laugh, never stopping her ascent.

“How dramatic, Captain. And here I thought you only wanted a one-night stand.”

She pushed herself harder, spinning nimbly around the mast. This was getting fun.

When she finally reached the top, she paused for a second to catch her breath, feeling the sharp breeze whip through her hair. From this height, she had a full view of the battlefield: the monster rising from the waters, its tentacles slamming against the deck like titanic whips, the crew fighting with everything they had. The raging sea roared beneath her, and in the distance, between the churning waves, she saw exactly what she needed.

A few meters from the ship, a dark rock jutted out of the water—large enough to hold her weight and, more importantly, visible enough for the Aghir Kraken to notice.

Perfect.

Jinx pulled out one of her chompers, spun it between her fingers with a grin, and pulled the pin.

One.

She tossed it into the air in a calculated arc toward the rock.

Two.

She watched it fall, descending toward the rock with precision.

Three. Four.

The glow started intensifying.

Five.

BOOM!

The explosion lit up the water with a blinding flash, sending a shockwave that made even the ship tremble. The Aghir Kraken turned abruptly, its massive body quivering at the disturbance in the water. Jinx watched with satisfaction as the creature began focusing on the source of the explosion, momentarily forgetting the massacre on deck.

Her grin widened. Time to move to step two. Now the real fun began.

She took a deep breath, adjusted the daggers and crossbow on her back, and ran a hand over the belt packed with bombs. Below, Miss Fortune was still shouting insults, but Jinx barely heard her.

And without a second’s hesitation, she leaped into the void.

"Breath Of Life" - Florence + The Machine

The wind lashed against her face as she plummeted, the roar of the sea growing in her ears. Of course, she’d calculated the jump. She wasn’t an idiot. If she crashed into the rock, her skull would end up like a smashed melon. But physics was her friend, and the angle was carrying her straight into the water.

The impact was brutal. Her body hit the surface with the force of a charge, and the water, far from welcoming her gently, felt like a solid wall. The cold stabbed through her skin like a thousand needles, and the air burst from her lungs in a spray of bubbles. But there was no time for pain.

With a strangled gasp, she forced herself to move. Her legs tensed, kicking hard, her arms tore through the water with fast, desperate strokes. The currents dragged at her, and the vastness of the ocean seemed ready to swallow her whole, but Jinx kept swimming.

The burning in her lungs became unbearable just as her fingers brushed the rock. With one last effort, she pushed herself upward, her nails scraping against the wet surface until she managed to grip it and climb.

When she finally pulled herself onto the rock, panting and drenched, the Aghir Kraken was watching her.

The creature’s enormous, gleaming eyes locked onto her with a predator’s intensity. The sea around it churned with contained fury, its tentacles undulating beneath the surface, ready to strike.

Jinx grinned. Just what she wanted.

Now it was just her, the monster, and the ship safely a few meters away.

The first tentacle lashed through the air like a whip. Jinx jumped to the side, barely dodging it before pulling out her rune cannon. She fired three times, the shocks imbued with pink magic piercing the beast’s slimy skin—but all they did was enrage it further.

Another tentacle crashed against the rock, shattering it into pieces right where she’d been a second ago. Jinx rolled, grabbing one of the bombs from her belt, lit it, and hurled it straight into the creature’s mouth.

BOOM!

The Kraken convulsed with a roar, a stray tentacle striking her on the side, sending her sprawling onto the stone. She felt the crack in her ribs and the sting of her skin scraping against the rock.

“Ouch.” She let out a breathless laugh, spitting blood. “Nice try, big guy.”

The creature thrashed, but Jinx gave it no respite. She grabbed a harpoon spear abandoned on the rock and, with a wild cry, hurled it with all her strength.

The harpoon sank into one of the tentacles.

The beast roared, pain making it falter, and in that brief moment of distraction, she took off running. She leaped from one jagged rock to another, dodging tentacle strikes that shattered the surface in her wake.

She needed to lure it away.

If she could draw it far enough, she could pull it away from the ship and then…

Then what?

Ha. Of course.

The Kraken wouldn’t stop chasing her. It didn’t matter if she led it all the way to the Shadow Isles or beyond the horizon. Its hunger was absolute.

And once it was done with her, it would go for the ship.

There was only one option. She had to kill it.

Jinx was breathing hard, sweat and blood slick on her skin as she circled around the rock she’d been fighting on. The Aghir Kraken was relentless. Its tentacles pounded the surface with inhuman fury, obliterating every inch where its suckers made contact. It was getting faster, more aggressive.

But so was she.

She dove to the side to avoid a lethal strike and rolled until she reached one of the harpoon spears teetering on the edge. She grabbed it with both hands, twisted her body to gain momentum, and hurled it with everything she had. The steel pierced the Kraken’s slimy hide, sinking in to the hilt. The monster bellowed, writhing in pain—but Jinx was already moving.

She pushed off in a leap, sprinting across the floating shards of rock. Every muscle in her body burned, her side was numb where the Kraken had struck her before, but she couldn’t stop.

A tentacle sliced through the air.

Jinx ducked at the last second, feeling the gust of wind ruffle her hair. She pulled another bomb from her belt, yanked the pin, and launched it directly into the Kraken’s open wound.

One… two… three…

BOOM!

An infernal roar shook the waters. Thick, black blood splattered into the air as the creature thrashed in a frenzy of agony. But it still wasn’t falling. It was still fighting.

A tentacle slammed into her with brutal force, sending her crashing into a floating piece of wood. Pain exploded in her back, and her lungs emptied of air. She coughed, struggling to breathe, her vision blurred by the blood dripping from her forehead.

She wasn’t gonna last much longer.

The Kraken, despite its wounds, remained steady, its gaze locked onto her with the promise of an inevitable death. Jinx had to end this. And she had to do it fast.

With a shaky breath, her eyes scanned her surroundings. She needed something—anything—that could give her an advantage.

And that’s exactly what she saw.

Atop the mast of The Red Fortune, a red-haired figure clung desperately to the wood, gripping in her other hand the mechanism that, in a split second, would tighten the cable still wrapped around Jinx’s waist.

So she thought fast, even with her mind fogged by blood and saltwater. She visualized the exact trajectory she would take if the Captain pulled the cable at that moment. The momentum would launch her into the air, giving her the perfect angle and height to reach…

The Kraken’s head.

One precise strike. And the monster would be dead.

Jinx fumbled blindly among the weapons she had left. Her bloodied fingers closed around the cold hilt of a runic greatsword—heavy, sharp enough to cleave a leviathan’s skull in two. A black steel bastard sword, its blade engraved with hunting inscriptions that faintly glowed in the reflection of the pink spark in her eyes.

Her chest rose and fell violently, adrenaline pounding in her ears. She felt the weight of exhaustion in her muscles, her arms numb, sweat mixing with blood and saltwater on her skin. She wiped the back of her hand across her temple, smearing away a sticky trickle of blood that dripped down to her jaw.

One chance. Don’t fuck it up.

She forced herself to stay upright, tightening her grip on the hilt. A clean cut. That was all she needed. A quick strike.

And no one was faster than her.

She looked up one last time. Atop The Red Fortune, the red-haired figure was still waiting. The cable, still tied around her waist, was taut—ready to launch her at the exact moment.

Jinx took a deep breath before roaring with all the strength she had left.

“NOW!”

The pull of the cable was instant—a brutal yank that sent her hurtling through the air. Jinx clenched her teeth, feeling the pressure around her waist nearly cut off her breath, but she didn’t loosen her grip on the sword.

Her trajectory carried her directly over the Aghir Kraken’s head. In the final moment, she raised the greatsword and brought it down in a vicious strike.

Everything happened too fast.

The blade sinking to the bone. The brutal force nearly snapping her wrist. The monster’s black blood splattering across her entire body, coating her in heat and slime. The fingers of her left hand closing tightly around something, as if her life depended on it. The searing burn of the cable biting into her waist with a merciless pull. Her body being yanked backward.

And then—the harsh, painful crash as she slammed onto The Red Fortune’s deck.

The world spun.

Blurry faces swam in her vision. A familiar voice. A head of red hair calling her name, over and over. But Jinx could barely hear through the ringing in her ears.

Then—nothing.

No Aghir Kraken.

No Scylla.

No crew.

Nothing.

Shit. Was she dead?

Before she could dwell too much on that thought, her own ragged coughing shattered the silence. She gasped, choking on blood and seawater against the soaked wooden deck, as her vision slowly returned—still clouded by pain. 

Her entire body was a wreck. Every muscle ached worse than the last, an unbearable burn seared through her ribs, and a sharp ringing drowned out her hearing. She definitely had a few broken bones.

She tried to move her limbs, but something kept her from freely shifting her left arm.

Something heavy.

She tried again, but a stabbing pain wrenched a guttural groan from her throat. Something was there—immobile, pressing down on her arm with inhuman force.

She blinked, struggling to focus, and little by little, the figures around her sharpened: Salazar, Ivy, Malik, Ronan, Darla, Lysander… and Miss Fortune. They were all gathered around her, staring with wide eyes, in absolute shock.

Jinx took a deep breath, her chest still heaving like she’d run to the end of the world.

What the hell is wrong with them?

Miss Fortune was the first to break the silence with a stunned murmur.

“I’ll be damned...”

Before Jinx could say anything, Ivy Thorne let out an ear-splitting yell.

“AGHIR KRAKEN DOWN!”

The entire ship erupted into cheers.

The crew burst into a frenzy of shouts and laughter. Malik threw his arms up, yelling something unintelligible between laughs. Darla started clapping like a madwoman, and Ronan followed with exaggerated cries of celebration. Salazar—who was usually the most serious of them—pulled out his revolver and fired into the air in an over-the-top display, prompting several others to do the same.

"I always said this lunatic had a bit of a sea goddess in her!" Lysander shouted between laughs.

"No, no, no!" Ivy interrupted, climbing onto a crate so everyone could hear her. "From now on, we call her the Reaper of the Abyss!"

"Reaper?!" Malik scoffed. "More like a damn storm on legs."

Between laughs, gunshots fired into the air, and friendly punches exchanged between bloodied bodies, Jinx could barely process what was happening. She was still trying to catch her breath, still piecing together the scattered fragments of her mind.

Until she turned her head—and saw it.

There, on the deck, still dripping thick, black blood, with one empty eye staring into the void, was...

The head of the Aghir Kraken.

Gigantic. Deformed. Its dead eyes still locked in a grotesque grimace. And resting—like an absurd trophy—on her damn left arm.

Jinx started with a soft laugh, a barely audible sound beneath the roaring celebration. But the moment her gaze returned to the head resting on her arm, that laugh turned into wild, unhinged cackling.

When she looked up, she met Miss Fortune’s gaze.

The redhead was laughing too, shaking her head. Her laughter was open, genuine, and between chuckles, she clapped her hands with a mix of disbelief and something else.

"You're gonna need those lungs to keep breathing, you psycho," she said, still laughing. Then, without hesitation, she stepped forward and pulled Jinx to her feet. "Up."

Jinx accepted the help without complaint. Miss Fortune held her firmly and lifted her onto a barrel, away from the chaos of gunfire and the exaggerated toasts now forming around the Kraken’s head.

The blue-haired girl gritted her teeth as she shifted position. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest, every wound burned like liquid fire. As she sat, she began wiping the blood off her arms and face with whatever she could find—hers and the Kraken’s.

That was when she felt the stare.

The captain was watching her intently, but something about it felt different. It wasn’t the sharp gaze of someone trying to dissect her soul, intimidate her, or break her down.

And, truth be told, Jinx didn’t feel intimidated. She met the redhead’s eyes head-on. Bright green, locked onto her with an unreadable look. They stayed like that, silent, sizing each other up.

Until the moment cracked with shared laughter.

Miss Fortune shook her head, smiling—half incredulous, half amused.

"That was stupid."

Jinx raised an eyebrow, laughter still lingering on her lips.

"Yeah, well. I’m not exactly known in this port for making smart choices."

"You're an idiot."

"Uh-huh."

"You could've died."

"Pfft. Details."

"That was the dumbest thing I've ever seen."

"Then you’ve got a lot left to see, Red."

The redhead let out a laugh and ran a hand down her face, shaking her head.

"Idiot," she muttered, but there wasn’t a hint of malice in it.

Jinx smirked.

So did the captain.

They remained seated on the barrels, away from the madness. The redhead had taken a damp rag and was tending to the wound on Jinx’s arm.

"No need," Jinx muttered, grunting when she pressed against a particularly nasty cut. She knew it would heal quickly. It always did.

"Shut the fuck up, will you?"

Jinx huffed but didn’t move.

Around her, the crew of The Red Fortune remained deep in their exaggerated celebration, as chaotic as it was victorious.

Salazar stood atop one of the makeshift tables, a cigar clamped between his teeth and a barrel of rum at his side, delivering a grandiose speech about the sea gods and how this tale would be told in Bilgewater. Ivy Thorne had started an arm-wrestling competition with Ronan, which quickly escalated into gunfire. Malik and Darla were arguing over who would get to keep the beast’s eye, soon shouting at each other about the supposed uses of Aghir-Kraken blood.

Lysander had disappeared momentarily, only to return with an old guitar, strumming an improvised ballad about "the blue-haired lunatic who cut off a Kraken’s head and lived to tell the tale."

Jinx chuckled at the scene, but then, beyond the chaos of the celebration, something else caught her eye.

The hull of the ship bore several massive cracks. The masts were splintered and torn in multiple places. The sails were in shreds.

And as if that wasn’t enough, the captain beside her was bleeding just as much—if not more—than she was.

The sight sent a sharp pang of guilt through her chest.

"I'm sorry," she murmured without thinking.

Miss Fortune lifted her gaze from her arm, staring at her with a perplexed expression.

"Why?" she asked, a hint of incredulous laughter in her voice.

Jinx shifted uncomfortably, looking away.

"For… doing this. For… jinxing you guys. I’m sorry. I mean it."

The woman blinked once before her expression cracked into a full, open, genuine laugh.

Jinx narrowed her eyes.

"What’s so funny?"

"Jinxing us… seriously? Jinxing us?" The redhead clutched her stomach as she kept laughing, the effort clearly sending a jolt of pain through her—but that didn’t stop her.

"And you call me a lunatic?" Jinx frowned.

"J, we’re about to sail back to Bilgewater with the head of a motherfucking Aghir Kraken," Miss Fortune said, gesturing broadly with her hand. "And we still have to go fetch what’s left of the Scylla on the island."

She leaned in slightly, a playful smile on her lips.

"With what they’ll pay us, we could build a brand-new luxury ship from scratch… and still have enough gold to swim in. And The Great Hunt hasn’t even started yet."

Jinx fell silent, mouth slightly open, struggling to process the words.

Miss Fortune took advantage of her stunned expression, jumping to her feet, giving Jinx a lighthearted slap on the cheek, and winking before walking away.

"You’re a fucking good luck charm, girl."

She watched as the captain raised both arms and shouted with a confident grin,

"To The Blind Siren! All rounds are on me!"

The crew erupted into cheers.

But Jinx still hadn’t fully processed half of what had just happened.

A good luck charm?

Well… that was unexpected.

As unexpected as the small smile that curled onto her lips and the thin layer of tears that blurred her vision.

••••

The Red Fortune returned to the shores of Bilgewater with the dignity of a leviathan—wounded, but victorious.

The wood of the hull was splintered and blackened in places where the kraken’s suckers had left their corrosive mark. The sails, torn and scorched, fluttered like the banner of an army returning from war. Yet, the ship still floated, still rocked with the tide as if laughing in death’s face. And that was all that mattered.

The crew had a clear destination: get drunk at The Blind Siren and tell a story that would become more epic with every round of rum. Cheers of joy echoed through the port as the sailors staggered off the ship, unbothered by the stench of blood or the pain of their wounds. Salazar, with his shirt open and his chest covered in cuts, already had Ivy in his arms—though she responded with a punch to his face every time he tried to kiss her. Ronan swayed from side to side, a half-empty bottle in hand, claiming that the kraken had begged for its life at the last moment. Malik carried Darla on his shoulders as she waved a piece of the tentacle like a trophy. Lysander, with his jacket in tatters and a lopsided grin, attempted to organize his victory ballad once more, but his thick tongue wouldn’t let him remember more than two verses at a time.

Jinx walked a few steps behind them, barefoot on the cold sand. With every step, the skin of her feet registered the rough texture of the shore—the broken shells that stabbed like tiny daggers, the salty pools of water that burned in her open cuts, the deceptively soft wet mud. Her body was a map of wounds, some fresh, others barely healing thanks to the shimmer—all of them witnesses to the madness of battle. The blood, both hers and the kraken’s, had dried on her skin, forming a sticky crust. She felt her hair matted against her nape and the scent of salt, gunpowder, and other things she preferred not to identify clinging to her tattered clothes.

And yet, she was happy.

If someone had told her that morning that her day would end with the head of an Aghir-Kraken rolling across the deck of The Red Fortune, she would have laughed in their face. But there she was, adrenaline still buzzing in her chest, the certainty of victory in her smile, and an absolute need for a strong drink burning in her throat.

Behind her, she heard a laugh. A laugh she knew well.

Jinx didn’t turn around immediately. She allowed herself a few more seconds of that feeling—the burn in her muscles, the sea breeze cooling her sticky skin, the distant echo of the crew losing themselves in revelry. Then, with a smile, she turned to face the captain.

Miss Fortune began walking beside Jinx with firm but relaxed steps, glancing at the state the girl was in. Her clothes were a mess, her skin covered in cuts and bruises, and there were still traces of the kraken’s dark blood stuck to her face. The captain raised an eyebrow and pointed with her chin at a wound on Jinx’s arm, where the flesh was torn and the skin reddened.

"That must hurt like hell."

Jinx looked at her arm and then shrugged.

"Nah. I’ve been through worse. Once, a mine exploded in my face." She grinned proudly. "Well, almost in my face."

The woman let out a low chuckle, but then Jinx reached out and touched a wound on the captain’s waist, right where her corset was torn. The one she’d gotten saving her ass.

"And you? Does it hurt much?"

She smirked and exhaled mockingly.

"I’ve been through worse. Once, I got shot with a poisoned bullet."

Jinx nodded approvingly.

"Classic Bilgewater."

The two burst into giggles.

Suddenly, Jinx veered off her path and started heading in another direction.

"Where do you think you’re going?" Miss Fortune asked, stopping in her tracks.

"To The Beast’s Spine."

The redhead frowned.

"You have to come to The Blind Siren. If you’re not there, telling the story won’t even be worth it."

Jinx turned back and gave her a playful look, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, come on, Captain, I haven’t even left yet, and you already miss me."

Miss Fortune snorted, opened her mouth to respond, but the blue-haired girl interrupted her.

"I’m going to change. I’m not getting drunk covered in blood—that’s just gross."

The woman shrugged.

"It’d make you look tougher."

"Fat chance." Jinx shook her head firmly. "I’m going to change."

The redhead went silent for a second. Jinx didn’t miss how long it took her to find the words, but she finally spoke.

"But… you are coming, right?"

She tilted her head and smiled at her.

"Yeah. Don’t start crying now."

Miss Fortune rolled her eyes and turned away with a carefree gesture, but before walking off, she glanced over her shoulder and said with quiet certainty:

"See you at The Blind Siren, J."

Watching her go, Jinx felt a small impulse.

A tingle in her chest that made her clench her fists for an instant. It was fleeting, irrational, but strong enough to make her hesitate. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it made no sense.

But her mouth moved before her mind.

"It’s Jinx."

Miss Fortune, who had already started walking away, stopped in her tracks and turned on her heels to look at her, frowning slightly. Jinx sighed and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"My name," she clarified, shrugging. "It’s Jinx."

The captain raised her eyebrows and let out a small chuckle, clearly thinking the blue-haired woman was joking. But when Jinx averted her gaze to the ground, lips pressed together and hands buried in the pockets of her tattered pants, the captain realized there wasn’t a trace of mockery in her eyes.

The silence between them stretched as Miss Fortune studied her, watching her with a look that seemed to fit more pieces of the puzzle together in that instant than in all the days she’d spent by her side. Jinx kept her head low, her expression carefully neutral, until the captain’s voice interrupted the quiet, low and certain.

"Sarah."

Jinx lifted her pink eyes in surprise, blinking a couple of times.

"That’s my name," Miss Fortune repeated. "Sarah."

For a moment, the noise of Bilgewater’s port seemed to fade away.

Neither of them looked away. There was something strange in that instant, something that felt like standing at the edge of a precipice, as if a single step in the wrong direction could change everything. In a way, it was true. Jinx could have sworn the redhead was stepping closer, but before she could be sure, a thunderous gunshot tore through the night air.

Both immediately turned toward the source of the noise, where Ivy, clearly drunk, was firing her pistols into the air, still shouting "Aghir kraken down!" like a mantra.

Miss Fortune let out an amused snort, and Jinx chuckled. The captain shook her head before turning back to her one last time.

"See you at The Blind Siren… Jinx."

And with a slight nod, she said goodbye.

Jinx watched her and the Fortune Sharks walk away, laughing and shoving each other, stumbling toward the tavern, singing a sea shanty at the top of their lungs, off-key.

She let out a chuckle and shook her head before turning toward The Beast’s Spine. Her bare feet sank into the damp, sticky sand of the shore.

Then, a sound caught her attention.

Splash.

One.

Another.

And another.

She frowned and turned her head. A few meters away, near the shoreline, a black-haired boy was clumsily throwing stones into the water, clearly attempting to make them skip. His thin arms moved with determination, but technique was not on his side. The rocks barely made a single bounce before sinking.

Jinx sighed and ran a hand through her hair, stiff with dried blood. With everything that had happened, she’d almost forgotten about Gus. Almost forgotten the ache in her chest that the mere memory of him brought.

But now, covered in kraken blood, certain that she was going to celebrate and not mourn… something clicked in her mind.

"Come Out And Play" - Billie Eilish

The boy was still there, frowning, throwing another stone clumsily. This time, the rock barely touched the surface before sinking like an anchor. Gus sighed in frustration.

"You have to pick flatter stones and throw them with your wrist, not your whole arm," said a familiar voice behind him.

Gus flinched and quickly turned, eyes wide. His first reaction was to take a step back. Jinx’s clothes were still in tatters, her body covered in blood—a mix of her own and that of the sea monster they had slain. She looked like something out of a nightmare.

But Jinx didn’t seem to care. There were more important things at that moment than getting cleaned up.

She shrugged and smiled, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Come on, try again. You wouldn’t want a turtle to do better than you, would you?"

Jinx felt the boy’s gaze on her, fixed and analytical. She looked down at herself. Her clothes were shredded, covered in dried blood. Her skin was sticky, smelling of salt, gunpowder, and… well, something worse.

"If I told you I just killed a kraken, would you believe me?" she asked, tilting her head with a grin. "Because I swear I don’t smell like shit for no reason."

Gus let out a small smile, but it was fleeting. Soon, he looked down and pressed his lips together.

She sighed. Clearly, the wound from what had happened that morning was still open for the boy.

Without another word, she stepped closer and picked up a flat stone from the ground. She held it in her palm for a moment, observing it, then gently placed it in Gus’s small hand.

"Alright, kid. Let’s do it right this time."

Gus looked up at her with curiosity.

Jinx knelt beside him and, with a hand on his shoulder, turned him slightly so his body aligned with the shore.

"First, your feet. Don’t keep them so close together, open your stance a bit more. There you go. Now, hold the stone with your fingers, not your whole hand. Like this…"

Carefully, she adjusted Gus’s fingers on the stone.

"The important part is the wrist, not the arm. Don’t throw it fiercely, it’s more of a flicking motion, like flipping a coin. Here, watch me."

Jinx picked up another stone and threw it effortlessly. It skipped three times before sinking.

"See? Now you try. Bend your knee a bit, lean in… that’s it. And when you throw, release the stone at just the right moment. Not too early, not too late. Feel the motion."

Gus frowned in concentration and threw the stone. At first, it seemed like it would sink immediately, but then… plop! A first skip. Then another. And another before disappearing beneath the water.

The boy stayed silent for a moment, then let out a giggle, surprised at his own success.

"That’s it!" Jinx exclaimed.

He plopped down onto the sand with a satisfied sigh.

Shortly after, she flopped down beside him, resting her arms behind her head and staring at the sky.

And then, silence.

Bilgewater at sunset was contained chaos. From the shore, Jinx could hear the hoarse voices of merchants closing their stalls, the creaking of the dock planks under the weight of mooring ships, the bustle of taverns where pirates were already drinking away their blood-earned coin. Further out, laughter and muffled shouts mixed with the occasional gunshot—probably some drunk celebrating something insignificant.

The salty air clung to her skin. The sand beneath her back was warm, still holding the heat of the sinking sun.

Jinx turned her head and looked at the boy. Gus still said nothing. His small fingers played with a handful of sand, letting it slip between them.

She watched him with fondness and, at the same time, felt a pang of guilt stab at her chest.

Every fiber of her being screamed at her not to do it. Every voice in her head bombarded her with warnings, mocking laughter, threats.

Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it.

But her hand moved before her mind could stop it.

Slowly, as if bracing for a trap to spring, she lifted her hand and reached toward the boy. Every muscle in her body begged her to stop, to pull back before it was too late.

And Jinx ignored it.

She let her hand rest on Gus’s dark hair and began to gently ruffle it.

The boy looked up, surprised. His expectant eyes studied her, clearly still wary, his guard not fully lowered.

But Jinx said nothing at first. She simply continued stroking his hair, feeling the messy texture of his strands between her fingers.

Finally, she whispered,

"I’m sorry."

Her voice didn’t waver, but it was softer than usual. More real.

"What happened this morning at the market… I’m sorry, kid."

Gus looked down, but this time, he didn’t seem as dejected. His lips were still pressed together, his shoulders slightly hunched, but there was something different about him.

Jinx slid her hand from his hair down to her own stomach and let out a long sigh. She took a deep breath, feeling the salty air fill her lungs before releasing it in a huff.

"That was pretty cool," she murmured, glancing at him. "And you did help me. Really."

This time, the boy lifted his head, his eyes bright.

She gave him a crooked smile and ruffled her own hair.

"And you’ll be a great inventor, I know it," she said confidently, but then her voice wavered just a little. "I freaked out because… because I don’t want anything bad happening to you, Gus. But… I really am sorry."

The boy blinked and studied her in silence. Then, slowly and hesitantly, he inched closer until, gently, he wrapped his small arms around her waist.

Jinx’s heart lurched. A visceral instinct screamed at her to pull away, to break the contact before it was too late. But, once again, her arms were already moving before her mind could interrupt them.

She hugged him.

She held him tighter than she’d planned, but Gus didn’t pull away. They stayed like that for a few seconds, on the shores of Bilgewater, with the waves kissing the sand near their feet, the city roaring in the background, and seagulls cawing around them.

He broke the silence.

"You’re right," he said in the most serious tone imaginable. "You do smell like shit."

Jinx froze for a second. Then, she narrowed her eyes and gave him a light knock on the head with her knuckles.

"Look who’s talking, worm. If you don’t shut that mouth, I won’t teach you how to make a proper safe bomb."

The boy pulled back just enough to frown at her.

"A bomb can be safe?"

She raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Of course. And I’ll show you how."

Without another word, she jumped to her feet and began searching through the scrap scattered along the shore. She found a few screws, a small metal cylinder, and a rusty little spring. Sitting back down beside Gus, she started tinkering with the pieces with nimble fingers.

And the two of them remained there, among metal, springs, giggles, and the certainty that perhaps, it was never too late to build something new.

Jinx was so immersed in her little improvised work that she didn’t notice. She didn’t notice the pair of eyes fixed on the back of her neck, she didn’t notice the imposing presence just a few meters behind her.

The pirate watched her with his arms crossed over his broad chest. Not far from him, his ship was preparing to set sail. But every fiber of him, for reasons he preferred to bury in the back of his mind—where a graveyard of more people than he’d like to admit lay—screamed at him to stay a little longer. To try one more time. Even if he knew it went against everything he believed in.

"What’s wrong?" interrupted a deep, female voice behind him. "You should already be sailing toward the Isles."

Vargo closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. He turned around slowly.

Behind him, a woman who was a colossus of muscle and presence watched him. Her skin, a deep bronze tone, glistened under the dim light with the sweat of someone who’d never known weakness. Her eyes were two burning embers, and her face was framed by thick braids. She wore beaded and seashell necklaces over her broad chest, and her clothing, made of thick fabric and leather, seemed designed to withstand both war and ocean storms.

The woman followed Vargo’s gaze toward the shore and let out a sigh.

"I already know what you’re gonna say."

Vargo clenched his jaw, but before he could open his mouth, she continued:

"It’s not your decision. Not even mine. Only the Great Mother decides. That girl has proven herself both lost and worthy."

The captain looked away, the words weighing on him like an anchor.

"Illaoi, you know as well as I do the test has more chances of ending in death than in survival," he murmured.

She gave him a hard smile.

"You survived. So did he."

"You know that means nothing."

"It means the same as always, Vargo. That it’s not your decision."

He felt his jaw tighten as Illaoi looked at him with that implacable serenity that irritated him so much. It irritated him almost as much as the fact that, even after all these years, she still had an undeniable effect on him.

"You know what you have to do," she said firmly. "The same thing you do in the Isles, the same thing you’ve done with that girl. You only guide."

"I didn’t do a damn thing with that girl," he growled, his voice deep and rough.

She barely smiled.

"Yes, you did. Even if you don’t know it."

Vargo clicked his tongue and shifted his gaze toward the shore. Jinx was still there, carefree, laughter sparking in her throat like gunpowder about to ignite. He preferred not to think too much about why the lunatic seemed to be covered in blood.

"That's the will of the Great Mother," the priestess continued.

He opened his mouth to object, but nothing came out. Just a low grunt, followed by a long sigh.

"Then it’s decided," he finally murmured.

Illaoi took a breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

"On the day of the Great Hunt, two people must be put to the test, and you know that. The Great Mother has made her choice. That girl will be one of them."

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to drown out the frustration rumbling in his chest. He took a deep breath and let the air out slowly.

Both remained silent, watching Jinx from a distance. The breeze ruffled her blue hair as she leaned toward the boy, sharing a joke that made them both burst into laughter.

Vargo swallowed hard. It was stupid. A man’s wishes meant nothing against the will of the ocean.

"And the other one?" he asked suddenly.

Illaoi watched him without answering. Her eyes gleamed with that ancient light, radiating a calm that, far from soothing the pirate, only continued to irritate him.

He frowned.

"You said two people," he insisted.

The priestess let out a long sigh. She hesitated for a second, but in the end, she spoke.

"It’s someone whose soul is connected to that girl’s in ways neither of them understands."

Vargo tilted his head, eyeing her warily.

"Connected?" he scoffed. "As far as I know, the lunatic is a pretty lonely fish."

"It’s a boy," she continued. "If he allows them, the deities will guide him here."

He narrowed his eyes, processing her words.

"So he’s not in Bilgewater?"

Illaoi shook her head slowly.

"No. But he will be."

Notes:

That’s it! Oh my god, so much happened in this chapter, and I’ll have to bite my tongue to avoid saying too much because…😭😭😭😭
If you liked the chapter, don’t forget to leave kudos!! I also really appreciate comments with your thoughts and constructive criticism 🙏
Remember, you can always find me on Twitter as @jinxedbypow.

Chapter 7: "Origin Point, Reference Point"

Summary:

Mount Targon tests Ekko’s body, mind, and spirit. The answers surrounding the anomaly are revealed in the form of a constant present across all universes—wearing the face of a former lover Ekko believed long dead.

Notes:

We’ve arrived…we’ve arrived at Chapter 7. Timebomb number. The lucky 7. The first BIG step this story had to take.

A long chapter, like all, and you’ll find many headaches along the way (hopefully, you’ll have as many headaches as Ekko. If that happens, it means I did my job well).

If those headaches keep you from connecting the dots of the big reveal, don’t worry. Ekko will do it for you by the end of the chapter. 🫡

If you’ve made it this far into the story with me… simply, thank you.

With nothing more to say, enjoy the read.

Ekko had absolutely no idea how he’d ended up in that situation.

Of course, he had suspicions, but no explanation that seemed fair enough to justify the disaster he was currently stuck in. Maybe it all came down to the fact that he’d underestimated the Rakkor and the Solari. Maybe he’d underestimated the entire situation. Or maybe, just maybe, the sphere really did hate him and had chosen the worst possible moment to go haywire, as if it had some kind of personal vendetta and wanted to make sure he died in the most ridiculous possible way. 

Or maybe Sevika was right, and he was nothing more than a loudmouthed brat who didn’t know when to shut up and lower his head. But it’s not like he regretted it that much, anyway. Maybe that tiny little detail was exactly what had made bad luck stick to him like a parasite. Him and his big mouth.

Ha. In a way, he’d jinxed himself.

If Jinx were here, she’d be rolling on the ground laughing, pointing at him while choking on laughter at the stupidity of the situation. But she wasn’t. Nope. It was just him, the damn sphere in his bag—which, for some reason, had decided to have an existential crisis and start glowing and pulsing like it was having a full-on nervous breakdown—and the rest of the climbers, scattered across the mountain, each dealing with their own personal hell.

The reason he’d ended up there no longer mattered. The only thing that mattered now was that he was part of that little group of lunatics who’d crossed the Stone Ring of Mount Targon. And in the blink of an eye, he’d joined the climb, heading who knows where—toward answers, maybe, or more likely, toward certain death. Because, realistically, in his track record of questionable decisions, this one definitely took the grand prize.

The ascent began in the worst way possible: with Ekko discovering that the surface of the mountain was nowhere near friendly. The ground was a treacherous mix of hard rock, uneven cracks, and a ridiculous incline that seemed specifically designed to make him reconsider every life choice he’d ever made. The air was dry and sharp, and every breath he took felt like someone was sanding down his lungs. Around him, the other climbers had already started moving. Some, clearly experienced, moved with an irritating grace, as if gravity was just a suggestion to them. Others, in contrast, were clumsy, struggling against the rock as if it had something personal against them. And then there were the rookies, like that guy to his left, who looked about ready to faint just from looking up.

Well, if he survives, so will I.

He watched one of the more experienced climbers closely—a man with a weathered face and muscles that looked carved out of stone. His movements were almost elegant, like he was dancing with the mountain instead of fighting it. Okay, let’s give it a shot, Ekko thought, and copied the movement as best he could. To his surprise, it worked. He pushed off with more agility, feeling like he had at least a little control over his fate. Just a little.

Each movement felt more natural as he progressed. His feet found better footholds, his hands stopped clinging in desperation and began to move with strategy. His body, always accustomed to speed and agility in Zaun, was starting to adapt to this new challenge. He even allowed himself a moment of confidence… right when the sphere in his bag decided to remind him that he wasn’t allowed peace.

A blinding flash lit up the inside of his bag, followed by a vibration that shot down his spine like an electric shock.

“Are you serious?!” he growled through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the fact that he seemed to be carrying a ticking time bomb strapped to his body.

Every few meters, the sphere put on another show: an erratic flicker, a disturbing pulse, a jolt that nearly made him lose his balance.

Could you at least wait until I’m not hanging off a rock to fall apart?

But he couldn’t stop. By now, his body was responding better to the environment. His hands found holds more securely, his legs moved with precision. He was getting used to it. It wasn’t that bad. Sure, if he could ignore the fact that his backpack seemed to house a device with a sadistic sense of humor and that Mount Targon seemed determined to kill him.

Ekko continued his climb with a bitter mix of determination and sheer terror. Every step was a challenge, every rock a possible death sentence. The ground beneath his feet crumbled in some areas, forcing him to calculate every move. The rock was a treacherous liar with many faces: sometimes dry and brittle, other times coated in a slick moss that turned every step into a one-way ticket to the void.

Why didn’t they just build a damn staircase?

Around him, other climbers advanced with different strategies. Some, apparently seasoned veterans, climbed with the ease of people who looked like they’d been born in those mountains. One in particular caught his eye: a man with a lean but strong build, propelling himself between rocky outcrops with precise movements, using his own momentum to gain height with minimal energy loss. Ekko decided to mimic him. How hard could it be?

He pushed off with his right foot, gripping a rocky ledge with both hands. His muscles tensed, and for a moment, he thought he’d make it. Then, his boot found a patch of moss and his foot slipped violently. Luckily, his fingers held on tight enough to avoid an embarrassing—and probably fatal—fall. Details.

Just as he was managing a stable push with the strength of his other boot, the sphere in his bag decided it was a perfect moment to start vibrating out of control.

“No, no, no, no, what’s wrong with you now?” he whispered, clutching the bag to his chest.

The sphere pulsed with a disturbing, almost mocking light. He ignored it, hoping it would calm down on its own. It didn’t. Instead, he heard a distorted echo, probably in his own mind. A voice—familiar, but warped by distance.

“This is fun. Come on, Ekko. You’re finally doing something fun.”

He clenched his teeth.

“Shut up. Not now.”

He shook his head, trying to clear away the intrusive thoughts, and kept climbing. The temperature didn’t help. The blazing sun made him sweat while the icy wind whipped at him mercilessly. His body protested, his muscles burned, but he kept moving, one motion after another.

With every step he took, every breath was a battle against the thin air. His chest expanded with effort, but the oxygen he managed to capture was never enough. His lungs burned, exhaustion weighed down every limb. He gritted his teeth and pushed on, planting a gloved hand on the cold rock before hoisting himself upward. His feet fumbled over the uneven surface, searching for a stable point to land.

Maybe he was starting to understand why those lunatics who did this voluntarily were so revered. Every meter gained demanded absolute commitment.

Ekko slid his hand into a narrow crack and calculated his next move. He exhaled hard, trying to ignore the trembling in his legs. He flexed his fingers and gripped the fissure with both hands. His feet lifted from the rock, and with a calculated movement, he hauled himself up until he latched onto a ledge. A blue flash vibrated in his bag.

Again?! What the hell is wrong with you!?

The sphere kept pulsing, radiating an ethereal light that filtered through the folds of the fabric. Why was it going crazy now?

He had no time for answers. A climber above slipped on a loose rock, his scream lost in the wind. Ekko’s stomach turned when the man managed to grab hold of a rope anchored into the mountainside. Other climbers shouted instructions, securing him quickly. Ekko looked away and kept to his own path. 

The next stretch was even more treacherous. The rock was mostly smooth, broken only by tiny cracks that barely served as footholds. Every muscle in his body screamed as he stretched out his arm to wedge his fingers into one of those gaps. He pushed himself upward, but one foot slipped, scraping his boot against the stone and sending a jolt of terror straight to his chest.

Focus, idiot. If you fall here, not even damn Janna can save you.

The artifact in his bag continued to vibrate at an irregular frequency. Flickering lights lit up his side. Ekko swallowed hard and ignored it. Ignored completely that he had never, ever, seen the thing behave like this until now. Because he couldn’t afford distractions.

He squeezed through a narrow crevice, sliding his body with difficulty between the stone walls. The friction tore strips from his coat, and a sharp burn shot through his side as the jagged rock sliced his skin. He felt the hot wetness of blood, but didn’t stop. He quickly pressed one of the fabric strips against the wound, hoping it would be enough to stop the bleeding. The last thing he needed was to lose what little energy he had left.

When he emerged, panting and with trembling muscles, he found another climber resting on a ledge. His skin was roughened by the cold, and his expression one of absolute focus. He said nothing as Ekko passed by, but his eyes scanned every one of his movements. Ekko knew he was being judged, his abilities measured—not without a hint of confusion. With a tense exhale, he kept climbing.

The sphere pulsed again, this time with an intensity that made him press his lips together.

His legs were burning, muscles tense and throbbing from the strain of the climb. The loose rocks under his boots made him slip, and more than once he had to grab onto the stones to keep from falling flat on his face. The air grew thinner as he climbed, burning his lungs with every forced breath.

Definitely, the damn mountain wasn’t just a climb; it was a physical and mental punishment. There were no marked trails, no safe routes. Only jagged walls, treacherous cracks, and a growing silence that fed his paranoia.

The wind whistled through the mountain’s crevices, and every unexpected sound set him on edge. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something?—was watching him from the shadows of the rocks.

And then, again. The light weight in his bag started doing something with overwhelming fury: it pulsed again. At first it was a subtle beat, just a vibration against his hip. But with every meter he climbed, it glowed brighter, emitting a bluish light that pierced through the fabric.

Ekko came to a dead stop.

Now what?

He took the artifact with clumsy, tired hands. The sphere vibrated with an irregular frequency, the light in its core flickering in erratic patterns, and its small internal parts spinning faster than ever.

Ekko growled through his teeth. His patience was hanging by a thread.

“What’s your fucking proble—?!”

He cut himself off abruptly. Something in his gut twisted.

Honestly, he never thought there’d come a moment on his journey when he’d be so grateful for all those long hours of reading aboard The Wandering Wind.

His mind worked at full speed, even forgetting the difficult task of breathing for a few seconds. The ancient texts spoke of temporal distortions on the mountain, fluctuations in the flow of time, places where past and future intertwined in incomprehensible ways.

And if his sphere was a temporal anomaly, that meant…

The connection struck his mind like lightning. The artifact wasn’t malfunctioning—it was reacting. It was directly interacting with the mountain’s energies.

Shit.

If he was right—and he hoped he wasn’t—then Mount Targon and his sphere were speaking the same language.

He needed proof. Fast. Efficient.

Holding the artifact in one hand and bracing himself with the other, Ekko descended just a meter from his climb, retracing his steps, never taking his eyes off the light weight in his hand. Sure enough, the sphere’s reactions weakened the moment he lost altitude. Then, he repeated the process, but ascending. This time, a faint flash spread from the artifact, rippling the air like heat in a desert. The light intensified and the gears moved faster.

The relation was simple: the mountain’s temporal fluctuation increased with altitude, and with it, the sphere’s reaction.

But was that even good? Or was it destabilizing it even more?

Ekko felt a stab of fear at the back of his neck. He couldn’t stay there. He quickly put the sphere away and tightened his bag against his chest. He couldn’t go back down. Not with this information. Not with this tangible proof that the Mountain held answers to questions he hadn’t even known how to ask.

The only way out was up. And he wasn’t willing to stop.

The frigid air burned Ekko’s lungs with every gulp. His hands, covered in cuts and blisters, trembled as he clung to a sharp rock, feeling how the snow—snow? When had that started…?—threatened to make him fall. Every muscle in his body burned with fatigue.

With a calculated push, he placed his left leg into a narrow crack in the rock wall. The hold was unstable, the stone wet and slippery. His boot slid for a moment, and his heart clenched. With a desperate gasp, he managed to plant his foot on a small protrusion, avoiding the fall by mere inches. His breathing was erratic, his vision blurred by sweat and cold.

Further up, he saw another climber clinging to a rope. A harrowing scream tore through the air as the rope came loose from its anchor. The figure fell in a desperate wail, crashing against the rocky slope before vanishing into the abyss. A dry crack echoed in the distance. Ekko froze for a second, his stomach churning. His vision darkened almost instantly.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Keep climbing.

He forced himself to move. His fingers searched for a firm hold. The rusted metal of an old piton—clearly a human trace from some past climber—stuck out of the rock; he used it to pull himself forward. Every movement was torture. A sudden gust of wind shook the mountain, and he felt the ice pierce his face like a thousand needles. When had the damn temperature dropped so much?

To his left, another climber struggled to free his leg trapped in a crack. His screams were shrill, inhuman. Ekko saw him flail in desperation, his bloody hands trying to move the pinned limb. The man called for help, but the other climbers ignored him. Ekko watched him for a few seconds, a visceral impulse awakening inside him.

You can’t leave him there.

But before Ekko could move a single muscle, a particularly gut-wrenching scream escaped the climber’s mouth, the sound vanishing into the void of his fall. He watched in horror as the body plummeted, instinctively looking away a second later, gritting his teeth. His chest heaved with uneven breaths. His skin prickled.

Most of the climbers—the ones still alive—didn’t even bother to look. No one had the strength to save another when they could barely save themselves.

But the sound of that scream echoed in Ekko’s head like a lingering ghost; soon after, it was joined by a series of crashes and the unmistakable clanging of metal against metal. He could no longer tell which sounds came from the mountain and which from some corner of his mind, rotted by memories that would never fully go away. His body tensed. Cold sweat trickled down his spine.

No, no, no, no, no, no. Not now. Not here. You can’t lose your shit. 

But his body wasn’t listening. His heart beat chaotically, his throat tightened. Every scream, every body collapsing into the snow stoked the hellfire in his mind. His hands trembled harder. The oxygen felt insufficient.

He kept climbing, feeling his stamina crumble. A wrong move made him slip, and his chest slammed against the rock. A sharp pain pierced his ribs. He coughed, tasting metal in his mouth. He hung there, supported by one arm, vision blurry, mind on the verge of collapse.

Get up, idiot. There’s no time for this.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself upward, inhaling deeply, trying to calm the shaking in his hands. His chest rose and fell in erratic rhythm, pressure clinging to his ribs like an invisible weight. He leaned on a nearby rock, feeling its roughness beneath his gloved fingers.

Come on, Ekko... breathe... just breathe...

The cold mountain air burned his lungs, but also cleared his mind. With a conscious effort, he relaxed his shoulders and closed his eyes for a moment. His heart still pounded in his chest like a wild drum, but little by little, he found a rhythm he could manage. He couldn’t afford to stop for long. The peak was up there, unreachable and imposing—but not impossible.

He inhaled once more and looked up to keep climbing. That’s when he saw it.

For a second, his body froze.

There, several meters higher, in a narrow passage he hadn’t yet reached, was… him?

Or something that looked like him. His own figure, with the same worn jacket, the same fingerless gloves, the long white hair blown by the wind. It was climbing, studying the rocks carefully, deciding which one could bear his weight. But Ekko hadn’t made it up there yet. He was still down here.

His stomach twisted. He blinked rapidly, but the image remained. His breath quickened again, the disorientation making him stagger.

What the hell…?

His forward reflection moved, his other self chose a rock that crumbled under his weight. And then, as if he’d never been there, he vanished. Ekko blinked again. His vision returned to normal. The narrow passage was still there, unmoving, unchanged. Empty.

The echo of his own breathing surrounded him. He ran his tongue over dry lips and clenched his teeth. He didn’t understand what he’d seen, and wasn’t sure he wanted to. His body trembled—not from cold anymore, but from pure terror lodged in his chest.

He swallowed hard and clenched his fists. He had to keep going.

With one last trembling breath, Ekko resumed the climb.

The cold kept intensifying—if such a thing was even possible—with every inch of the ascent, like a knife digging into every part of his body. His fingers, numb and bruised, clung desperately to the rough rock of the mountain; his muscles protested with every movement; his chest heaved in a futile attempt to pull air from the thinned atmosphere. The climb had become an endless torture.

The corpses of other climbers lined the rocky path, some still hanging from their harnesses, faces frozen in grimaces that could chill even the bravest. Ekko had seen another fall just minutes before. A slip, a brief scream swallowed by the wind, and then absolute silence. His stomach churned again at the memory of how the body had vanished into the thick fog. He preferred not to think about it too much.

To his right, a man with a greying beard was trying to climb a ledge. His hands were bleeding from the sharp rocks, and his gasps were audible even with the wind howling. Ekko watched as the man felt around with his foot, searching for purchase, until he finally hauled himself up. No words passed between them, only a look of mutual understanding: they were at their limit.

Further up, a woman with tattered clothing and a face covered in frost was hunched against a stone wall, barely moving. Ekko knew she wouldn’t get much farther. He looked away. He couldn’t afford to think about that now.

The path grew even more treacherous. Now he crawled over a smooth rock surface coated in a thin sheet of ice, making every movement a deadly risk. His nails cracked as they dug into the stone in a desperate attempt to gain traction. Cold sweat trickled down his neck, mixing with the dirt and the blood from small cuts on his skin.

I'm not gonna die here. I won’t. I have to go back.

Back… back to where? It’s not like many people were missing him at the moment. Vi was probably laughing out loud with Caitlyn, thinking up cute—and probably ridiculous—names for their baby. Scar was surely telling his little one a bedtime story. And Sevika might even be happy to never see his face again.

Was there anyone who would even notice his absence if he...?

Stop. Don’t think about that. Your people need you. You have to go back.

With trembling legs and burning arms, he kept pushing himself forward, trying to reclaim some clarity that the mountain seemed intent on stealing from him.

Then, he reached a narrow passage. Or rather… that narrow passage. He recognized it immediately. It was the same one he’d seen just moments ago. Terror hit him like an avalanche because he knew exactly how this ended.

In front of him, the rocks presented an impossible decision. Three options. Three chances of life or death. His eyes scanned each one with growing panic. The one on the left looked the most stable but had a thin, nearly invisible layer of ice. The one in the center was rougher, but it had a crack that might widen under his weight. The one on the right was smaller and looked less trustworthy, but it was dry and firm.

If I pick the one on the left and it's more slippery than it looks, I’ll fall. If I step on the center one and it breaks… I won’t even have time to react. What if the right one can’t hold my weight? Shit, shit, shit, shit. Think, Ekko, think.

Sweat dripped down his temple, but the cold made him feel frozen to the bone.

Think, think, Ekko.

His mind tried to calculate the weight each stone could bear, analyzing the texture, the slope, the pressure of his own body. But fear—and probably the unbearable pain spreading through every fiber of his being—kept him from thinking clearly.

The wind howled through the narrow passage, making him shiver. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to imagine every possible outcome. If he chose the wrong stone, the void would swallow him in seconds, and he knew that with absolute clarity. He couldn’t afford a mistake.

He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to choose. His fingers, numb from the cold, tightened on the rock, his legs tensed, ready to move. It was all or nothing.

Hold on, Ekko. Hold on.

The sphere in his bag pulsed softly, almost imperceptibly.

He chose a foothold: a rock that looked solid, barely jutting out enough to support his weight. He braced himself, flexed his muscles, adjusted his grip, and hoping he was fast enough, he jumped for the rock on the left.

With a slip, Ekko lost his balance. His heart dropped the very instant he felt the void under his feet. There was no time to scream.

Only to feel the brutal fall.

Before death could claim him, he felt a pull in his chest, like something yanking him backward.

And in the blink of an eye, his hands were once again clenched around the rock. His legs were bent in the same position. At the same moment.

What the hell?

Dizziness hit him like a wave, and for a second, his vision blurred in the blinding blue coming from his bag, a glow that wrapped around him like an embrace. His muscles burned, his head throbbed with sharp pain.

The sensation was familiar. Too familiar. Except this time, the terror of not being the one in control of it overtook him.

He had to try again. A different rock. The center one looked sturdy, and even if it broke under his weight… he might be fast enough to find another grip. Ekko inhaled deeply and jumped again.

A dry crack beneath his feet was the last thing he heard before losing his balance and falling.

Then, that blue again in his eyes. The same pull. The same vertigo. And again, he was clinging to the rock, just before the fall.

He gasped, feeling like his mind was trapped in a never-ending nightmare.

This can't be happening. It doesn’t make any fucking sense.

But it was happening. The sphere pulsed again, stronger this time. Ekko felt his skin prickle. He looked down, seeing his own body wrapped in flickers of light that faded.

He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. His body didn’t seem to be syncing with his mind. And as if that weren’t enough, each repetition wore him down further. Every reset stole more and more of the little breath he had left.

It’s a fucking loop.

Panic wasn’t helping. He looked around. The mountain wasn’t changing. The rock he’d chosen before was still there, waiting to devour him again. The sphere trembled more and more.

And it won’t stop until I do it right.

His eyes landed this time on the rock to the right, the one that looked disturbingly small for someone Ekko’s size. Still, the rough surface seemed sturdy enough, those ridges maybe able to stop him from a fatal stumble—and from an infinite loop.

Come on, come on, come on, come on. You have to do it right. You have to do it right this time.

He shifted his weight, clenched his fingers once more, carefully moved his left foot, bent his knees before the jump and…

He held on. The rock held.

Ekko felt such overwhelming relief that he almost laughed. Maybe he really was losing his mind more than he’d thought.

He kept climbing, this time with more confidence. The artifact stopped pulsing violently. The loop had broken. He’d made the right choice.

But the exhaustion was real. The cold sweat on his skin, the ragged breathing, the pounding pain in his head. His fatigue seemed to have multiplied in mere seconds from the loop more than from everything he’d climbed so far.

It didn’t matter. You have to keep going.

This time, he didn’t bother wondering why.

Ekko dug his numb fingers into a slick crevice, gasping hard as the wind whipped around him like an invisible lash. Every meter he gained, the mountain seemed to snatch back with twice the force, as if the entire mountain conspired to repel him, to tear him from its side and smash him against the rocks.

His boots, once firm, no longer had soles: just scraps of leather hanging off the sides, barely held together by laces hardened like frozen roots. Snow covered his ankles, and the skin cracked from ice seemed ready to peel away.

The air was so thin it felt like he was chewing glass every time he inhaled. And still, he moved forward.

With a trembling leg, he pushed himself up on a slanted rock, slick with frost, as a stab of pain in his lower back tore a muffled groan from him. Dried blood mixed with fresh on his side, but that didn’t matter anymore. None of it mattered more than the monstrous pressure throbbing behind his eyes.

That pain…

It was a migraine so intense it seemed to have come alive, as if something had nested inside his skull and was expanding, tearing, pressing, moaning. It wasn’t the usual throbbing ache. No. It was a dull, constant drumbeat, a claw scraping him from within, pushing against his consciousness, trying to bring him to his knees.

It’s just the altitude. Just the damn altitude.

But he knew it wasn’t. Not since that moment when a spear of rock had pierced his chest, right as he was climbing a narrow ledge. He’d felt it—skin tearing, bone giving way, blood flooding him. His vision had become a tunnel of red and black. And then… that bluish flash.

And nothing.

His body, intact.

But the headache… had multiplied.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he climbed another section, this time with his knees. The rocks were covered in black ice, invisible to the eye, treacherous like a false promise. One hand slipped and scraped the back of it against the surface. A dry snap made him look: one of his fingers was dislocated. It didn’t even hurt anymore. Or rather, the pain blended in with all the others.

He looked to the side. Another climber, a few meters below, hung from a makeshift rope, lips blue, eyes closed. Still breathing. Or at least, he wanted to believe so. Farther down, another body, completely still, covered in snow. Ekko looked away. There was no time anymore to look at the fallen.

A murmur startled him. Turning, he saw a woman, still young, her face split by cracks of ice, talking to herself as she wobbled on a rock that seemed barely able to hold her any longer. Her laughter was broken, a chilling echo of perhaps her last traces of lucidity—and of life. Ekko saw her turn her face toward him. Her eyes didn’t focus. And still, she smiled.

"Did you see it too?" she asked.

He didn’t answer. He just kept climbing, his heart pounding in dull thuds.

The terrain changed: it was no longer solid rock but a mix of compacted snow and ice. The ground cracked beneath his weight, fragile, unstable. His left leg fell into a hidden crevice, and as he tried to pull it out, he felt the skin of his calf tear. The pain was sharp, and he cried out, but he didn’t stop. He crawled forward as best he could, soaked in his own heat that was fading into the cruel atmosphere of the height.

Ahead, a man was climbing on his knees. No longer walking, no longer climbing—crawling, with raw knuckles, clothes in tatters, pupils trembling.

And the whistling wind… that damn whistle, like needles stabbing his eardrums. Sometimes he swore it held words. Voices calling him, speaking in the tone of someone familiar, someone forgotten, someone who maybe never even existed. Maybe his mother. Maybe Vi. Maybe Jinx. Maybe no one. Paranoia couldn’t be distinguished from fear.

The climb turned vertical again. A wall of stone with small protrusions. Ekko scaled it clumsily, with a strength he no longer knew the source of. At one point, a rock gave way under his foot and fell. He never heard it hit. He only saw how his own shadow seemed to dissolve into the mist, only to find himself again seconds before the fall. And all he saw was that blue glow.

Don’t look down.

But he didn’t look up either. He didn’t want to know how much was left. Didn’t want to know if the headache would be worse up there. If that bluish flash would return. If something was even waiting for him.

He moved forward. Through ice and stone. Through blood and delusions. Because he preferred to ignore it all.

The pain. The flash. The voices. The cold.

Buried, like so many other things, in the deepest corner of his mind.

He felt the blunt strike of icy air lash his face with such violence that it forced him to stop. He raised his arm to shield his eyes, but it was useless: the gale pierced his clothes, his flesh, down to the bone. The cold lodged itself in his teeth and in the back of his skull.

And in that instant, something changed.

His vision trembled. The world twisted like a reflection on agitated water. The edges of the rocks stretched and contracted, and for one eternal second, he felt his body being pushed out of itself.

He froze.

In front of him, to his sides, above and below, he saw movement. His own movement. First one silhouette, then two. Four. Seven. Ten. And more.

A dozen Ekkos climbing the same ridges in unison, repeating each of his gestures with chilling precision. Like reflections. Like mirrors. All with the same wounds, the same trembling knees, the same expression of terror and exhaustion on their faces.

"What…?" he murmured, or thought he murmured, but the word drowned in his throat at the same time a scream burst from his chest, wild, animal.

The ringing began.

First a subtle buzz, like a mosquito at the edge of his ear. Then it grew, roaring from the depths of his head into an unbearable wail, a screech of rusted metal, of shattering glass, of a thousand voices screaming in an incomprehensible language. Ekko bent over, one hand on his forehead, fingers clawing at his skin.

"Stop!"

The world around him vibrated.

The multiple versions of himself dissolved as quickly as they had appeared. One by one, they faded like mist torn away by the wind, until only he remained, gasping, alone, more alone than ever. The ringing didn’t go. It didn’t fade. The sphere—the damned sphere—kept screaming, vibrating with a blue tone that was no longer color, but a mental state, a presence lodged in his spine.

The headache became a ravenous creature. It throbbed. It struck. It bit.

He thought about kneeling. About letting himself fall. Letting the mountain do whatever it wanted with him. For a few seconds, the idea was tempting.

But he didn’t do it.

He took a step. Then another. Barely aware of his own limbs, of his erratic breathing, of the metallic taste in his mouth. He moved forward more out of inertia than will, driven more by the tearing pain than by any clear goal. The world blurred around him.

And that’s why he didn’t see them.

He didn’t see the first silhouettes that emerged through the blizzard. Tall, elongated creatures, floating like leaves in an invisible river. They were almost transparent, like bodies of air and light, but with edges defined by a faint, iridescent glow that shifted colors with every small movement. Some had wings; others, limbs as thin as willow branches that never touched the ground.

And he didn’t see the birds either.

Some were small as fists, others as large as men. Their feathers shimmered with shifting hues, gliding in circles, in silent spirals above him. They watched him.

They didn’t attack. They didn’t touch him. They simply followed.

Drawn by his steps, by his pain, by the energy beginning to emanate from his body like a broken beacon. The mountain—or whatever lived within it—had noticed him.

His very existence was beginning to be a challenge to the established order, one that no longer went unnoticed.

A few meters ahead—or upward—the ground before Ekko rose like a punishment reserved only for the most unfortunate. The mountain seemed to want to outdo itself in cruelty. Before him, it didn’t simply rise: it closed in. A nearly vertical wall of black, cracked rock curved forward, like a massive jaw about to snap shut on its prey. At its center, a narrow passage spiraled upward, hidden between shadow and wind. It was just wide enough for a human body. Barely.

The inner walls were covered with sharp protrusions, some natural, others suspiciously symmetrical. Each stone seemed deliberately sharpened, ready to tear flesh with the slightest slip. The floor was a trap in itself: not flat, but an irregular succession of slippery, cracked, and damp ledges.

Ekko swallowed, though his throat was so dry the gesture caused more pain than relief. From his position, with his fingers still gripping a lower ledge, he managed to look up. And there it was: at the end of that vertical ravine, dozens of meters above, a small rock outcropping emerged like a promise. A refuge. It wasn’t big, much less comfortable, but it had no sharp edges, no ice, and the wind didn’t seem to strike it with the same fury. It looked… safe. At least for a few minutes. And that was all he needed. Minutes to breathe. Minutes to recover.

He dug his fingers into a lateral crack and began the climb.

The first push hurt his shoulders. The effort forced a breath out through his nose, but he didn’t stop. He knew he couldn’t stop. With every movement, the panic sank deeper—not because of the height or danger, which he had stopped perceiving as real hours ago—but from the awareness that his body no longer responded like it used to.

The cold had numbed his limbs, and the headache—that monster crouched in his skull—kept pounding as if it had a life of its own. 

The rocks were unstable. More than once, when he placed his foot, he felt the stone shift beneath his weight. When this happened, he had to press himself against the wall, hugging it with his arms and chest, feeling the tips tear at his clothes, his skin, his muscles. The first wounds were superficial: scrapes on his forearms, small cuts on his hands. But as he advanced, those wounds added to others, accumulating into a constant burn.

His fingers were bleeding. The ice on the rocks made him lose his grip every few seconds, and he had to correct his position with jerky, clumsy, increasingly desperate movements. His nails cracked against the stone. The taste of iron grew stronger in his mouth, though he didn’t know if it was from the blood running down from his nose or because biting his lips was the only thing keeping him focused.

"Come on… come on…" he panted through clenched teeth, his eyes wide open, though in them was the shadow of something more than exhaustion. His eyelids trembled, his pupils dilated. His jaw was so tight it looked carved from stone.

Every movement he made, no matter how calculated, cost him a little more air, a little more strength, a little more of himself. The rock remained sharp, cruel, lurking beneath every misplaced step.

And then, he made one.

He placed his left foot on a ledge that, at first glance, looked firm. But as soon as he shifted his weight, the stone cracked. He had no time to react. The piece broke free, and his body dropped into the void with a strangled cry. Just as he expected, the deadly fall stopped—but this time, he wasn’t sent back to the starting point.

His body remained hanging, trembling, suspended in the middle of the tunnel. His chest rose and fell at an alarming rate. He couldn’t breathe. The air wouldn’t come in. The pain was absolute. A violent ringing in his ears forced him to close his eyes.

But when he opened them again, it wasn’t the pain that took his breath away. It was what he saw.

Above him, far higher in the crevice, figures began to appear. First one, then two, then a dozen. All of them were him. They dressed like him. Moved like him. Fought against the same sharp rocks and the same hellish slope.

Ekko blinked, but the visions didn’t fade.

His lips began to tremble. Sweat mixed with blood and ran down his forehead like thick rain. The ringing in his head was now a hammer, and the world spun as if he were watching it from within a whirlpool.

What…?

But there was no answer. Only the macabre spectacle.

The first version of himself tripped on a poorly placed ledge. He fell backward, his body hitting the tunnel’s narrow walls, bouncing like a broken puppet before disappearing into the darkness. Ekko didn’t even have time to react before the second one slipped. This one didn’t fall. This one hung by one arm, just like him, but couldn’t hold on. His bleeding fingers gave out, one by one, and his body fell slowly, heavily, until it too vanished.

The third climbed nimbly, as if made of wind. But a loose rock—the same one that had brought down Ekko—sprang from its place and struck him in the temple. He fell with his eyes open, still stunned, a thread of blood spiraling through the air around him.

The fourth tried to push off too hard. He jumped. His fingers missed by inches. His body spun, and his skull smashed against one of the jagged spikes jutting from the wall. There was no scream. Just the dull sound of bone breaking.

And then another. And another. And another.

Hundreds of versions. All different. Some full of rage, others of fear. Some shouted names. Others cursed the sky. But all of them fell. All of them died. Some were impaled on stake-like protrusions. Others slid down like sacks of flesh without control. A few got so high it seemed they might reach the safe ledge… and just before they did, something failed. A mistake. A slip. A stone that broke. A distraction.

Ekko couldn’t look at anything else. He was trapped, hanging, feeling the world become unreal. Colors began to distort. The tunnel stretched, curved, as if it were breathing. His own body shook uncontrollably. The cold had climbed his spine, and each jolt of pain was a blue spark in his vision. The ringing became a roar. The roar, a heartbeat.

And the headache...

Oh, the fucking headache.

It was no longer a pressure, or a blow, or a pulse. It was an entire universe collapsing inside his skull. Every image he saw—each version of himself dying—fed the pressure. His eyes cried without him noticing. His mouth opened and closed as if searching for words that no longer existed.

But despite the absolute panic, the fatigue in his bones, the nausea squeezing him from within like a fist, he forced himself to open his eyes, blinking hard to clear the tears, desperately searching among the frantic movements and inevitable deaths.

There had to be one. Some version of himself. Some possible future where he got out of that damned tunnel alive.

And there it was.

One of them moved differently. It wasn’t the fastest or the strongest, but there was something in its rhythm that set it apart. Every hand that rose found support. Every foot, upon stepping, made sure first. He was wounded, yes—a dark stain ran down his left calf and blood splattered his arm—but he didn’t seem weakened by it. On the contrary, he moved forward… as if he knew exactly what not to do.

Ekko held his breath. That was the one. It had to be.

He followed every movement with his eyes, even when his own seemed ready to shut from the pain. That version of himself dodged a loose rock that had dislodged others, pushed forward, and twisted his body through a section of the passageway Ekko would have never attempted. He climbed higher. Higher. Until he stopped.

Ekko felt his heart stop too. His other self was suspended between two jagged black rock outcrops. He was breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell erratically. He brought a hand to his forehead, a clear gesture of desperation.

There was something there.

Between two rocks, barely visible, a hollow. An impossible opening, small… and extremely sharp. The only way out. Ekko understood it instantly. That figure understood too. His face tensed, and a look of pure terror flashed across his eyes. He remained still for a moment, gasping, pensive. The ringing in his ears intensified.

"Don't do it..."

But his other self did.

With a push of his legs and a scream that tore through the air, he dove into the gap. First his arm, then his torso and back. Ekko could hear the guttural scream—not only with his ears, but with his entire body. It was a raw, animal sound. Instantly, the echo of flesh tearing joined it. The stone was slicing him, blood pouring like dark rivers, but he was moving forward.

Ekko felt his blood run cold.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t look away. Every fiber of his being screamed to look elsewhere, to close his eyes, but he didn’t. He watched to the end. He saw him emerge on the other side. The wounded version, bleeding, trembling… but alive. He fell to his knees on the solid ledge. He gasped, in tears. But he was alive.

Ekko shut his eyes tightly.

The tears came before he could stop them. His jaw trembled, and at last he let his breathing break into short, choked sobs, interrupted by muscular spasms. The ringing continued, but now it was only part of the background, a sign that he was still there.

That was the only one. The only version that had made it. The only one that had succeeded.

He had to try.

Just before regaining control over his body, Ekko saw a blue flash pass across his vision. It lasted only a second, a fleeting spark. A shiver ran down his spine and, suddenly, every fiber of his body trembled violently. His legs ached, his arms barely responded, but he knew what he had to do. He’d seen it. He had witnessed it with terrifying clarity.

A version of himself had survived.

He clenched his teeth, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth giving him a shred of focus. He moved his right hand first, slowly, then his left. His muscles protested with sharp spasms, but each movement had a clear goal: to replicate the steps of the Ekko who had escaped. He placed both feet against the uneven wall of the passage and, pressing his shoulders against the other side, began to push himself upward.

His legs pushed with restrained effort while his hands groped for minimal protrusions in the rock, searching for support. Each finger clung as if his life depended on it—and it did. He climbed inch by inch, gasping, sweat dripping down his forehead and soaking the edge of his collar.

His knees shook, his back burned, and it felt like his head would explode with every heartbeat, but when he looked up, he saw how little was left. Very little. Just one last stretch separated him from the resting spot. However, when his eyes landed on it, his chest lurched.

That final stretch was a tiny gap between two rock outcrops as sharp as blades, dark and sinister. A ridiculously narrow space that seemed to mock his size. Ekko felt his stomach twist. He had to swallow several times. The cold sweat running down his neck now felt like ice.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

He froze. He knew exactly what came next.

He stared at the narrow passage. He evaluated options, all impossible. What if he entered sideways? If he led with one leg and then twisted? If he held his breath and pressed flat against the rock? Nothing would work. Every scenario, each desperately calculated angle, led to the same conclusion: the gap was too tight. He wouldn’t make it through without losing flesh along the way.

Tears blurred his vision as he clenched his teeth until his jaws hurt. His chest rose and fell as though air was leaking from some invisible crack. The world spun. And still, there it was. There he had to go.

With a strangled moan, Ekko raised his left arm. It shook like a leaf in a storm. He brought it slowly toward the gap. The space between the rocks was so narrow that his skin brushed the edges even before trying to enter. He swallowed hard, felt a knot tighten in his throat, and pushed.

His arm scraped lightly at first, but he managed to get it in up to the elbow. His heart pounded out of control, pumping blood and adrenaline so fast it made him dizzy. With his left hand, he grabbed an inner outcrop and, holding his breath, began to inch himself in.

Just when he thought he was making it, a rock jabbed into his bicep. Right where the Firelights’ symbol tattoo intertwined with the gears of the clockwork.

The pain was immediate and searing.

A scream escaped his throat, so raw its echo multiplied through the passage. He felt the flesh split, hot blood running straight down to his elbow.

His legs began to fail. His strength drained, and balance became an illusion. For a second, he thought he would fall. But there was no turning back now.

He inhaled deeply. The air entered his lungs like fire. He turned his body, positioned himself sideways, and with one final silent plea, pushed forward. His arm, shoulder, and back began to slide through the gap, but the rocks marked every inch. He felt the skin on his shoulder tear, felt a stone pierce the owl feathers tattooed on his back, felt another rip through each blue cloud until it bled.

The pain was unbearable. A burning that turned to stabbing, to agonizing pulses in every part of his body that touched the edges. He screamed again, lower, hoarse. Tears blurred his sight and his mouth trembled uncontrollably. The world became a mix of red and stone, of blood and struggle. And of blue.

And then, with the last strength he had left, Ekko gave one final push. His chest passed through. Then his hips. Then his legs, shaking.

He fell to his knees on the stone ledge, gasping, his chest rising and falling erratically. He couldn’t see. His entire body pulsed, each wound throbbing with its own agonizing rhythm.

Ekko dragged himself and collapsed against the stone wall with a rough grunt that vibrated in his chest. A ragged gasp escaped from his parted lips. He felt the heat of blood running down his lacerated skin, a red trail that began in his left arm and extended behind his back, crossing both shoulder blades with cruel precision. The cut burned with a sharp pain, hot like fire itself.

He rested the back of his head against the rough stone and squeezed his eyes shut. His shoulders rose and fell, driven by the desperation of air that wasn’t enough. The trembling in his limbs didn’t stop. It wasn’t just the cut—though each heartbeat made it feel as if his flesh would tear even more—, it was also the fatigue. Every muscle in his body screamed to stop. Every fiber of his being begged the same: no more.

A sob escaped his lips before he could stop it. It was low, a whisper almost shameful, barely a crack in his breathing. But the pain wouldn’t stop. Neither the pain in his body nor the other one, deeper, more visceral, that was born in his chest and wrapped around his throat. He clenched his fists tightly, and in that clumsy pressure, he felt the wound throb. His whole body trembled like a leaf in the middle of a storm. And the sob turned into a cry.

There was no one there to hear it. No one who could see him like this. So he didn’t hold back.

The crying poured from the deepest part of his chest, first as broken moans, and then as a shattered scream, a howl that bounced off the walls and came back to him distorted. He screamed with a torn throat, with his eyes closed and jaw clenched, with trembling hands clutching the blood-soaked fabric of his clothes.

And in the middle of that scream, a sharp stab pierced through his skull. A migraine, now familiar, slid like a snake behind his eyes. He opened his eyelids and the surrounding light warped. Everything flickered. Time seemed to dissolve for a moment.

When he looked up, he saw him.

Above, at the edge of the next stretch, a figure was ascending. Once again, himself. That version of him had a golden bandage covered in blood on his left arm, covering the tattoo and the wound. Another bandage crossed his back, running over his shoulder blades. He climbed with strength, determined, without looking back. The image vanished in a second.

Ekko swallowed hard and shook his head. 

No, enough. Enough. He couldn’t go on.

His crying hadn’t stopped, but now his chest heaved with another kind of desperation. He reached a trembling hand into his bag, feeling blindly, and grabbed the sphere. Its surface glowed with an irregular blue light, pulsing like a living heart, vibrating uncontrollably between his bloodstained fingers.

He held it in front of him, with trembling arms and tear-blurred vision. The next scream finished breaking his voice.

"Why!? Why are you so intent on keeping me alive!?"

He squeezed the sphere tightly, almost wishing he could strangle it. But the artifact only shone brighter, vibrating with greater intensity.

"Why?!" he screamed again, voice shattered. "Why?!"

The sphere trembled in his hands. The crying continued, now shapeless, just the sound of someone broken.

The cut burned as if there were liquid fire under his skin. Each heartbeat pushed a new pulse of blood that soaked his torn clothes, the earthy ground, the stones. His body trembled, not only from blood loss, but from the anguish overflowing him. His muscles were tense, fingers clenched over the wound, though pressing no longer helped. The damage was done. A long time ago.

He panted, with cracked lips and a dry mouth. Air came in fits, each breath costing more effort than the last. Tears ran down his dirty cheeks, hot as they fell, cold as they dried on his frozen skin.

Between the constant buzzing in his ears and the haze of his blurred vision, he heard a voice with a warm tone he remembered all too well.

"What is it, kid? What’s wrong?"

He raised his head with effort. Beside him, sitting as if nothing had changed, was Benzo. With his worn jacket, thick eyebrows, and that smile that always seemed half-hidden.

Ekko’s voice broke even before it left him.

"Everything, Benzo… everything…"

Ekko covered his face with a bloodied hand. The crying shook his entire body, made him cough, tore a groan from the depths of his chest.

"I can’t," he said, haltingly. "I can’t do it. I can’t take it anymore. I’m tired… I’m sick of it… I’m sick of all of this."

In the middle of the embarrassing sobs escaping his mouth, Ekko barely heard Benzo let out a sigh. But it wasn’t the kind he let out when an unwanted customer walked into the shop. It was the kind he gave before looking Ekko in the eye and trying, in the best way he could, to assure him that everything was going to be okay. Even when Benzo knew nothing was going to be okay.

"You’re a strong kid, Ekko. You’re not the kind who gives up."

"Strong?" Ekko laughed through tears, and the movement immediately pulled a spasm of pain from his wounded shoulder. "What’s the point of being strong? It’s not enough, Benzo. It’s never enough... It never is... there’s always more, more, more and more..."

Benzo looked at him with deep sadness. He didn’t interrupt. He just let him talk, like he always had. Partly because Ekko wasn’t someone who liked being silent for too long, and largely because Benzo had never been particularly skilled at finding the right words. Even so, his pair of ears had always been more than enough. Until they weren’t there for him anymore.

"I didn’t ask for this..." Ekko murmured. "I never asked for any of this... I didn’t ask to grow up in that rotten city... I didn’t ask to be a leader... I didn’t..."

The crying stole his breath before he could continue. The tears ran endlessly, mixing with the dried blood on his neck, with the mud.

"I just… I just want something else…" he stammered. "Anything… anything at all…"

Benzo reached out his hand. Or so Ekko thought, because he felt a light touch on his hair, like a ghostly caress. A familiar gesture. That only broke him further.

"But what do I even want? It’s stupid… so, so stupid…"

His voice drowned in his throat. The man’s touch beside him hadn’t ceased.

"You don’t need to have all the answers, kid. You’re alive. That’s what matters."

Ekko looked at him, eyes red, swollen, unable to understand how he could still hear those words without falling apart completely.

"I’m so tired," he repeated, voice barely audible.

"I know, son. I know."

And just when he was about to speak again, just when Ekko thought he might finally tell him what he never had time to say in life, Benzo was gone.

There was no explosion, no breeze, no blinding light. He just… vanished. It was hard to tell if it was the work of the mountain, or of his own mind consumed by exhaustion.

Ekko blinked, and in that total silence, his tears became mute. He no longer screamed. He no longer writhed. He just sobbed. With his head resting against the cold surface, shoulders hunched. There was no longer a voice in his throat. Just an emptiness he didn’t know how to fill.

The stone against his back was rough, but he no longer cared. At first, his hands had trembled, clinging to the edges of the wound as if that could stop the blood that stained the tattered fabric of his clothes, seeping into the folds and dripping onto the ground in a slow rhythm. But as the minutes passed, even that trembling had begun to fade.

From time to time, a spasm shook his shoulders, slight, almost imperceptible. Sweat mixed with blood and tears, and he no longer knew which was which.

The pain from the wound, sharp and ravenous, had been a constant presence. He felt the burning in every inch of torn skin. But little by little, that pain began to fade. And deep down, Ekko knew it wasn’t because he was getting better.

First came the numbness in his fingers. He tried to close his hand, but the muscles no longer responded like before. Then, his vision began to sway, with shadows creeping in from the edges, blurring the outlines. The sound changed too; he could no longer clearly perceive the distant echoes or the constant drip of water somewhere in the well.

He felt cold. Too cold. Even though that space effectively muffled the outside gusts. A shiver ran down his back, and for a second, he thought he was going to faint. He forced himself to lift his head, just slightly, and as he did, he looked up once more.

The exit.

It was there. Distant, yes. But visible. A faint circle of light at the end of the darkness. And yet… his eyelids felt heavy. Like lead. Each blink was slower, harder.

He knew that if he stayed there, he would die. He understood it with a clarity that hurt more than the deep cut. His brain, still functioning purely on instinct, was sending clumsy signals.

Move. Do something. Don’t give up.

But Ekko didn’t obey. He couldn’t.

He didn’t want to.

Because, for a few seconds, the idea of staying there... began to seem tempting.

To rest. Just that. For once, not to fight, not to get up, not to plan or escape or resist. Just... to let himself be.

Nothing else would be needed. He wouldn’t even have to decide how, or do anything. Just keep leaning against the stone, let time do its job. Let the blood keep slipping away. It wouldn’t hurt. He knew that. Or at least he believed it. It would be like falling asleep. And he was so, so tired…

The mantle of rest began to envelop him slowly. A warm, deceiving sensation surrounded him as if cradling him. And in that calm, he allowed himself to drift into one of the many thoughts he forced himself to bury every day.

What if he didn’t have to carry all of that anymore? What if he didn’t have to bury more memories, or control more attacks… or protect anyone else? What if there was no more guilt, no more sleepless nights, no more voices in his head?

What if he could, finally, be with them?

Not as he was now, not the shadow that hurt just to remember. But as he once was, when everything was simpler, when they could still laugh together without the world falling apart in a single instant.

Maybe, if he saw them there, if he could be with them, everything would feel lighter. Maybe his body wouldn’t hurt so much. Maybe the memories wouldn’t weigh like rocks on his chest.

Maybe… he could simply be. Without owing anyone anything. Without having to save anyone.

Maybe he could even… have fun. Maybe he could do whatever he wanted, whatever that was. Though, of course, he didn’t know exactly what that was.

A single tear slid down his cheek. Silent. Warm. He didn’t do anything to stop it.

He did nothing at all. Because he just had to wait.

The blood no longer poured with the same urgency as before. The cut that crossed from his arm to his back had lost its sharp sting, now replaced by a diffuse tingling sensation. A shiver ran down his spine now and then. His lips were parted, dry, and his breathing, though steady, was barely audible.

And still, in the midst of that stupor, he heard her.

"Do you know what I want?"

Her.

Ekko didn’t flinch. He didn’t even open his eyes. A weak smile formed on his drowsy face, as tired as he was.

"Light me up," he murmured, his lips barely moving.

She began to speak, though even she seemed to have lost energy.

"I want to build something… something big. Like a wheel, but upside down. A wheel that doesn’t spin on the ground, but in the sky. Picture it, with huge propellers, but also with a round base that spins like a carousel. The propellers turn one way, the base the other. It’s like a toy whirlwind, but it doesn’t fall. It floats. Because in the center there’s a pressure chamber that regulates hot air. And it has turbines. Small, but efficient. I’d steal parts from half the city if I had to."

Ekko remained still, but he tried to listen more closely.

"And in each seat," she continued, "there would be screens. But not the boring kind. No. They’d be like magic windows that show you where you're going before you get there. So you can get excited before you're even there. So you never get bored, not even during the trip. I’d add speakers that go off when it takes off. Like old train whistles, but with echo, you know? And I already know the name."

The voice paused for a second. Ekko remained frozen. Something inside him already knew the words that would follow.

"It would be called the ‘World Flyer’."

A stab pierced his chest. But not from the wound.

He frowned, very slowly. Something inside him vibrated. It wasn’t the voice. It was what she was saying. He recognized every phrase, every idea.

He opened his eyes, and his defeated heartbeats seemed to quicken slightly as he turned his head.

Next to him wasn’t Jinx, as he had expected, even though the voice he’d heard until now had undoubtedly been hers.

It was him.

Himself, but younger. Maybe eight or nine years old. Sitting cross-legged beside him, with the same wide eyes, the same lips moving with contained energy. There was dust on his clothes, grease on his cheeks, and an excited gleam in his voice… but also a hint of sadness.

"It would have thrusters underneath, for when you need to land fast," he went on, with small hands gesturing, but now no longer with Jinx’s voice. With his own voice. "And a compass that points to where you most need to go, not where you want. Because sometimes you don’t know what you want, but you do know what you need. And that would be okay. Because you don’t always have to think so much."

Ekko stared at him, unable to move, unable even to blink. His mouth was slightly open and a tear —new, fresh— slipped down his cheek, falling onto his neck.

He didn’t remember. He hadn’t remembered in years.

But now he did.

He remembered that invention, remembered having dreamed it. He remembered, with an unbearable knot in his chest, the first time he drew it on a grimy piece of paper in Benzo’s shop.

And he had named it the same. The World Flyer.

The boy, that boy he had once been, shrugged.

"I never built it. I didn’t know how to make it fly for that long. Or how to stop the propellers from burning out. The hoverboards were easier, and safer. But it was nice. Imagine being able to go anywhere you want."

Ekko clenched his teeth. His hands were trembling. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

"That would be cool," he whispered with a small laugh, more to himself than to that child. There wasn’t much difference.

The boy nodded. He didn’t smile. He just looked at him with a sad kind of tenderness.

"Yeah. It would."

Another tear. Another one. He didn’t care anymore.

He looked at the boy, pretending maybe he was real. That maybe he could talk to him, tell him he was sorry. Tell him he hadn’t forgotten all of that. That he’d just traded it for things he never asked for. But that he hadn’t forgotten.

Little Ekko spoke again.

“Do you remember the flying umbrella?” he murmured with a giggle.

Ekko let out a hoarse, muffled laugh.

“The one with propellers on the handle…”

“And a horn. To announce takeoff.”

“It was the loudest thing in the world… we couldn’t use it without all of Zaun finding out.”

They both laughed, softly. A worn-out kind of laugh, more like an exhale. Ekko lifted his eyes to the darkness of the ceiling and then closed them for a moment.

“Or the water wheel,” the boy added. “That was a disaster.”

“The one that sank in three seconds because we made it out of kitchen parts,” Ekko said, with a dry laugh that turned into a cough, sending a sharp pain down his back.

“Hey, but the next prototype worked. At least on land.”

“And we were so afraid it would break that we wouldn’t let anyone but Powder touch it.”

“Well, it did break. I got distracted flipping off enforcers. No regrets.”

Ekko laughed again, this time with a bit more strength. The memory hit him, and truth be told, it was pretty funny.

When his laughter faded, almost like the beats of his heart that seemed to be slowly failing, he spoke again.

“I also thought we were gonna build an underwater castle, remember?” he said. “One with bubble windows and floating beds.”

The boy nodded.

“And a rolling library that traveled the world on its own,” he whispered. “So people could find stories when they needed them most.”

“And a backpack with mechanical arms…” Ekko added, and his eyes filled with tears, without warning.

“And a compass that didn’t point north, but to where your friends were,” the boy added.

The laughter they shared then was different. It had edges. It was fragile, like cracked glass.

“I miss that. I liked it,” said the boy, his voice barely a whisper.

Ekko didn’t reply right away. He simply breathed with difficulty.

“Me too.”

Silence. Heavier this time. The boy lowered his gaze, dragging something invisible with it. His voice, when he spoke again, was soft, but trembled like a leaf in the wind.

“I wish we’d done more fun things.”

“Yeah…” Ekko whispered, his eyes bloodshot. “I do too.”

The lump in his throat grew so large he couldn’t keep speaking. He lowered his head. His shoulders barely twitched, with a tension that didn’t come from the wound, from something that hurt far more than what could have been. What never was.

“But there’s no more time…” he said, barely a thread of a voice. “There’s no time.”

His head fell forward, no longer able to hold it up. His breathing became more shallow. He felt his body slowly unraveling.

The boy stood up. Took a few steps, his bare feet soundless, and crouched in front of him. He watched him in silence.

“Why is there never time for anything?”

And without another word, he vanished.

Ekko was left alone.

The distant murmur of the wind was the only sound for a moment. No voices, no laughter, no dreams with engines or friend-compasses. Only him, breathing. For now.

The surface against his back still felt rough, but he could barely feel it anymore. He was losing sensation, and it worried him less than it should have. Blood continued its slow drip from the wound, soaking his side in a warmth that could no longer cut through the cold that had settled deep in his bones.

His fingers trembled uncontrollably, barely curled in his lap. The skin on his lips was cracked, bruised, and his breathing… his breathing had grown fragile, weak, and truthfully, nearly nonexistent. His eyelids felt heavy. The world was reduced to a warm shadow behind closed eyes, where pain was a dull presence, crawling among his fading thoughts.

Until he felt it. Or rather, her.

Not warmth. Not the real kind. But the sensation of something settling on his back—two small hands, fingers that seemed to hesitate before touching—made him open his eyes with effort.

A strand of blue hair crossed his field of vision.

Just a trace of color, almost suspended in the air. The nails, sharp as ever, brushed the skin beside his wound. One of them, however, wasn’t natural. Ekko felt the faint click of metal on his back: a mechanical finger, where a real one should’ve been.

A smile broke through his tears. Just a sad, broken curve, but genuine.

“You’re here…” he whispered.

Behind him, the response came wrapped in a soft, familiar laugh, with that spark he’d known all his life.

“I’m always here, remember?” said Jinx, and then, barely a whisper, “Until it’s over.”

Ekko nodded slowly, his head still lowered, a tear slipping down his chilled cheek. He didn’t even feel the moisture anymore. He didn’t feel anything.

“That’s good…” he murmured. “That’s… okay…”

His voice began to fade. It dragged across his lips with the last thread of breath. There was almost nothing left in him. And yet, it didn’t hurt as much as before.

“It’s not so scary now… now that I’m not alone…”

He let his head drop forward a little more. No longer fought the thick sleep that wrapped around him. No longer tried to keep his eyes open, or even breathe in any rhythm. He let the air leave however it wanted. He knew he’d fall asleep at any moment.

And that his breathing would stop.

“You were never alone, young Ekko…”

The whisper wasn’t from Jinx. It wasn’t her shrill tone, nor the sweetness that sometimes hid in her words. It was feminine, yes. But different.

The words seemed to float in the air, suspended in something that wasn’t wind… until it was.

A violent gust slammed against his face, shaking him hard. Ekko’s chest expanded suddenly, almost mockingly, considering how easy it was to breathe all of a sudden.

The wind and the burst of oxygen it brought made him jerk his head up.

He breathed. Breathed again. Gasping. Astonished. As if he’d just been born again.

The wind faded above, and Ekko followed its trail with half-open eyes, blinking with difficulty.

The moment he raised his gaze and saw that vision up there, something inside him ignited all at once, like a match struck against the last dry stone of his soul.

It wasn’t a door. It wasn’t a carved entrance, nor a glowing arch or a symbol etched in stone.

It was something subtler. More cruel.

Right at that point, at the rough peak of the pit Ekko was in, there was a faint distortion in the air. A thin line, barely a visual whisper in the still landscape. The kind of phenomenon anyone in a hurry would’ve completely ignored. But Ekko, even with vision clouded by pain, saw it.

It was the threshold.

The barrier of Mount Targon. The one ancient texts barely dared name clearly, and the lack of official information didn’t help much. They spoke of those who had crossed… or rather, of those who never returned. Of those whose words became myth, or worse, silence. Because no one wrote from there. No one came back to tell what it was like inside. If you survived the threshold, you weren’t the same anymore. And what you had been, what you knew, what you had dreamed… was left behind.

And still, there he was.

Ekko felt a shiver run down his spine, oblivious to the cold, oblivious to the blood he kept losing drop by drop. What he was seeing wasn’t just the threshold. It was the confirmation of how far he’d come.

With or without anomaly, he’d climbed the damn mountain. He had crossed ravines, fled from enemies, endured open wounds, loneliness, and death lurking in every step. He had done it himself.

For a moment, that certainty hit him harder than any wind ever could.

He had no strength. He knew it. He felt his muscles turned to sludge, his pulse erratic, his breathing wild. His fingers were numb. The blood on his side was starting to dry and stick to the fabric. The pain in his back was constant.

But he was still breathing. And more than that, he was still angry.

Angry at giving up. Angry at the thought of the story ending there, at the bottom of a pit. He hadn’t survived Zaun, defied Piltover, seen the Qayanis Bay, or faced the Solari just to die bleeding out before even touching the door he had come looking for.

If he was going to die, let it at least be while crossing the damn threshold.

Let him at least die trying.

The first attempt to move was a brutal stab. Pain dug into his hip, his back protested with a dry spasm, and his wounded arm hung useless. Ekko clenched his teeth. He felt nauseous. He almost fell again.

But he didn’t.

With a cry that echoed through the rock like a sick roar, he pressed his good hand against the wall. The cold stone bit into his palm. With the other, clumsy and bleeding, he pushed against his thigh. Slowly, very slowly, he began to rise.

His legs trembled like branches in the wind. His vision doubled for a moment. The world spun. He screamed again, not out of fear. It was pure rage.

Not like this, not here, not now.

When he finally managed to stay on his feet, his chest heaved as if he had just run for miles.

There it was. The threshold. Silent. Unchanging. Waiting for him.

For an instant, he allowed himself to look at it again. Like a child seeing a ship fly across the sky for the first time. Like that little Ekko who still believed the world was a big place, full of answers and opportunities.

Whatever lay beyond it, it didn’t matter. Maybe he wouldn’t live to tell it. Maybe no one would ever know.

But to be honest, he didn’t give a shit anymore.

Ekko raised his face once more, feeling the summit wind brush against his cheeks. The cold stung. His body screamed at him to lie down, to rest, to close his eyes forever.

But he didn’t listen. Because he wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t a victim. He wasn’t one of those who let themselves die at the bottom of a pit. He wasn’t one of those who gave up.

With a fury contained for days—maybe weeks, maybe years—Ekko tore off his coat with a clumsy and brutal motion. The fabric fell onto the dusty rock with a dull thud. His hands trembled, but didn’t hesitate. He rummaged under the coat and found the damn golden tunic. That shining garment he’d used to try to blend in with the Solari. That thing covered in ancient symbols, radial suns, feathers embroidered with sacred thread.

Fuck the Solari. Fuck everyone. Fuck everything.

The fabric didn’t tear on the first try. But Ekko wasn’t someone who gave up on the first try either. He pulled again. And again. Until he heard the harsh sound of the fibers giving way. The edge ripped violently.

He tore off golden strips, one after another. Pieces of “sacred” fabric, now turned into bandages stained with his own blood. The first piece he wrapped with difficulty around his left arm, right where the flesh had started to open, right over the tattoo of the clockwork and the Firelights’ symbol. He tightened it with force, feeling the pain pull a howl from deep within.

He smothered it, clenching his teeth, his face twisted in fury. The blood kept seeping through, but the pressure helped. The fabric began to darken.

Another strip he passed under his shoulder and brought across his chest. He leaned forward, gasping, and with one hand tied the knot as best he could, applying pressure to the long, deep gash running down his back. On contact, he felt a deadly chill. The blood had soaked the embroidered feathers of the tunic, staining them a dark, wet red.

The improvised bandage wasn’t perfect. But it was better than nothing.

He dropped to one knee for a moment, trembling, cold sweat beading on his forehead. His ears rang. His heart beat wildly out of control. He was at his limit, and he knew it. But he also knew he wasn’t gonna die there like an idiot.

Gritting his teeth, he looked toward the nearby rocks. He needed more than bandages. He needed protection, however minimal, however crazy. With trembling hands, he dug through loose stones, searching for shapes, textures. He found a jagged rock with sharp edges, like a natural pick. He tied it to his forearm with more strips from the tunic, twisting them tight until the stone held firm. An improvised weapon. For striking. For climbing. For defending himself.

He found another flat, curved fragment, big enough to cover his wounded shoulder. He strapped it tightly, fashioning a kind of protective pauldron. The weight hurt. The pressure on his back was unbearable. But he had to go on. He used the remaining scraps of cloth to wrap his hands: the rocks were treacherous and the cold burned like fire. He didn’t expect it to get any better beyond the threshold.

Finally, he took his coat again. The fabric was stiff from the cold and dried blood, but still useful. He put it on with difficulty, every movement a fresh hell.

He crouched one more time. Pulled a band from his pocket: black, small, worn. He clumsily gathered his long tangled hair and tied it into a high ponytail, clearing his face smeared with dirt, sweat, and dried blood.

He stood still for a moment. He breathed.

He rose slowly, feeling every muscle protest, every wound beg. But he didn’t listen. For once, his ability to ignore the desperate screams of his mind had to be useful.

He took a deep breath, the last before moving forward. The last before taking the first leap upward.

Because the only way out was up. 

He didn’t know how, but he did it. He hadn’t had time to think. Instinct had taken over. He jumped one, two, three, four rocks, each one seeming higher than the last, each one more cruel to his torn body. Blood soaked the bandages on his left arm, and he could feel it sliding warm beneath his open skin, seeping into part of his torso. But he kept going. He did it with clenched teeth, with his throat burning, with nails broken from scraping against stone, with a heart pounding so loud he could barely hear anything else.

His fingers, trembling, clutched desperately at damp and cracked ledges. His good arm bore most of the weight, and still, every time he stretched it, a sharp pop in his shoulder reminded him he had passed his limit long ago. He pushed with his legs, bending his knees until they creaked, then lifted his body by sheer willpower. He didn’t pause to plan his next move—he just did it. His back burned, the injured arm hung uselessly at times, and his dry lips let out ragged threads of breath.

He climbed as if time didn’t exist. Or as if he himself had become just another shard of stone within the pit. When he finally looked up, no longer sure how long had passed—hours? Days? Seconds?—the threshold was there. And for a moment, the climb lost all meaning.

A barely perceptible halo rippled in the air. Ekko froze, his fingers still gripping the stone, as his breath caught in his chest. It wasn’t from exhaustion. It was something else. A deep, internal tremor.

The concept of time, of days and nights, of past and future, suddenly became foreign to him. There, before the threshold, he felt none of it mattered anymore. He swallowed, though it was hard. His mouth tasted of blood and dirt. His hand trembled as he reached for the threshold. It was like plunging into temperatureless water. He felt no heat, no cold, no resistance. He felt nothing.

One foot, then the other. His chest. His face. He crossed the threshold slowly.

And in a second, everything became lighter.

Ekko blinked. Suddenly, the weight of his body disappeared. The wounded arm… didn’t hurt. His back no longer burned. There was no ringing in his ears, no pressure in his temples. Nothing. Just a comfortable void. Light. The kind of relief that, instead of comforting, unsettles.

He looked at his hands. Moved them in front of his eyes. They were his hands, but he didn’t feel their weight. He closed his fist, and the action met no resistance. He stroked his forearm carefully, expecting to feel a touch, contact—but he felt nothing. It was like touching a shadow.

He took a step. Another. And there was no sound. No friction. No weight. As if he were floating, but not in air—in a space where the body had been stripped of everything that anchored it to the physical world.

He felt relief. But also something more.

A shiver slid down his neck. It wasn’t physical. It was mental. Intuitive. Pain was no longer a problem, apparently not here. But something deep in his awareness whispered that what lay ahead would not be solved through strength or endurance. That this relief was merely a distraction.

He moved forward, not really knowing how. The terrain was still rocky, steep, but it posed no difficulty. He climbed, yes, but effortlessly. As if the mountain accepted him. Or was devouring him.

From time to time, he paused. Moved his hands, opened and closed his eyes, pressed his lips together. Trying to confirm that he was still himself. That his body was there. But everything felt like a light dream, like a rope about to snap.

And still, he kept going. Because he had done it. He didn’t know how, but he had. And he couldn’t—he didn’t want to—go back.

He wasn’t walking. Not really. He was drifting.

Movement had lost its usual logic. His mind remembered what to do: plant a hand, push with a leg, balance the torso—but the sensation of a body was long gone. What moved now was an embodied will, a consciousness detached from flesh, crawling toward the summit.

He raised his right arm, “placed” it on a rock that flickered like a faded star, and pushed, though he felt no resistance. The left leg rose next, without cracks or tremors. Everything seemed like a reflection of himself: the body moving because it knew how to move, not because it actually did. Sometimes, his hands passed through pieces of the mountain as if they were hardened smoke, and other times, a seemingly insubstantial rock held him firmly.

The landscape around him grew more and more unreal, stripped of certainties. The rocks, once rough and solid, now seemed like memories of stone. The ground beneath his feet flickered—literally and symbolically—shifting between the solidity of the tangible and the fragility of illusion. Sometimes he stepped and the terrain simply wasn’t there. Sometimes it was, but it felt like it belonged to another era: worn down as if a thousand years had passed, or fresh and newly formed, as if no one had ever stepped on it.

Ekko climbed with extreme caution, though the word “caution” no longer had meaning. There were zones where the mountain seemed to fracture between fragments of time: there, a crack showed the mountain scorched by a lightning strike from centuries ago; beyond, a ledge vanished and reappeared in irregular intervals.

The weather was just as erratic—if it could even be called “weather.” There was no day or night, not in any understandable terms. Sunlight filtered through, yes, but not from any specific direction—it was like a lamp dimming at intervals, like the sky exhaling slowly. Shadows stretched absurdly, climbing in directions that didn’t respond to the sun or the laws of physics. Some moved for no reason at all.

And the winds… the winds… were they speaking?

They blew with distorted voices, broken by time. At times, Ekko heard fragments of conversations he thought forgotten.

“You’re not gonna make it, Ekko…” whispered a voice with a mother’s tone, though his mother had never spoken to him like that. He didn't even remember her voice. 

“Run, run now!” shouted another, identical to one of the Firelights.

Other times, it was laughter. Or his own scream, coming from a future he had not yet lived, but already feared.

Ekko paused his climb for a moment, not sure if he truly had. He looked down, though there was no down. Vertigo no longer existed. Physical fear had been left behind, but another kind of fear was forming: the fear of losing himself among so many layers of time, among so much confusion. Who was he, when his body no longer responded like a body? What was left of him if his steps made no sound, if his skin didn’t feel its own pressure?

He kept climbing, because stopping was the same as vanishing.

He heard them before he saw them. Echoes with familiar names pierced the silence of the Mount.

“Hurry up, kid, time doesn’t fix itself.”

The clang of metal striking a table rang out just after. Benzo. Ekko turned abruptly, though he had no body to turn. There he was, in the mist: a corner of the workshop, the smell of grease and oil saturating the air. Benzo arranged mechanical parts with a furrowed brow—the exact expression Ekko remembered. A version so vivid he almost reached out to touch it.

But the bright heat pulsing from the sphere in his bag lit up, pounding like a desperate heart. The memory quivered. Fractured. Ekko backed away, overwhelmed by a wave of nostalgia that left him staggering between dimensions. He wanted to stay. Just a bit longer. Just to tell him he missed him.

The next step was uncertain. His feet touched an invisible surface, weightless, textureless.

Then, a scent pierced him: sweet bread, warm, as if freshly baked.

“You have to eat something before you go.”

A woman with white hair crossed her arms in front of him. Ekko saw himself rolling his eyes.

“Mom…”

“No buts, son.”

And for a moment, he wished time wasn’t a cruel line but a comforting circle. He wished to sit, to eat, to stay. The chair before him seemed solid. The kitchen smelled like home.

But the sphere pulsed again. Stronger this time, almost a roar of light. Ekko felt the scene unravel into layers of air, like smoke devoured by wind.

Tears that weren’t tears clouded his soul.

How many more times would he have to lose her?

He kept climbing. Not out of impulse, but because not climbing seemed even more painful. His body was no longer his, but his mind—his will—was the only anchor. The mountain rose endlessly, and each stretch was stranger than the last. There was no peak in sight, only fog and whispers.

"You've returned, young man. We were hoping you wouldn’t."

This time, the voice was entirely foreign.

It wasn't from Zaun, not from the past, nor from something that could have been. A vibration ran through him from the inside, as if someone were speaking inside his bones—even though he no longer had bones to hear with. Ekko stopped—or thought he did.

"Your mere presence here continues to disrupt the order of this Mount. You should not still be alive. And yet, we knew you would return."

Ekko felt a stab of uncertainty. The fear wasn’t physical, but it was there. It froze something that used to be his spine. And yet, he moved forward.

That’s when he heard the laughter. His and Vander’s, mixed in a shared breath. He saw it as if the scene emerged from the very air: an improvised training ground, Vander’s gloves marking the dirt.

"Not bad, Ekko," he said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "But don’t fight just out of rage. Fight for something you love."

Ekko felt the rage like an old fire. What did he love now? Why was he still climbing, if he didn’t even know for what?

"You ascended where so many fell, not out of virtue..."

That same voice again.

"... but due to a constant that refuses to break."

He closed his eyes—or thought he did. What was that constant? The sphere? His stubbornness? He felt the Mountain studying him, something analyzing him without compassion. And yet, it didn’t reject him. It let him move forward.

His eyes caught something else. Another vision. 

The bridge. The one linking Piltover and Zaun, but bathed in bright sunlight. Ekko walked hand in hand with a child. The face was vague, but strangely, it resembled him.

"Ekko, can we go up one more time?"

The voice was sweet. Hopeful.

"Another day," he replied, smiling. "Mom and Dad are waiting for us."

A sharp pain pierced him, like a clean bolt of sorrow.

The sphere vibrated like a contained sun. Ekko felt himself shatter into a thousand pieces—but he didn’t fall. There was no ground to catch him. Only mist, emptiness... and the voice.

"The Mount would have consumed you. Silenced you. But that core, fragment of another story, clings to you like someone afraid to forget."

Ekko looked down. There was no down. He looked forward. There was no forward. He was suspended in something that wasn’t time, nor space.

And still, he kept climbing. Just because.

"Your time has been twisted, tangled, ultimately denied. An artifact that does not belong in this universe has woven an impossible path beneath your feet."

He didn’t answer. Instead, he let himself be carried by the images and sounds still unfolding around him.

"You're on in five, Ekko. Don’t forget people are betting on you."

The voice echoed in his ear like a muted thunder. He turned—without realizing his body no longer moved with the urgency it once had—and saw a worn door opening, and an older Ekko, eyes empty, staring into a cracked mirror. Blood on his gloves. Rage locked inside the reflection.

He swallowed—though he didn’t know if he truly did or just remembered what that knot in the throat felt like—and kept climbing. One hand, then another.

More voices.

"We waited for you every day, son. We always knew you’d come back."

The warm arms of Inna and Wyeth wrapped around him like a breeze that didn’t burn, but left a weight in his chest. He wanted to stay, just for a second. He closed his eyes. He wanted to tell them he’d been waiting for them too.

But the mountain didn’t let him stop.

He took another step, and when he opened his eyes, he was alone in a ruined Zaun. Nothing remained. Only dust and echoes. He walked—walked?—through scorched ruins, listening to the laughter that once filled those alleys.

Then, he saw Mylo lying on the ground, writhing dramatically.

"Cheater! You used that weird trick of yours!"

"It’s called a brain, Mylo. You should try using it sometime."

Ekko smiled. For a moment, he clung to the idea that it had really happened. But the scene faded like mist, and suddenly there was applause.

A trophy in his hands. Voices cheering.

"Mr. Ekko, any last words for the students?"

"Yeah. Don’t forget who you were before it all began."

And then, that voice again.

"The temporal order will remain broken until you stop making the same mistake. Until you find the origin point."

He stopped. Or would have. Something inside him wavered. He still didn’t recognize that voice, and yet… there was a force in it, something brushing the foundations of his soul. For a moment, an absurd realization struck him.

An Aspect?

The thought hit him like lightning. Could a celestial presence be following him? Watching him even though he was still so far from the peak?

He looked up. The mountain stretched into the blackness of a sky that no longer seemed to hold stars. Only an empty, impossible expanse. He was far—so far still.

Why would a presence like that be watching him? Was that a good or bad thing?

Doubts. Like cracks in an ancient wall. And with them, more visions.

He was kneeling in front of a grave. 

"Why couldn’t I go back to that moment?"

Cracks in his voice. A hollow sadness, the kind left behind by grief long wept. But the Mountain had no mercy. It gave no respite.

His mother raised her eyebrows at the plate Ekko placed on the table.

"Don’t look at me like that, Mom. I don’t always burn breakfast."

"No, of course not. Just on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays."

Laughter. Warm laughter that filled Ekko’s chest with sudden joy. He felt like he was about to break, but a new scene pushed him forward.

"Pass me the wrench, little one. No, that’s a nut."

"Old man, I’m an inventor. Do you know how offensive this is?"

Benzo. Greasy. The smell of hot metal. The shadow of a disassembled bike. A piece of home that no longer existed.

And more.

"Food or dangerous alchemy?"

"It’s stew, you insolent brat."

Jinx. Powder. Alive, radiant. Painting a wall with garish colors.

"It’s our house, love. We can paint it however we damn want."

The word shook him. His chest filled with a strange fire. How could something that never happened hurt so much?

"You look just like Wyeth, you know that?"

The phrase came with a smile. A tenderness that made him falter.

And then, again, that voice.

"You should not be here again."

Ekko stood still in the middle of nothing. The voice of the… Aspect? wasn’t threatening. But neither was it comforting.

“He shouldn’t be here.” And yet he was… Again?

He walked. Climbed. Scaled without a body, like a stubborn thought refusing to die.

They were all there. Around a table. Claggor asked a question in the rain.

"If you could stay in one moment, which one would it be?"

"This one," said Ekko, without hesitation.

And he meant it. Every fiber of his soul screamed for that moment. For an eternal instant where no one had died. Where nothing had broken.

"The will of that which you carry defies the will of this Mount. The circle in which you’ve trapped your destiny keeps the order of this Mount inside it."

That voice again. Clearer. Stronger. But why?

"I beat you!" Powder shouted, triumphant.

"I let you win, you mean," he huffed, wiping paint off his chest.

She laughed. Her laugh was light.

And then, everyone at the table. Wyeth cheating. Inna scolding him. Ekko laughing.

Everyone laughing. Everyone alive. Everyone there.

The paint splashed his chest. Jinx laughed beside him.

"This isn’t art, it’s a visual crime."

"It’s emotional art. And besides, our house."

Ekko stood still. Our. That word again.

The last scene hit him like an emotional avalanche. All of them sitting, laughing, listening to the rain. No one missing.

"This one," Ekko thought again.

He clenched his teeth—or felt like he did. The voices began to merge. The ones from his past, from worlds he never lived, from his heart, from the Aspect that called him.

He had an idea. A ridiculous, stupid, foolish idea. But one worth trying.

He took a deep breath, as if about to leap into the void, and raised his voice.

"I know I shouldn’t be here. I know," he said, unsure if anyone—or anything—was listening. "But I don’t understand why. I know I’m here for a reason. That’s why… that’s why I keep searching. Hoping someone will tell me something."

The silence continued. Just the faint murmur of wind between the stones. But then, like a light igniting in the night, something manifested. Not with sound, but with feeling.

"A new chance, young Ekko. You are granted a new opportunity to find the origin point and restore the order."

A new opportunity? When had he ever had one in the first place?

Ekko felt—felt?—a chill run down his spine. The voice sounded practically inside his head. But not in the way they usually did. It was a cruel balance between internal and external.

"I don't understand. What's the origin point?" Ekko asked. "And how do I find it? What does it have to do with... with me? With what I'm trying to figure out."

A moment passed. Long. Dense.

"It's about her. The one you keep finding in every possible timeline, maintaining the flow of temporal order. Except in this one."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1XwU8H6e8Ts&list=RD1XwU8H6e8Ts&start_radio=1

Ekko frowned. He leaned forward.

"What are you talking about?" he insisted.

But the Aspect no longer answered. Instead, the world around him began to ripple. Everything grew lighter. Blurred.

Within that distortion, he could barely identify what he was seeing.

A destroyed city. Smoldering ruins. On the horizon, an explosion stained the sky with an almost nuclear red. And there he stood, watching the disaster with a tired smile.

"Funny, isn't it? The world can break into a thousand pieces..."

A hand slid into his. Jinx. Dirty, hair tangled, wounds on her cheeks. But alive.

"...and still, I always find you among the rubble."

Ekko’s heart clenched. He felt like he was going to die right there. And yet, he didn’t want to move. To see her. To feel her hand again. That was enough.

That image vanished as quickly as the next one appeared.

She was on the ground. Blood on her side. Her hand on his face. Fear consumed him.

"Don't cry, Ekko... even if there's no tomorrow."

He kissed her hand, tears staining his cheeks.

"I’ll find you in the next try... and the next one. Until we survive. Until we live."

Ekko clenched his fists. He didn’t know whether to scream or cry.

A little girl, Powder, was about to jump out of a window. Small, her hair tied in messy pigtails. A voice stopped her.

"Running away again, Pow-Pow?"

She turned and smiled, as if she had been waiting for him all along.

"Only if you come with me. No adventure is worth it without you."

Ekko felt a knot in his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could stop the tears—or what felt too close to them. But it was too late.

When that faded, a new image enveloped him.

She looked like a goddess. He looked at her as one.

"They say the gods split our souls," she said.

Ekko took her hand.

"Then they better be ready... because I’m gonna steal the sky for you."

Then, their bodies entwined on a bed. Her warm skin, the comfortable silence of two hearts beating in sync.

"Can you imagine if all this were just a dream?"

"Then let’s keep dreaming. I don’t want to wake up anyway."

The real Ekko brought a hand to his face. To remember her so close… so real… hurt more than any physical wound he had ever received.

If he had any breath left, he would’ve lost it with what came next.

She was laughing. Older, with wrinkles that spoke of years lived. But beautiful. More than ever.

"Remember when we thought time would tear us apart?"

Ekko took her hand.

"Yeah... and look at us now, beating every second."

A sigh escaped his lips. Could that really be possible in some timeline?

Then he saw Jinx, panting, covered in snow, on... Mount Targon?

"What did you see up there, Jinx?"

She smiled.

"The same as you. Us. Always us."

Ekko closed his eyes. "Always us."

The two of them floated, hanging from an improvised rope, weightless. They were fixing something while laughing.

"What if we explode?" she asked.

"Then we become stars. Though I doubt you could shine any brighter."

A painful, broken laugh escaped Ekko.

Suddenly, a cabin.

Fogged windows. Snow falling outside.

"Will you pass me the hot chocolate or do I have to beg with sad kitten eyes?"

He looked at her, and she snuggled a little closer to his chest.

"I’ll pass it... but I still want to see the kitten eyes."

The warmth of that image embraced him, as if it were real.

Both on the floor, she covered in paint, he with grease-stained hands.

"You’re an idiot. Your watch doesn’t work."

Ekko turned to look at her.

"So what? When I’m with you, I don’t wanna count the seconds."

He gritted his teeth. He wanted to scream at the sky. Why? Why not now?

Something that looked like a liquid sky rose above them.

"Do you think we really exist or are we just some crazy idea from the universe?"

"I don’t care what we are... as long as we’re still us."

Ekko felt his soul tremble.

He saw her drawing with her finger on a window that barely held back a furious mist trying to force its way in.

"What are you writing?"

She looked back at him through tears, but still smiling.

"Your name. So if I forget everything, at least I’ll remember what matters."

"Jinx..." Ekko whispered. In reality. If he could feel anything, he’d have no tears left to cry.

Then,

He saw her with her hair up in a ponytail, cotton candy on her nose. She looked happy. The Ekko beside her laughed so hard his carnival game tokens fell from his hands. And with them, the surprise ring he’d been carrying.

So he let it out.

"Will you marry me, Jinx?"

She gave a teasing smile. Surprise was the last thing she felt.

"Like this, with sugar on my face and smelling like sauce?"

He moved closer to her lips.

"Exactly like this."

And then, everything stopped.

The visions disappeared. The wind calmed.

Ekko, on his knees, face in his hands, wept. Not from pain. Not entirely. He couldn’t even describe it exactly.

He didn’t have the strength to try to understand. Only to savor, even if it was an illusion, the idea that always, always, always, she was there.

Even if not in this reality.

He cried like he hadn’t in years, with a broken soul and broken hands. Tears he didn’t know he could still produce slid down his cheeks, falling onto a void that gave back no echo.

"Why are you showing me this?" he shouted. "What does she have to do with anything? She’s dead! She died a long time ago!"

No one—nothing—answered.

"Can you hear me?! It makes no sense! This has nothing to do with it!"

The silence persisted, thick, almost solid. But something began to stir in that void.

The voice didn’t manifest as a sound, but once again, as a vague tingling in his mind.

"You cannot continue, Ekko."

The young man slowly lifted his head.

"What... what do you mean?"

"You cannot continue your ascent," the voice repeated, "because the fate of it will always be altered."

There was a pause. Ekko froze.

"That artifact protecting your existence, in its effort to preserve itself, continues the cycle. You must restore the flow, young Ekko."

"I didn’t ask for this," he said, voice trembling. "I didn’t ask for this damn thing. I just... I just wanna understand."

"You’ve come seeking answers. Like so many other times. Again and again, the cause of the disorder has been shown to you. Again and again, you have failed."

Ekko blinked. Fear flooded his bones like poison.

"What you carry prevents this Mount from claiming your soul. And you will keep returning here, again and again..."

For a second, his vision went black.

"Unless this time you get it right."

What is it I have to get right? What am I doing wrong?

"You must free your soul and this Mount from its cycle."

And the Mountain stopped.

Everything stopped. The wind ceased, the shadows stopped moving, and an absolute silence enveloped the surroundings. It was as if the mountain itself had held its breath. Ekko blinked, bewildered. He didn’t have time to be afraid before it started.

Before a flash and an absolute blackness clouded his vision… and he began to see.

Ekko found himself in a dimly lit room, illuminated only by the soft glow of a lamp. On the bed, Powder lay on her side, her gaze lost in the void, her small buns undone. He approached and slid under the sheets, embracing her from behind.

"You’re not sleeping, Powder," he whispered, his warm breath against her neck.

She sighed, her voice barely a murmur.

"Neither is time, Ekko. It wakes me every three hours with new possibilities."

He smiled sadly, sliding a hand over her belly.

"And I just want you to rest… both of you."

Ekko barely had time to blink. Another pull. Another flash. Another blackness.

A messy workshop. Tools and schematics scattered everywhere. Powder ran a hand over her face and her small buns, desperate.

"It failed again. The node fractured. She might not exist if we try again."

Ekko approached and took her hand, firm yet gentle.

"Then we won’t."

"That easy? We just give up?"

"No. We just don’t risk the only thing we can’t rebuild."

Pull. Flash. Black.

Powder’s legs dangled off the edge of the bridge, swinging gently. She looked at Ekko, who sat beside her.

"When I chose you as the reference point, it wasn’t just for quantum sync, Ekko."

He smiled, that smug, charming smile she knew so well.

"Then why?"

"Because even when everything’s burning… you look at me like I’m worth something."

Pull. Flash. Black.

Powder, agitated, her buns disheveled from sleepless hours, pointed at a diagram with trembling hands.

"It makes no sense! If the childhood node is so stable, why does each attempt distort it more?"

Pull. Flash. Black.

Powder sighed, fear evident.

"What if one day you don’t come back from the jump?"

Ekko looked at her gently.

"Then you bring me back."

"And if I can’t?"

"Then you leave a version of me among the nodes. So you’re never alone."

Pull. Flash. Black.

Powder let out a small laugh, her hands covered in machine grease.

"Remember when we used to fix things that weren’t even broken?"

Ekko smiled, nostalgia in his eyes.

"Yeah."

"Now we’re fixing time, Ekko."

He moved closer, hugging her from behind and caressing her belly.

"No. We’re fixing the future. For her."

Pull. Flash. Black.

Powder was on the verge of despair.

"I ruined it, Ekko! Another line collapsed! Another possibility dead!"

He held her by the shoulders, looking at her intensely.

"No, Powder… You opened it. It wasn’t real until you touched it."

Pull. Flash. Black.

Powder squinted, observing Ekko.

"The Anchor has directional awareness. If it doesn’t detect me… it looks for your signature."

"And if it doesn’t find either of us?"

"Then it collapses. Vanishes."

"Why?"

"Because without origin or reference, time doesn’t dare to move. It freezes."

Pull. Flash. Black.

"See this pattern here? That interference only appears when you’re far away."

Powder chuckled.

"You think the Anchor misses me?"

Ekko smiled back.

"No. I think it needs you to be real. Just like I do."

Pull. Flash. Black.

Powder, thoughtful, touched the core.

"An origin point can only push change…"

Ekko, from the other side of the table, replied while calibrating the sensors.

"…and a reference point is what keeps that change from becoming destruction."

"Impulse and containment. Cause and balance."

"We’re an equation that only works… if both sides are alive."

Pull. Flash. Black.

Ekko caressed Powder’s face, trying to hide his tears.

"If something ever happens to you…"

She placed a hand over his, stopping its tremble.

"It will search for me, I know."

Pull. Flash. Black.

"The timeline can be redrawn a million times, Powder."

"Yeah, but without a clear origin point… it’s just a scribble in the void."

"And without a reference point to anchor it… it’s a lie."

Pull. Flash. Black.

Powder caressed the metallic edges with nostalgia.

"Remember the first test? The Anchor activated but destabilized in seconds."

Ekko chuckled.

"Because I was alone. I powered it with my code… but without you, it was just aimless impulse."

Pull. Flash. Black.

Ekko stared at the core, perplexed.

"Powder, the crystal detects your heartbeat… It memorizes it. It needs you."

Pull. Flash. Black.

Powder ran toward the hideout at full speed.

"What happened?"

Ekko swallowed hard.

"Your signal deviated. The artifact tried to stabilize using only my code."

"Result?"

"Chaos. The node opened… and swallowed its own future."

"Then never alone again, Ekko. Never."

One last pull. One last flash.

And once again, black.

Ekko was sure —though he couldn’t quite feel it— that if he could, he’d be suffering the worst migraine of his life. It was like his head was a metal box being shaken from the inside, and his thoughts, just loose shards of glass, bouncing senselessly. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t string an idea together. He barely existed between bursts of confusion and fragments of awareness.

Why Powder? What did she do? What did he do?

His breathing was a distant echo. The ground beneath his feet seemed to tremble, or maybe it was his body that could no longer remain steady.

"Do it right this time, boy."

He didn’t see it. He couldn’t see it. But he knew it was approaching, slow, inexorable.

Every second was another step closer. Every pulse of blue light in the sphere seemed to scream that something was happening.

He tried to move. To run. His body didn’t respond. Not a step, not a gesture, not even a single tremble. Only the panic, fierce and instinctive, told him he had to escape, but it was as if he were trapped in an invisible mold.

The sphere glowed. Glowed like never before. A burning, violent blue, almost alive. It was reacting, and not to him. To something else. Until it began.

A subtle pull at first, barely a twinge in the center of his chest. Then stronger. Deeper. It wasn’t pain. It was… absence. 

Then, blue. Pure, unbearable. A light that didn’t just blind the eyes, but thoughts, the sense of time, of place, if anything of that still remained. It was the last thing he saw.

And then…

Nothing.

An absolute blackness, immense, without shape or bottom. Absence itself.

And Ekko was no longer on Mount Targon.

The blackness wasn’t just darkness. It was a dense, suffocating void, as if the world had folded in on itself and left him trapped in the crease. Ekko floated —or maybe fell, or perhaps he simply wasn’t anywhere— wrapped in that nothingness that had no direction or sound. For a long moment, he didn’t know if he still existed. But then, something lit up inside him.

First was a jolt in his legs, like an invisible whip lashing through the muscles from the soles of his feet to his hips. The joints began to scream back to life. Then the arms: a sensation of extreme tightness, as if he’d been suspended for hours, his muscles on the verge of tearing. Every fiber seemed to grind, begging for mercy.

And then came the head.

The return of consciousness was like an axe. A sharp ringing stabbed into his ears, so loud that for a second he thought he might shatter from the inside. The migraine struck his skull like an anvil crushing his temples, and the entire world vibrated with that painful, relentless frequency.

This time, when he opened his eyes, consciousness returned enough for him to notice something different: his body no longer hurt. His head didn’t throb with that deafening drumbeat. Breathing was no longer an impossible task in the overwhelming height of the mountain. Instead, the first thing he noticed was the sharp scent of incense. And with a quick sweep of his eyes, he recognized where he was.

A hideout.

That hideout he hadn’t set foot in for over five years. The one that didn’t belong to his Jinx… but to Powder.

His first instinct was to search for the damn sphere. His hands frantically patted down his belt, his jacket—which looked nothing like the one he remembered wearing—the ground beside him. Nothing. His breath quickened. Shit. Had that thing decided to play hide and seek again?

Then, an echo of bootsteps rang through the silence.

Ekko startled and turned abruptly, his pupils dilated, searching for the intruder.

And there she was. Always her.

Her hair was familiar. Pulled back into two small buns, one of them adorned with a pink streak.

"Here they are," she said, holding something in her small hands, walking past Ekko, while he could barely process what he was seeing.

She looked exactly the same. Well, almost. There were small details that betrayed the passage of time. Some strands escaped from her buns, proof that her hair had grown. Her skin had a slightly more tanned tone. But the detail that caught his attention most was her unmistakably bigger belly.

"I already programmed it," she said, looking at him again. "Remember, it only works if both of us do it at the same time. We don’t want any disasters."

She leaned down to inspect a device, and that was when he noticed what was in the hideout.

A colossal, meticulously assembled artifact—a network of pieces and gears intertwined with a precision Ekko found far too familiar. Fine copper wires twisted like veins through the structure, channeling energy into circuits lit with a soft glow. A crystal panel revealed an internal mechanism turning in steady rhythms, powered by tiny energy coils. But what captured his attention was the core.

There, at the center of the artifact, connected to every mechanism, shone the sphere. The damn sphere that had made his life hell for weeks.

Ekko’s eyes widened.

Before he could delve deeper into that whirlwind, he felt a warm hand on his own. He looked up and found large, blue eyes watching him.

Gently, she opened his hand and placed a metal plate in his palm. The surface was a dull bronze, but it reflected light with a subtle gleam. In the center, there was an engraving: his personal mark. The plate had softly curved edges, and to the touch, it felt cold and sturdy. Without a doubt, it was a key.

She softly closed Ekko’s hand around the plate and then, without taking her eyes off his, caressed his face tenderly.

"I trust you with my whole life, love. You know that, right?" she whispered.

He remained completely frozen, unable to move as he watched the blue-haired girl walk toward the device. Though he wanted with all his heart never to look away from her, his gaze locked once again onto the fucking sphere at the center of the artifact. That damn sphere... what the hell was it doing there?

She, holding a metal plate almost identical to Ekko’s, though with different inscriptions, approached the side of the artifact and slotted it in with a soft "click" into one of the slots. She smiled before saying:

"Origin point, set."

With that movement, the sphere-core-whatever-it-was seemed to glow even brighter, scaring Ekko. Was that thing collapsing?

He snapped out of his trance when her voice called to him.

"Hello? Reference point? I can’t do it for you, genius. You have to do it. The rest, well… leave it to me."

Ekko frowned, trembling, and looked at the plate he held in his hand. He also looked at the other side of the artifact, where there was a slot similar to the one she had just used. If he was right, she expected him to insert his key into that slot.

"Hey, it’s scary, I know," she interrupted with a smile.

She passed a hand over her belly and added:

"Even Violet’s nervous. She won’t stop moving."

She let out a small giggle, caressing her belly one last time before looking at Ekko.

"But it’s now or never. And we have to do it together."

He could barely feel his body or understand the situation. He could hardly hide the cold sweat on his neck, could barely hear past the rapid pounding of his heart, the ringing in his ears. Still, his body seemed to respond where his mind could not, moving with nervous steps to the other side of the artifact. With trembling fingers and without thinking too much, he inserted the small metal plate into the slot. A soft "click" sealed the action.

She let out another giggle before saying:

"Reference point, set."

The sphere-core began to glow more intensely. Its inner components—a series of finely calibrated gears and interconnected bronze circuits—began to spin faster. An outer ring of flexible metal rotated on its axis, while the copper filaments connected to the core vibrated with energy. However, she didn’t seem worried. She watched the mechanism with bright eyes, the blue gleam of her gaze intertwining with the light emanating from the device.

"Here we go."

Ekko, on the other hand, felt a shiver crawl down his spine. He looked at the sphere in horror. It was happening. That damn anomaly was collapsing. He had to stop it. It was a mistake, a huge mistake. He couldn’t let this happen.

His mind, clouded from who knows how long climbing that damn mountain, lost the last thread of reason that held it.

Without thinking too much, he lunged toward the mechanism containing the sphere.

"Ekko! What are you doing? You’re not supposed to—!"

Before she could finish the sentence, his hands were already on the glowing, pulsing sphere, pulling it away from the mechanism that was destabilizing it. Maybe preventing a disaster. Maybe putting an end to that damn anomaly.

Maybe, hoping to do enough for once and for all.

Before Ekko could think, the sphere detached from its anchor and disappeared in a flash of blue just before his eyes closed.

And, once again, everything went black.

He opened his eyes with a jolt.

It wasn’t like waking up. There was no light, no fresh air. The first thing he noticed was the ground beneath his body: cold, uneven, covered in rusted metal parts, screws, loose springs, and shards of broken glass. Every movement he made caused the junk beneath him to crunch. But what was in front of him wasn’t a threat—it was a beacon: the sphere.

Air returned to his lungs when he saw it. He had done it, he had managed to take it with him. He had stopped it from collapsing.

It was just a few meters away, barely illuminated by its faint blue glow, like an exhausted heart beating in the middle of the trash. Ekko crawled toward it, his muscles still stiff, hands trembling, and breath quivering between gasps. His body screamed for rest, but his mind could only think of one thing: recover it.

He extended his fingers. Closed them around the sphere.

Nothing.

He felt the cold of its surface under his fingertips, but it was like trying to grasp smoke. His fingers passed through it, as if it couldn’t fully exist in the same plane as him. He frowned, clenched his jaw, and tried again. And again. Each attempt triggered a soft vibration, a blue spark that flickered and died before becoming nothing.

The sphere pulsed faintly, breathing with difficulty. As if it were just as tired as he was.

Ekko collapsed to his knees, panting, his forehead beaded with sweat. He exhaled forcefully, arms hanging at his sides. Only his breathing and the dull echo of his heartbeat thudded in the void.

He looked up and forced himself to see.

Scrap. So much scrap. Tangled wires. Old panels corroded by moisture. And a tank. Gigantic, clearly running on chem-tech, still showing stains from repairs he himself had made.

That place. That damn place.

The caverns of the Zaun mines. Where he had first tracked the sphere. Where Jinx had build her hideout. Where Klem had…

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Ekko’s heart pounded. He stood up, staggering, and took a step toward the sphere. But the crunch he heard didn’t come from his feet.

Someone was moving among the junk.

Ekko snapped his head around. A figure emerged from the back of the cavern. The boots clumsily stepped over heaps of metal, and the silhouette was unmistakable: the round belly straining against a shirt with buttons on the verge of bursting, the carefully groomed mustache above his lip, and that mess of gray, poorly cut hair.

Klem.

Ekko felt his stomach twist.

"No!" he shouted, or thought he did. But no sound came from his mouth.

He tried to move. Run. Throw himself onto the sphere.

Nothing.

His legs didn’t respond. His body was an echo trapped in time.

Klem raised the sphere, which vibrated softly in his palm. He turned it a couple of times, curious, suspicious. Then he cast one last glance around, shrugging.

And he left.

The sphere, trapped in his clumsy fingers, pulsed with a faint blue light that seemed to plead not to be taken.

Ekko closed his eyes. Just a blink, a little longer than usual. As he opened them again, the headache still pounding. The sharp ringing in his ears was still there. But for once, he didn’t give a damn. Because he recognized the place he was now in instantly. It was still Zaun.

He felt it in the texture of the floor beneath his boots, in the metallic scent of the air mixed with old oil and fresh welding. He was back. And not just anywhere.

ChronoWorks. His workshop.

He knew every corner like the back of his hand. Every paint stain, every loose screw under the tables, every crack in the skylight glass he’d never bothered to fix.

But the real blow to the chest didn’t come from the place. It came from what he saw in front of him.

Klem was chatting with the figure sitting at the worktable, who kept frowning.

Himself.

And that Ekko, with a sigh, spoke.

"I’m sorry, Klem. I’m not having a good day."

Klem studied him for a moment, then shrugged.

"It’s okay."

"Tell me, why did you come?"

"I need help from that big head of yours," he said, pointing at Ekko’s head and rummaging through the folds of his clothing.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

Klem carefully unwrapped the bundle, revealing a metallic sphere the size of a fist.

Ekko leaned in, his interest reluctantly piqued.

"Hm."

"It doesn’t do anything else… until you try to open it."

He looked up.

"And what happens when you try?"

Klem smiled, a hint of nervousness in his expression.

"It resets. Returns to its initial state and starts buzzing, like it’s complaining. And the light…" He pointed at the faint bluish pulsation running through the sphere’s grooves. "It doesn’t make sense."

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. No.

"So you want me to do all the work, figure out what the hell this is, and then you resell it to some gullible scholar."

The old man raised his hands.

"If you put it that way… yes."

Ekko let out a long sigh.

"Fine. I’ll charge you double if it turns out to be junk."

Klem smiled, satisfied.

"I knew you’d say yes."

Fuck. Fuck. No, no, no, no, no.

The words repeated like a drum in his head, over and over, as he began to fade away.

I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed.

And before everything went dark again, a single thought hit him, one last defeated whisper in the middle of an inevitable maelstrom.

What have I done?

••••

Ekko opened his eyes abruptly.

The moment he did, he regretted it instantly: the sun struck his face full on, a warm and piercing light that forced him to squint. He raised his forearm to shield his face, grumbling under his breath.

Wait… the sun?

The question wasn’t random. He felt wood beneath his back, and a soft, almost hypnotic swaying motion he recognized immediately. He sat up slowly, resting one hand on the floor. His fingers touched an old plank, stained with salt and dried resin. It smelled of damp rope, motor oil, and the sea.

He blinked several times as he sat up fully. All around him, a disordered maze of pulleys, ropes, gears, and metal structures stretched out like a familiar puzzle. The masts creaked softly with the wind’s movement. The hull tinkled with the constant lapping of the water. He didn’t need to look too hard to know where he was.

The Wandering Wind.

The ship. Not just any ship. His ship. He got to his feet, swaying a bit, with the feeling that his legs didn’t quite remember how to hold him up. He leaned on a railing and looked around.

Qayanis Bay unfolded around him. The golden cliffs of Shurima rose in the distance, glowing with an almost sacred light. The water was a deep, calm blue, speckled with reflections of fluffy clouds drifting slowly across the sky. Far off, a few other ships bobbed with the rhythm of the waves, insignificant against the vastness of the landscape.

Ekko frowned. Something didn’t add up. He didn’t remember coming back.

In fact, he didn’t remember anything.

What the hell…?

He searched his mind for the last solid memory, a scene, a voice, a fight, something, but found only fog.

But he had gotten off The Wandering Wind, hadn’t he?

He was sure of it. He had left the ship. He remembered. Or at least, he thought he remembered.

Frustration hit him like a cold wave. A knot formed in his chest as he clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he make sense of his thoughts? This wasn’t the usual grogginess after a long nap. His eyes weren’t heavy, nor was his body numb like after a bad night’s sleep.

It hurt, yes, but it was a dull pain. Muscular. As if he’d been asleep for days, maybe weeks. A spasm in his shoulder. Another in his leg. Nothing serious, but enough to feel like time had passed without his permission.

And yet, he felt… lucid.

Too lucid. His brain seemed to be working faster than usual. And still, he couldn’t piece together any part of the puzzle.

He looked down at his left arm and his heart skipped a beat.

A long, pale scar cut through the tattoo of the Firelights’ symbol, intertwined with the clockwork mechanism, from his bicep, disappearing into his shoulder. The line looked old, already healed.

Holding his breath, he traced the scar with his fingers, noticing how it continued past his shoulder, snaking down to the back of his torso. He twisted awkwardly to look. The scar crossed the blue clouds of his tattoo, split the owl’s feathers in half, and left a broken line across his skin.

Even his hair…

He touched his head clumsily. It was… longer?

A chill ran down his spine.

Shit… what had happened?

A sharp ringing pierced his skull like a needle. He didn’t even have time to grab his head before the pain crushed him mercilessly. It was brutal, sudden, so immediate that he felt his consciousness shatter into a thousand pieces. The world flickered like a light on the verge of short-circuiting. Ekko collapsed to his knees on the deck with a dry grunt, his fingers digging into the wood as pain ripped through his thoughts.

All of a sudden, he remembered everything.

The Solari. The Rakkor. The Mountain. The ascent. The pit. The threshold. That voice.

Her. Always her.

The hideout. Powder. The artifact. The sphere…

The sphere.

Ekko looked down, and only then did he realize: his fingers were wrapped around it. He didn’t know how long he’d been holding it. It pulsed, vibrated, glowed faintly in his palm, as if its existence depended on being attached to him.

“Ekko! What are you doing? You’re not supposed to—!”

I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed.

What have I done?

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, slid past his temple, and dripped from his chin. He didn’t know if it was from the setting sun still clinging to his skin or from the realization brought on by those memories. Maybe both. But the sweat kept coming. It dampened his back, soaked his neck.

And still, he didn’t let the pain win.

Like someone waking from an endless slumber, clinging to dreams so they wouldn’t fade, Ekko pushed himself upright, sat against a barrel, pulled out the first notebook he could find, and began to write.

The words came like lightning. Every thought that crossed his mind was etched onto the page.

You shouldn’t be here again.

You’ve returned, young man. We were hoping you wouldn’t.

You ascended where many fell, not by virtue...

... but by a constant that refuses to break.

The temporal order will remain broken until you stop making the same mistake. Until you find your point of origin.

You shouldn’t be here again.

He wrote frantically, without stopping, barely breathing. Every image that came to mind, every symbol, every structure he remembered from the threshold, from the voice calling him, from everything he had seen and heard. He wrote because he’d already forgotten once. Because he couldn’t risk forgetting again.

Do it right this time.

That artifact that protects your existence in its effort to preserve its own continues the cycle. You must restore the flow, young Ekko.

You’ve come seeking answers. Like so many times before. Time and again, the reason for the disorder has been shown to you. Time and again, you have failed.

What you carry prevents this Mount from claiming your soul. And you will keep returning here, again and again…

Unless this time, you get it right.

You must free your soul and this Mount from the cycle.

Do it right this time.

Oh, he definitely hadn’t done it right. He’d tripped over a stone he had, apparently, already stumbled over before.

He had done it. Again and again. And he would keep doing it.

The same mistake.

He had made it hundreds of times.

He remembered Professor Heimerdinger’s voice. He remembered him saying, “The worst kind of headache in the repertoire of temporal distortions isn’t physical, young lad. It’s existential.”

And he was right. Damn right.

But not even in his worst theories, nor in the most catastrophic scenarios, nor in his darkest nightmares, had Ekko imagined that he himself would be caught… in a damn paradox.

Much less had he imagined that the reason for its existence would be none other than himself.

A part of him felt guilty. Pretty stupid, actually. Though he knew he wasn’t. Not entirely. It was ironic, however, that the cause of his headaches was himself.

Ironic that he had caused the disaster he was trying to fix. Ironic. Stupid.

He’d screwed up. And he’d probably done it more than once.

He kept writing.

"Mountain/Powder’s hideout: turning point? Paradox: me = cause. Mistake = inevitable?"

He had to think. Look for options. Even if he knew there weren’t many.

Out there, somewhere in time, there was an Ekko about to follow the same steps. About to climb the same mountain. About to make the same choice.

Luckily, he wouldn’t make the same mistake.

But Ekko wasn’t naive. He knew himself. And if there was one thing he was absolutely sure of, it was that no version of him would keep his hands still.

So, that was out.

Only one option remained. The most brutal headache of all: break the paradox.

But how do you break something with no beginning or end?

How do you escape a cycle if you don’t know when it started?

He sighed deeply. The sweat still ran down his neck, soaked his shirt, collected on his eyebrows.

And yet, he did know the breaking point. That exact moment when everything started to fall apart.

“Ekko! What are you doing? You’re not supposed to—!”

And that, at least, was something.

He looked at the sphere again. It was still glowing, trembling, pulsing, vibrating.

That was the missing detail. The damn axis of all this madness. Because yes, the sphere was there because of him.

But that didn’t even answer half the questions.

Why did it exist in the first place? Why had it kept him alive so many times?

Ekko clenched his teeth. The notebook trembled in his hands from the speed at which he was writing.

That artifact which protects your existence in its eagerness to preserve its own, continues the cycle.

Your time has been twisted, tangled, ultimately denied. An artifact that does not belong to this universe has woven an impossible path for your feet.

You cannot go on, Ekko.

You cannot continue your ascent because your fate will always be altered.

That artifact which protects your existence in its eagerness to preserve its own, continues the cycle.

Sweat kept running down his skin like warm threads, while his hand didn’t stop moving across the pages of the notebook. Ekko wrote with desperation, with fury, with an almost animal urgency. The words stumbled over each other. He drew diagrams, arrows, unfinished formulas. He scribbled incoherent phrases. But he kept going. He couldn’t stop. He mustn’t.

The sweat started to bother him. The drops slid down his forearms, his temple, his neck. He felt a tingling on his back, sticky and sharp.

It was then that he stopped for a second, just one, and looked at his skin.

The small beaded drops shone. Ekko, eyes fixed on his own body, observed them carefully.

He thought about the temperature. About the sun that was beginning to set but still burned. About the tension that wrapped around him, the internal heat of his own accelerated metabolism.

Of course. His body was regulating itself. It was compensating. It was seeking balance. Stabilization.

It was ensuring not only its own existence, but that the entire mechanism called body was always as close as possible to its stable point.

Exactly like… self-compensation and self-stabilization mechanisms.

And then, Ekko looked at the sphere.

It glowed faintly, with a subtle but constant vibration. It was warm in his palm. In that instant, he knew, with a clarity that took his breath away: the sphere wasn’t protecting him out of affection, nor saving him because it liked him. No. That would have been comforting, but naive. The sphere, like his own body, was a system. And like every system he’d studied, it tended to preserve itself. To balance. To remain. And if, in order to maintain its integrity, it had to keep Ekko alive…

He swallowed. His fingers trembled, but not out of fear.

More memories hit him like waves. “Origin point” and “reference point” began to repeat in his mind, and he wrote them over and over. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know how they fit, but he felt it. Everything was too familiar. Like the tingle of a déjà vu.

“When I chose you as the reference point, it wasn’t just because of quantum synch, Ekko.”

“The Anchor has directional awareness. If it doesn’t detect me… it looks for your signature.”

“And if it doesn’t find either of us?”

“Then it collapses. Vanishes.”

“Why?”

“Because without an origin or a reference, time doesn’t dare to move. It freezes.”

“A origin point can only push change…”

“…and a reference point is what keeps that change from becoming destruction.”

“Powder, the crystal detects your heartbeat… It memorizes them. It needs you.”

“Then never alone again, Ekko. Never.”

Why him? What connection tied him so deeply to that thing?

“Hello? Reference point? I can’t do it for you, genius. It has to be you. The rest, you know… leave it to me.”

“Reference point, set.”

Like lightning, a memory buried for years emerged from the cracks of his mind.

It wasn’t from the mountain, nor the ascent. Nor was it an induced vision. It was real. A conversation. Something he had completely overlooked. But now… now he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before.

Of course.

Of course Powder had never let go of the idea.

Of course she had gotten more crystals. Or kept them on purpose. How didn’t he realize before?

And of course, Powder had made it.

••••

Powder was acting strange that day.

Well, she had been lately. But that day, in particular, she was even more so. As if an idea was tickling her from the inside, not letting her stay still. Ekko noticed it. Even though he pretended to pay attention while Heimerdinger talked about space-time distortions, his gaze kept drifting toward her.

There was something in her gestures, in the way her fingers danced indecisively over the worktable. First, they reached toward the worn leather notebook she’d brought with her, then stopped, trembled slightly, and withdrew. Then again, the same: a fearful approach, and back again.

Ekko narrowed his eyes. He knew that movement. He’d seen it when she was too nervous.

Just when he thought he would need to talk to her afterward, Powder spoke:

"I’ve been... I’ve been working on something," she said, barely audible, eyes fixed on the notebook. Then she grabbed it with both hands.

Heimerdinger and Ekko turned to her.

"It’s a theory. Or... something like that. I don’t know if..." she stopped as she felt their gazes on her. "Do you want me to show you?"

Heimerdinger tilted his head, curious.

"Of course, dear. Go ahead."

Powder opened the notebook gently. She flipped through a few pages filled with diagrams, numbers, and interlaced lines until she found the one she was looking for. Then she took a deep breath.

"I’ve been thinking... time isn’t a line. Not like everyone says. It’s not something that moves in a single direction," she began to explain, addressing Heimerdinger more than Ekko. "It’s a network. Like a fabric. And that fabric is held together by nodes... points of temporal stability."

Heimerdinger narrowed his eyes.

"Stability nodes?"

"Yes. They’re key moments. No matter what happens around them, those points remain. As if the universe... I don’t know, needs them to avoid falling apart. The fate of certain people, or their effect on reality, doesn’t change even if other things do."

Ekko frowned, visibly intrigued.

"So you’re saying there are parts of time that... can’t be changed?"

"Not exactly. Things inside those nodes can be changed, yes, but the general flow of time... it self-corrects. As if... the universe ensures the outcome remains the same."

Heimerdinger muttered something to himself.

"That’s a fascinating theory... and a very dangerous one," he said slowly. "And how could you prove something like that?"

Powder bit her lower lip, then pointed to some diagrams on the side of the page.

"With the crystals. The remnants we have left. I could design a device... one that can detect those nodes, even manipulate them, but without affecting the present. The key lies in the crystals’ quantum resonance," her words sped up as she spoke. "If I can tune it properly, the artifact would allow intervention in certain events, ensuring that only some things change... without causing a chain reaction."

There was a brief silence. Ekko broke it with a whisper, barely audible, filled with a mix of awe and something warmer:

"It’s brilliant..."

Heimerdinger, however, didn’t fully share the enthusiasm. His mustache trembled slightly.

"It is brilliant, yes... but risky. Manipulating nodes without understanding their side effects could create unpredictable paradoxes. Miss Powder, are you sure you understand the ethical and physical ramifications of something like this?"

She hesitated for a moment. Then she looked up, steady.

"Not entirely. But if we can understand how time self-regulates... we could avoid mistakes. We could avoid... a lot of things."

The last sentence hung in the air, heavy, and Ekko felt she wasn’t just talking about theory.

Heimerdinger nodded slowly.

"Keep going, Powder."

Now, Powder seemed like a different person. Where before her words were uncertain and her voice trembled, now she spoke with an energy that almost made her eyes shine. As she flipped through the pages of her notebook, the diagrams came to life with each explanation, and her enthusiasm was contagious.

"The device wouldn’t directly alter events," she continued, pointing to a graph full of curves and interconnected lines. "What it would do is create a reality bubble. A space isolated from the main flow of time, where we could test the modifications. Only if those modifications don’t interfere with causal nodes, then they consolidate into the real timeline."

Ekko listened with parted lips. Heimerdinger, on the other hand, frowned.

"But that... that could affect the flow anyway," he said with some alarm. "How would you prevent quantum dissolution? To sustain a bubble like that, you’d need a stable anchor, something to stop the timelines from collapsing onto themselves. And that... that’s not possible, dear. It’s too risky."

But she was already pulling out another sheet from her notebook, almost vibrating with excitement.

"I’ve already thought of that," she interrupted him, with a barely contained smile. "We don’t need one anchor, but two. An origin point and a reference point. The problem with my previous theories was that I tried to stabilize the timeline with only one anchor, and that made everything unpredictable. But if you use two intertwined anchors, the device can distribute the temporal load between them and prevent collapse."

Heimerdinger didn’t respond right away. He stared at her for a long moment. Ekko, beside him, could barely hide the admiration he felt.

"The theory is... undoubtedly fascinating," the yordle finally said. "But even if it were feasible, there are no anchoring means stable enough to achieve something like this. Nothing in this plane maintains a uniform resonance with time."

Then Powder looked up, locking eyes with him.

"Yes, there are. Of course there are," she said with a seriousness that contrasted with her earlier energy. "They can be people. Living DNA."

The silence that followed was almost violent.

Ekko stopped moving. Heimerdinger opened his mouth but said nothing.

"Two people intertwined by a meaningful connection could be used as anchors," Powder continued, her voice lower. "Not as test subjects. As stabilizers. Their existences synchronized with temporal nodes would allow the flow to distribute without destabilizing. The device wouldn’t manipulate their lives... it would only use them as points of support."

The notebook trembled slightly between her fingers. Not because she doubted, but because of what it implied. And because she knew, perhaps, who those anchors could be. She knew perfectly well who she had in mind with each word she spoke.

Powder held the gaze a moment longer, as if expecting a reaction, any reaction, and when she didn’t get one, she sighed and lowered her voice a little. But not her determination.

"The origin point and the reference point..." she began, "could be people. Not just theoretically. It’s entirely possible."

She turned a page in the notebook, revealing a diagram with wavy lines, intersections, and two figures marked in different tones.

"Scientifically, the artifact would use a synchronization of entangled quantum frequencies. One person, the origin point, can register their DNA, their individual signature and frequency into the artifact’s core. But for it to work, to be stable, it needs another compatible signature: a reference point."

Heimerdinger tilted his head slightly, though he still said nothing. She pointed to a set of annotations in tiny handwriting.

"The process would be carried out through temporal fluctuation spectrum encoding," she explained with growing excitement. "The two people entangle their frequencies using a method that captures the essence of their past interactions... but in a persistent quantum state. A bond the artifact can read, recognize. A kind of shared memory that ensures synchronicity."

Ekko swallowed hard. His eyes were fixed on her.

"And that connection can’t be faked. It can’t be replicated," Powder said with a half-smile, proud. "No one else could make the artifact work. No one. Because the device would reject it. Stability wouldn’t be achieved without both people. Together."

Heimerdinger finally raised an eyebrow, nervous.

"Miss Powder... the human frequency has a limit. What if... if one of the points drifts away? Or dies?"

But before he could finish, she was already interrupting him, voice firm, clear.

"That’s exactly the point."

Silence, again. This time, even heavier.

"The stabilization of the artifact is only ensured if those two people are together. It would never work otherwise. It ensures duality." She ran her fingers along a line connecting the two figures in her notebook. "And if one of them dies... the artifact collapses. Not violently, of course. It disappears. Nothing would be left. As if it had never existed."

Her eyes rose, glowing with a strange mix of defiance and pain.

"That's the beautiful part. It's the best safety lock there is. The artifact wouldn’t make sense without the people who activated it. Its existence would be completely bound to theirs. One alone isn’t enough. It can’t be. The system shuts down. It erases."

Ekko could barely breathe. Heimerdinger looked at her as if he were staring at a living paradox. In a way, he was.

But Powder didn’t tremble. For the first time in a long while, she seemed exactly where she wanted to be.

After what felt like an eternity, it was Ekko who spoke.

"And what would be... the balance theory between the two points?"

His voice was soft, but clear. Enough to make Powder slowly lift her gaze and look at him. There was something almost tender in that moment. In the way their eyes met. In how she seemed not to expect it, yet somehow, as if she had been waiting for that very question.

She took her notebook, slid it across the table with careful movements, and opened it to a blank page. With the pencil between her fingers, she began to trace lines, first gently, then with more decisiveness. She drew two points, separated by a wavy curve.

"In scientific terms," she began, her voice calm, "an origin point is the initial coordinate from which any change within a system is measured. It represents the baseline state, the zero point from which a trajectory is established."

As she spoke, her fingers outlined arrows extending from the first point, radiating in multiple directions.

"In chaos theory, that origin point is much more than just a position. It’s an initial condition. The first breath before everything happens. If that point is altered..." —she paused briefly— "then the entire future configuration changes too. Everything that follows."

She spent a few seconds looking at her drawing. Then she lowered the pencil again. She drew the second point, directly across from the first, and between them, she traced a straight line connecting them.

"The reference point," she continued, "is the framework from which any transformation is measured and compared. It acts as an external constant. It’s the foundation that allows us to understand the direction and magnitude of change. Without a reference point, there is no possible measurement. Without it, any alteration in the origin becomes chaotic. Uncontrollable."

Her eyes lifted to Ekko with tenderness.

"In the case of this... possible artifact, both are essential. The origin point fixes the coordinate of the event one wishes to alter. It defines the when, the where, the why. But without a reference point, that alteration has no limits. It has no containment. It spreads like a crack in glass. A fissure that grows."

She returned to the notebook, thickening the line between the two points.

"The reference point stabilizes reality. It’s the anchor. The gravity that prevents everything from falling apart. Together," she said, almost in a whisper, "they create a compensation system. The alteration in the origin... is contained by the solidity of the reference point."

The last word hung in the air like a prolonged note. Powder set the pencil aside, leaned her elbows on the table, and exhaled, not taking her eyes off the drawing. Ekko watched her in silence. At some point, looking away from her had become an even more impossible task.

"It could work..." he began to say.

But he didn’t get to finish the sentence.

"No," said Heimerdinger, his hand already raised, cutting the air between them with gentle firmness. "It’s a fascinating theory, no doubt, Miss Powder. Imaginative. And scientifically... intriguing. But it’s not just risky. It would take more time than the young lad has. And it would require an amount of crystals we simply do not possess."

Powder said nothing. But Ekko saw her turn her face slightly, saw her eyes move involuntarily toward one of the drawers in her vanity — a small, fleeting gesture. Too subtle for anyone who didn’t know her. But he noticed. He almost spoke, but something in her expression stopped him. And then, nothing. 

She said nothing. She looked back at the notebook. Her lips remained sealed.

Heimerdinger continued.

"Besides," he added with a measured tone, "we must not forget that young Ekko does not belong to this universe. He was not created here, did not emerge from this fabric. And if you... if you tried to perform an anchoring with someone who does not belong to this reality, you could cause an irreversible fracture."

"I know," she finally replied, her voice a thread. "I know. But theoretically, between two people from the same universe, there shouldn’t be any issues. The system recognizes compatibility if both signatures are aligned. I checked it three times in the predictive model. If both..."

"No," Heimerdinger interrupted her, and this time his voice was softer. "We’ll stick with what we already know, dear. It’s for the best."

His words were both a balm and a wound. The denial was sweet, but firm. Leaving no room for reply. Powder remained silent, her shoulders slightly slumped. Her fingers tapped the edge of the notebook for a few seconds, until finally they too gave up.

She sighed. It was a deep sigh.

"Okay," she murmured.

Heimerdinger nodded slowly and turned to the worktable. He resumed his calculations, scribbling formulas he seemed to know by heart, immersed in his own attempt to find safer answers. More predictable ones.

But Ekko didn’t stop looking at Powder. He didn’t need to read her thoughts to know her mind was still there, with that theory she had so carefully, so passionately drawn. In the notebook, the two points were still there, firm, connected by the line she had shaded with such patience. Origin point. Reference point.

After a few moments of thick silence, Powder stood up. She did so with slow, heavy steps. Ekko followed her with his eyes, without saying a single word, not daring even to breathe too loudly. He watched her walk to the corner of the hideout where, on a pedestal of dark wood, rested a delicately framed portrait of Vi.

She knelt softly in front of the portrait. Her trembling fingers pulled a fresh stick of incense from a small box adorned with hand-painted flowers. She placed it carefully in the holder and lit it. The flame sparked with a faint crackle and, instantly, smoke began to rise, curling like a warm sigh into the air. Powder closed her eyes for a moment and stayed there, motionless, her face slightly tilted downward.

Ekko didn’t think twice. He felt his legs move before his mind processed the decision. He stood and walked toward her, step by step, never taking his eyes off the outline of her shoulders. When he reached her side, he knelt silently, bowing his head. He took out his own incense, lit it, and placed it next to Powder’s. The scent blended with the previous one, filling the room with a sweet and at the same time bitter fragrance.

The hideout seemed suspended in a bubble of perfumed smoke. Vi’s portrait watched them, as the smoke danced around like a living memory. Ekko could feel Powder’s breathing beside him — uneven, deep. He glanced at her. She had her eyes fixed on the portrait, but in her gaze, there was something else, something that drifted beyond sadness.

"It’s a really cool theory," said Ekko at last, breaking the silence with a low and warm voice. "Amazing, in fact."

Powder let out a small laugh, barely a whisper. He smiled too.

"I know you’re gonna make it work someday," he added, not looking away from her.

Seconds passed, maybe minutes, in which neither of them spoke again. They were just there, sharing that moment. Then Powder, still with her eyes on the portrait, began to speak in a soft voice.

"Do you know what happens when one person is the origin point and the other the reference point?"

Ekko slowly turned his face toward her, intrigued.

"One represents the beginning of change," Powder continued. "The force that alters the course of events. While the other… the other is the constant. The one that gives stability and meaning to that transformation."

As she spoke, her fingers began to slide slowly across the floor, until they brushed against Ekko's. She didn’t look at him, but she didn’t pull away either when he responded to the gesture, gently taking her hand. Ekko’s fingers closed around hers, first timidly, then with a comforting firmness. Their hands caressed each other with the slowness of someone walking through a memory. Through a possibility. Perhaps, through a future.

"If the origin point changes without a reference point..." Powder went on, her voice dropping just a tone, almost a whisper, "everything becomes a directionless echo, a whisper lost in time."

Her fingers played with Ekko’s, gliding softly between them.

"And if the reference point exists without the origin point, there’s nothing to measure. No movement that has meaning."

Ekko didn’t interrupt her. He just listened, feeling how her words intertwined with her gestures, with the way she squeezed his hand, with every gentle stroke of her thumb against his skin.

"Only when both exist together," she said. "When one alters and the other stabilizes, then destiny finds its perfect balance."

She turned slightly, and her blue eyes met his. They were shiny, but not from pain.

"Just as the artifact couldn’t function without the synchronization of these two elements," she murmured, "two people only thrive when one pushes forward… and the other gives a home to land in."

He smiled faintly. His other hand rose and tenderly stroked Powder’s wrist.

"They’re opposites," she continued, "but at the same time forces that need each other to exist in harmony. Without the other, neither one is fully functional."

She intertwined her fingers with Ekko’s, this time with intention.

"But when they’re together," she said, "they don’t just change reality without destroying it. They transform it into something more beautiful… and meaningful."

Ekko held her hand with renewed strength. He gently stroked it with his thumb, and with a deep, warm voice, he said:

"I stand by what I said. Your ideas change the world, Powder. And I’m sure they do in every timeline."

She smiled, but it was a sad smile. She lowered her gaze, tightening her grip slightly.

"I d on’t see my ideas changing the world in this timeline," she confessed in a low voice.

Ekko just gave her one last squeeze—firm, steady. Then he tenderly stroked the back of her hand with the tip of his fingers.

"One day, they will.”

••••

And they did. Oh, they did.

Of course she did. Of course she didn’t let it go. How could she have? Powder was many things, but giving up had never been one of them. Her theory had worked. Worked as if the universe itself had been afraid to contradict her.

Ekko leaned against the nearest surface, his heart pounding in his chest like it was trying to escape. He chuckled under his breath. Powder’s theory didn’t just make sense. It had been brilliant. Frighteningly brilliant.

At that point, Ekko didn’t know whether to admire her… or be afraid of her. Because Powder, against all odds, was even more stubborn than Jinx. And that was saying a lot. That girl never let go of what got into her head. She let go of nothing.

He remembered the moment he messed up. Saw it clearly, like someone had plastered the memory to the back of his eyelids.

The artifact. That damned artifact. The structure, the shape, the concentric rings, the keys and barely visible marks… he understood it now.

The damn sphere had just been a stabilized core before Ekko got his hands on it.

And of course, the fucking sphere—core?—upon landing in this reality, recognized the frequency of its counterpart as its point of reference.

Himself.

Of course. Of course it did. It was the most logical way to anchor itself to the dimensional fabric without destabilizing. If its own counterpart was its point of reference, then the core would maintain that frequency. Even if he wasn’t exactly the Ekko that core had been looking for. The frequency remained the same.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead. That’s why it had saved him. Not out of sympathy. Of course not, the fucking core didn’t have feelings. It was a mechanism. It didn’t protect him because it liked him. It protected him because it needed not to collapse.

He thought. He thought at full speed. His mind leaped from equation to equation, from theory to conjecture, with the same urgency as someone trying to defuse a bomb before it explodes. Everything he’d learned, everything he’d heard, seen, and remembered, began to fit together.

And yet… it didn’t add up. Not completely.

There was a hole. A big hole in the middle of all the perfect logic.

«"Miss Powder... the human frequency has a limit. What if... if one of the points drifts away? Or dies?"

But before he could finish, she was already interrupting him, voice firm, clear.

"That’s exactly the point."

Silence, again. This time, even heavier.

"The stabilization of the artifact is only ensured if those two people are together. It would never work otherwise. It ensures duality." She ran her fingers along a line connecting the two figures in her notebook. "And if one of them dies... the artifact collapses. Not violently, of course. It disappears. Nothing would be left. As if it had never existed."»

No, it didn’t make sense.

Without Powder’s counterpart in this world, without Jinx, the core couldn’t even exist. That was a fact. It was the heart of the theory. Both points together, to ensure stabilization. Both points alive, to ensure existence.

And Jinx was dead.

Not absent. Not missing. Not out of phase. Dead.

And still… the core existed.

It wasn’t stable, of course. Never fully. That had been the source of Ekko’s headaches in the first place. The sphere—the core—had been designed to seek out its anchor points almost instinctively.

But if one of those points no longer existed in this reality… the core should disappear. Just like Powder had said.

«That's the beautiful part. It's the best safety lock there is. The artifact wouldn’t make sense without the people who activated it. Its existence would be completely bound to theirs. One alone isn’t enough. It can’t be. The system shuts down. It erases.»

If Powder’s theory was correct—and Ekko had no doubt it was—then that core shouldn’t be able to sustain itself in a reality where its origin point had been eliminated. It shouldn’t be there. Plain and simple. And yet…

There it was.

Ekko began pacing across the deck like a caged animal, his steps so quick they barely touched the wood. His hands were shaking. Cold sweat drenched his temples, his muscles were tight, his jaw clenched as if biting the air might yield an answer. A drop ran down his neck, sliding along his back until it slipped under the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t feel it. His body was on autopilot, pushed by pure adrenaline bordering on desperation.

He was close. He could feel it. Almost touch it. He was one question away from the truth, but there was a piece that wouldn’t fit. A damn detail that refused to reveal itself.

Come on, come on, come on. There has to be something. Something.

He returned to the causal nodes. Powder’s theory. Origin point. Reference point. Shared frequency. Bifurcated causality. He went over it all again in his mind. Maybe the theory failed if the original node had been dimensionally displaced… No, impossible. Powder had already run simulations on that, she had said so. She had tested it. Then, could the core, in an extreme case, use a secondary anchoring frequency…? No. Not without completely destabilizing.

Maybe… maybe there was an error in the way they had defined “existence” in Powder’s equation. Maybe “being dead” wasn’t the same as “not existing.” But no. It didn’t hold up. Powder had been very clear. Both points had to be alive and together for the core to operate correctly. To even exist.

He began walking faster, turning in the same spot over and over again. Every time he thought of a possibility, he found the theory absorbed it, corrected it, neutralized it. It was perfect. Terribly perfect. There was no flaw, no mistake.

And yet… there was the core. Pulsing. Vibrating with a frequency that shouldn’t be there. Not if Jinx was dead.

A possibility began to grow at the base of his skull.

At first, it was like a dull itch, a weak and almost ridiculous idea he tried to shake off. But it came back. And this time it hurt. It hurt because it carried something Ekko had learned to dodge for the sake of survival: hope.

No. It couldn’t be. No.

Because if Jinx were dead, the core wouldn’t have lasted a second in that reality. It wouldn’t have destabilized. It wouldn’t have even gotten here. The very existence of the core depended on two living points. Two complete frequencies. Two real halves.

Both had to exist.

Both.

And that, that shattered everything Ekko thought he knew. Everything he believed he had known for five. fucking. years. 

No…

The trembling spread through his body like a slow cramp. His knees went weak, though he remained standing on sheer instinct. The sweat kept dripping, sticking his clothes to his chest and back. He shook his head. Once. Twice. Three. Four times.

It can’t be… it can’t be…

Because that was the foundation of everything. The first principle. The starting point of Powder’s theory: both points must exist for the core to exist. Not just coexist. Exist, without exception.

And there it was. The sphere. The core. Alive.

Unstable. But alive.

That possibility, the most absurd of all, continued its soft tickle, an uncomfortable prickle at the base of his head. Even though Ekko still wanted to ignore it, that tickle grew, becoming a constant pressure, almost painful, sliding from his skull down his neck, from his neck to his chest, where it settled with an unsettling calm.

It wasn’t a flaw in Powder’s theory. No. That was clearer than ever. The mistake, the real failure, was something else. It was what he himself had believed to know. What he had accepted as truth for far too long.

He tried to bury that idea, to kick it to the back of his mind. He wanted to keep ruling out options, keep pretending there was a scientific explanation for all of this. But with every possibility he threw overboard, every variable he dismissed, every theory that collapsed before the solidity of Powder’s work… he was left with only one thing: a silent truth, a line of thought he couldn’t kill because, deep down, he didn’t want to.

It was stupid. More than stupid. A senseless madness. A complete, absurd, and painful foolishness.

And yet, the more he thought about it… it wasn’t foolish at all.

A shiver ran down his spine. First came the subtle trembling of his hands. Then, the acceleration of his heart, that irregular beat that no longer followed a rhythm but pounded hard in his chest, in his throat, in his ears. His breathing turned shorter. Shallower. Adrenaline tightened his muscles like badly tuned violin strings.

He was thinking. No. He was seeing. And what he saw… he wanted to see more of it.

Something settled in his chest, firm as a rock and light as a spark. An idea that, for the first time in a long time, he not only didn’t want to let go of—he felt he wanted to follow it all the way to the end.

Jinx was fast. Shit, she was faster than anyone Ekko had ever known. Fast in every sense of the word. She had even beaten him in combat more than once with that speed, the kind she used to play nasty pranks and vanish before he could say “shit.” Ekko had been there when she gathered the courage to tell him about her surgery. He had seen that unmistakable pink gleam in her eyes. The same one now etched in his memory like a knife.

Maybe… just maybe…

She could be fast enough to escape, to survive whatever had caught up to her.

Even an explosion.

Ekko’s body tensed further. His hands clenched into fists without him realizing, fingers digging into his palms with such force he was sure they bled. His throat felt dry, his eyes wide open. The dizziness of a hope that hit like a blow to the head.

Maybe… just maybe…

In the midst of the chaos after the war, Jinx could have run. Slipped away. No one was controlling anything. Not the airways, not the ports, not the underground exits. Everything was smoke, fire, blood, and death.

Too much death.

Everyone was too busy collecting corpses.

He had been too busy collecting corpses. For four fucking days.

And among all those bodies… Jinx was never there.

Not a nail. Not a lock of hair. Not a single drop of blood.

He never found her. Never saw her. And at the time, he didn’t want to look further. He couldn’t. He convinced himself that the cruel absence of a body to bury was the result of an even crueler death.

But now…

Those details he had ignored rose like a tower in the smoke of everything he thought he knew. And he couldn’t ignore them anymore.

Ekko’s hand tremor had reached its peak. His heart beat against his chest with the violence of a war drum, breath short and rapid, with that thing called air feeling like a scarce resource. Every cell in his body was lit up. Sweat ran down his back, soaking his nape, his neck, his arms. He felt the heat of adrenaline in his face, a sharp buzzing in his ears, muscles tight, teeth clenched.

He stopped dead.

Ekko froze in the middle of the deck, boots anchored to the ground, eyes fixed on nothing. The wind tousled his dreadlocks, dragged the salt to his tongue, but he didn’t move. Not an inch. He didn’t blink. He didn’t even breathe for one long, eternal second.

And there, in the middle of mental static and physical vertigo, something small and improbable escaped his throat.

A laugh. Weak. Ironic. A half-broken echo.

It was so… so stupid. Nonsense. A senseless madness. A fantasy that should have shamed him.

Except it didn’t.

Because the more he thought about it, the more he glanced sideways at the destabilized but existing core, the more he realized it wasn’t nonsense at all.

It made perfect sense.

And though part of him wanted to slap himself for not seeing it sooner, the only thing he could do… was laugh.

At first, a choked chuckle. Then, a clearer, freer, lighter laugh. Almost joyful.

“She’s alive,” he said through laughter, shaking his head. 

“She’s… she’s alive.”

He repeated it over and over, out loud. Until his laughter was accompanied by a cloud of tears.

She’s alive.

And she wasn’t just alive.

She was the missing piece. She always had been.

From the fucking beginning.

Still laughing, with that low laugh that was already turning more into breath than sound, Ekko let himself fall back. He dropped onto the deck of his ship with a dry thud.

The sky above him was starting to fade.

The sun, now just a retreating glow, stained the horizon with shades of burnt orange and deep violet.

"All I Want" - Kodaline

The first stars flickered, timid, among scattered wisps of cloud.

Ekko stayed there. Motionless. In complete shock. But it wasn’t an anxious or frightened paralysis.

No. It was… calm.

A heavy calm. Strange, even. But comforting.

He couldn’t breathe properly, but he didn’t need to. He couldn’t move, but he had no need.

The ship swayed gently beneath his back, and that rocking almost cradled him.

He listened to the wind brushing against the sleeping sails, the occasional creak of the wood. In the distance, the waves licked the shore of Qayanis Bay with a soft insistence, as if the sea were breathing with him.

The sky darkened slowly, the stars gaining ground. The smell of salt, damp wood, old oil and metal still prevailed. A familiar scent, almost homely at this point, that didn’t bother him at all. The air was fresh, caressing his skin with warm fingers. The sounds were soft, muffled.

And Ekko did nothing.

He just stayed there. Eyes open. Looking at the sky.

The first stars had shyly appeared a while ago, but now they were starting to multiply, filling the sky with tiny trembling, unstable dots of light.

He crossed his arms behind his head. A small, distracted smile slipped onto his lips.

The sky was so clear he could see farther than his tired mind was ready to process. But the stars... had shapes. In fact, quite funny shapes.

Those look like a broken spoon, he thought, turning his gaze to a constellation that clearly wasn't anything, but reminded him of the old spoon Mylo used to smack his knuckles with for not keeping still.

A little further to the left, three other stars formed an uneven triangle, and Ekko scrunched his nose with a grin.

And that one... a fish. No, a squashed fish. Like the ones we ate on the docks when we couldn't go to Jericho’s. He chuckled to himself, the memory tasting of salt and days without light.

He kept looking for absurd shapes: a hexagon that looked like a melted cake. A line that resembled the slash on Vi’s side on her bad days. A little group of lights that, if he squinted hard enough and let his tiredness do the work, looked like a bomb with tiny legs.

Ha. The kind of bomb she would definitely want to build.

Jinx.

The name filled his head even more than usual.

Because of course she was alive. There was no way she wasn't. She was too her, too intense, too damn unpredictable to let herself die.

Ekko bit his lower lip. The silly smile slowly disappeared.

What the hell do I do now?

Should I go to Zaun?

But no… if she were in Zaun, he would’ve seen her by now. Or felt her. Or something. The echo of her laugh, a suspicious explosion. Even the Core would’ve picked it up. No. Not Zaun.

Piltover?

Please. Jinx wouldn’t last two days among those well-oiled gears. She’d go mad… or drive them all mad. They wouldn’t stand her. She wouldn’t stand them.

Demacia? Noxus?

Not in a million years. Jinx would never want to be on that side of the map.

Then where?

Here, in Shurima? Ixtal? Bilgewater? Ionia? The fucking Shadow Isles?

Ekko looked up at the stars once again.

Where are you, Jinx?

The stars were still there, twinkling with stubborn calm. Ekko couldn’t stop staring at them. So far away, so small, so impossible… and yet so beautiful.

He sighed long and deep. It wasn’t a sad sigh. It was one of those sighs that empties you so you can breathe properly again.

And then, Ekko jumped. He landed on the deck with the energy of someone who had just made the clearest decision of their life.

I’m not going back. Not now.

I can’t go back.

I don’t want to go back.

Not yet.

For the first time, what he had to do and what he wanted to do were perfectly aligned. Like gears fitting together without grinding, like a well-oiled machine finally making sense. The answer was right under his nose, so clear it hurt.

He had to find her. And he wanted to find her. More than anything. More than breathing, more than resting.

He didn’t know where to start, or how, or even if it made sense… but he was going to try. And he wasn’t gonna give up on her.

Oh, no. Not ever again.

Almost dancing between ropes and loose parts, Ekko started moving around the ship. He went below deck, checked the energy system at the base of the command room, adjusted a couple of valves leaking liquid essence and struck firmly a box that had refused to close for weeks. He climbed up to the control mast, unrolled an old map of sea routes and fastened it with a rusted metal clamp. The compasses aligned slowly, and Ekko turned the knob that released the stabilizing rudders.

He didn’t even bother hiding his smile anymore. Screw anyone who might see him.

He jumped to the side of the hull, and as he was adjusting one of the lower ventilation hatches, he saw it. There it was, in letters barely visible under the dust of the journey, scraped by wind and salt, the engraving of the ship’s name. The Wandering Wind.

Ekko stood still for a second. A wider, mischievous smile formed on his face on its own. He didn’t even have time to wonder if what he was about to do was stupid.

Because it wasn’t. Not at all.

«I never built it. I didn’t know how to make it fly for that long. Or how to stop the propellers from burning out. The hoverboards were easier, and safer.»

He found a sharp rock among the sand. With a steady hand and eyes shining, he knelt in front of the hull. His fingers held the stone firmly, and with determined strokes, he began to scrape away the old engraving.

One, two, three passes. The “W” started to fade.

Then the “a,” the “n,” the “d”...

Each stroke lifted tiny splinters of matte paint.

When he finished scratching out the name, he took a deep breath. The rough surface of the hull was marked, ugly, uneven... and perfect.

«But it was nice. Imagine being able to go anywhere you want.»

Carefully, he began carving new letters. When he finished, he stepped back a few paces and looked at it.

THE WORLD FLYER.

A small laugh escaped his mouth. And without meaning to, a fine halo of tears formed in his eyes. He didn’t even try to wipe them away.

With one last glance at the hand-carved letters, Ekko climbed back up to the deck of The World Flyer.

He released the moorings with a swift flick of his wrist and, in doing so, felt something inside him come loose as well. He ran toward the main lever of the side propulsion system, slammed it with an open palm, and listened with pleasure to the familiar hum of the mechanisms activating. The metal plates of the hull vibrated softly.

"Let’s go, buddy," he murmured, giving the helm a pat. "Time to stretch a little."

He climbed the mast with light steps, freed the rolled-up sails, and pulled hard on the pulleys. The thick canvas snapped open with a sharp crack, swelling with the wind's touch. Like a sleeping monster coming back to life. The World Flyer straightened with a proud groan and began to glide across the water, slow at first. Then faster.

He had no idea where he was going. But that didn’t matter.

Now, he just wanted to sail.

With a short laugh and without thinking twice, Ekko took off his shirt. He tossed it to a corner of the ship as the salty sea air struck his chest. The wind caressed his tattoos—each blue cloud, each owl feather, each trace of the scar that split them down the middle.

His bare feet gripped the ropes, and without losing rhythm, he began to climb the rigging. The ship moved steadily, swaying gently as he climbed with the ease of someone who had scaled more buildings than trees in his childhood. Every knot he passed pushed him higher, every meter gained made him laugh like a child who had run away from home to chase a butterfly.

When he reached the top of the main mast, he held on to the horizontal beam, his body in perfect balance.

Everything could be seen from up there. Everything.

The sky was beginning to darken with that deep blue hue that only exists between day and night. A streak of pink clouds dissolved like cotton candy on the horizon, and flickers of stars twinkled like shy fireflies. The sea stretched out in all directions, gleaming, immense, speckled with the golden reflections of the fading sun. The rhythmic creaking of wood could be heard, the whistle of the sails, and, in the distance, the splash of something...

Ekko squinted.

A school of golden fish. They jumped in unison, as if rehearsing a choreography for a secret festival. One, two, three perfect leaps over the waves. And again. As if… they’d had too many cups of coffee.

They seemed to be having fun. Almost as much as he was.

He laughed loudly, head thrown back, teeth bared, chest shaking. His laughter blended with the wind, with the sails, with the very movement of the world.

And from high above the sails, with the sky crumbling into stars and the sea at his feet like an infinite promise, Ekko shouted. A thunderous, pure cry. Free.

In that instant, suspended between sky and sea, aboard The World Flyer, Ekko had no doubt.

He had to find her. He wanted to find her.

And he would find her. One way or another.

Notes:

So many emotions…😭

How close do you think these two are to reuniting? I see it happening sooner than you might think.

Hopefully, I’ll have cleared all the doubts of those who’ve read this chapter. But in case I haven’t, I’ll be answering any questions you have here or via Twitter: jinxedbypow

If you enjoyed the chapter, don’t forget to leave your thoughts in the comments, and kudos are always deeply appreciated.

This chapter, and this story as a whole, comes from the deepest part of my heart.

With love,
Juli ♥️

Chapter 8: "Blood On Your Hands, Scars On Your Skin"

Summary:

Jinx finds out details about Sarah, Gangplank, and Vargo's pasts that makes her question her loyalties. Sarah gives Jinx an ultimatum—and a proposition—for the Great Hunt. Five years ago, Jinx and Ekko recall the day their feelings took shape in paint. Escaping the sudden currents of the Black Mist, Ekko crosses paths with a peculiar and superstitious pirate.

Notes:

Hi!! I'm back with a new chapter, and I think I’ve never been this excited to publish one before. Well, maybe with the next one I won’t even be able to breathe. Once you finish reading, you’ll probably understand why.

Before you start reading, a couple of warnings for this chapter!

1. As you may have noticed, this story has the implied alcoholism tag. And no, the tag isn’t there just because of Vi. In previous chapters it was barely mentioned, but in this one there are situations and thoughts quite explicitly related to alcoholism, so I figured it deserved a proper warning.

2. On a somewhat happier note, I guess… light smut in this chapter. Nothing too much, which is why I haven’t added the smut tag to this story (yet), but this chapter does include a scene that, while not enough for a tag, I think is worth mentioning here. Without spoiling too much, the scene takes place in Jinx and Ekko’s flashbacks. So, you’ve been warned.

Lastly, the painting scene was written inspired by a song I really want to share with you: “Best Mistake” by Ariana Grande ft. Big Sean. The lyrics really tie into how the scene unfolds because, as you might guess, I had it on repeat while writing. I’ll leave the link down below in case you want to listen:

https://youtu.be/zJnpzOa18uU?si=dOLNZwZ92OlqInk0

Without further ado, enjoy the read!

Of all the alleys in Bilgewater, that one definitely reeked the most of rotten sea, tobacco, cheap rum, and corpses. Still, Jinx didn’t really care. The alley behind The Blind Siren, and the tavern itself, had practically become her second home. And among all the reasons stopping her from going in today, the smell wasn’t one of them.

The city’s dampness seeped into her bones despite the heat, which contrasted sharply with the cold stone she leaned her back against. A few meters away, framed by salty mist and night’s dimness, hung a splintered wooden sign where someone had hand-carved a siren.

Jinx watched it from the shadows, arms crossed, one leg propped against the wall, eyes fixed on that sign she had seen countless times. From where she stood, she could see the entrance, letting out bursts of endless noise. Uncontrolled laughter, screams impossible to tell if from pleasure or pain, glasses crashing into each other—or against the walls—a detuned guitar trying to compete with the uproar. And gunshots. Not many. Just enough to remind everyone where they were.

She sighed. Long, dry. She had been standing there longer than she wanted to admit, unmoving, undecided, watching the chaos from afar. She adjusted the belts hugging her waist and hips—a mix of leather, buckles, and little sea trinkets of all kinds—but groaned in pain as she did. The gash in her abdomen was still open, or at least open enough to remind her that while her altered body had some advantages, it wasn’t invincible.

She thought of Gus again. They had spent hours on the coast, improvising bombs from whatever junk they could find. The boy had left happy, with his handcrafted—and safe—bomb neatly wrapped, running off to show it to his friends like it was his greatest achievement. Jinx stayed behind. Losing track of time amidst the constant buzzing in her head. It hurt. Everything hurt. And like a wounded animal, she crawled to the Beast’s Spine.

There, she cleaned up. In her own way, of course: cold water to the face, a rough cloth on her wounds, and a cigarette between her lips while she decided what to do with her night. She dressed halfheartedly, regretting every garment she put on. And every time she told herself she had to go, that she’d promised, she looked at the tidelight stones on her wrist. Small, blue, and bright. Every time she looked at them, she felt a hard thump in her chest.

What the hell am I doing?

The very thought made Jinx lean back, concluding that it was better not to go. But that left her with only one option. Staying alone. And she knew that when she was alone, she thought. And the more she thought, the tighter the knot in her chest grew. And the tighter that knot grew, the more she craved a drink. A strong one. One that burned. She just wanted to drink. Drink until the world stopped hurting, until nothing made sense.

In a way, nothing did, with or without alcohol. But at least with booze in her veins, nothing hurt too much. Not even the fact that nothing made sense at all. 

Finally, she chose the most provocative thing she had: an electric blue corset, clinging like a second skin, revealing every curve and leaving very little—too little—for the imagination. The fabric was soft, but the worn leather edges held more history than anyone could guess. She adorned her waist with all kinds of belts: some with square buckles etched with sharks, others round with tiny carved skulls, some were just leather straps with rusty spikes, and one—the oldest—bore the emblem of an old sea brotherhood no one remembered anymore.

She put on her tight leather pants, snug to the point of impossibility, and slung her cannon onto the belt on her hip. It was heavy, but not a weight she wasn’t used to. Honestly, she felt more uneasy when her hips felt too light. She tied her hair into a single thick braid, fastening it with multiple metal clasps, each one shaped differently. A star, an anchor, a dagger, a closed eye.

And then she left. With a knot in her stomach and the taste of Aghir Kraken’s blood still on her lips.

Now she was there. Leaning against that grimy wall, staring at The Blind Siren from a distance. The racket still spilled onto the street like a living current, wrapping around her, tempting her. The sound of a glass shattering made her frown. Then someone shouted a toast that got lost among laughter. A few seconds later, a gunshot rang out, followed by dragging chairs and what seemed to be a knife fight.

Jinx didn’t move. She kept watching. Kept doubting.

Her heart pounded hard, rebellious. Her lips were tight, her hands sweaty, and an impulse inside her contradicted itself. She wanted to drink until she forgot why she was there. But she also wanted to stay in that shadow forever, invisible, untouched.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

The corset squeezed her chest. The wound on her abdomen throbbed with swelling. The tidelight stones on her wrist shimmered faintly, probably mocking her, the damn things. Jinx sighed again. Deep. Painful.

She knew there was something else gnawing at her from within. And it wasn’t exactly about Vargo, or Sarah, or the Great Hunt.

"Labels, little blue flame, have a curious way of sticking when one least expects it."

Jinx didn’t lift her gaze. She simply let Silco’s voice wrap around her. It was annoying, and at the same time comforting, how they always knew what was running through her head when they spoke to her.

"That’s bullshit," she muttered, drained. Her braid had let a few strands slip loose on one side, and several clasps were out of place. She didn’t fix them. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She raised her face just enough to see Silco’s glowing eye. "I’m not… what she says I am. If I were, you’d be alive. They’d all be alive."

Silco tilted his head. His damaged eye seemed to see deeper than the other.

"Your definition of luck is as petty as it is unfair. The world isn’t a die, Jinx. You’re not a die. You’re dynamite with a name and a body, but that doesn’t mean you have to carry every shard that explodes near you."

She felt a lump in her throat. She curled slightly into herself. She was tired. So fucking tired.

"You don’t get it… You don’t understand anything. I always end up being a damn crack in the wall, something everyone tries to cover up with more paint. But it shows. It always shows."

He smiled, sadly.

"The paint isn’t the problem. It’s the wall."

But she could no longer hold his gaze. She blinked and he vanished. There was no sound. Only absence, only silence. One as heavy as before. Maybe heavier.

But when she blinked again, he was there.

Ekko stood in front of her. He hadn’t come in or out. There had been no noise. He was just there, as if he’d always been, as he had always been. His brown eyes, calm. His white dreadlocks, slightly messy. His presence, quiet.

Jinx looked at him for a long time. She felt her body dissolve, felt the rigidity of entire weeks suddenly melt away in her legs, in her arms, in the center of her chest. She didn’t know whether to cry or just stay still. There was no reproach in him. Only that silence. And Ekko had always known how to be silent with her.

"I wish you were here… for real," she murmured.

He didn’t look away.

"I’m here. I’m with you. I’m not going anywhere."

She sighed, broken. She lowered her gaze.

"This is the most I’m ever gonna have of you again, isn’t it?"

He didn’t answer. Because the answer was already known, by him as much as by Jinx. She had known it since she made her decision, since she looked at him one last time from afar before boarding the airship. She looked at him once more. The lines of his face, the furrows of his eyebrows, the familiar contour of his nose. The kind of things you memorize without knowing when, without knowing why.

And then, she took a step.

Then another.

And another.

She walked away from Ekko. She didn’t look back. The belts around her waist jingled with buckles.

The sign of the Blind Siren hung over the door, barely illuminated by a torch nearby. Jinx swallowed hard. Her fingers were trembling.

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and pushed the door.

And when she did, everything fell silent.

The voices, the shouting, the music, even the sound of glass shattering against wood stopped. The entire tavern had noticed her. Pupils scanned her from head to toe: the blue braid, the tight corset that hid none of her scars, old and new, the cannon on her hip, the mud-covered boots.

A drunk stumbled against a table. Someone else coughed. The clink of one bottle against another echoed like a misplaced sound. But the silence still hung in the air.

Jinx felt her stomach churn.

Shit. She could turn around. No one would stop her. She could run out, hide in the workshop, maybe even drink alone until that damn pang in her chest went away. Or sleep. Or drink, and then sleep. 

But no. She forced herself to keep walking.

At one of the back tables, they were all there. The Fortune Sharks. Laughing, drinking, tossing jokes at each other. Sarah included, though not with the same energy. The redhead was slowly spinning the mechanism of one of her pistols between her fingers, making a metallic sound, a click-click that echoed over and over. Unlocking and locking it, again and again.

Sarah hadn’t seen her. Or maybe she had. Jinx wasn’t sure. But at that moment, all the warmth of the tavern felt unreal. It was like floating. Or falling. Or both.

Someone who did see her was Lysander, the crew’s spy. When he spotted her, his eyes widened like saucers.

The man quickly climbed, wobbling, onto the nearest table, legs twisted and arms outstretched trying to balance himself. His jacket was stained with beer and something Jinx wasn’t sure was wine or another pirate’s blood. But none of that seemed to matter in the slightest. With one hand on his heart and the other pointing dramatically at Jinx, he took a deep breath, let it out in a burp, and then signaled the drunk sailor in a corner who, hunched over his lute, understood perfectly that his moment of glory had come.

The sailor responded with a few deep, messy chords. As soon as the first notes rang out, a murmur of excitement spread through the tavern. Seeing it, Sarah sighed and placed the hand that wasn’t holding her bottle on her forehead.

"Lysander, no. For the love of rum, not again..."

But it was too late. Lysander had already started singing.

"She came from the smoke with a grin and a spark,

A wrench in her hand, and a mind kinda dark."

A burst of laughter erupted at the back of the hall. Jinx tilted her head, half surprised, half confused, one eyebrow raised and a smile slowly forming on her face. 

The drunkards began to hum, first faintly, then louder. Apparently everyone already knew the lyrics. What had she missed?

Salazar, the oldest of the Fortune Sharks, crawled between tables and fallen chairs with a bottle in one hand, clumsily climbing onto the same table as Lysander. Of course, on the way he tripped on a broken leg, got caught on a chandelier by accident, and finally collapsed on his knees next to his companion.

With a raspy voice, he joined the song:

"Built guns with a giggle, with rune-fueled flair,

Turned sea monsters into flying air.”

"For all the bloody seas!" shouted Sarah, laughing and raising her bottle. "That doesn’t even rhyme, you seaweed-legged bastard!"

“It does rhyme, stupid ginger!” 

The music swelled, the drunkards stomped their feet against the floor, the mugs clashed. Jinx now had her face covered with her hands, but her shoulders shook with laughter. 

The pirates danced clumsily, spinning like broken tops, and some even tried to lift Jinx to make her dance. She resisted between fits of laughter, swatting them away, but finally ended up standing on a barrel, spinning around with her arms wide open.

"Miss Fortune said, “Board!” — Miss J said, “Yay!”

And chaos was brewed on that cursed day."

The entire tavern began to roar to the rhythm of the drunken chords.

“Boom goes Miss J! Fire in her eyes!

Louder than thunder, wilder than skies!

Bang goes the beast, down in the bay —

Run for your lives when she comes to play!”

Someone fired a cannon at the ceiling, sending a rain of sawdust and dust down over the tables. Another pirate spun on a peg leg trying to dance and ended up accidentally kissing a sleeping sailor. No one seemed to notice. Or care.

Salazar, sweating like a melting candle, grabbed an old broom and started plucking the air while Lysander launched into the second verse.

“Scylla rose screaming, ten tails high,

J just laughed — “Time to kiss the sky!”

Her Pink Twist hummed, then kaboom it blew,

Heads went flying like cannon stew.

But then the sea went still, then cracked,

An Aghir-Kraken… oh, we were sacked!”

Jinx was doubled over laughing, clutching her belly, unable to breathe. Someone placed a hat on her head and she began saluting like a captain to a crowd far too drunk to return the gesture.

Fate—or rather, the combined weight of two drunk pirates and an old table—decided to intervene. With a prolonged and unnecessarily dramatic creak, the table gave way. Salazar and Lysander crashed to the floor like sacks of potatoes.

There was a moment of silence.

And then a burst of laughter and cheers.

Lysander got up awkwardly and raised his arms.

“The show goes on, you worthless morons! Lute, again!”

And continued:

“—“Stand back, ya barnacles!” J did roar,

Strapped bombs to her boots, and leapt off the floor.

—“I am the music, I am the fight,

I’ll dance with the kraken all through the night!”

She rang like bells and flashed like war,

Then sliced that beast from core to core.”

Sarah was standing now, shaking her bottle in the air.

“Someone give him a gag!”

Every drunken throat in The Blind Siren kept singing.

“Boom goes Miss J! Fire in her eyes!

Louder than thunder, wilder than skies!

Bang goes the beast, down in the bay —

Run for your lives when she comes to play!”

Barrels rolled, lanterns swayed dangerously, and someone even climbed a ledge to pretend flying like a cannonball. Jinx approached, still laughing, holding her head in both hands.

But when Lysander tripped over his own feet and landed face-first on the floor, Salazar took over the singing:

“They say the sea don’t forget the day,

J made a Kraken explode like clay.

She drank from its skull, kissed the captain’s—”

“Salazar, don’t you fucking dare!” Sarah interrupted, pointing a finger at him 

The man paused, thinking, before continuing.

“…hat,

And sang to the fish, just like that.”

The redhead glared daggers at Salazar, but seemed satisfied with the lyrics.

“That’s not how that part goes!” growled Lysander from the floor.

“Shut the fuck up, Lysander,” snapped Sarah, kicking him with her boot.

From her barrel, Jinx joined the conversation.

“I wanna know how it goes!”

But her voice was drowned by the tavern’s final chorus.

“Boom goes Miss J! Fire in her eyes!

Louder than thunder, wilder than skies!

Bang goes the beast, down in the bay —

Pray to your gods when she comes to play!”

In the end, the whole tavern roared. Some fired pistols into the air, others smashed mugs against the walls. Sarah applauded, and Jinx, cheeks soaked with laughter, limped over to the crew’s table.

“And I’m the one you call lunatic?”

Salazar offered her a wobbly stool—clearly once part of a more dignified chair in a past life—and winked before collapsing onto the table with his full weight.

“The Kraken slayer!” he shouted, raising his mug. The liquid spilled onto his sleeve, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Or should I say, the woman who blew up a sea monster the size of my self-esteem.”

“Your self-esteem or your ex?” shot Ronan, his nose completely red from drink.

“What’s the difference? Both dragged me to the bottom of the sea.”

Laughter burst from the crew. Ivy had an olive hanging from her lip and didn’t seem to notice. Darla was lying across the table like it was a hammock, but still had the clarity to point her only two fingers on one hand at Jinx.

“I saw her. I was there. J jumped on the Kraken like it was a fairground pony and shoved a bomb in its mouth. In. Its. Mouth. And I can’t even hit the spittoon sober.”

“And when are you ever sober?” muttered Malik, who was wearing a new hat stolen from a corsair they’d just killed in a duel. He stepped toward Jinx. “This woman is crazy. Not ‘a little eccentric,’ no, no, no. Crazy. Completely lunatic. But efficient!”

Jinx raised her half-full cup.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Lunatic and genius!” shouted Salazar. “Daughter of magic, of luck, of tech, of runes—”

“And what the hell do you know about runes?” asked Ronan.

“Shhh, doesn’t matter, sounds smart,” sighed Lysander, who hadn’t said a word in five minutes and barely understood what was going on around him.

Miss Fortune—Sarah. Jinx still wasn’t entirely used to it—, with her hat tilted and lips still red from drink, approached the group from another corner of the tavern, though no one seemed to notice when she’d left in the first place.

“I said it from the beginning. This short little nutcase isn’t just a lunatic. She’s a treasure. A genius disguised in gunpowder and pretty corsets.”

Jinx let out a laugh, and someone—probably Darla, who’d already fainted twice—let out a long “Oooooh.”

“Flirting with the newbie, captain?” asked Malik, raising an eyebrow.

“And what if I were?” replied the redhead without losing her smile. “I’d rather that than flirt with a bunch of idiots who barely know how to tie their dicks to their pants.”

“My pants are perfectly tied!” yelled Salazar, jumping to his feet.

“She wasn’t talking about the pants, dumbass,” murmured Darla, still lying down with her forearm over her eyes.

The table roared with laughter. Jinx clutched her stomach, laughing.

“Call me lunatic all you want, but you’re all worse.”

“Says the one who strapped firecrackers to an Aghir Kraken’s fins,” pointed out Ronan, pouring more rum into his glass and missing the mark by three centimeters.

“It didn’t even have fins!”

But then, as often happens on nights that run too long, the humor began to take a turn. It was Ivy who, half-asleep and slurring, murmured something that grabbed everyone’s attention:

“Hey, you idiots, the Great Hunt is almost here…”

“And that Megatusk is gonna know who we are,” roared Malik, slamming his mug on the table.

“With J in the crew, we’ve got the title in the bag,” added Salazar.

Jinx blinked. Her smile froze for just a second. A tingling at the base of her neck made her sit up straight. Her hand trembled slightly, and the glass she held clinked against the wood.

"Killing an Aghir Kraken is one thing, though. Those are the smaller species. But that Megatusk..." Ronan began, but Miss Fortune interrupted him with a wave of her hand.

"No beast can't be brought down with a mix of gunpowder, cunning, and a pinch of knowledge in runes," she said, looking at Jinx.

"Yeah, sure," Jinx murmured, swallowing hard. And a pinch of betrayal, she said to herself.

"And with J’s little favors, no one else stands a chance against us," added Lysander, not noticing the nervous tic that appeared on Jinx’s face right after.

The mention of that was like a sting. Jinx felt her stomach turn. Guilt, that old dog that slept soundly until someone kicked it in the belly, stirred violently. She thought of Vargo. Thought of the promise. Of what she hadn’t yet said. Of what she hadn’t yet betrayed. Of what she was doing. Of the countless afternoons in her workshop with Vargo and Sarah almost equally. She thought of everything. And she didn’t want to think.

"Uh... I haven’t said I’m joining the crew yet," she said suddenly, in a higher-pitched voice than usual, barely a thread.

There was a brief silence. Then a series of drunken protests, several “What?!” and “But you’re already one of us!” and “I already stitched your name onto my vest!”. Jinx was pretty sure the last one came from Lysander.

"I...," Jinx shifted in her seat. She felt cold sweat on the back of her neck, her fingers clenched around the glass. "I just came to drink... right? Didn’t you say that? That we came to drink."

She tried to smile, though her heart was pounding like an out-of-tune drum in her chest.

"Then give her the strongest we’ve got!" Sarah shouted, raising her arm.

Tobias, the bartender, showed up with a bottle, winking quickly at Jinx. The glass he served her trembled in her hand. She looked at it. Then she looked at all of them. Then, without another word, she downed it in one gulp.

There were two seconds of total silence before the crew spoke. 

"It’s official. This woman is made of liquid dynamite."

"Are you sure you’re not some drunken alchemist’s experiment?"

Jinx coughed a little, the fire of the drink still burning down her throat, but she smiled.

"Was that rum or volcano lava?"

"You won’t make it to midnight, J,” joked Darla.

But Jinx just laughed, eyes squinting, holding the empty glass high.

The rum began to seep into Jinx’s blood with the speed of that well-launched harpoon from earlier that afternoon. She felt it loosen the muscles in her face and pull out a smile that had seemed impossible for hours. Truth be told, she also felt it burning in her empty stomach, causing a rather bothersome nausea.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she hadn’t eaten a single thing since she cut off the kraken’s head earlier. Just recalling the image—the small tentacles of the head still twitching on the ship’s deck, the crew’s jubilant shouts, the thick blood seeping into the cracks of the wooden boards—made her grin slightly. A very twisted one, of course. But a grin nonetheless. The pain that had lodged in her chest for days—that damn constant weight as if someone had shoved a hot stone between her ribs—was beginning to dissolve, or at least hide in the back of her mind, among the sweet vapors of the rum.

That could be considered a victory.

She leaned back a bit in her chair, letting the warmth of the alcohol do its thing. Her eyes wandered around the tavern, pausing now and then on crew members who, in their own way, were celebrating as if they’d already won the Great Hunt.

Malik and Salazar were in the middle of an arm-wrestling match on the long table, arms tense, veins bulging, teeth clenched. The prize was twenty gold krakens, and probably a couple of dislocated fingers. Amid the cheers, someone chanted, “Rip his arm off, Malik!” while another loudly bet Salazar had a spring hidden up his sleeve. Jinx let out a nasal chuckle.

In the center of the tavern, Lysander stood with one leg on a chair, the other planted firmly on the ground. With a mug in one hand and the other arm extended, he was trying to improvise another ballad while slapping the poor drunken sailor with the lute on the head to wake him up and make him play. He tried. Because every time he opened his mouth to sing, his tongue got tangled. 

Off to the side, in the darkness of a corner, Ronan was making out with Ivy like the tavern was empty, the world had ended, and they’d won. Jinx squinted, somewhat incredulous. Had she seen that right? Was that Darla joining them? She blinked. Yes, that was Darla. Definitely Darla. She rolled her eyes and let out a small snicker.

Then, her gaze slid over to Sarah.

A few seats away, she was sitting alone with her back straight and eyes focused. She had a nearly empty bottle of rum between her legs and held one of her pistols in both hands, thumbs digging insistently into the mechanism beneath the trigger. She looked exactly the same as when Jinx had first stepped into the tavern—with an unusual concentration on her face, in rhythm with the click-click of her pistol’s mechanism. She carefully touched the spring piece connecting the striker to the hammer, a clear and effective maneuver to unjam a pistol for anyone with minimal knowledge of weapons. Though, judging by the captain’s furrowed brow and clenched jaw, it wasn’t working.

Jinx tilted her head. She had never seen her like that. So… gone.

She didn’t dwell on it too much. She got up with her half-full glass and went to sit beside her. The redhead looked up at her, her expression changing instantly. It was strange—to see the exact moment a perfectly rehearsed mask seemed to take over.

"So, you did come after all," Sarah said.

"Well, I wasn’t gonna miss this play," Jinx replied, settling beside her. "Did I miss anything good?"

"Depends on your definition of 'good'," she laughed, her voice a bit deeper than usual. "While you were off, I don’t know, buckling fifty belt buckles or something, Lysander challenged Tobias to a duel."

"Tobias?" Jinx raised an eyebrow. "Oh… you mean Jorah, the bartender."

"Uh… I’m like seventy percent sure his name is Tobias."

"I’m like ninety percent sure it’s not."

"Whatever. The bartender. Lysander challenged him. Salazar had to step in before the man lost his other eye."

They both burst into laughter, though Sarah nearly choked on her rum.

"And why were they fighting?"

"Because of you," she replied. "Apparently, they were competing to see who had the best shot at... you know," she made a vague gesture with her hand.

"What?!" Jinx doubled over laughing. "Over me?! Now that is something I would’ve liked to see."

"And it was pretty funny if you ask me," the redhead took another swig from her bottle, and as she turned toward Jinx, gave her a quick once-over. "Though I can’t really blame them… Especially not Lysander. What you did on the ship was… impressive. Captain-worthy, I’d say."

"Oh, come on..." Jinx smiled, though she felt a pang of embarrassment. Without thinking much about it, she took a swig from her own bottle. "Don’t start."

Sarah shook her head before letting out a little chuckle, but didn’t reply as Jinx had expected. Instead, her attention drifted again, and she looked back at the pistol. She kept turning it in her hands, fiddling with the spring with a frustration she tried, unsuccessfully, to hide. Jinx watched her, then looked at the weapon and frowned.

"Did it jam?"

The captain sighed.

"Yeah. Must’ve happened on the ship. This damn thing won’t fire. The striker gets stuck with the hammer spring. I think the humidity finally ruined the traction mechanism. It rusts easily. And the safety catch is loose, so it doesn’t latch properly."

"Let me see it," said Jinx, reaching out her hand.

Sarah hesitated for a long second, but handed it over.

Jinx examined the pistol, frowning, turning it between her fingers. The tension spring wasn’t just rusted—it was deformed. The catch that should’ve held the hammer in place was barely hanging on, and the cylinder had a crack that would likely prevent any stable shot.

"Mmm… this is fucked," she muttered, carefully pulling the trigger. "I don’t think it’s worth fixing. This spring’s seen better centuries. And the cylinder’s marked. How many times have you dry-fired this thing?"

"Not many." Sarah tried to sound casual, but her expression tensed a little. There was something in her face, a fleeting shadow, that Jinx couldn’t quite place.

"Well, you’ve got another one anyway," Jinx said, handing the weapon back. "I’ll make you a new one. And it’ll be better. Dual ignition chambers, double rune mechanism, and a red oak grip, if you want. I’ll even sign it if it’ll wipe that dead look off your face."

The woman lowered her gaze, serious for a few seconds. Then, before she nodded, Jinx saw it again—the exact moment the mask came back. Her eyes narrowed, and her mocking, confident expression returned.

"Only if you carve a skull with my name into the grip."

Jinx studied her for just a second, but eventually let it go again. It wasn’t like the alcohol was helping her focus much anyway.

"Deal."

They both laughed. Sarah raised her bottle and took a swig without blinking. Jinx did the same with hers.

After several minutes of watching the crowd in The Blind Siren through fits of giggles, the giggles turned into full-on laughter—probably much louder than they would’ve been if they were sober. As time passed, the jokes made less and less sense and became funnier and funnier. They were both slouched in their chairs, cheeks flushed red and eyelids growing heavier. Their rum bottles were halfway empty, and a second one was already waiting its turn, sweating alcohol fumes onto the sticky table.

Jinx’s voice, raspier than usual from the tobacco smoke floating in the tavern, spoke to the captain once more.

"Well, since we’re sharing broken weapon secrets..." she said while clumsily spinning the bottle between her fingers, fully aware that her question had nothing to do with weapons. "What’s the deal with your name? Is it a secret or what?"

Sarah raised her eyes with obvious effort, tilting her rum-flushed face.

"It’s not really a secret, not exactly..." she said, dragging her words a bit. "But not everyone knows it. Just a few people. People I trust."

Jinx leaned back, bursting into laughter.

"I feel honored then!" she exclaimed, raising her bottle in a toast and drinking a gulp that made her cough halfway through. "The great Miss Fortune trusts me? That’s new."

Sarah looked at her for a moment before rolling her eyes.

"Maybe more than I should."

The comment lingered between them. Jinx looked at her, tilting her head with a raised eyebrow.

"And you?" Sarah asked then, giving her a gentle nudge with her elbow. "Is your whole name thing a mystery too? Or are you mysterious just for fun?"

Jinx snorted, laughing to herself.

"No, it wasn’t something I wanted to hide, honestly. At first, at least." She set the bottle on the table. A small involuntary smile formed on her lips as she remembered the little brats. The gang of flea-ridden strays, as she used to call them. "But after a while… Everyone in Bilgewater started calling me 'Miss J.' And I guess my real name got lost somewhere back in my early days in this rat’s nest."

The captain narrowed her eyes, taking another sip. The heat rose up her neck and settled in her ears.

"So no one in Bilgewater knows it?"

Jinx hesitated for a few seconds. She looked at the bottom of her glass, maybe trying to find an answer there. Then she spoke, voice lower, almost to herself:

"No one, except..."

The sentence trailed off. Vargo’s name hit her memory at the worst possible time. Because of course… there was only one person in all of Bilgewater who called her by her name—at least until that very day. For a moment, she saw the blurry image of her workshop in its early days: crumbling dirty walls, rusty and most likely stolen tools, mechanical parts scattered across the table, most salvaged from the trash. And Vargo there, with her. Always with a scowl worthy of the roughest pirate in Bilgewater, but one that seemed to soften every time he subtly tried to convince Jinx that she had talent for more than just drinking in taverns and blowing off heads in the market.

And with that, the unbearable guilt tightened in her chest again.

"Except me?" Sarah asked, her voice low, almost tender. Jinx blinked, snapping back to the present.

She swallowed, forced a smile, and nodded.

"Yeah. Except you."

Lie. Big lie.

Without saying another word, she grabbed the nearly empty bottle and took a long swig. The heat of the alcohol scorched her throat, but it wasn’t enough. So she repeated the gesture, and again.

Sarah watched her in silence for a few seconds. Then she mimicked her, grabbing her own bottle and drinking.

The night at The Blind Siren followed its usual course, breaking into fragments of laughter, shattered glass, and a few punches. And Jinx… drank.

"I Fought The Angels" - The Delgados

A long sip. Then another. And another. Until the glasses and bottles began to pile up, competing with one another. The tavern still roared with noise, but Jinx no longer looked at anyone. Not at the pirate winking at her from the far end of the room, nor the corsair who tripped over his own feet in front of her, not even at the pair of men trying and failing to fight because one of them couldn’t find his balance. No. Jinx only had eyes for her glass. Her hands trembled slightly at first, but as the alcohol took hold, the tremors became more erratic, less controlled. Like everything in her life.

The liquid burned her throat, blazed like a torch, and that was good. The burn brought silence. And silence was better than thinking. Because when she didn’t drink, she thought. And when she thought…

She thought of the long nights in the workshop, tightening bolts, adjusting runes, sabotaging without anyone but Sarah knowing, in service of a cause she no longer fully understood. She thought of Vargo. His careful words, how he showed up just when she needed company the most, how he knew exactly when to tug her ear and when to offer her some food. She thought about how easy it had been to trust him. And how quickly that trust was falling apart.

Another drink. The taste was already blending with the sweat sliding down her upper lip.

Around her, the drunkards laughed, sang songs they barely remembered, and slapped each other’s backs with force. No one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. It was a night like any other at The Blind Siren. Except for Jinx.

A hand rested on her shoulder. Apparently, someone was saying something to her, but the words reached her ears distorted beyond recognition.

She didn’t turn her head. She just drank more.

Because if she stopped, she would think. She would think of Sarah. Of her tone when she said things that sounded kind. Of the way she looked at her as if she knew things Jinx didn’t. Of how everything was starting to feel like a giant trap made of affection. Of the confusion that came with those bonds of affection often seeming sincere, like that very day when Sarah had stayed by her side in her worst moment, even though it had nothing to do with their deal about the Great Hunt.

She thought about how everything, somehow, always ended the same. With Jinx not really being a person, but a finely tuned tool for doing the dirty work no one else could or wanted to do.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Her head spun gently, floating in a sea of warm waves. Her legs barely held her, but she didn’t want to leave. Not yet.

She wanted to scream. She wanted everyone to stop asking something of her, stop demanding more. Because of course, no one asked what Jinx wanted. No one knew how much she hated being alone. How much that silence hurt at the end of the day, when the city’s sounds were off and the only voice left was hers and that of a past that would never fully let her go.

No one offered her company without conditions. Only two people ever had. One of them was dead because of her. And the other was the love of her life, worlds away, whom she would never see or feel again.

Jinx approached the bar again.

"Another."

She drank so much that she didn’t notice the exact moment when Sarah, her face flushed and her steps unsteady, stood from her table, tripped over a stool, and left. She didn’t notice the sweat stuck to her forehead, nor the trembling in her hands, nor the way the redhead clung to the walls to keep from falling. She saw nothing. Sarah vanished from the scene in a state equal to or worse than Jinx’s own.

Between drinks, something changed.

Jinx left the glass half-empty on the bar, her gaze lost somewhere between two dancing shadows. Her brain was a tangled mess, a swarm of thoughts buzzing so fast she couldn’t catch a single one. She no longer just didn’t want to think. Now she wanted to scream. Truly scream.

The chair creaked as she stood up abruptly. Or at least she thought she stood up abruptly. Because in truth, her body swayed to one side, then the other, and took longer than she expected to stabilize. Her vision was a blurry mix of lights and stains, of distorted laughter and dull colors. With each step, it felt like the floor was playing a trick on her, tilting just enough to make her stumble.

She pushed the tavern door open and stepped outside.

The wind hit her like a slap. Not a gentle breeze, not a caress. A salty, merciless blow. Her skin burned, her legs gave out for a second, and she had to lean against the outer wall of The Blind Siren to avoid falling flat on her face. 

And she walked.

She didn’t know where. She only knew that Sarah was no longer inside, and that mattered to her. She walked through damp alleys, past broken crates, abandoned ropes, and fat rats that scurried away at the sight of her. Her hair, tangled and sweaty, clung to her neck. With every step, her boots tripped on invisible stones. Her eyes, now heavy, searched the shadows for a familiar silhouette.

But there was no one.

The houses were shut tight. The harbor fog had begun settling on the rooftops. The sound of the tide mixed with the distant laughter of other drunkards, but Sarah wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere.

And Jinx wanted to scream.

She wanted to scream that she wasn’t just another piece on the board. That she wasn’t a bomb programmed to explode on command. That she didn’t want to keep playing other people’s games. Not Vargo’s. Not Sarah’s. She wanted to shatter the board, blow it to pieces.

But no sound came out.

She coughed. Stumbled. Grabbed onto the edge of an abandoned barrel to keep from collapsing. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she didn’t cry. She just stood there, panting. Her heart pounded like a wild drum in her chest, and the world spun, spun, spun.

She thought. She wanted to scream. She couldn’t.

So she kept walking. Searching. Staggering through the darkness, with rage clenched between her teeth and alcohol burning in her gut.

Suddenly, a sound pulled her out of her trance: click-click, followed by the echo of breaking bottles, something metallic hitting a stone. Jinx stopped. That sound... she knew it. She’d heard that click before. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was coming from an alley a few meters ahead. She frowned, tilted her head to the side, and heard a familiar female voice.

“Shit! Fucking piece of crap! Come on! COME ON!”

She would recognize the voice even if she were deaf. Sarah. But that wasn’t the voice she was used to hearing. No. It was a torn voice Jinx had never heard before.

She leaned against the nearest wall and peeked halfway into the alley. Through her blurry vision, she saw the unmistakable figure of the captain with her back turned, just a few meters away. Her red trench coat was wrinkled, covered in dust and stains that looked like wine or blood. She held one of her pistols in her hand and was shaking it violently, muttering under her breath. At her feet, there were at least six or seven empty bottles, some intact, others shattered.

“Fucking junk, of course you had to jam!” Sarah shouted, shaking the pistol again. “Of course! You have to screw up my life even more, right!?”

Jinx barely moved. Her body swayed side to side, but her eyes were fixed on her. Her fingers trembled, and she didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol or because she still carried the rage she had brought with her. Sarah tried once more to unjam the pistol. She growled. Let out a frustrated sob. Finally, she hurled it at the ground with all her strength.

“Fuck you!” she screamed as she watched it bounce off the stone. “Go to hell, you piece of crap!”

She kicked a bottle, which smashed against the wall with a dull sound. Jinx didn’t even flinch. And then Sarah slowly turned, clearly feeling a gaze burning into her back. Her green eyes, red and swollen, met Jinx’s pink ones.

Jinx felt a pang in her chest so sharp, so sudden, that for a second she completely forgot why she was there. She knew she had come to find Sarah for an important reason. Something burned inside her. But seeing her like this, so broken...

Something gripped her chest with merciless force.

The redhead stepped back, stumbled on a bottle, and huffed in frustration. She ran a hand over her face, trying to wipe away some tears.

“That shit jammed. Of course it did. They’re older than the damn Great Mother, and I still believed they’d last forever.”

She looked down again, where the pistol lay broken. She knelt—not to pick it up, but because her legs gave out. She let herself fall against the wall, her back pressed to the stone, her head tilted back.

“I’m an idiot. A fucking idiot. So, so fucking stupid…”

Jinx was still there, not daring to interrupt, struggling to stay on her own feet.

“And here I am, using them like they’re eternal relics. But of course they break. Everything breaks.”

She rested her forehead on her knees. In that moment, Jinx dared to step closer. Just a few steps.

“The last thing I have of them, and I couldn’t even take care of it. Idiot. So, so, so stupid…”

She rubbed her face so hard she could’ve easily torn out her green eyes.

“Bet mom made them that way on purpose, you know?” she said, almost with a crooked smile. “Bet she made them shitty on purpose, knowing they were for that bastard. Bet she thought if they jammed on him or if he blew his own head off with them, then they would’ve been worth something.”

Her chin trembled. She hugged her legs and leaned forward, sobbing without strength.

“Two pistols. Two fucking pistols. All for two fucking pistols…”

Then she stopped talking. Only the sound of her crying remained, her ragged breathing, as her shoulders shook with each spasm. The pistol still lay on the ground.

Jinx, eyes half-open and head spinning like a carousel, tried to piece together the loose thoughts in her drunken mind. She let out a long sigh, almost resigned, trying to exhale the confusion—but no luck. She blinked, swayed again, and rubbed her forehead with a grimace.

She had definitely forgotten why she had come.

Something had driven her, that she remembered. Something burned inside her chest when she ran out of The Blind Siren—maybe a need, an urgency, a truth too impossible to keep swallowing. But now, seeing Sarah crying like it was the end of the world, everything vanished. All that remained was the pain. A sharp, strange pain, because seeing her like that... so broken, so small, so far from the captain she always was... hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Was it just that? Just how strange it felt to see her collapsed?

Jinx wasn’t sure. But she didn’t dwell on it.

Stumbling, she took a step forward. Then another. She tripped over her own feet, letting out a barely audible grunt. She crouched down as best she could, reaching for the pistol Sarah had thrown.

She approached her, who was still sobbing with her head buried in her knees. Jinx dropped beside her, sliding down with her back against the wall until she was sitting. A dull thud and a sigh. She stared at the pistol in her hands for a moment. Her vision blurred from the alcohol, and the image of the weapon doubled. Or tripled. She closed one eye to focus better, but it didn’t help much. The whole world spun.

“You really love being dramatic, you know?” she blurted suddenly, voice thick.

Sarah stayed silent. She didn’t move. But she stopped crying for a moment.

“Earlier I said it wasn’t worth fixing… not that it couldn’t be fixed, idiot,” Jinx continued, dragging her words while staring at the pistol with a concentration she definitely didn’t have.

The woman slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were red, shining with tears. She stared at her.

“Sure, it’d be easier to build a new one,” Jinx went on, shrugging. “But I didn’t know you were so attached to your toys. So... in that case… I can replace the parts that are busted… though it’ll take time.”

Silence. Sarah looked at her with growing disbelief, though her lips trembled slightly.

“I can fix it,” Jinx repeated, lowering her voice a bit and turning her head more toward the woman. “So you can stop crying now, becau—”

She couldn’t finish. Sarah’s lips crashed against hers with desperate urgency.

Jinx didn’t have time to process anything. The world was already spinning from the alcohol, but this… this hit her full force. Not because it was sudden, but quite the opposite: because it was gentle, warm, human. She was kissing her. Just like that, without warning. Without saying a word. A second ago they were talking about weapons, and now the captain’s tongue was sliding down her throat.

She opened her eyes, surprised. But the moment she did, her eyelids felt as heavy as stones and she closed them again, not knowing if it was by reflex, inertia, or simply because she was too drunk to keep them open. She didn’t respond to the kiss. She stayed still, unmoving, her heart paralyzed.

The kiss paused for a few seconds. Maybe Sarah had realized she wasn’t being reciprocated, or maybe she was just looking for air. In those seconds, Jinx’s mind started firing thoughts like a machine gun. Disjointed thoughts, without order. This is what she wanted, right? To feel something again, anything at all. To have someone to keep her company on cold nights. Someone who saw her. And Sarah… Sarah wasn’t just anyone. Sarah was strong, she was smart, she was fucking beautiful. Jinx enjoyed being with her. It fit. Everything fit. This is what you wanted, she repeated in her head.

She should be feeling that warmth in her belly—and not just in her belly—that she had longed for so many times. That soft fire that ignites slowly when everything is right. She should be enjoying it.

But she felt none of that.

No warmth. No fire. No joy worth holding onto. Just the same emptiness. The same absence. The same sensation of watching everything from outside, from a body that didn’t belong to her. The same void that consumed her when she felt like someone else had taken her place, pretending to be her.

Still, she moved her lips. She returned the kiss with hesitant, clumsy movements. She closed her eyes a little more, leaned slightly forward, and then to the side.

Give it time. Maybe it takes a bit. Maybe you’re just nervous.

But the only thing that came was a dull discomfort, a stiffness she didn’t know how to hide.

She waited for something to click. For desire to flood her, for the urge to stay in that moment forever to embrace her. She waited to feel like she belonged in those arms. But no. Nothing. Only an internal silence loud as a scream.

When Sarah placed a hand on her waist, everything broke even more.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to run. And then she wanted to cry while running. Scream. Scream with all her strength. Because even now, when everything was “fine,” when life offered her a hand, her mind pulled her arm back. Wouldn’t let her enjoy it. Wouldn’t let her feel safe. Not even for a second.

"Stop."

Jinx pulled away suddenly. Her eyes locked onto the floor. She could barely breathe properly. She felt on the verge of breaking.

Sarah looked at her, confused.

A tear slid down Jinx’s cheek. She closed her eyes tightly, letting fall the ones still welling up in the corners. She dropped forward and took her head in both hands.

"Stop… Stop, please… Just stop…"

The captain frowned.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

For a second, Jinx didn’t respond. She didn’t know how. She didn’t even know if she wanted to. She only knew she couldn’t keep pretending she was okay. Because she wasn’t. Because she didn’t even know what it meant to be.

But something inside her exploded without warning. Because in the second she remembered why she was there in the first place, her anguish turned into fury.

"What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you!" she snapped, standing up, her voice breaking.

Sarah blinked, and stood up as well. She wanted to speak, but Jinx’s shouts came once more.

"You show up in my life out of nowhere, barge in without asking, drag me into this mess with the only person who’s been there for me, the only one I have, and you expect everything to be okay? For me to join your crew, get on your shitty little boats and kiss you like it’s nothing? Like I don’t matter?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes, green igniting in fury. The captain could be many things, but someone who let her pride be trampled wasn’t one of them.

"And who the fuck said you don’t matter?" she spat. "I never put a gun to your head to make you betray Vargo. I never forced you to build shit for me. If you don’t know how to say what you want and just explode like a spoiled brat, that’s your problem."

"Oh, of course!" Jinx laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "Right, because marching into my workshop with your entire crew, posting guards at the door, and coming every damn day to supervise the process doesn’t feel anything like pointing a gun. Not at all."

The captain stepped forward. Her face had flushed with rage in seconds—almost as red as her hair.

"Don’t play dumb, J. You’ve blown up entire taverns. If you really didn’t want to do it, you would’ve blown us all up—me and the whole fucking crew. But no. You’d rather play the victim. Because you’re scared of owning up to the choices you make."

Jinx clenched her teeth. The laugh that escaped her held no humor. It held venom. It held exhaustion.

"The only one here not owning up to her choices is you, Sarah. You know exactly the power you have in this rat’s nest. You know no one says no to you. You know everything you touch bends to you. And you can’t even admit that you cornered me again and again just to keep your fucking crown as queen of this dump."

The blow was direct. Sarah blinked, swallowed. She stayed still, her silhouette outlined against the thick fog rising between the rooftops.

The silence stretched so long that Jinx thought she would leave. But she didn’t.

"Is that what you think this all is?" Sarah murmured, unmoving. "Personal pride?"

Jinx said nothing more. For some reason, even with the world spinning, something told her she had screwed up.

The redhead lowered her gaze to the wet cobblestones. She took a second, a long one, fighting against her own breathing.

"Since we’re talking about choices," she said at last, "it’s gonna be your choice what you do with what I’m about to tell you. You say you want no one to decide for you. Fine. Let’s see if you finally fucking understand that no one will."

Jinx froze.

The woman let out a long, tired sigh, bringing a trembling hand to her face, trying to wipe away the remnants of tears still lingering. Because no new ones were falling anymore. Everything left on her face was a rage that could freeze anyone with just one look. Jinx began digging her nail into her cuticle, impatient. Until Sarah spoke.

"Do you know who Abigale Fortune is?"

Jinx shook her head slowly.

"Of course you don't…" she said, with a bitter laugh. "Or rather... you don’t know who Abigale Fortune was."

Jinx narrowed her eyes, trying to read between the lines, and though she had some ideas of where Sarah was going with all this, none came even close to the harsh reality.

"Abigale was a weapon maker. One of the best there ever was. She had a workshop down by the coast, one that everyone in Bilgewater knew. She had a great reputation, you know? Rifles that never missed a shot. Cannons that were a damn work of art. And she... she lived there with her husband and her daughter, a little girl barely reaching the knees of a corsair."

No words came from Jinx. She just pressed her lips together, and for a moment it looked like she was about to speak, but fell silent again. Sarah clenched her teeth.

"Clients poured in, J. Captains, smugglers, flagless corsairs. They all wanted a piece crafted by Abigale’s hands. And among all of them… there was Vargo."

At the mention of the name, Sarah looked to the side, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Vargo... was the kind of name whispered in taverns when someone wanted to scare the shit out of a poor fool. No one in Bilgewater is a saint, you know that as well as I do, but him… they said he burned an entire port alive and no one even knew why. Several families tried to escape, with their kids and everything, and Vargo and his big, big buddy made sure not one was left. Because of course, the brute was never alone."

Jinx felt a chill crawl down every bone in her spine. She wanted to throw up. If Sarah said one more word, she was sure she would.

But she went on, watching Jinx’s expression with the stiffness of someone who had seen that face coming.

"He was always shoulder to shoulder with another. One who, if you ask me, was even worse. A guy with a heart more rotten than a pile of corpses at low tide. A guy you know, even if you don’t want to."

Jinx swallowed hard.

"Gangplank."

If at the mention of Vargo’s name Sarah had to look away, at this name, Jinx could swear she heard her teeth grind and the bile in her stomach churn.

"There’s no story that doesn’t name him. Nothing in the book he hasn’t done. Robberies, public executions, pillaging, torture. Once, when he 'ruled' Bilgewater, he tied a group of merchants to the masts of their ships and blew them up one by one, just to send a message. He loved executions, you know? Not for strategy. For fun."

Jinx had to press a trembling hand against the wall to keep herself from collapsing. She prayed to every deity that ever existed, even if she didn’t believe in them, that Sarah’s words wouldn’t go where she thought they would.

"And of course, in that fun, Vargo was always right beside him with a bottle of rum. Abigale... kept selling him weapons. Not because she was dumb, no. Because if she didn’t, she knew she could become another one of those horror stories."

The redhead furrowed her brows again, but this time, she didn’t cry. Not a single tear.

"But she managed. Despite everything, she kept working. She kept creating. She was good at what she did, and it had never brought her trouble. Until it did."

Sarah hesitated. She stepped forward.

"One day, during one of his visits to Abigale’s workshop, Vargo said he’d recommended her to someone. A client with a special request. Abigale didn’t know who it was, nor did she care to know, honestly. Vargo was like that; he didn’t ask. He demanded. And Abigale... accepted. Because at the end of the day, a client was a client."

The woman watched her for a moment, measuring her own breath and Jinx’s, whose pink eyes were already wet.

"A few days later, the client Vargo had sent showed up. Gangplank. In the flesh. He asked for a pair of pistols unlike anything else in all of Runeterra. He wanted art, he said. And Abigale… she wasn’t sure. The guy gave her the creeps. But gold speaks loud, and back then her workshop needed to keep breathing. So she made them. She put everything into those pistols. Every screw, every curve, every fireline."

"Sarah…" Jinx’s voice trembled as it left her throat. But the captain ignored her.

"A year later," she continued, raising her voice and stepping closer to Jinx, "Gangplank came back to the workshop. But if he was already a bastard that gave you the creeps before, this time… just looking at him tore the flesh off your bones. And of course, he had been up to his usual with his inseparable Vargo. They were like a plague. A blight that left nothing alive."

The redhead clenched her fists so tight that even through the tears, Jinx could swear she saw a drop of blood fall from her palms.

"And he didn’t come to pay. Oh no. He wanted to take the pistols by force. Told Abigale they were his, and that he would take them, just like that. And when she tried to fight back, when she said he was just a thug with a brain made of stone, that her weapons weren’t worthy of a pirate like him…"

The captain narrowed her eyes at Jinx, who could find no trace of the woman who had been crying just minutes ago in the macabre whisper that came from her throat.

"Do you know what Gangplank did after that?"

Jinx shook her head, trembling. Her lower lip quivered.

"He took the pistols. And with them, he fired. At Abigale. At her husband. At her daughter. And as if that wasn’t enough, he set the workshop on fire. Burned everything. Every blueprint, every memory. And in the end… he didn’t even take the pistols."

Sarah let out an exaggerated laugh, shaking her head after the last words. If Jinx was already trembling, that only made it worse.

"He destroyed them. Smashed them to pieces and left them there. Then he left, like it was nothing, to meet up with Vargo, who was waiting a few miles away, on their ship."

The wind blew hard, shaking the lamp. The light flickered across Jinx’s face. She was pale, even for her.

"They kept sailing together for a long time. Mess after mess. Leaving corpses wherever they went. But one day, Vargo disappeared. Just like that. No one knew where he was. Some said he was dead, though Gangplank didn’t seem affected. Doesn’t surprise me, honestly. The point is, Vargo was out of the picture for a long time, even the day Gangplank was ‘killed’. Well, or at least, that’s what everyone thought."

Sarah paused. Jinx swallowed.

"Because what Gangplank didn’t know…" she said, in a voice so low Jinx had to lean in closer to hear it, "was that the day he burned the workshop… Abigale’s daughter was still alive."

Pink eyes slowly rose to meet green ones. And this time, both were wet.

"She was on the edge of dying, of course. But alive. She dragged herself to a filthy cave nearby. One of those where even drunk vagrants won’t sleep. She took the pistols. Or what was left of them. She held them close, night after night."

She took a deep breath.

"She didn't sleep. She just stared at the fire, with those pistols in her hands, trying to heal her wounds. Until she learned how to fix them. Until she knew how to make them roar again. And when she could... she came back. Started looking for names. Bounties. Hunted down every bastard in Bilgewater who owed a debt to death."

The woman inhaled a sob through her nose, quickly followed by one from Jinx, who was now trying to support her weight with her forehead resting on the stone.

"It didn’t take long before everyone started to know her. Everyone."

The captain’s lips curved into a satisfied smile, though her reddened eyes spoke of anything but satisfaction.

"As Miss Fortune."

Jinx’s chest began to rise and fall, and she even felt the urge to scratch her throat in a useless attempt to free herself from whatever was crushing her breath. But when she raised her hand, the captain’s hand stopped her. Guided it back down. Not with tenderness, not even with hatred, but with a cold touch and green eyes as sharp as blades.

"A few years after I ‘killed’ Gangplank, because of course the bastard had to survive," Sarah continued, "Vargo showed up in Bilgewater again."

Pink eyes locked onto hers once more. She didn’t want to hear another word. And at the same time, she wanted to hear everything.

"Though, of course, his name was only on everyone’s lips for a while," she said. "Because Vargo, like a hound that senses danger, conveniently became discreet. Made no noise. Caused no stir. He only showed up to sell a few things at the market, do some score-settling-up... and visit the workshop of a new weapon maker in Bilgewater who was earning quite the reputation."

Jinx felt her knees weaken. The tremble, this time, wasn’t just internal. For a second, she thought she might faint. Her pulse thundered in her ears—fast, erratic.

Sarah noticed her reaction, but didn’t stop. 

"Nothing out of the ordinary in Bilgewater," she said with a bitterly cynical tone. "Except, of course, for the long periods when Vargo started disappearing. To the Shadow Isles..."

The captain stopped herself to let out a disbelieving laugh, quickly glancing at Jinx again.

"Have you ever been to the Shadow Isles, Jinx?"

She weakly shook her head, not daring to open her mouth.

"Better that way. It’s not a place anyone wants to end up in, much less... go to willingly. Not even for a pile of golden krakens."

Jinx swallowed hard, trying to lock her knees in place, just for a little longer.

"Vargo started disappearing on long trips," Sarah went on. "Weeks. Sometimes months. And at the same time, rumors began to surface. You know what this city’s like: news floats like oil on water. But if there’s someone who knows how to trap them like birds in a cage, it’s Lysander."

Sarah gave a sad smile. A crooked, tired gesture.

"Lysander doesn’t have his nickname for nothing. He’s the best spy there is. And he heard things... things I don’t like one bit, to be honest. That there’s a captain everyone thought was dead, cooking something up for the Great Hunt. No one knows exactly what. But when Gangplank’s name starts floating around again, you’d better be ready for the worst."

When the redhead mentioned that name again, even Jinx froze this time. Which was curious, considering she hadn’t even met him. Maybe the guy was just that terrifying. Enough to make even those who had never seen him tremble.

"And coincidentally," said the captain, "Vargo disappears for a long while right after Gangplank's 'death'. Coincidentally, he starts making trips that not even his favorite weapon maker can explain. Coincidentally, he commissions an entire arsenal. For the Great Hunt."

Jinx clenched her teeth, wide eyes shimmering. So many times she wished her mind didn’t work so fast. Wished she could live in the bliss of not being able to piece a puzzle together in seconds. And this was definitely one of those times.

As if reading her mind, Sarah spoke again.

"You’re smart, Jinx. You can put two and two together. Don’t tell me it’s not suspicious as hell."

She squeezed her pink eyes shut once more. It was hard to tell what hurt the most about all of this. Probably the fact that she’d ended up caught in a crossroads that wasn’t even her business. Or maybe, the fact that there didn’t seem to be a single person in this port who hadn’t used her at least once.

"And I know it’s hard to believe..." Sarah’s voice pulled Jinx out of her spiral with a jolt, calmer this time. "I know I may seem like a bitch... but I want what’s best for Bilgewater. I always have."

Jinx nodded slowly, defeated, not sure if she truly agreed or disagreed. At that point, it was pretty hard to tell a lie from the truth.

"Maybe I’m too fucked up for this role," she went on, laughing in a way that sounded more like contempt than humor. "But I’ve never stopped fighting for what I think this city deserves. You weren’t here when Gangplank ruled everything. You didn’t see it, Jinx. Believe me when I say it wasn’t pretty."

This time, Sarah searched Jinx’s eyes. Maybe trying to find a trace that the girl was still there in every sense.

"I’m not perfect, I know, believe me I know," she said, her voice trembling. "But I won’t let that shit happen again. I’m not gonna stand by and watch everything go to hell again, no matter how much people doubt me."

This time, Jinx dared to respond. Barely a murmur that slipped from a throat too raspy to produce a decent sound.

"No one doubts you, Sarah."

The woman let out a brief laugh.

"You really need to get out of your workshop more often," she said, still with a painful little chuckle. "Do you seriously think people don’t question me every damn day? That I’m either too ruthless or too soft. That I’m too young. That I don’t know what I’m doing. Some people seem more concerned that a woman in pretty corsets is in charge than the fact that I’m doing the impossible to keep this city afloat."

Sarah lowered her gaze slightly, a trace of that vulnerability slipping back onto her face for a few seconds.

"No matter what I do. I’ll never be enough. And I know that very well."

Letting out a weary sigh, the captain straightened up slowly.

"But if Vargo is really helping Gangplank come back from the shadows… shit, even if he isn’t… do you know how that makes me look? How do you think it makes me look that Gangplank’s old buddy wins the Great Hunt? And that’s not even mentioning if Gangplank himself shows up at the big event—worse still, if he takes the title with Vargo. Can you imagine what would happen?"

Jinx tilted her head, her eyes now a bit more focused, more alert.

"You know what’s the worst part?" Sarah continued, her jaw tense. "That I can’t even put a bullet through Vargo’s skull. Not even to prevent a potential disaster. And do you know why?"

She leaned toward her, not even waiting for an answer.

"Because you can blow up taverns, J. You can blow up heads, streets, whatever you want. And no one dares touch a single hair on your head. Do you know why? Because people are still afraid of Vargo. And not the useful kind of fear. It’s that rotten fear, the kind that paralyzes, the kind that makes people follow him in silence. Because yes, there are still people who follow him. There are still those who believe Gangplank should take Bilgewater back. And by association, they follow Vargo, even though he, very conveniently, doesn’t say a word."

She paused, and for a second she looked more tired than angry.

"If I kill him, it would spark a revolt. And I can’t control that. Not now. Not when every step I take is under a microscope, looking for any excuse to stab me in the back."

She ran a hand through her red hair, but fixed her green eyes back on Jinx, who was now watching her more alertly than before. Not just alert with her. With the whole world. Because apparently, that had been her big mistake. Thinking she could afford to let her guard down, even for a moment.

"The more I thought about it, the clearer it became. There’s a way to stop Vargo without bloodshed. Well, without much blood. If I managed to sabotage whatever he’s planning for the Hunt… if I could knock him down from that pedestal, even just a little… it could change everything."

She stepped a bit closer.

"Sabotage was the only option. The only one that didn’t involve a bullet. But here’s the thing..."

Sarah looked at her with an intensity that allowed no interruptions.

"There’s only one person in all of Bilgewater who’s close enough to Vargo… and smart enough to do it right. To keep it from ending in disaster. Not for him, not for me… not for anyone."

Jinx froze. Literally. Her body tense. Eyes wide open as if the light from the lone oil lantern in the alley had suddenly become too bright.

Sarah leaned her back against the wall again, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked at Jinx for a long moment, a moment in which the gaze of the captain Jinx knew returned.

"I admit that maybe, at first, I got close to you out of interest," she said at last, in a low voice. "That I approached you because you’re a fucking genius, and only an idiot wouldn’t want you on their side."

Jinx’s eyes closed softly for a few seconds. Not in rage, but rather in defeat. Of course. Of course Sarah had only approached her to try and get something. Like everyone else.

"And I’m sorry. I really am. Especially after realizing how good I feel with you."

She looked down for a second, not in anger or sadness, but rather, ashamed.

"I don’t care about getting over a stupid crush, or putting a name to whatever this is," she continued. "I like being with you, and that’s it. And that’s not something that happens to me often, you know?"

Jinx tried to look at her again, even though her eyelids felt too heavy. Maybe from the alcohol already threatening to send her to sleep. Maybe from the headache starting to pound mercilessly. Maybe from the absurd amount of tears she had already shed.

"I don’t exactly have many friends, Jinx. Let alone friends I can… just be with. Have fun. Laugh without weighing every word. And if I didn’t tell you anything at first, it’s because I wasn’t gonna drag you into a mess that wasn’t yours without even knowing you."

Sarah looked away, lifting her chin and straightening her posture at the same time.

"In Bilgewater, everything can be bought with gold. I bought weapons and a favor. You accepted. That was it."

Jinx clenched her fists.

You accepted.

The woman let out a long sigh.

"But then I got to know you. For real. And I’m not stupid, Jinx. I could see you care about Vargo. I don’t know if it’s admiration, affection, or habit, but it’s there. And I knew that when you found out all this… it would hurt you."

Sarah pressed her lips together, holding back.

"But it’s not my place to tell you what kind of people you let into your workshop. It never was. But now you know. What you do with that… is your decision. Just like it always was."

A prolonged silence followed her words. A silence far too long, one that neither of them dared to break. Silent tears streamed down Jinx’s face, and she made no attempt to stop them. There were no tantrums, no screams, no awkward jokes to cover it up. Just her and a cry that came from some poorly sealed corner of her soul.

Sarah swallowed. It wasn’t the kind of crying that could be soothed with a hand on the shoulder, nor did she feel entitled to try now. But she didn’t leave.

"The Great Hunt is in two weeks," she said then, her voice calm. "And just so you know, I meant it when I told you that you’re worthy of being a captain."

She paused, breathing deeply.

"I was planning to ask you to be my co-captain for the Hunt. And that offer still stands."

Jinx lifted her head, still crying, her eyes red and her lips trembling.

"You have a week to give me an answer. About that… and about our deal."

Sarah turned, but after two steps, she slowly turned back to look at Jinx.

"And I want you to know something. If you decide not to do it, I’ll find someone else. But we both know that maybe that person won’t be as smart as you. Or as refined in their methods. We both know that even you aren’t a hundred percent sure this won’t blow up in our faces. Imagine if someone else handles it."

Her voice came out harder, but also more defeated.

"That could make things go really wrong. For Vargo, for me… and for you too."

Finally, Jinx managed to find her voice. Or something close to it.

"I need to think," she said, trembling, feeling like she was about to faint. "Please… let me think. It’s too much. I need to… think."

The redhead sighed, though not with annoyance.

"You have a week," she repeated. Then, her green eyes looked at her tenderly for the first time in the entire conversation. "Before I go… I just want you to know that I really enjoyed spending time with you. Even if it wasn’t much."

She turned with a slow gesture, starting to walk again. She didn’t take her pistols. She didn’t seem to care.

Before she could take three steps, Jinx’s voice stopped her.

"Wait!"

A choked cry, between sobs. Sarah turned slowly, no abruptness this time.

"I…" Jinx gulped for air. "I enjoyed spending time with you too. A lot. And I mean it."

Her eyes filled with tears again, but she didn’t wipe them away.

"You’re amazing, Sarah. You really are. And you’re more than beautiful. But… I don’t know if I can give you what you’re expecting from me. Not just about the… deal, but… about everything."

Her voice cracked a bit more with each word.

"Honestly, I don’t know if I can give that to anyone at all. Maybe my head is too broken for that. Maybe no one will ever be able to see me. No matter how hard they try. No matter how much they shout that they do. They don’t. No one does. Not even if I scream until my lungs bleed. And it’s not even their fault..."

Sarah said nothing. She just looked at her.

"It’s not your fault," Jinx continued. "I’m the stupid one here. For needing that just to even get horny, to… to feel anything, anything at all. And I know it. It’s my fault. Not yours."

She let out one last sob, one more defeated, closing her eyes for a second.

"I still need to think. But I wanted you to know."

Sarah nodded slowly. There was no reproach in her gaze. Just a cold distance.

"A week," she repeated one last time.

And then she turned around, this time without stopping. She left the alley without looking back.

"My Body Is A Cage" - Arcade Fire

Jinx collapsed to the ground, her legs shaking. She hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed. Silently, as she had done most of her life.

Her tangled blue hair fell over her face, hiding her eyes as her shoulders trembled with every sob she couldn’t stifle. She felt ridiculous. Not just for crying, but for everything. For letting her guard down. For believing, even just a little, that she could have someone by her side without there being a price.

She felt stupid. Probably more stupid than she had felt in five years. More than when she broke her wrist running through rubble, more than when she got too drunk and thought Vi would come for her, more than when she spent three days without sleep building a missile launcher that ended up blowing up in her face. This stupidity was different. The stupidity of thinking she could trust. Of thinking she could matter. That she could be enough without having to give something in return, without having to sell a part of herself.

And there she was again. Where she had always been. Hugging herself. Her chest tight, her nails digging into her scalp, tears falling with no one there to see them, to tell her everything would be okay, even if it was a lie. But no. She didn’t have those lies. The comforting ones. The ones that warm you. The ones that, even if empty, help you survive. Hers were other lies. Lies about the people she had let in. Lies about what they wanted her for. Lies like Sarah’s, which wasn’t a complete lie, but neither was it a truth that didn’t hurt.

Jinx buried her forehead against her knees. She felt like an idiot. For believing that companionship could come without conditions. That someone could want to be with her for who she was. That not everything was a transaction. That not everything meant someone had to take a piece of your flesh every time they got close. That human warmth wasn’t just a debt disguised as tenderness. She was stupid for still craving that warmth, for still dreaming of it every time she closed her eyes at night, imagining someone holding her. For still crying night after night, fully aware that she herself was the reason she was always alone.

It was absurd. Everything was absurd. She was absurd. She was stupid for drinking alone, for getting lost in the hum of the weapons she built just to avoid hearing her own voice screaming from within. She was stupid for crying over her loneliness, and even more stupid for continuing to push away anyone who tried to get close. Because that’s what she did. She knew it.

Why can’t anything be easy?

Nothing was easy. It wasn’t easy to stop feeling like a shadow. Like a failure. Like a stupid little girl screaming in the middle of chaos hoping someone would hear her. But no one did. They never did. Because maybe you can’t hear what you don’t understand. Because maybe no one would ever be able to see her, not truly. Because even if she screamed at the top of her lungs, no one would hear.

And the ones who had heard her, who had seen her, were worlds away. Each in their own way.

How could she be so fucking pathetic? How could she still hope that someone might stay?

Maybe she really was stupid. Stupid enough to keep searching for warmth in memories that were just that. Memories. Stupid enough to keep imagining, in those moments when everything felt like it was falling apart, that his arms were around her. Arms that never asked for anything in return.

Maybe she was stupid enough to, even after all those years, still be saving her love.

••••

Ekko was hunched over his right arm, adjusting the thick layer of fabric he’d tightly wrapped from shoulder to wrist. His fingers worked on tightening fastening straps, sliding them under improvised buckles, making sure there was no room for anything to come loose in the middle of a fight. The fabric was coated with a reinforced leather outer layer, designed to absorb the impact of blades, shrapnel, and even stray bullets. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but Ekko had learned long ago that comfort rarely won battles.

As his fingers pulled on the last strap, his left arm remained free, exposed. That was the arm he usually wielded his baton with. His skin shimmered with the dull reflection of the hideout's light, and the muscles in his forearm tensed with every movement.

The crop top, while not part of the original plan, had ended up becoming an inevitable detail thanks to Jinx’s insistence. According to her, "it would make him look even tougher," and after a while of arguing, Ekko had decided to give up. In the end, with the reinforced pants, the belt, the thick-soled boots, and the protective sleeve on his arm, his outfit had a strange balance between functional… and appealing. At least, a part of him hoped Jinx would describe it that way.

And still, as he moved through the hideout, each tightened buckle, each tested mechanism, every last-minute modification, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it all still felt unreal. He’d spent months locked within these same walls—though they had their differences in every universe, they were still the same walls—with Powder, building the Z-drive through sleepless nights.

But this time was different. This time he was with her again… and she was someone else. And so was he. More unreal still had been spending the last few weeks working side by side, without rest, without distractions, with the world reduced to blueprints, tools, and that kind of energy only the two of them seemed to fully understand.

It had all started with a sentence. Jinx had burst into the Firelights’ meeting room and blurted, “I have an idea on how to… fly differently.” Then she turned her head slightly and threw a look at Ekko. And in that moment, his heart melted like butter on hot metal.

After that, Jinx had unfolded some old, crumpled blueprints stained with bluish ink and ash. He didn’t ask why those blueprints looked months old. Partly because he feared the answer, and partly because he was already absorbed in the lines, in the schematics, in what she was proposing.

When she talked about “flying differently,” it wasn’t a metaphor. She meant it literally.

The plan was to turn the old unused turbine on which Jinx’s hideout stood—a colossal structure of rusted metal and large ledges—into a functional hot air balloon. The idea was to use its cylindrical shape and large outer protrusions as natural anchors to install a propelling balloon made from a mix of reinforced fabric and insulating resin, handmade by the Jinxers. The internal chambers had to be modified to install light gas tanks with manual valves that allowed control over ascent and descent. Added to that were lateral propellers repurposed from old hextech airships, refurbished by the Firelights, capable of spinning in various directions to stabilize the trajectory. The navigation system was based on a central helm that operated through a series of gears with specific combinations only two people fully understood.

Jinx and Ekko.

For weeks, Jinx’s hideout was pure chaos. Firelights and Jinxers alike carried materials, welded, drilled, adjusted pulleys, and checked gas levels. They started with miniature tests, using scaled-down replicas to ensure the lift principle worked—a process that made Jinx roll her eyes and mutter “boring” under her breath more than once, prompting Ekko to stifle a laugh. Then came tests with the real structure, first without weight, then with partial load.

That day, everyone knew the moment had arrived. Firelights and Jinxers had left to gather the last weapons, tools, and supplies. Only Ekko and Jinx remained behind, the two nerds, as they were called. The responsibility for the flight mechanism was entirely theirs.

Ekko bent down one last time to adjust his belt. As he did, his ears caught a soft, familiar, and disconcerting sound: Jinx was humming. It wasn’t a specific melody, but a disordered sequence of notes dancing in the air. She was at the other end of the hideout, behind an improvised curtain, getting ready too.

«Don’t look. I want it to be a surprise.»

He’d laughed, though by then he already felt a knot of drunken butterflies forming in his stomach. From where he stood, he could hear the subtle brush of clothing against her skin, a barely perceptible but constant friction. Fabrics sliding, zippers, something dropping to the floor. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to focus only on the humming. Because thinking about Jinx’s skin, the way she moved, how she dressed… or undressed, was too much.

And yet, he couldn’t help but smile.

A wide, soft smile that escaped without permission, as his cheeks flushed with an unmistakable warmth and his heart pounded like he was running. It was absurd. To be completely disarmed by a few murmured chords and the mere image of her skin.

"Did I ever tell you an enforcer once said my pants looked like a half-eaten circus tent?" Jinx’s voice rang out from the other side of the hideout.

Ekko burst into laughter instantly, shaking his head with an incredulous grin.

"No, but it sounds like something I would’ve loved to witness. Did they throw the gray in your face after that, or just the insult?"

From the other side came a brief laugh, followed by the clear sound of fabric sliding over skin. He stayed still for a moment, feeling the heat rise in his face. He clenched his jaw and turned his gaze to one of the hideout’s walls, focusing all his concentration on one of the pinned-up maps.

"It was in Stillwater," Jinx went on. "I was saving asses, Ekko. Firelights included, you know? While you were having fun in perfect Zaun with perfect Powder, I was diving into the mud so they wouldn’t get turned into puree."

"Uh-huh, sure," he replied, smiling in a way that tried to hide what was really running through his head. "You were probably in full rescue operation mode wearing those… circus pants?"

"Exactly!" She shouted from the other side. "And the worst part wasn’t that. She didn’t even believe I was Jinx."

He laughed loudly.

"If I were in charge of catching criminals and saw someone with those puppy eyes claiming to be the terror of Zaun, I’d think it was a joke too."

The sound of a buckle falling to the floor hit him like a shot. Ekko swallowed hard, fixing his gaze on the ground.

"You’re just jealous because you don’t have my criminal fashion sense," she retorted. "But don’t worry. Today, I’m wearing new pants. Decent ones, according to the highly esteemed opinion of enforcers with sticks up their asses."

"New pants, huh? What’d you do? Cut up a real tent this time?" He tried to joke, though his voice came out a bit tighter than usual.

The silence that followed was brief, but enough for Ekko to hear the sound of footsteps. Small, quick, determined. His heart, already racing from the damn sounds of fabric and skin, now decided to go straight into acrobatics. He sat up, trying to look relaxed while adjusting his belt for the umpteenth time, without any real need.

"Ready to blow up, brainiac?" Jinx asked from behind a column, still out of sight. "Because if that enforcer thought the last version was a circus tent… well, this time I might’ve ended up making a sexy bomb."

Then, she appeared.

Jinx emerged like a storm, walking toward him with a grin. Ekko looked at her and, for a few seconds, his brain completely shut down.

His lips parted slightly, and his breath caught as if the air had betrayed him. Shit. Fuck. He was sure that if his heart beat any harder, it would shoot out of his mouth before they even got the turbine to fly. Shit, he’d probably already left a puddle of drool on the floor. And that was an understatement.

The pants were black, hugging Jinx’s waist in a criminal way. That waist… that waist he’d seen on so many sleepless nights when they shared the bed in his room. That waist that seemed like a tight knot in his imagination, a sweet trap that could wrap around him entirely. He knew, with dangerous certainty, that he could almost wrap his hands around it, and that thought alone was enough to make his blood boil… and not from rage.

But that wasn’t all.

Her hips were exposed thanks to two openings on the sides of her pants. Smooth skin, shameless, hypnotic. If he could lose himself forever in her waist, he could definitely sink without hope in those hips. And he didn’t even want to think about what other corners of her he could get lost in. All of them, probably. That’s how intoxicating her beauty was.

Even if she’d wanted to, Jinx couldn’t pay much attention to Ekko’s reaction. She was too busy trying to process her own.

Shit.

When she finally convinced him to wear the damn crop top, she had done it purely for fun. It was a mix of provocation and that almost biological need to win every little competition they shared. And what better victory than that: making the great leader Ekko show a little more skin. The idea alone seemed brilliant. She had teased him for days about it, hinted at it while they tested the new designs, until one day he just said, “Will a crop top do?”. Jinx had clapped with a grin from ear to ear. A small victory.

What she hadn’t expected was that, seeing him in front of her, with the short dark fabric revealing his abdomen and the definition of his abs, all the air would vanish from her lungs.

It’s not like she didn’t know Ekko’s body. She had felt it more times than she could count. On nights they shared the bed, more out of habit than necessity, she’d felt him move beside her, breathing against her neck or tangling with her legs. She knew perfectly how his muscles looked when he slept half-curled, or how his arms trembled slightly when he held her during a nightmare. But this was different.

Now she saw him.

In the dim light of the hideout, she could clearly see his abdomen moving as he breathed, how his ribs showed, how the muscles in his arms stood out. Seeing him like that, was something else entirely. It was like all the heat in Zaun had condensed in her stomach. And don’t even get her started on the thoughts that flashed through her mind. Damn it, she wanted to touch them. She wanted to trace every line of his abs with her fingers, wanted to push that damn top a little higher. Or take it off completely. And then, yeah, of course, keep going up...

Jinx bit her lip.

No, this was definitely no longer in the “just friends” spectrum. 

Her thoughts were running so far, so fast, that she didn’t even hear Ekko’s footsteps until he spoke.

"You okay, or are you gonna keep looking at me like I’m a birthday cake?"

His voice brought her back. Jinx blinked, surprised. If she had been looking at him, she would have noticed how he discreetly wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Something that might, or might not, have been drool.

"I wasn’t looking at you," she replied with a dry laugh. "I was just judging your sense of what ‘showing more’ means."

"It’s a crop top. More than enough," he said. "I thought you liked entrances and spectacle."

"And… it’s exactly why," she said, hopping back toward her table, "the turbine’s not ready yet. I might take a little artistic detour."

Ekko crossed his arms, following her with his eyes, still not quite recovered from the heart palpitations.

"An artistic detour? Like the faces you paint on your chompers?"

"Well, people like to see a smile before they die," she shot back, grabbing several paint jars from her vanity. Blue, pink, purple, green, yellow. 

Jinx turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

"You gonna help or just stand there pretending your crop top isn’t stealing the show?"

Ekko stepped closer.

"I didn’t know my outfit affected you so much."

"It doesn’t. I just think it’s sweet that you’re trying."

"Oh, sure," he said, taking another step, close enough that their arms brushed as he walked. "Now try saying that without drooling, pretty girl."

He gave her chin a quick tap, taking a bit of the paint from her hands, and walked off toward one of the ledges, leaving a stunned Jinx behind.

Damn bastard.

She shook her head and threw herself onto the ledge just a few meters from Ekko’s. Her whole body slid forward until she lay flat, elbows firmly planted on the rough metal platform, legs bent behind her. In her right hand, a brush already dripping green paint, ready to cover the underside of one of the ledges that was slowly becoming a visual manifesto. With a bit of messy strokes, Jinx began to draw a huge Firelights’ symbol.

Beside her, not too far away, Ekko had also settled on the ground, drawing pink clouds on the adjoining ledge. He wore a focused expression, though not entirely; from time to time, his lips curved into a distracted smile. His arm stretched as he applied the paint, and the muscles in his torso tensed with each movement, perfectly visible beneath the edge of the crop top that barely covered his abdomen.

Jinx was trying to focus—she really was. But her eyes kept drifting back to Ekko. First to his arms, then his back, the curve of his shoulder blades that protruded each time he stretched to reach a corner of his painting. The crop top revealed just enough to let her imagination run wild. His abs rose and fell with each deep breath, forming lines and shadows that made Jinx feel the heat of her body pooling in all the wrong places.

Quickly, she shook her head and went back to her work.

Focus, idiot.

What she didn’t know was that, just as she returned to her painting, it was Ekko who wasn’t missing a single detail of her figure. And he wasn’t hiding it at all. His gaze drifted down from the nape of Jinx’s neck, barely covered by traces of blue hair, to her bare back exposed by the short top she wore. Her tattoos seemed to pulse beneath her skin, moving with each stroke of the brush. His eyes lowered to her slim waist, the curve of her hips when she stretched, and he swallowed with some difficulty.

Focus, idiot.

Jinx broke the silence.

"Are you painting clouds or scanning my ass from your little perch?"

Ekko let out a low chuckle, not stopping his brush on the ledge.

"I was comparing textures. Yours seems more... dynamic."

"Oh, really? Because I’d swear that cloud you just painted has a very particular shape."

"Then I guess I’ll have to fix it," he replied, trying to gather as much seriousness as possible while his eyes once again drifted to places on her body that were definitely no longer her back.

She laughed, lowering her gaze back to her symbol.

"Poor cloud," she said, "trapped between your scattered attention and my... dynamic texture."

"Can you blame me? It’s not easy to stop looking at you," he said with a smile, returning his attention to his painting. "Especially when you know exactly what you're doing."

"Oh, I know," she replied, painting an extra-thick stroke. "You said it yourself. I like spectacle."

Ekko glanced at her hips once more. Just once more.

"And you definitely know how to put one on."

"Thank you, thank you," she said, tilting her head.

He rolled his eyes, letting out a small laugh.

"I need more paint," he said, shaking the empty brush.

"Oh yeah? I need more paint too," Jinx said with a crooked smile, delicately setting the brush on the floor.

They both stood up, brushing off some dust from their bodies. Jinx stretched her arms toward the ceiling, letting her belly button show, as if she didn’t know—though she knew perfectly well—that Ekko was shamelessly staring at her. They walked to the vanity, side by side.

There, they both looked for more shades as if it really mattered which one they were gonna use. He lowered his head, rummaging through the jars with already paint-stained hands, and Jinx pretended to search too, though what she was really doing was watching how the light slid over his neck and collarbone every time he leaned down.

"You’re awfully quiet for someone who was just drawing little clouds like his life depended on it," Jinx said with a half-smile, eyeing him from the corner of her eye as he held a small jar of blue paint.

Ekko looked up at her, one eyebrow raised, but then let out a soft, tender chuckle.

"What is it?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"You have..." he said, pointing to his own face with his finger, "grease, or something, on your cheek. Right there."

Jinx raised her hand to her face, trying to find the smudge.

"Where? Here?"

"No, higher. Here."

Ekko reached out his hand. She didn’t move. She felt the touch of his thumb on her skin, soft, almost trembling. The pressure was light, the movement slow, but it was enough to make Jinx’s heart jump suddenly and without permission.

She had to bite her lip not to sigh, not to close her eyes and surrender completely to the contact. He was still there, his thumb on her cheek, barely dragging the pad along the invisible line of that smudge… or whatever it was.

Then, he laughed again, this time with a hint of nervousness, and pulled his hand back.

"And now... you’ve got an even bigger smudge," he observed his own thumb, stained violet. "Sorry. I had paint on my hand."

Jinx frowned, confused, and turned to the vanity’s broken mirror. Sure enough, a purple line now crossed her cheek, thin but visible. She passed two fingers over where Ekko’s thumb had been, and a shiver ran down her neck and spine. How could a simple touch affect her like that? How was it possible that a single finger on her face left her breathless?

She stared at herself for a few seconds, still frowning, then tilted her head toward him with a smile that had lost all trace of innocence.

"You should paint the other one."

He looked up from his hand at her, clearly confused.

"What?"

"The other cheek," she insisted, pointing to her face. "I mean, if you're gonna go around marking me, at least be symmetrical."

Ekko hesitated, furrowed his brow for just a moment. Then his expression softened, a small laugh escaped his mouth, and he shook his head.

Because in that moment, they were no longer innocent. They weren’t just playing at painting each other's faces like two friends in an improvised workshop, and they knew it. They knew what they were doing. They knew what they wanted. There was something in their eyes, in the space between them, that weighed more than any superficial conversation. It wasn’t just tension, it wasn’t just desire. It was that vertigo of being one step away from breaking what they had been so careful to rebuild.

But desire was stronger. Wilder.

Jinx raised an eyebrow. She didn’t smile, didn’t make any teasing remarks. She just looked at him, steady, trying to give him something without words. Something vulnerable. Something clear.

And Ekko understood.

Because something in his breathing changed. He gasped, barely audible, and dipped his thumb into the jar of purple paint with slow movements. When he approached her again, there was no laughter in his eyes. Only absolute focus, an intensity that burned.

She stood still, expectant.

He raised his hand with almost painful slowness. His thumb, once again stained purple, approached her other cheek. He didn’t touch her abruptly. He brushed first with the edge, and then, with a slow motion, descended along her skin. His gaze never left hers.

Every inch of her face was scanned with unbreakable devotion. Jinx couldn’t breathe. Her lips were parted, her eyelids trembled, her pupils dilated. And Ekko, without looking away, without breaking eye contact, leaned his body slightly forward.

His thumb was still there, tracing the arc of her cheekbone, leaving a slow, curved stroke. The paint was an excuse. The touch was the only real thing.

Something ignited inside Jinx. The paint was an excuse.

She didn’t think twice. She grabbed the same jar of paint Ekko had just used and plunged her fingers into it, not caring about the sticky feeling or the mess. The purple paint slid between her fingers, staining her pale skin. For a second, just one, Jinx looked up and met those brown eyes that had so often looked at her with tenderness, with challenge, with a confidence that made her feel so safe and at peace, even when everything seemed to be falling apart.

This time, however, they looked at her with something different: desire.

She wished he would always look at her that way. That he would never stop looking.

Then she lowered her gaze. Her eyes locked onto his chest, on the fabric ready for battle—fabric she knew all too well would mark, one way or another, the last time they would ever be together in anything at all. She didn’t hesitate for a second. She closed the distance. The tips of her stained fingers descended onto his skin—slow, firm,.

She traced carefully, yet decisively. One line. Then another. An imperfect, purple X, gleaming on Ekko’s chest. The exact intersection of the lines rested precisely where his heart was beating. Right there. She felt it beneath her fingers, that deep, serene drum.

"There it is," she said softly, still not looking at his face.

Ekko glanced down at his chest, and a small, curious smile appeared on his lips.

"And what’s that for?" he asked, no reproach, but with a warmth that seeped through Jinx’s pores.

She shrugged.

"So everyone knows you’re with me."

Silence came immediately. Her own words hit her chest like a hammer the moment she finished speaking them. She caught Ekko’s smile growing. From small and tender, it turned cocky and smug in a matter of seconds.

Jinx rolled her eyes, and warmth climbed up her cheeks. Yeah, she’d just dug her own grave. And she knew him too well not to anticipate the teasing that was surely coming.

"I mean..." she clarified, turning her face slightly, not daring to look at him fully, "...so they know we’re on the same side."

He raised an eyebrow.

"If we’re going by that logic..." he started, dragging his words with that voice she knew so well, "...then you should paint the rest of the Firelights too, right?"

She snorted, but a small smile formed on her lips.

"Oh, sure. Want me to start with Tuck? I could paint an X on his forehead, or maybe a little heart on his neck."

The sudden change in Ekko’s expression was enough for Jinx to know she’d struck a nerve. Of course, during her long time with the Firelights, she had learned to get along quite well with some of them. And as much as Ekko might’ve seen it as a dream come true to watch her finally getting along with his people, he wasn’t blind. He could tell how many looked at Jinx and even tried to talk to her with intentions that were far from innocent. Among them, Tuck was one of the least subtle and made no effort to hide it. Even when Ekko shot daggers at him with his eyes, making it very clear he didn’t like that 

Oh, he didn’t like that at all.

Finally, he narrowed his eyes with amusement. If Jinx wanted to go there, then they were going.

"Well, I wouldn’t mind..." he paused, "...as long as you don’t use your hands. And only if you’re not this close," he added, leaning a bit closer to her.

She trembled a little more, but did her best to keep her composure.

"Well, I might not use my hands, but he could use his. So what then, huh?"

He clicked his tongue. 

"Tch. He could try. But maybe I’ll hang him upside down before he even gets the chance."

Jinx’s legs trembled uncontrollably, and the heat in her body spread to places it definitely shouldn’t have just from hearing him say those words with a seriousness that would chill anyone to the bone.

Fuck, that was hot.

She cleared her throat and blinked, deciding to play innocent just a bit longer.

"And why’s that?"

His eyes met hers, and something in his gaze grew softer, yet more serious at the same time. He leaned in a little closer, and his voice came out almost in a whisper.

"You know why."

Jinx felt her chest tighten. Her breath quickened, betraying her.

"Do I?" she asked.

Ekko’s smile widened suddenly. She noticed it instantly. It was that particular smile, the one that came with a more confident look, a firmer posture. A smile that didn’t just say "I like this," but also "I’m fucking ready for whatever comes." And Jinx knew him well enough to understand what that meant. His confidence had grown too.

There were many things that set them apart. But they also shared many others. Among them, that hunger for challenges. That way of diving headfirst into what made them feel alive. And if there was one sure thing, it was that Ekko wasn’t the kind to give up. He never was.

Without taking his eyes off her, he picked up another paint jar, a smaller one, in a darker shade. His fingers dipped calmly into the paint.

He looked at her again. Jinx felt his breath a little closer. He was right in front of her. His brown eyes sought hers without hesitation—intense, burning. He leaned in a bit more. Just a bit.

Then, without warning, she felt Ekko’s other hand. His palm brushed her waist, and his fingers slowly slid across. The contact was soft but firm, and it was as if an electric wire had been plugged straight into her spine. Shit. If something was gonna explode that day, it wasn’t gonna be any bomb. It was her. Right there. In that instant.

Every part of her body usually lit up just by having him near—maybe a warmth born from the familiarity of one of the only people in the world who could make her feel safe. But this... this was different. The slowness with which Ekko traced that path along her waist, the certainty in his gaze sinking into hers without a trace of innocence... It was too much. It was overwhelming. And yet, it was the most fucking pleasurable thing she’d ever felt.

He leaned in a little more. Jinx didn’t know the exact moment it happened, but suddenly she could feel his breath against her mouth. Hot. Close.

"May I?" He whispered.

Jinx nodded so fast that if he hadn’t been that close, her movement would’ve been almost imperceptible.

Ekko moved again, though not to finally kiss her, to her surprise and dismay. His fingers, still covered in paint, slowly slid down Jinx’s waist. Every inch was fire. She felt her skin burn under the touch, felt her body tremble. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her lips slightly parted trying to catch her breath.

In a moment, she recognized the feeling. The one she had tried to find with others in the past, but had never been able to feel with anyone. That feeling she had only managed to experience in her own intimacy when she touched herself. And even then, never, ever with such intensity.

Yeah, she was feeling horny.

She still didn’t understand how those fingers could undo her in seconds. The paint was cold, but her body was so hot that the contrast was exquisite. And when the tips of his fingers slid just beneath the waistband of her pants, just a few centimeters, not enough to cross a line but enough to completely ignite her... her knees buckled.

The touch was minimal, like a feather’s, but the sensation was so intense that a tingling shot up from her thighs to her neck. Her whole body was shaking. Her whole body was begging for more.

She was so lost in the contact, so immersed in the way Ekko was touching her, that she almost didn’t notice his smile. A soft, satisfied, amused smile.

“There it is,” he said.

Jinx looked down, still trying to regain control of her body, and saw her waist. Right there, painted with his own fingers, was the Firelights symbol.

She raised an eyebrow, amused, and looked at him.

“Let me guess. So everyone knows I’m with you?”

Ekko returned the smile, pleased with himself.

“Exactly.”

She took a step closer, reducing the space between their faces.

“I just hope you’re not talking about being on the same side... because, if we go by that logic, you’d have to paint all the jinxers like that,” she whispered.

He frowned, smiling. 

“And?”

“And… I’d have a lot of heads to blow up, Ekko. And I already have enough noxian heads to blow up today.”

He chuckled softly, moving even closer, until his nose almost touched hers.

“Are those jealousy vibes, Pow-Pow?”

“No, not at all. I’m just saying... if I ever catch you painting someone else with those hands, that person might mysteriously blow up.”

“Why?”

Jinx swallowed, lowered her gaze a little, and answered in a quiet voice.

“You know why.”

Ekko leaned in even closer.

“Do I?”

She let out a stifled gasp. Shit, there was so much she wanted to tell Ekko. So much she wanted him to know.

That very thought disconnected her completely from the moment for a few seconds, though paradoxically, connecting her more than ever.

She rested her forehead against Ekko’s and closed her eyes. Her lashes trembled slightly, but instead of pulling away, she stayed there, breathing in his warm breath as it brushed against her mouth in a gentle rhythm. Everything in that moment felt too intense. Too real.

Zaun felt far too distant right then. And if there was one thing Jinx knew with a chest-tightening certainty, it was that if she made it out alive today… Zaun would be even more distant. She hadn’t said it out loud, hadn’t even admitted it to herself until now, but she knew. She knew it with her forehead resting on Ekko’s, feeling the invisible caress of his breath and the warmth of his hands on her waist.

That place had never truly been hers. Zaun had birthed her in blood and desperation, but it hadn’t raised her. Hadn’t held her. She had spent too many years running in circles, shooting in the dark, trying to find a reason with absurd desperation. But now… now she knew she didn’t want to repeat the same cycle anymore. She wanted to break it. Fly differently.

Thinking about all of it hurt her, like so many things had hurt before, but this time it was different. This time, the pain came with something softer. Something shaped like Ekko, like his voice, his unshakable presence.

Rarely could Jinx be in the present moment without feeling completely disconnected from herself. And when that connection did return, she was usually biting her nails and lips thinking about the future, or trying to soothe the sting in her chest that came with thinking of the past. But now… now she didn’t find any of that. Now, she just wanted a little more of him. One more moment. Breathe a little more of his breath, feel his skin a little more. Enjoy him like it was the last time. Because it was. 

She still hadn’t gathered the courage to say sorry. Not for everything she had done to him, nor for what she was surely going to do by leaving. And for a moment, for a second stolen from time, Jinx considered telling him. Telling him that even if everything turned out fine, even if they survived, she planned to leave.

But she knew that if she told Ekko… he might talk to Vi. He might look for her. Try to stop her.

And she couldn’t. She couldn’t make them go through that again.

Vi deserved a peaceful life, a life without the constant threat of the ruins Jinx carried with her. And Ekko… he deserved the brightest thing this cruel world could offer. He deserved peace. A clean start. A future without the shadow of everything she had been. And she knew she was one of the few things capable of ruining all of that.

It was for the best. Even if it shattered her soul into a thousand pieces.

Still, in the midst of that knot in her chest, in the midst of the fear and the certainty of goodbye, she found something warm. A smile that formed, fragile but sincere, on her parted lips. Because even if she couldn’t say everything that hurt, there was one thing she could say. And it didn’t burn as much as the unspoken apologies.

And it came out in a whisper.

“Thank you.”

Ekko pulled back just a few centimeters, just enough for their eyes to meet.

“For what?” he asked softly.

Jinx swallowed. Her fingers were trembling. But she didn’t look away.

“For everything.” 

One of his hands began to caress her face. His other hand remained firm on her waist, but it didn’t grip. It was just there. Present.

“Because… when I was tired of talking… you stayed with me in silence,” she continued, her voice breaking. “When I couldn’t scream anymore. When I couldn’t even think.”

Ekko’s eyes didn’t move, didn’t blink.

“When I was at my worst… you were there,” she went on. “Waiting. Just… being there. Just being… you.”

Jinx felt her throat burn.

“So thank you. Thank you for not looking at me with pity,” she whispered. “For… not feeling sorry for me.”

Her lips brushed almost against Ekko’s when she said:

“Thank you for being you. For not giving up. For being there.”

He opened his mouth, about to say something, but remained silent. He didn’t want to interrupt her.

“These months… with you were magical. I don’t know how to explain it, but… they were the best of my whole fucking life,” Jinx confessed with a small laugh. “And I know it sounds dramatic, but if it hadn’t been you, I’d be dead.”

Ekko’s fingers slid more firmly along her cheek.

“Anyone could’ve tried,” she said, with a broken smile. “Anyone could’ve wanted to stop me. Anyone could’ve talked… or stayed quiet with me. But…”

She rested her forehead against his once more.

“You’re the only one who can bring me back. Always.”

He didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at her. His brown eyes moved slowly, tracing every feature of Jinx’s face.

She didn’t say anything else. For now, she just wanted this. A little more of him.

Ekko’s hand on her waist caressed the skin there, recognizing the curve he already knew by heart but that, in that instant, felt like the first time. Then his hand moved up slowly, very slowly, tracing along her arm, up over her shoulder, until it rested tenderly on her cheek, mirroring his other hand.

“When I came back…” he whispered. “The first thing I did was run to your hideout.”

As he spoke, his fingers traced the outline of her jaw with infinite patience.

“I didn’t know if you’d be here,” he confessed. “I didn’t know if… if you were even still alive. But I needed to see you.”

Jinx didn’t move, not a centimeter. Her eyes were fixed on his. Ekko swallowed, and his thumb brushed the corner of her lips before resting again on her cheek.

“I had to give you something back…” he murmured. “Something of what you gave me back then. That… hope I thought I no longer had in me. I needed it so badly I forgot what it felt like. And you… you gave it back to me.”

He paused for a moment. His voice trembled, and he lowered his head just slightly, wanting to hide for a moment. The contact between their foreheads broke briefly, but Ekko returned to it. Because he knew that, one way or another, he always came back to her.

“I spent so much time tired, Jinx…” he said. “Tired of everything. Angry at the world, at myself. I don’t know when everything I was… everything I ever wanted to be, got consumed. When I got lost in that version of me who only knew how to fight and run… without looking back.”

His voice dropped even lower, and the tip of his thumb this time gently caressed her lower lip.

“I don’t know when I stopped having fun,” he whispered. “Stopped dreaming. Stopped feeling at peace. But you… you gave it back to me. In that reality, in this one, and I’m sure in all of them. Or at least you helped me find it again.”

Ekko exhaled softly, and when he looked back into those pink eyes, a shy tear accompanied his smile.

“So thank you, Jinx.”

She didn’t say anything. She simply moved. Slowly, without warning, she buried her face in Ekko’s neck, wrapping her small arms around him. And he embraced her tightly, pulling her close to him, with the hope that maybe, if he held her tight enough, the damn Z-drive could freeze time and they could just stay in that moment.

Jinx's hands slid along Ekko’s back, moving up, down, recognizing every bone, every muscle. His followed her rhythm, tracing her back, then her sides, until they returned to her waist.

In the middle of that embrace, something caught him by surprise. He could still feel her breath on the curve of his neck—warm, soft… like on those nights when he’d wake up with her asleep in his arms, breathing against his skin. But this time, it was different.

A tingle, barely a touch, shook him from his neck to his chest. It was the contact of lips. Jinx’s lips, pressing to the skin just below his jawline. It was so faint that for a moment he thought he was dreaming, that his desire was betraying him, playing tricks on him.

Until it happened again.

This time slower, but deeper. Jinx pressed her lips to his neck, moving them with a hesitancy that didn’t make it less intense—on the contrary, it made it all the more real. Ekko trembled. Literally. A gasp vibrated out of his throat without asking permission, without a filter. And that’s when everything changed.

She heard it, felt it. Her lips, once shy, melted into his skin with a pressure that no longer carried innocence, nor restraint. They moved with hunger, with desire, with the need of someone who had waited too long.

Ekko clung to her, digging his fingers into the fabric of her clothes, and lowered his head a bit more, bringing his lips closer to her ear.

“Jinx…”

She didn’t stop. And neither did he.

"Best Mistake" - Ariana Grande Ft. Big Sean

He needed to feel her. He needed more of her, everything he could take in—he needed it with a visceral urgency, and he needed it now. He needed more of her skin, more of her touch; he needed something more than words that no longer felt enough to make sense to himself.

He needed more of her.

His hand slid further down to the skin of her waist, gripping the flesh with a force he probably was no longer measuring, pulling her body even closer to his. The movement of Jinx’s lips on his neck was interrupted when Ekko cupped her cheek with his other hand, lifting her face. And it only took him a few seconds to get lost in her.

His mouth was now on Jinx’s neck, planting open, wet kisses, his lips exploring every inch of her skin and the vibrations her gasps were sending through her throat. He sucked and gently nibbled her skin, pulling her tighter against him the moment her gasps grew more intense. The slow, deep kisses quickly turned into fast, desperate touches.

They didn’t need to speak to know that, in that moment, the same thought ran through each of their minds. Something that couldn’t even be put into words, something raw and beyond any possible understanding—something that transcended any label that could ever exist between them. Strangers. Friends. Enemies. Lovers.

They were Jinx and Ekko. And always, against everything, they had been Jinx and Ekko, even when they weren’t. And they would always be simply that. 

Jinx and Ekko. 

That raw desire tearing through them quickly turned to desperation. Desperation to find some tangible way to draw out everything eating them up inside. All those things for which no word, no touch, no action could ever be even remotely enough. So they let that desperation take over, and did the only thing that might, perhaps, express even the smallest part of everything consuming them.

In the blink of an eye, their lips were on each other’s bodies, gliding over every surface they could find.

Ekko kissed her neck again, hungrier, deeper, seeking to imprint himself there. He kissed just below her jaw, then moved down to her collarbone, where his lips trailed slowly, leaving traces of his desperate breathing.

Jinx's hands searched his sides, squeezing the fabric of his crop top, pulling at it, wanting him closer, more hers. She gasped when Ekko gently licked an invisible line from her collarbone to the edge of her shoulder, and when she tilted her head to meet his eyes, her lips almost collided with his.

Almost. Because they didn't kiss right away.

They stood breathing the same air, their mouths barely touching, their noses brushing. Jinx let out a sigh that mingled with Ekko's, and her lips were the firsts to break the distance. A tiny, brief touch on his mouth, as desperate as it was restrained. He responded with another, and then another, and suddenly they were kissing without direction or pause, planting short, frantic kisses on their lips, moving quickly to every point they could find on each other's faces.

Ekko's jaw. Jinx's nose. Her forehead. The corners of his lips. Desire swept them like a wild current. It didn't matter where, it didn't matter how. It was the skin. It was the heat. It was each other.

His hands sought her waist, running over her back with caresses that knew no delicacy, but urgency. His hands stroked the skin beneath the fabric of her top, moving quickly down to the bare skin of her hips, digging his fingertips into the flesh. She trembled at the feeling, and responded by moving her hands from his abdomen to his chest, feeling the pounding beneath his skin. She squeezed Ekko's shoulders, his arms, clung to him, thinking maybe he would disappear if she didn't.

He returned to Jinx's neck, hungry, with a desperate succession of lips that moved, that pressed, that licked, kissed and breathed against her skin. She arched her back, digging her fingers into the nape of his neck, and pulled him closer, always closer.

"Don't stop," she whispered.

"I don't think I can," he replied against the curve of her breasts, planting a kiss there before returning to her mouth.

Their lips met again, and this time the kiss was long, slow, their lips pressed against each other's, separating with a wet noise, and quickly meeting again. But not even that was enough. Because the point wasn't even the kiss anymore. It wasn't the lips. It was everything. It was the skin, the breath, the muscles, the flesh, the bones. It was Jinx. It was Ekko.

He slid one hand under Jinx's top, feeling the heat of her ribs, of her back, and his other hand squeezed the skin of her hips more urgently, pulling her body closer to his. She clung to him, kissing his neck, leaving small bites that barely hurt, but left marks. She wanted him to remember. She wanted herself to remember every second, wanted so badly for Ekko to mark every inch of her skin and not let her forget this.

When he lowered his face to kiss her collarbone again, she spoke between gasps.

"I want you to paint on me."

He paused for barely a second, breathing deeply against her skin. He looked into her eyes, and they were glowing, metaphorically and literally. The desperate pumping of Jinx's heart seemed to have ignited the shimmer in her body, illuminating her eyes with that sparkling pink, which at the same time shone with something that had nothing to do with shimmer.

"With your hands," she added, murmuring the words breathily against Ekko's lips in a desperate plea.

He didn't think twice. His lips touched hers again, letting their tongues dance together inside each other's mouths for a few seconds, separating as he slowly sucked on Jinx's lower lip. Ekko went back to working on the rest of her body, responding as he kissed her shoulder, then the hollow at the base of her neck, then her earlobe.

"Only if you paint on me with yours too."

She smiled, and the pink sparkle in her eyes increased. She gently pushed him against the edge of the vanity and moved closer, pressing her entire body against his. Ekko soon placed his hands on her hips again, roughly cupping the skin of her ass, pressing her against him. A desperate moan died in their throats as their bodies brushed and started grinding together in all the right, neediest places. She cupped his shoulders and grinded against him again, a motion he reciprocated by gripping her ass tightly and guiding her movements against his body. In an instant, the friction that had barely begun as an accidental movement became a sweet synchronicity they both found with absurd need. Every time she grinded her hips against his, he immediately responded by gripping the flesh of her hips harder, pressing her closer to him, helping her find a steady rhythm. 

It was fucking perfect. To think they could have such absurd synchronicity, that they were able to find a rhythm even without words, even with their clothes still on.

Their hands moved with the same desperation as their mouths and hips: caressing, squeezing, tracing the skin, memorizing every inch. The ribs. The back. The chest. The thighs. The shoulder blades. The abdomen. No corner was left untouched.

They panted, moaned through their teeth, kissing wherever they could. Sometimes their lips collided like two raging waves, other times they barely touched like a butterfly's wing. Sometimes it was a deep kiss that left them breathless, other times it was a brush against the cheek, the temple, the jaw, the line of the jaw.

Jinx pulled away barely to exhale. With a small smile, she planted a peck on Ekko's lips before speaking.

"Deal.”

Her hands gathered all the paint containers she could find: green, yellow, pink, purple, blue. Without saying a word, she grabbed Ekko by the hand and dragged him along with her, giggling.

The old couch resting in a corner of the hideout creaked as they dropped onto it, side by side, their bodies intertwining automatically. She placed her legs over Ekko’s lap, and as she did, he gave her thigh a gentle, warm, and firm squeeze.

He was the first to grab one of the paint jars. Yellow. Then he looked up at Jinx, who was watching him with narrowed eyes and a smile still on her lips. He leaned toward her, planting a couple of soft kisses along her jawline.

"Where should I start?" he murmured against her skin.

"Wherever you want."

He smiled, tapped her lips lightly with his finger, and then took her hand. He caressed her wrist with his fingertips, slowly trailing up her forearm with tenderness, feeling how Jinx’s fine hairs stood on end under his touch.

But when he reached the top of her arm, something stopped him. His fingers met the uneven skin of clearly old scars. There were several—angular and twisted. They looked aged, yes, but deep enough to have deformed the blue clouds tattoos.

Ekko let out a breath, lowering his gaze. He’d seen them before, countless times, though he’d never said anything. Each time, the same question had burned through him, stronger every time his fingers stumbled upon those marks. And even though deep down he already knew the answer, he’d never dared to ask it aloud.

But now, there was no noise, no rush. It was just the two of them, wrapped in that fragile bubble of intimacy—one that didn’t allow Ekko to feel even a trace of discomfort within himself and his question. 

"Did I do this to you?" he whispered, tracing the scars carefully with his fingers.

Jinx sighed. She remembered those scars perfectly—of course she did. She could never forget that night on the bridge, never forget the way Ekko looked at her, much less everything that happened after she decided to pull the pin. And even though she expected discomfort to eat away at her, she found none of that before her voice came out.

"Yes."

A brief silence followed, though it hurt far less than either of them would have expected.

"That night was the last... before I... changed," she said, playing with a white strand of his hair. "Since then... you know... I can’t get new scars. If I cut myself, they fade fast. But those... are gonna stay forever."

He nodded, still holding her, barely moving. He just kept caressing the scars.

"Ironic, huh?" she said with a soft laugh. "You’re etched into my skin."

He didn’t reply. He kept staring at the imperfect pattern on her skin, but then a smile crept onto his lips, lighting up his expression in a second.

"I have an idea," he said, and opened the jar containing the yellow paint. He dipped his finger into it and pulled it out, now coated in the bright color.

He looked into her pink eyes and curved his lips into another smile.

"You know... back in... ‘Perfect Zaun,’" Ekko began, making air quotes with his fingers, imitating Jinx’s tone. "You and I had sort of a nickname."

"Oh yeah?" she laughed, amused. "Don’t tell me we were an it couple."

"Seems like we were," he chuckled, beginning to trace yellow lines over her scarred skin. "They called us Zaun’s royalty."

Jinx couldn’t help but smile, though she tried to hide it. Something in her lips curled, something in her eyes lit up.

Ekko finished drawing, smiled in satisfaction, and whispered:

"And honestly, in that universe, in this one, or any other... being a queen suits you pretty well."

She looked down at her arm and felt her heart melt. Right above the scars, Ekko had drawn a small crown.

She slid her fingers to his abdomen, caressing it with unexpected confidence. Shit. She was getting way too used to that.

"Honestly... I don’t give a shit where I’m queen of," Jinx said, running her hands along the curves of his muscles. "Being your queen is enough."

Ekko let out a smug smile.

"Then let me add something else."

This time, he dipped his finger into the purple paint and quickly drew the Firelights’ symbol beneath the crown.

Jinx’s smile grew, and between giggles, she began to plant small kisses on Ekko’s lips, while he kept caressing her thigh with a firm hand.

"My turn," she murmured against his mouth and sat up a little.

She took the pink paint jar and scanned Ekko’s body with her gaze. For a moment, her smile faded, and she let out a sigh. She knew exactly what she wanted to do. What she needed to do.

She began to paint small X’s along his arm. One for every Firelight member who had died because of her. Then she moved down to his abdomen, painting one for every bullet she had ever fired at him.

And finally, she stopped at his chest, right above his heart.

There, she drew one more X—the smallest of them all.

One for that time when Ekko tried to enter her life, and she was too broken to let him in again.

Her fingers, covered in pink, gently caressed the marks she had just drawn. The unspoken question in the air was quickly answered by Jinx’s voice.

"For all the times I hurt you," she whispered, not looking at him directly. "And for all the times I never would again."

He leaned his body a little closer to hers. His hand rose to Jinx’s cheek, caressing it with devotion. She leaned into his touch and moved closer as well.

He kissed her forehead. Then her nose. Then her lips.

Ekko picked up the paint jar again, this time with a different kind of determination. There was no hesitation, no doubt. His fingers sank into the thick blue mixture without thinking, and his gaze became focused. He looked at her for a few more seconds, then, with gentle movements, leaned toward her waist. He knew exactly what he wanted to paint. With the tip of his finger, he drew one line. Then another. And another. Until there were five.

One, two, three, four, five.

Then he brought the same sequence of lines to Jinx’s hips, drawing them slowly, feeling the tremble of her skin beneath his fingers. After that, he leaned a bit more and repeated the pattern on her left thigh. One, two, three, four, five.

She watched him silently. Her nails slid over the back of his head, softly scratching the shaved portion of his hair.

He let his hands rest on her hips. He didn’t move them—he just let them be there, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin. His thumbs gently brushed over her hip bones, making unconscious circles.

He looked up and met Jinx’s eyes again. Quickly, Ekko answered aloud the question he found in them.

"For all the times I shattered time for you..." he said quietly, caressing her hips once more. "And for all the times I’d do it again."

Jinx didn’t reply with words. She leaned in slowly and buried her nose in the curve of his neck, right in that warm space between his collarbone and the base of his throat where Ekko always smelled like something familiar—almost like home. She breathed in there for a long moment, and then began planting kisses. One after another. From his neck to his jaw, from his jaw to his lips, where she placed a soft peck before smiling.

They didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Painting. Touching. Kissing. At some point, everything except the paint, the hideout, and themselves ceased to exist. Their bodies intertwined this time not with urgency, but with the warmth of familiarity. Ekko’s hands traveled along Jinx’s back, tracing her spine with paint-smeared fingers. They slid down to her shoulder blades, gently pressed the small of her back, then climbed back up, drawing invisible patterns.

Jinx did the same, though with a more playful touch. Her fingers painted small strokes along Ekko’s shoulders, slid down his arms, and left little pink and violet marks on his  skin. She painted his collarbones, his chest, his abdomen, making sure every corner screamed “Jinx,” and that the whole world would know she had marked him.

The caresses continued, soft and slow. The tips of their fingers sank into each other’s skin, as if trying to memorize every texture, every curve, every flaw. He left a kiss on Jinx’s forehead. Then one on her cheek. One more on the tip of her nose. He then moved down to her ear and whispered something she couldn’t quite understand, but that made her let out a soft laugh at the tickling sensation.

She answered by kissing the edge of his jaw, his neck, his chin. They took turns. They laughed. They painted each other. They caressed.

He took her legs in his hands, determined to paint her skin there too. Small streaks of blue paint marked her skin with his presence, proudly. If he could, he would’ve shouted to the world just how damn lucky he was. Though that might be a bit dramatic, this felt close enough.

They painted everything they could paint. With their hands. With their lips. With their bodies.

They kissed until they couldn’t remember where one ended and the other began. Until the paint became a second skin.

But soon, the seriousness that had ruled moments before faded away, and a spark of mischief began to grow between them. Because of course, they were Jinx and Ekko. Things rarely stayed serious for long when they were together.

First came the chaos of flailing hands. Paint-smeared fingers flew toward the other’s body as they tried—futilely—to defend against the onslaught, laughing all the while. Between stolen kisses and bursts of laughter, they began competing to leave their mark on each other. The slaps were quickly replaced by entire containers of paint being poured onto their skin, with hands spreading color on every surface possible. Later came the “unique strokes” competition. To see who could draw something more original, they proposed. Big mistake. At least for Ekko.

Because the moment the idea hung in the air, Jinx, with all the seriousness in the world, asked him to turn around.

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” he asked, feeling her fingers on his lower back.

“Shhh. Trust me.”

She continued sliding her index finger over the skin of his back, barely containing a laugh with her face red. When she finished, she grinned, satisfied with her creation: “Jinx was here” was written across Ekko’s back, accompanied by an arrow pointing directly at his ass.

When Ekko heard the muffled sounds coming from her nose—clearly from a stifled laugh—he brought a hand to his forehead.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Jinx sang, trying to breathe between the choked giggles that threatened to take her breath away. “Just left my mark in unexplored territory… for now.”

He turned, twisting at an impossible angle that only made her finally burst out laughing. When he read the words scrawled on his back, he raised an eyebrow, watching in amusement as Jinx bent over and turned the color of a tomato.

Oh, she really thought she’d won.

“Oh… So now we’re playing dirty…”

Ekko smirked. If she wanted to play dirty, he’d be more than happy to raise the stakes.

He grabbed some thick green paint and plunged his hands into it. Jinx’s eyes widened, amused and intrigued.

“What are you gonna do?” she asked.

He simply shot her a look that set her on fire in seconds.

He began to slide his paint-stained hands up her arms, from her forearms to her elbows, very slowly. The paint left a thick trail, cold at first, but soon seeming to warm from the friction. Jinx held her breath, feeling the contrast between the paint and the warmth of Ekko's hands.

From her elbows, his hands moved up her arms, quickly jumping to her sides, from where they ascended to her breasts, cupping them in his large hands. Not a single portion of Jinx's skin was left untouched by Ekko's hands.

She let out a gasp that was probably quite embarrassing, dropping her head forward, her forehead touching his. From the corner of her eyes, she could see a delighted Ekko with her reaction, who was soon squeezing her breasts in his hands once more. She let out a sharp exhalation through her nose. Damn, stupid, idiot, bastard. He knew perfectly well the effect he had on her.

Still, between gasps, Jinx tried to regain her composure, chuckling at the green marks Ekko's hands left on her chest.

"And why are these, huh?" she asked, between gasps, letting out a nervous giggle.

"For the..." He let out a mocking smile, thinking for a second. Then he returned his gaze to hers, massaging her breasts once more. "Dynamic textures. Improves the user experience in dynamic systems, you know?"

"You're a fucking nerd," she said between gasps, her voice huskier than usual, arching her back toward him. "And you don't know anything about dynamic systems."

"Oh, of course I do. Immersive interaction..." he replied, caressing her breasts, watching as Jinx's eyes fluttered at the contact. 

"High sensitivity..." he continued, pressing his face even closer to hers. A slightly firmer squeeze on her breasts, accompanied by his fingers brushing over her nipples, was enough to make her let out a gasp even louder than before.

He smiled in amusement.

"Immediate system response... you want me to keep going?"

"So tell me, brainiac..." She murmured, moving one of her hands to Ekko's abdomen. "What if the system overloads?"

"Then it needs to be rebooted. Slowly."

His hands groped her breasts slowly, making her shiver. Shit, there was no way she was going to take the lead after this.

"What if the system crashes from excessive... dynamics?"

"It updates itself. But it might need... frequent maintenance."

Jinx laughed, but the trembling in her body and that heat that begged for relief became more and more evident. Ekko's hands remained on her skin, this time moving slowly down her sides, drawing with paint, but also with increasingly clear intentions.

Her panting became more frequent. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her parted lips sought something unspoken, something that had nothing to do with innocent touches. Without further ado, and without giving a shit that Ekko had clearly won, she spoke again.

"Ekko... if you don't kiss me right now..." she murmured through gritted teeth, "I'm gonna die. I swear—"

His lips against hers didn't let her finish.

Soon, they were both fully immersed in a hungry kiss once again, their tongues exploring each other's mouths with an urgency they no longer cared to hide. Jinx moaned loudly into his mouth as she felt his hands pull her closer, a sound he quickly mimicked as he felt her desperate nails on his back. She didn't know exactly where they were going with this. Of course, she had a very clear idea of what she wanted, and the growing desperation in Ekko's gasps and the touch of his hands all over her body only told her he wanted the same thing. She would’ve hoped it would be under different circumstances, without the end of the world just around the corner. But considering she knew full well she wouldn't see him again after the battle...

She didn't think twice.

A gleam in Jinx's eyes that could have lit up the entire hideout. A startled Ekko gasping into her mouth at the sudden and extreme speed with which she moved. A pink trail behind Jinx's movements. In an instant, she let shimmer take control of her body and suddenly, she was on Ekko's lap, trapping him with one leg on either side of his body and holding onto his neck. Not measuring what she was doing—and definitely not measuring her speed—she tried to attack his mouth again. Upon seeing his face, she was greeted by wide eyes and lips parted in a gasp.

Shit, maybe it had been too much? Maybe she had completely lost control of her arousal. Shit, surely Ekko thought this was the weirdest thing in the world. Surely he didn't even want to do this. What kind of person moved at lightning speed when they were horny? Surely he—

"Fuck, that was hot," he panted hoarsely against her lips, not wasting another second. Soon, his mouth was attacking hers, and his hands were roughly grabbing her ass, pressing her body firmly against his.

Jinx smiled against his lips, immediately reciprocating the kiss and the rhythm he was setting. Her hips started grinding and rolling against Ekko's, and shit, there was no way they could stop this now. The sensation was exquisite, far more than either of them could’ve dreamed of when they had far from innocent fantasies about each other. Their desperate gasps died in their throats, only increasing each time he pressed against her ass, making her grind against him even harder.

Her hands quickly moved under his crop top. She didn't want to go into any stupid battles or fights ever again in her life. She wanted to stay there, losing herself in the curves of Ekko's abdomen and chest. She could even live there. Her hands caressed his skin desperately, feeling his racing heartbeat beneath her palm. With a gasp against her mouth, he caught her lower lip between his teeth before pulling away.

His mouth was now sucking and biting at her neck, and damn, she couldn't stand it anymore. The friction wasn't enough, and too much clothing was in the way. Ekko's hands moved up to Jinx's ribs, and as he reached the hem of her top, his brown eyes locked into hers, expectant, but never losing their sweetness. She understood the unspoken question and nodded almost immediately. Of course he had her permission. It was Ekko.

He buried himself in her neck again, this time trailing wet kisses down to her collarbone, then to the curve of her breasts. His hands firmly grasped the fabric of her top, beginning to slide it over her chest, and just when he planned to lose himself in those curves, just when he didn't want to breathe anything but her...

Footsteps and distant voices began to be heard in the hideout.

Jinx and Ekko pulled apart as if someone had fired a cannon next to their ears. Both of them straightened up on the couch at once, breathing heavily, faces flushed, lips and necks still wet.

"Shit," she muttered, lowering her gaze to her top and adjusting it back over her chest as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

He sat up immediately, running a hand over the back of his neck, then over his face. The footsteps were getting closer, faster. Reality returned to them in a matter of seconds.

The first Firelights entered the hideout, carrying their hoverboards, tools, backpacks, some improvised weapons, and others more elaborate. One of them, his face covered by a partial mask and his hair tied back, gave a quick nod before continuing toward the center of the turbine.

They exchanged a fleeting glance, eyes still glowing with something that hadn’t completely faded. The blush was still present on their cheeks, and though they tried to hide it, their lips were still curved in a tense half-smile. She crossed her arms, turned on her heels, and huffed to herself, frustrated, before standing up.

He sighed too, resigned. He didn’t say another word. He turned and went to join the Firelights, who were beginning to arrange the arsenal on the upper platform of the turbine. It was time. He knew there was no room for distractions now.

Jinx watched him walk away as everyone around her began to move. The hideout had awakened from its slumber. Some were sharpening weapons, others checking mechanisms, many putting on armor for their arms, shoulders, chests. The murmur began to fill the air, and she forced herself to shake off the emotions pounding in her chest. Of course this wasn’t the time. Not with the most important battle of their lives just minutes away.

She suddenly remembered something and walked to her vanity. She searched the shelf for something she’d prepared especially for this day. She held it in her hands, hesitating for a second, then smiled. She grabbed the two purple cloth hoods and turned around just as Ekko was passing nearby again, giving instructions to one of his own 

"Hey, gearhead," she called, and without giving him time to respond, she tossed him one of the pieces of fabric.

Ekko caught the garment in the air, surprised, and unfolded it in his hands. He examined it for a second and then held it up, raising an eyebrow at it.

"Hoods," Jinx replied, shrugging. "I have one just like it."

As she spoke, she was already putting it on. The fabric was purple and soft, and it had a shark-tooth-shaped trim on the front that framed her face with an aura no one in Zaun could match. Ekko chuckled and slipped his on without much thought.

They stood for a few seconds facing each other, hoods on, ridiculous and perfectly synchronized. Ekko looked into her eyes without saying a word, completely ignoring the others rushing around them. He stepped a little closer, no hesitation this time, and planted a short, loud kiss right on Jinx’s lips.

"That was…" she began, her smile still frozen on her lips.

"Yes?" he asked, stepping back slightly with a teasing smile on his face.

"Very… dynamic."

He let out a low laugh, shook his head, and walked away, returning to his group. Jinx stayed there, watching him go, her hands clenched in soft fists at her sides. Her smile faded slowly as she felt the heat of a knot rising in her throat.

She bit her lip, trying to hold back something she didn’t know if it was a laugh or a sob. She watched him from afar—how he spoke with the Firelights, how he gave orders, how he assumed his role as leader. How he was simply Ekko. Her Ekko.

And she knew. She knew with a raw certainty that hurt her back, her chest, her knuckles. Whatever happened today, this was the last time. This was her final act of love. The last and painful silent gesture of someone who never knew how to love in simple ways, but who had loved him all along.

And she also knew, with a certainty that was almost foolish , that no matter how much time might pass, no matter how much this world tried to separate them—

She’ll always be saving her love for him. 

••••

Well, this was proving to be harder than Ekko had thought.

Of course, it’s not like he ever believed finding Jinx would be easy, but even with the odds stacked against him, he had underestimated the situation.

He knew Jinx. Knew her as well as the back of his hand. And she was not discreet. She never had been. You could hide her in the darkest corner of the map, cover her with a veil, and she’d still draw attention. Even if she didn’t mean to. Even if she was just sitting there breathing, somehow the world always ended up unable to take its eyes off her.

And yet, there wasn’t a single trace.

Not in Shurima, nor apparently in Ixtal. The journey from the desert had been surprisingly smooth—at least by the standards one could expect given the irritating amount of sandstorms. But Ekko had always been a fast learner. He mastered the art of stabilizing the ship in harsh conditions almost as quickly as he had mastered every other skill in his life. Now, at every new current, he simply rolled his eyes and moved with speed and muscle memory. To the controls. To the sails. To the helm. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from facing all sorts of absurd inconveniences. Once, a flock of hungry seagulls attacked him over a piece of bread he was saving as a snack. Another time, a storm decided to show up unannounced just when he was trying to sleep for the first time in days. Ekko, with one of the sail ropes between his teeth, cursed his luck while trying to bail out water with a bucket clearly not designed for nautical emergencies. If anyone asked Ekko, the truth was it had been great training for his patience—an ability that honestly wasn’t his strong suit.

Despite all that, he’d enjoyed the trip. Even if he hadn’t admitted it yet, not entirely.

He’d begun getting distracted by things that would’ve seemed more than stupid to him just weeks ago. Sometimes, he’d stop to observe how the sea foam sparkled under the sunset light. He’d laugh to himself when a fish slipped into his boot. He’d try fishing again, though still without success. And once, he spent over an hour trying to catch a leaf that drifted aimlessly alongside the boat. Not because he needed it, of course.

Still, there were moments when he was just bored out of his mind. In one of them, he spent four hours watching a flying fish crash repeatedly into his mast. Another afternoon, he fell asleep with the compass in his hand and woke up about ten nautical miles south of where he was supposed to be. He didn’t get too alarmed by those mistakes anymore. Before, he would’ve flagged every deviation as a critical threat. Now... well, now he just shrugged and turned the helm.

But there was one thing he couldn’t quite relax about. The silence.

The one that had filled his head for so many years. The silence that used to be packed with voices, with shouting, with future plans and constant check-ins. Now... nothing.

Everything was so quiet. What was he supposed to do with that?

Well, actually, nothing was ever completely quiet. And that was another one of his big problems.

The core had become even more unstable. It was more obvious every day. The pulses were irregular, the readings illogical. Sometimes it created temporal distortions so intense that Ekko could swear he saw the waves folding in on themselves. Other times, tiny cracks appeared, and he’d find himself repeating the same movement one, two, three times, though he could swear that wasn’t his body’s intention. The worst part was that he no longer knew how much time he had before the core did something truly irreversible.

He had to find Jinx. And he had to do it fast.

Not just because the core was collapsing, but because time—literally—was unraveling in his hands.

Finally, Ekko arrived at the next closest place to Shurima where he could try his luck: Ixtal.

The region was everything the books had warned about: a plant-made labyrinth with a passive-aggressive attitude. From the moment he stepped into the jungle, humidity and pollen wrapped around him head to toe. There were no clear paths, and the ones that did appear had the courtesy to vanish five steps later. Just like Ekko’s patience.

Exploring Ixtal was like walking through a painting that reworked itself with every step. The vegetation was so dense it seemed like the world was stubbornly trying to grow over itself. Trees with roots the size of houses, vines with more personality than most humans, and flowers that probably could eat you if you looked at them wrong. Everything was so vividly colored that at times Ekko wondered if he wasn’t inside one of those core-induced temporal fractures, in a parallel universe where plants had won the evolutionary war.

Of course, he was there for a very specific reason: Jinx. He’d arrived hoping to find a clue, a trail, but what he found was... serenity. A rather annoying kind, truth be told. And flowers. Oh, and a population surprisingly uninterested in the existence of outsiders. Points for Ekko.

He tried to find out things. Did his best to gather as much subtlety as he could muster, which in his case meant looking around with exaggerated nonchalance, approaching merchants and asking if “a young woman with blue hair, a slightly homicidal laugh, but puppy-dog eyes” had passed through recently. The responses were a mix of confusion, nervous giggles, and—on one occasion—a fruit thrown directly at his head by an elderly woman who probably mastered both elemental magic and the art of aim equally.

He tried switching tactics. Walked between market stalls pretending to inspect fabrics and medicinal herbs, hoping someone would mention something—anything. But nothing. The silence surrounding anything that could be related to Jinx was so absolute that Ekko began to suspect that, if she had been there, the jungle itself had absorbed her in an act of universal mercy.

But at least the experience wasn’t a total failure.

On one of his many failed outings, Ekko ended up in a semi-hidden temple buried in the undergrowth. What began as an accidental excursion—lost, again, because the trees in Ixtal seemed determined to mess with him—ended up being one of the strangest yet most comforting things he’d experienced in weeks. The temple was filled with geometric structures carved into stone. Maybe it was the birdsong that no longer sounded annoying, maybe it was the humid breeze that carried a pleasantly leafy scent, or maybe it was the silence. One way or another, before Ekko realized it, he’d lost track of time studying the inscriptions among the weeds.

Of course, there were also more... earthly moments. In one, Ekko decided he could ride a creature similar to a tapir, domesticated by some of the locals. The animal, with more sense than him, decided it didn’t like Ekko and launched him straight into the mud. With his pride wounded, he promised himself that one day he would ride one, even if only out of sheer stubbornness. Another day, he tried a root infusion from a vendor of questionable origins. Ekko spent the next eight hours convinced he could smell colors and talk to bushes. It was an... educational experience, though he still wasn’t sure what exactly he had learned.

Amid all that absurdity, there were... moments. The taste of a red, sour fruit with no name, but that made him frown and laugh to himself. The warm nights, when the sky filled with impossible stars—stars he had started liking more than he expected lately. The way the jungle sang to the rhythm of crickets, birds, leaves, and magic.

Despite being grateful that his stay in Ixtal hadn't been a nightmare, he was exhausted. He had been traveling for days, zigzagging through uncertain routes, avoiding storms and bad decisions—well, not all of them—but he had to keep going. Nothing could truly be enjoyed when time slipped through your fingers.

Now, The World Flyer had gently run aground on the Amaranthine Coast of Ixtal.

At first, when he spotted the silhouette of land through the mist and the red reflection of the sun, he thought maybe he could allow himself a break. Chart his next destination with something resembling a plan. He even thought about a quiet cove, fresh fruit, and the absurd possibility of a hammock. But he regretted it instantly.

The Amaranthine Coast was not at all what he had expected.

The first thing he noticed were the ships. And not just any ships. Dozens, maybe hundreds. And as if that wasn’t enough, the ships, of all shapes and sizes, seemed to compete violently to see which could cause the most nightmares. Some were decorated with carved sea monster symbols on their hulls, others with tattered flags. All of them, without exception, exuded the unsettling essence of pirates and hunters.

The masts were tall and misshapen, like poorly welded bones. Many were adorned with torn nets, remains of sea creatures, and lanterns hanging on the verge of falling. Ekko spotted one ship whose prow had been carved into the shape of a shark with its jaw wide open, and he couldn’t be sure, but he swore something inside that mouth was moving.

And of course, the crew members weren’t exactly the kind of people you’d want to share a dinner with... or a planet. Men and women with steely gazes, tattoos that told stories no one wanted to hear, and weapons. Lots of weapons. Ekko saw everything from broad sabers to portable cannons, rifles, daggers, and harpoons. Some wore patchwork armor, others were bare-chested, covered only in scars. And all of them, absolutely all of them, were brimming with a restless energy. Was there some kind of party he didn’t know about?

Because they all seemed to be setting off to the northeast.

The route was clear: a column of ships heading in the same direction. Ekko, watching from his ship stranded near the rocks, narrowed his eyes. If he wasn’t mistaken—and lately, he rarely was when it came to maritime orientation—that direction led straight to Bilgewater.

A war? A massive raid? A competition for the shiniest hook? He didn’t know. The only evident thing was that something was brewing over there, something juicy enough to draw that many mercenaries, pirates, and nautical psychopaths. But Ekko, in his infinite caution born of self-preservation, decided not to join the pirate-infested route. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that the mere fact of not having a crew to back him up and a ship in good condition made him an extremely tempting target for those crews. And he didn’t plan to die today.

With that entirely sensible conclusion, he took the helm and changed course. His ship, now free from the coast, began to move eastward, skirting the great maritime caravan of pirates. He sailed with no lights, drawing no attention, not making a single unnecessary creak. He wasn’t about to give anyone a reason to turn a cannon his way.

Once far enough, already in open waters, he let out a long sigh.

The sea, now devoid of foreign ships in sight, regained its serenity. The waves seemed friendlier, the sky less heavy. Even the air tasted different. It no longer smelled of imminent violence, but of salt.

He felt relieved, but the relief came with exhaustion.

Now that he didn’t have to worry about assassins with tricorn hats and the scent of rum, Ekko realized he hadn’t slept in almost thirty hours. He yawned once, then again, then a third time that felt like his soul was being dragged out through his throat. He slowed the ship, let the sails do their work, and dropped the floating anchor, keeping the drift under control.

Then, without ceremony, he let himself fall onto the deck.

His body hit the warm wood with a sigh. He didn’t have the energy to find a blanket. Nor to adjust the angle of the sun. He barely managed to close his eyes and hear the distant lull of waves licking the hull.

He sighed. Long, dense, trying to empty himself.

His chest rose and fell slowly, and his eyelids, increasingly heavy, blinked with the sluggishness of someone clinging to the last thread of wakefulness. He brought a hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the faint starlight. His muscles hummed. He yawned without even trying to hide it.

In the midst of that stupor, he thought of her. Of course he always ended up thinking of her.

Finding her was, after all, the easy part. Because once he found Jinx—if he actually did, if she wasn’t just a shadow projected by his hope—then... what next?

The core needed to be stabilized. And for that, they needed to create the medium. He had already tried alone, of course. He had gone over the calculations time and again, tested impossible combinations, but without her, all effort would be useless. The core was incomplete. 

And although the thought of seeing her again, of working together with grease-stained hands and eyes shining among gears gave him butterflies in his stomach, it also gave him chills.

Because, after stabilizing the core, came the other thing. The truly impossible thing. Intercepting the paradox. Breaking it. And that part was his burden. His alone. Because only he could undo the disaster he himself had caused in the first place.

His brow furrowed involuntarily, even as his body seemed to give in to fatigue. A tic in his cheek betrayed his tension. His thoughts raced faster than his body could follow.

He knew the core couldn’t remain destabilized much longer. The mere fact of having it in this timeline was an ever-growing risk. He had noticed it. Small distortions becoming more frequent. There were moments when he swore he had done something only once, but found himself trapped in the middle of repetitions he didn’t even remember. Or the opposite: moments when the sea around him suddenly changed, and he found himself miles ahead with no memory of the journey. And that wasn’t normal. Well, nothing was.

His breathing grew slower, deeper. Fatigue was winning. His shoulders relaxed. And yet, in his mind, everything moved fast.

He had to fix it. One way or another. And for that, he needed Jinx.

And then... what?

Go back to Zaun? With Jinx?

He laughed to himself, a bitter laugh, barely a breath of air. Of course not. Jinx wouldn’t want to go back. Surely there was a reason she had left in the first place, why she’d let everyone think she was dead.

That line of thought, that mere idea, was enough to suddenly ignite a spark in him that quickly turned into a blaze.

Because she knew what that would cause. There was no way she didn’t. Jinx wasn’t stupid. She couldn’t not know the damage her ‘death’ would cause. Vi had been shattered. Sevika had even cried, and that said a lot. And well, he...

Shit, she could have said something. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t have tried to stop her. But at least he could have lived knowing Jinx was happy somewhere else, even if it wasn’t with him. But no. She had vanished.

The anger pierced him like a spear. His heart was pounding again, hammering against his ribs, breaking the lethargy. But then, replacing that fire, came sadness. Anguish.

What if Jinx had done it on purpose?

What if she didn’t want to see anyone again?

What if she didn’t want to see him?

His frown relaxed, but it was replaced by a vacant gaze. His eyes glistened with something wet, but not tears. The pain was hidden behind his half-closed eyelids.

What if she doesn’t miss me?

Shit, what if she never wants to kiss me again?

What if she doesn’t even wanna see me again?

His throat tightened.

He tried not to think about that. Not now. It wasn’t helpful. The important thing was the core, stabilizing the line. That was what mattered.

He forced himself to close his eyes for a moment, just a moment. But his eyelids were heavy. Very heavy. Each blink took longer to reopen.

And without realizing it, his eyes shut. This time, for real.

••••

The faint creak of wood was the first thing to reach his ears.

Ekko opened his eyes slowly. The sky above him was now a dull gray, nothing like the open waters of Ixtal. A cold breeze brushed his face, and he knew, even before sitting up, that something wasn’t right.

The ship’s deck creaked with an unsettling slowness beneath him. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and looked around. It was all water. Water everywhere. But not the kind of water he remembered when he had dropped the floating anchor. The sea now surrounding him had a sickly hue, a viscous blackness.

Ekko frowned. He couldn’t see land in any direction. Just open sea, but not just any open sea. Something about those waters made his skin crawl. They smelled of iron and salt, but also of something quite like corpses. He stood up shakily, and when he placed a hand on the ship’s railing, he felt the sticky dampness of a mist beginning to settle.

He looked toward the stern, searching for the floating anchor. It was gone. No trace. He looked down into the water, trying to guess where it might be, but the sea was dark, and his reflection was barely a flicker among shadows. A shiver ran down his spine. How long had he been asleep?

When he rushed to the controls, he noticed something else. The engine wasn’t responding. He hurried down to the compartment where the system was located, and what he saw froze his blood: the remnants of the propellers were wrecked. The engine, consequently, was a useless mass of burnt and rusted parts. Some rocky spike, or a sharp piece of debris from the seafloor that hated him too much, had destroyed it.

He returned to the deck, panting. The ship was adrift. Completely. And in waters that saying gave him chills was an understatement.

Because now they weren’t just dark. Now they were… moving?

Subtle ripples moved in his direction, even though the wind wasn’t blowing. It almost seemed like something beneath the surface was breathing, or crawling, pushing the waves with a will of its own. And then, he saw the mist.

Black. Not gray, not white, not bluish. Black. Like evaporated tar. It advanced slowly but inexorably, rolling over the water like a blanket of living shadows. It didn’t seem to be carried by the wind, but by another purpose. And that purpose, Ekko knew in seconds, was none other than himself.

The mist licked the prow of the ship and a wave of cold chilled him to the bone. He stepped back instinctively, tripping over a loose rope. His lungs felt heavier. The sky, once gray, darkened even more, and he could swear the mist was beginning to devour him from below. An invisible pressure began to close in on his skull. The murmur of the water, once so familiar, suddenly changed. It no longer sounded like waves hitting wood and began to resemble whispers. Voices. Voiceless voices. Voices that crawled through the cracks in his mind.

"Ekko..."

His blood ran cold. That wasn’t possible. He looked around, searching for any sign of life, but there was nothing. The ship floated in a void where the horizon had vanished. The mist now climbed the ship’s edges, and where it touched, the wood began to rot. Ekko stepped back, trembling, jaw clenched. His legs barely responded.

From within that dark cloud, shadows emerged. Not defined figures, but lumps with diffuse outlines. They seemed to try to take shape, failing, lamenting their own failure. Some had hands. Others, claws. All of them seemed to look at him, though they had no eyes. The air became unbreathable. Ekko fell to his knees, gasping, feeling as if thousands of needles were piercing his lungs.

Then, barely able to focus his vision, he saw what seemed to be an arm rising from the mist, resting on the deck. Then another. A creature emerged, dragging a decomposed torso, dressed in shreds of what might once have been a uniform. It was only meters from him. Ekko tried to move, but his body, his mind, his very soul was numb.

Numb enough to still be unable to move when the figure lunged.

Though he didn’t know exactly what he’d been expecting to feel or see, the light that came next was definitely not among his expectations.

A blast of burning light pierced the mist, though there was no physical impact. The shadow disintegrated in a scream of agony that needed no vocal cords to resonate. The mist recoiled, hissing like a wounded animal. Ekko, still on his knees, looked up.

A few meters from The World Flyer, there was now another ship. Standing on the starboard railing, a figure was silhouetted against the sea. It was a burly man, with skin that spoke of great age and long years at sea alike. His left arm was raised, and in his hand, a weapon that still glowed. A cannon of bone and silver, with runes carved along the mechanism that Ekko thought he recognized, even in his state of shock.

The mist hissed furiously, but as it neared the cannon, it dissipated. Ekko stared in disbelief. The man wielded the weapon as if it were part of his arm.

When the last creature vanished and the mist began to retreat, Ekko could see him more clearly. He had a tattoo of a kraken coiled from his shoulder to his forearm. His head was bald and covered by a red bandana, and his vest, tattered but clean, revealed strong muscles.

But it wasn’t his clothes or his scars that froze Ekko in place—it was his gaze. A sharp, piercing gaze. He stared at him without moving a muscle. Ekko swallowed hard. He hadn’t even finished processing the chills from what had just happened, and the guy was already giving him new ones. He didn’t know who he was, but it was more than clear… he was a pirate. And judging by his appearance, the real kind.

The man remained silent for several seconds, studying Ekko from the deck of his own ship.

Out of nowhere, he raised his arm again—the same one with the kraken tattoo—this time pointing directly at him with the weapon he held.

"Your path has been marked. Your soul shall be freed and taken back to—"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" shouted Ekko.

The man looked at him with a frown for a moment longer. Then, he finally lowered the weapon very slowly. His eyes narrowed.

"You're not dead?"

"Isn’t that pretty damn obvious?"

"How could it be obvious?"

"Because I'm talking to you!" Ekko exclaimed, gesturing widely with his hands.

The pirate shot daggers at him.

"Dead can talk," he replied.

Ekko let out an exasperated sigh, ran a hand through his wet hair, stood up, and looked at him again.

"I'm standing. I'm breathing. You're seeing me, right?" he said, pointing to himself with both hands.

"That proves nothing. I’ve seen specters with more life than you," said the old man seriously. Then he tilted his head and added, "But no, you're alive. The dead aren’t that loud—or that lunatic."

"I'm the lunatic? You were about to blow my head off with that thing!"

"I wasn’t planning to kill you," the pirate growled as he definitively lowered his weapon. "But if you keep whining, I might start considering it."

Ekko looked at him in disbelief, pointing at him.

"Then why the hell were you aiming at me with it?"

"This," said the pirate, lifting the weapon slightly, "is not just any weapon. It’s special. Meant for these waters only."

Ekko raised an eyebrow, baffled.

"What the hell are you talking about? What are these waters?"

The man looked at him as if he had just asked what the sky was.

"It can't be..." he murmured. "You're in the waters of the Shadow Isles, with no proper weapon… and you don’t even know it?"

Ekko glanced down at the dark sea surrounding him. The sky was covered in thick clouds, and sunlight felt like a distant memory. He shuddered. Of course he’d heard stories. And now he was here… because he’d fallen asleep? Dammit, Ekko.

He ran a desperate hand over the back of his neck.

"I swear I ended up here by accident!" He shouted, trying to keep his voice from trembling as much with rage as with fear. "I was in Ixtal, okay? Ixtal! And suddenly the sky splits in two, and next thing I know I’m here… and my damn ship breaks!"

The pirate let out a deep laugh. He seemed genuinely entertained.

"You're an idiot," he said. "In case you didn’t know, you almost became specter food. You’re not only sailing waters no sane soul would tread without proper weapons, but you’re also underestimating them."

Ekko looked at him, incredulous.

"I don’t understand a damn thing you're saying, and I'm not even sure I give a shit," he replied, then, nodding at the cannon hanging from the pirate’s hip, added, "And why is your cannon more proper than mine?"

The man looked down at the cannon Ekko had pointed to.

"I wasn’t talking about this one," he replied. "This one’s Pink Twist."

"And what the hell is that?" Ekko raised a brow.

The pirate studied him silently for a second, then narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at him.

"And just like that, you’ve revealed yourself as an outsider." He patted the weapon. "You must be from very far away."

"Whatever," Ekko replied impatiently. "I need to get out of here."

The old man shrugged and turned toward his ship. He started hoisting ropes, adjusting sails.

"And what part of that is my problem?" he asked without even looking at him.

"My engine broke," said Ekko, raising his voice. "If these waters are really full of killer specters, magic mist, and whatever the hell tried to kill me a while ago, then I’m seriously screwed."

"And I still don’t see how that’s my problem," the man repeated, now pulling on a rope leisurely.

Ekko clenched his fists. He no longer knew whether he was more afraid or more furious.

"Help me get out of here," he snapped. "You’ve got a working ship and the right weapons."

The pirate stopped, rope taut in one hand. He closed his eyes for a second and sighed heavily.

"This is why I hate the living," he muttered to himself.

The man kept his gaze fixed on the deck for several long seconds—seconds in which Ekko did nothing but grit his teeth and tap his foot impatiently on the deck. Why the hell was he taking so long? The place already gave him the creeps, and the guy staying silent just made his hairs stand on end even more.

Until the pirate spoke.

"Eight hundred golden krakens."

Ekko blinked.

"What?"

The man crossed his arms.

"Eight hundred golden krakens. That’s what it costs for me to tow your damned ship and get you out of here before a shadow chews on your bones."

Ekko stomped his foot in frustration. Golden krakens? Was that a joke? A regional currency? He had barely managed to exchange a few coins for local currency when he arrived in Ixtal, and now he was dealing with an entirely different one. He was starting to suspect that currency exchange was his true tragic destiny.

But there was no room for bargaining. The memory of the specters made him shiver. He didn’t think about the krakens or their actual value. He thought about survival.

"Deal."

The man nodded without another word. He spun around and began untying some mooring ropes from his ship. Meanwhile, Ekko ran back to his own.

They began tying both ships together with anchor hooks and heavy chains. The pirate threw a spinning grappling hook that lodged right beside Ekko's helm, then secured it to a manual pulley.

Ekko tried to help, though he couldn’t stop looking around, almost expecting the mist to part again and spit out another nightmare. He climbed onto the man’s deck—a much sturdier barge with an ominous air he didn’t like one bit—and helped unfurl the sails, though they felt much heavier than those on his own ship. During those long minutes, the man didn’t say a single word.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” said Ekko, unfolding one of the sails.

The pirate shot him a murderous look.

Ekko swallowed hard and simply kept going, though he kept glancing at the man now and then.

Several seconds passed before the pirate finally opened his mouth.

“Two questions,” he growled.

“What?”

“I can see it all over your brat face. Two questions is all you get.”

Ekko blinked, then looked at him with suspicion, still trying to calm his pounding heart after everything that had just happened. Even so, his mind kicked into gear immediately. He had to think fast. Alright, two questions. There was a lot of information he could get from that, a lot that could save his ass, that could be useful, that could—

“What’s your name?”

The moment he said it, he wanted to slap his forehead hard.

What the hell good is this lunatic’s name to me?! I could’ve asked about the specters, or the golden krakens, or why my compass keeps spinning and his doesn’t!

The pirate didn’t seem to care. He activated a side mechanism with a rusted crank that began slowly dragging Ekko’s ship while he answered in a raspy voice.

“Vargo.”

Ekko nodded.

“And… I still get one more question, right?”

“I’m a man of word,” Vargo replied as he turned toward the helm and secured it with an improvised rope.

Ekko thought for a few seconds. This time, more carefully. He couldn’t waste the chance again.

“Where are we going?”

The man—Vargo—let out a mocking chuckle without taking his eyes off the horizon.

“Where do you think? I’ve got a Hunt to attend to at the port.”

Ekko frowned.

“Uh… a what?”

Vargo clicked his tongue.

“Right. Outsider.”

A few more seconds passed, during which the ship began to move slowly, leaving behind the thick mist that cloaked the water. The sails gradually filled with wind, and the ship began to creak just as Vargo spoke again.

“To Bilgewater. We’re going to Bilgewater.”

Notes:

I’M LITERALLY SCREAMING. I can’t believe we’re this close. For those who’ve seen me screwing up on twitter, you already know the timebomb reunion is just around the corner. From now on, we’re reaching the peak of this story.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please know I deeply appreciate when you share your thoughts in the comments! And if you have any questions, or if something wasn’t clear (because I know I can sometimes throw in a lot of information), don’t hesitate to ask me here or on twitter: jinxedbypow

With love,
Juli ♥️

Chapter 9: "My Way Back To You"

Summary:

When an unexpected alliance forms aboard The Stygian Serpent, Ekko accepts a proposal from Captain Vargo. Jinx confronts Sarah and makes her final decision. As the Great Hunt begins, two former lovers meeting at a critical moment could change everything.

Notes:

I don't even know if I have any notes, or any words at all before this chapter begins. You already know what's about to happen. And well, let's just say this chapter is the reason I wrote this story in the first place.

Luckily, the chapter was able to come out sooner than expected since many of the scenes had been written a long time ago (don't judge me, I've been waiting for this moment through eight chapters and I'm very anxious), so I really hope you can enjoy it as much as I did.

Lastly, I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for all the love this story has been receiving. Honestly, I never expected it at all, since this story started more as a challenge to myself, a new adventure after so many years living in the world of writing. And also, to be honest, these past few days haven't been the best for me, and if there's something that kept me afloat, that helped me swim back to the surface, it was creating this chapter, and knowing that on the other side, there are people enjoying this crazy journey I've crafted for my beloved characters, even the original ones. So again, thank you isn't nearly enough.

Finally, I haven't done this with previous chapters, but this one feels like the perfect moment to do it. The FINAL SCENE of this chapter features a song, whose lyrics basically inspired everything that happens. You’ll find the link when the moment comes. The song is "What the Water Gave Me" by Florence + The Machine.

Without further ado, enjoy the chapter 🥹

For Ekko, if being alone on his ship was already an experience somewhere between boring and despair-inducing, sharing the same floating space with Captain Vargo was like being condemned to exile in the most soporific corner of the universe. Not because Vargo was a bad guy, of course… at least not an especially unpleasant one. It was just that, in some magical and unnatural way, he managed to make even the waves seem like they were yawning as he passed.

At first, Ekko hadn't found him boring. No. At first, he'd given him chills. Not even his ship, The Stygian Serpent, was as weird as its captain. 

Vargo barely spoke. Nothing came out of his mouth except a series of guttural grunts—far too many for what any human throat should be able to produce without collapsing—and, occasionally, a whisper. A whisper that only came when the currents of the Shadow Isles grew thicker and darker. In those moments, Vargo would drop his pipe, raise his bone-and-silver cannon, and mutter something. Perhaps words in a language Ekko didn’t know, didn’t want to know, and honestly preferred that no one ever teach him.

And then… the waters would calm. Just like that. Every time it happened, Ekko would swallow dryly. Not because he cared about magic or anything—though he'd seen more weird things than he could remember—but simply because that wasn't normal. None of it was normal.

But Vargo was a man of few words. Words he didn’t share. No explanations. No warnings. Nothing. So, in those situations, Ekko did what any wise man would do: look the other way and pretend everything was completely fine. After all, it wasn’t like it was his ship. His problem was still getting out of those damned waters before some ghost smelled him, touched him, or invited him to dinner at the bottom of the sea.

And then there was another little detail: his next destination was Bilgewater. A region that made Zaun look like a retirement home for nuns. Unlike the waters he was currently sailing, in Bilgewater, fear didn’t come from the dead. The terrifying part there was sharing the same street with the living.

And as if that weren’t enough—because Ekko’s life always found very creative ways to get complicated—he also had to gather eight hundred golden krakens to pay none other than Vargo himself. Or, as Ekko saw it, eight hundred reasons why he should never have gotten on that ship without reading the fine print. Sure, he knew how to scam, bargain, and bribe even an overzealous Piltover guard, but there was something in Vargo’s face, in the way he muttered and glared, that dissuaded him from trying anything shady.

No, this time, he had to take the safe route. Survive. Pay the debt. Get out of Bilgewater alive. Oh, and maybe prevent a temporal anomaly from dismantling him molecule by molecule. Details. Tiny details, almost as minuscule as the fact that he still hadn’t found Jinx. That every mile forward made him feel further from her. Though truth be told, and even though Ekko didn’t like the idea of visiting that city at all, Bilgewater was also on his list of possible places where he might find her. Hopefully.

So he focused on that: locking his worries away in the deepest corner of his mind, in a mental box labeled “open only when everything is about to go to shit.” Of course, that was hard, considering how fucking boring the man he was traveling with was.

And so, as the hours passed, Ekko stopped being afraid of Vargo. Not because the captain had become any kinder, but because his routine was so absurdly predictable it bordered on ridiculous. Vargo slept in intervals of deep naps—as if someone could really sleep well surrounded by sea ghosts—washed his face with freezing seawater, spat into the wind, and sat to stare at the horizon for half an hour without moving a single muscle. Then he’d sharpen his knife, though he never used it, clean his cannons, and chew a piece of dried seaweed that smelled like wet shoes.

Then maybe he’d take out his pipe, light it, and smoke while steering the helm, checking the compass, or once again, staring at the horizon.

Ekko counted three times that Vargo had opened his mouth so far. Once was to say “northern wind.” Another, “anchor to the shadow.” And the third, when Ekko sneezed too hard and the captain muttered, “that attracts bad spirits.” Since then, Ekko had swallowed all his sneezes—and more than a few thoughts.

What was bringing him a bit of fun now was watching the captain wrestle with the side sail knots after a sudden change in the currents. Vargo pulled at a rope with clenched teeth, his brow so furrowed it looked like his forehead might split in two. Ekko, leaning on the railing with his shoulders shaking from suppressed laughter, couldn’t hold back anymore.

“You know that if you keep pulling like that, you’re gonna end up sailing in circles? Or at the bottom of the sea. That’s an option too.”

Vargo looked at him over his shoulder, rope still in his hands. 

“You want me to wrap this around your neck?”

“Only if you teach me how to tie that knot afterward. Does it have a name? The ‘ancestral stubbornness of the sea-grandpa’ knot?”

“I don’t need a brat playing sailor,” he said, now yanking another rope roughly.

Ekko stood up and walked toward the main mast, examining the sails carefully.

“Whatever you say, captain… But have you noticed how the currents are dropping along the starboard side?” He pointed at the sky. “If we position the triangular sail diagonally instead of keeping it taut, we can generate a bit of lateral thrust that gives us more speed without overloading the mast’s tension.”

The man looked at him as if he’d spoken in some ancient, cursed dialect.

“That’s nonsense. That’s how you tear the seams.”

“Only if the sail’s made of old rags. But this one’s high quality. I see you at least know how to spend your gold well.” Ekko raised an eyebrow. “You should trust my method. It’s more efficient, less wear and tear, and you don’t have to break your back pulling ropes like a draft animal.”

Vargo spat into the sea.

“I don’t even trust the fish. Let alone you.”

“I doubt the fish trust you either. Maybe they do trust my methods, though—they don’t involve grunting every two words,” Ekko said as he was already climbing the base of the mast, adjusting the knots with a short rope coiled around his arm. “And I don’t mess with your ‘methods’ when you’re smashing seaweed to make that disgusting tobacco you smoke, by the way.”

“One more word and I’ll throw you overboard.”

Ekko just slightly turned the sail, exactly as he’d described. In a matter of minutes, the ship began cutting through the water more smoothly, tilting just a little, but clearly moving faster. Even the waves seemed to step aside with respect.

Vargo squinted. He ran a hand down his face and sighed.

And Ekko smiled.

“Did you say something? Can you repeat it louder? I couldn’t hear you over the whispers of the wind in my ears.”

“If you screw it up next time, I’ll use your dreads as mooring rope.”

“You know, I have a theory on how you could use my dreads as a crab net. Still working on the physics.”

“There are no crabs in these waters. Only on the coast.”

“Have you ever heard of the concept of a joke?”

Vargo, as usual, said nothing. He just walked to the railing, leaning his weight on it, now holding his fishing rod with the same focus as an alchemist preparing poison.

Ekko watched him and snorted. He’d imagined something a bit more interesting for a tough pirate from Bilgewater.

However, he thought it was a good opportunity to take his own fishing rod and try his luck again, even though the sea seemed determined not to let him catch anything since he’d left Zaun’s port. 

Even so, he positioned himself a few meters from the man, leaning on the railing and holding his rod in his hands.

Still, Ekko seemed to be doing everything except fishing. His rod trembled, his body shifted restlessly, and every few seconds he glanced at the lure, making sure he was doing everything right, even though he clearly wasn’t.

Vargo was like a rock, eyes fixed on the water. There wasn’t a hint of impatience on him. His rod rested calmly in his hands, barely moving.

After a dramatic sigh, Ekko stretched out his rod once more, giving it a little tug.

Until, for the first time in hours of sailing, Vargo was the one to speak first.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Ekko let out an unnecessarily dramatic sigh.

“I’ve tried everything: moving the rod this way, then that way, changing the hook, but these fish must be on strike or something. Or they hate me.”

The captain barely shifted his gaze from the water, just enough to throw what was closest to a mockery at Ekko—the closest thing to a small victory he had over the outsider so far. 

“It’s not the hook or the movement. It’s patience.”

“It’s patience,” Ekko replied, mimicking the captain’s voice with a grimace. “What, am I supposed to stand here staring at the water for days waiting for the fish to politely offer themselves? I don’t have time for that.”

Vargo sighed and turned his head slightly, his eyes again fixed on the sea.

“Patience doesn’t mean just waiting. It means understanding the time and rhythm of the waters. Fish don’t hunt recklessly, nor are they always in a rush. They’re not like humans.”

Ekko snorted and adjusted the strap of his rod.

“Recklessly? You know what’s faster than fish? Me, when I’m not wasting time here.”

Ekko’s hands were about to throw the rod onto the deck.

But the man’s voice didn’t allow it.

“Stop whining. Take the rod and try again.”

He looked at him for just a second. Ekko's mind raced through all the insults he could hurl. Who did that man think he was to tell him what to do?

But in the end, he didn't say a single one. Instead, he just snorted, but obeyed, resuming his position. Vargo didn’t move an inch. After a long silence, he said calmly:

“You’re doing it wrong because the lure isn’t just an object you throw into the water. It’s a message. You have to make the fish want to bite.”

Ekko let out a chuckle.

“A message? Does the fish get a letter? Should I tie a ribbon on it and invite it to dinner too?”

Vargo curved his lips into the closest thing to a smile he could manage. The brat had a real talent for being annoying. He tilted the rod a bit more, not taking his eyes off the water. The boy’s silence beside him told him everything, so now, he was just waiting for the predictable to happen. 

Ekko rolled his eyes and then, reluctantly, tried to do what the man said. His rod moved slower, more deliberately. He tried to make the movement more "rhythmic," though his face betrayed his skepticism.

Finally, he let out a defeated grunt.

“Like this?”

Vargo chuckled this time. Predictable. Just a little tug on the ear, and it was enough to get them back on the right path. He reminded him a bit of Jinx. 

The captain nodded but said nothing. Stillness returned between them.

Minutes passed, and the silence only continued to stretch and stretch. Ekko was just about to open his mouth to say something else when, suddenly, the tip of his rod dipped. The pull was firm, and a glint of victory lit up his eyes.

“There it is!” Ekko shouted, pulling quickly. “Look, ancient man! I did it! Ha!”

Vargo leaned forward slightly, looking at the fish rising to the surface with a face of absolute disdain.

“It’s a horrible fish.”

Ekko, now with the fish almost at the railing, looked at it closely and then threw it back into the water with a shiver.

“It is,” he said, wrinkling his nose, but quickly gave a smug smile. “But I caught it. If I’m gonna throw something into the water, at least let it be something of mine.”

The man, without moving, watched the water as the fish slowly swam away. Then he murmured:

“If you wanna catch something better, you should change rods.”

Ekko paused. His smile faded. 

Then sighed. 

“Yeah, well, it’s not mine, so I don’t know if I can… It’s my father’s.”

He laid the rod on the deck, resting his elbows on the ship’s railing.

“Well, it was my father’s… I guess now it is mine.”

Vargo frowned slightly. He hesitated a few seconds before speaking, but finally did.

“Is he dead?”

Ekko stayed silent for a few seconds. His throat went dry with a knot, and his gaze drifted for a moment.

“Yeah.”

The captain remained silent, still with his eyes focused on the sea, though his attention was a little more fixed on Ekko now.

“And your mother?” he asked, without emotion but with unexpected gravity.

He let out a weary chuckle.

“Dead too.”

There was a long silence between the two. Vargo finally nodded slowly.

Ekko exhaled, letting out a slight nervous laugh, and then leaned again on the railing, looking at the sea.

The man gave Ekko a quick glance again, seeing his silhouette still for the first time in a while. In a low voice, almost muttering under his breath, he asked:

“Family? Siblings? Anything?”

Ekko blinked, looking at the surface of the sea.

“No,” he said after a moment. “Well, not that kind, at least.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, but before speaking, a sad smile formed on his lips.

“I have... something like that. A sister, you could say. I’ve known her since I was five, I think. We grew up on the same streets. And I… Well, I always wanted to be like her.” He let out a dry laugh. “Where I come from, she’s the toughest, bravest person you’ll ever meet. Nothing scares her. Not even fear itself dares look her in the eye.”

Vargo nodded slowly.

“Where is she?” he asked.

Ekko narrowed his eyes, his smile fading a little.

“Far,” he replied, barely audible.

Now, it was he who wanted to stop talking. But his vocal cords didn’t seem to agree with that decision.

“I wish I could apologize,” Ekko said. “I was an idiot to her. I was so… fucked up… that I pushed her away. I hurt her. Right when she needed me most. And the worst part is… I needed her too. I just didn’t know how to take care of her the way she took care of me.”

Vargo chewed his bitter root for a long while before speaking. And when he did, his words came out firmer than Ekko had expected.

“Fear can disguise itself as pride, silence, distance... but it’s always fear. Making amends takes more courage than wielding a weapon. The only cowardly thing is standing still.”

Ekko looked at him sideways, swallowing hard. He knew the man was right—deep down, he knew damn well—but still, he preferred to change the subject.

“What about you? Family? Siblings? Anything?”

The captain fixed his gaze on the horizon.

“I used to be the youngest of eight siblings. I’m the only one left.”

Ekko lowered his gaze.

"And something like family?"

The man narrowed his eyes, hesitating for a long few seconds. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh.

"I had something. Someone I called a brother many years ago, though he was anything but that. A pirate." His voice turned rougher. "He had a very dark soul. Could smell fear in others and grow stronger from it."

There was a pause, and the sea kept breathing. Brown eyes locked on the captain.

"There's something that blinds more than power, boy," Vargo said. "And that’s hatred. So, when I lost everything, I understood this world doesn't give. It only takes. And if it gives something back… it spits it in your face. So… I wanted to be ready to spit back."

Ekko swallowed hard before speaking. 

“When the world turns to stone… you survive by becoming one.”

The captain nodded. 

“Exactly. And that man, that pirate, was the hardest rock I ever knew. It was easy to side with him when life spat on you. He didn’t feel guilt. Or pain. He’d mastered the art of not being human anymore."

Vargo’s eyes grew even darker.

"And I... wanted that. Maybe I was blind. But I was also tired. Tired of the world taking from me. So… I started taking from the world too."

Ekko turned slightly toward him.

"So you hate him now?"

The man shook his head.

"I don’t blame him. If there’s anything cowardly… it’s blaming others for what you choose to do. Because what I do have, and what the world can never take from me," he said, locking eyes with Ekko, "is the power to choose."

Ekko leaned a little further on the railing.

"Choose what?"

The captain’s gaze returned to the sea.

"Choose not to fall into the depths again."

A long sigh escaped Ekko’s lips. He was right. But that didn’t make the truth any less frightening. Maybe there was something even scarier than being stuck in the depths—knowing that no matter what happened, only you could swim back to the surface.

Ekko shook his head before speaking.

"Where is he now? That… brother of yours."

He heard a defeated grunt leave the captain’s mouth. But he also sensed something he hadn’t seen in him until now: fear.

"Hopefully, far. Far away from Bilgewater… if everything goes right today."

Ekko looked at him from the corner of his eye.

"What’s happening today?"

Vargo gave him a half-smile. For a moment, he forgot he was dealing with an outsider.

"Today is the Great Hunt."

Ekko blinked.

"What is that?"

"Hunters and pirates prepare as if the world’s ending. They try to catch the biggest, most valuable sea monsters. Betting houses swim in gold. The markets turn into jungles. All of Bilgewater goes mad."

Ekko let out a small, amused snort.

"I didn’t know you were all such sea monster fans."

The man let out a raspy chuckle.

"Nothing about the Great Hunt has anything to do with sea monsters. Not really."

"Then what is it about?" asked Ekko, frowning.

Vargo turned slightly this time, staring straight at him.

"Do you know what sea monster hunting means to Bilgewater?"

Ekko shook his head.

"It means what everyone wants," he said, his voice low and firm. "It means power."

He fell silent for a few seconds, seconds in which all that could be heard was the soft tide and the sound of Ekko swallowing.

"Here, the bigger the monster you catch, the higher you climb. And the higher you climb, the less chance you have of drowning. And in Bilgewater… everyone’s trying not to drown. All the time."

"Didn’t think you were the kind who wanted to climb high," Ekko replied.

Vargo shook his head.

"I don’t give a shit about climbing high. I stopped fearing drowning years ago." He looked back at the water. "But what I do care about… is that man not climbing again. That he doesn’t make the next move he so badly wants to make."

Ekko studied him silently.

"Is he really that terrible?"

The captain let out a heavy exhale.

"You have no idea. He was the most ruthless man I ever knew. And I’ve known many." Then he lowered his gaze, jaw tight. "There are few things in my life I don’t regret. One of them is walking away from him."

Ekko’s brown eyes narrowed, and his voice came out softer than it had throughout the conversation.

"Well, at least you did. You made the right choice."

The man nodded, but not with pride.

"That doesn’t change the fact that it was too late. Too much damage had already been done."

Then he went still, unmoving. His fishing rod had been forgotten somewhere on the deck, and neither of them remembered when it was left there.

"Years after sailing with him, when I returned to the port, I found out that pirate had burned down the workshop of the best weapon maker in Bilgewater. Killed her whole family. For something that didn’t even matter."

For a few seconds, the man gripped the ship’s cold railing tightly.

"He’d done ruthless, senseless things before, but that was stupid, even for him. The worst part is, I was the one who had recommended that workshop to him, because I knew that woman was the best. I didn’t think that would happen. I know it wasn’t me, not exactly, but…"

The captain trailed off mid-sentence. Ekko closed his eyes for a moment, his mouth suddenly dry.

"But you gave him the tip."

His fingers had already lit the match that now lit his pipe. The man exhaled smoke before speaking again.

"Yeah."

Ekko’s fingers tightened on the railing a little more, but slowly, under the sound of the low tide, they relaxed. There was something about that place that seemed to pull him back whenever his mind threatened to sink into one of its many black holes.

The captain exhaled another puff of smoke.

"Everything started to fall apart there, but what was left between us broke for good when… we had the bad luck of both going blind over the same woman. A priestess. Damn hypnotic."

This time, Ekko looked at him with narrowed eyes, raising a brow, amused.

"Didn’t peg you for that kind of guy."

He shrugged and clicked his tongue.

"All of that is behind me now. Because when I chose to leave that captain, once again… I was left with nothing. Exactly where I’d started."

Ekko let out a defeated chuckle.

“Just when you think everything's moving forward… right back to square one.”

Vargo nodded.

“And this starting point was worse. I started sailing the waters of these Isles alone. No direction, even. I’d return to Bilgewater sometimes… but I felt more comfortable in these waters. I knew them. I understood them.”

Ekko looked out at the sea, with a wary expression.

“The last thing that brings me comfort is water full of death.”

“It’s wise to fear these waters. But when there’s nothing left for you in the world of the living…” Vargo said, in a grave tone, “they become comfortable. The realm of the dead starts to seem less cruel than the realm of the living. And that’s saying something, you know?”

Ekko looked down and let out a long sigh.

The captain lit another match, inhaling a deep breath.

“Maybe it sounds stupid,” he said at last.

Ekko glanced at him and murmured, “No. Not at all.”

Vargo looked at him sideways, not fully turning his head. His silhouette, barely illuminated by the distant lights, looked as solid as rock… and just as worn.

“I felt like that… for a long time,” Ekko said, lowering his voice. “And I think that… even now, I still feel that way.”

The man said nothing. He just waited, then let out a sigh.

“Ever since the world started ‘spitting in my face’… there was always something there. Like a shadow following me. But when I lost her…” Ekko clenched his jaw. “I think that’s when everything got worse.”

The captain’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

“So you have a ‘her’ too,” Vargo said.

“Yeah.” Ekko swallowed, but a small involuntary curve painted his lips. “She was… well, she was my everything. She thought she was all darkness, but truth is, she was like a ray of sunlight to me. In the middle of a world so fucking ugly. Though she didn’t always manage to keep the world from fucking her up too… And I guess when I lost her… somehow, it woke up everything I’d managed not to look at for years.”

Vargo looked at him again, this time with something more than interest. Something that seemed like understanding.

“And what did you see?”

He ran a hand through his white hair and let out a bitter, nervous laugh.

“That… itch in the head. That voice that sometimes tells you to stop flailing, stop throwing punches. Because… what’s the point of doing it? ” He lowered his voice even more. “So… I guess you’re right. Shadows become tempting when the living have failed you enough. When the whole world… has failed you.”

Vargo stayed still for a moment. Then he spoke, turning toward the boy with a bit more resolve.

“You’re forgetting one thing.”

Ekko looked up. His brow furrowed toward the captain—not in anger, but in curious interest.

“When you’re in the depths… swimming back to the surface is always a choice. You decide.”

His voice was low, firm. It was probably the first time he looked Ekko directly in the eyes.

“You can breathe again. Not to survive. But… to live. To live how you want to.”

Ekko’s throat tightened, and his voice came out tinged with something like shame.

“What if I don’t know what I want?”

Vargo sighed. Long. He seemed to hesitate for a few seconds on whether or not to speak. But finally, he took another breath before pointing at the cannon hanging from his hip.

“See this cannon?”

Ekko looked. Nodded.

“It was the first one I bought in Bilgewater, from the Fortune workshop. Years ago it broke. And on top of that… the best weapon maker had been killed by that idiot.” He clicked his tongue and his expression darkened slightly. “So, like now and then, I went back to the city for supplies… and to settle a few scores. Nothing more.”

Then, Vargo smiled faintly. A small curve on his mouth, but it was there. Ekko tried not to let his face show too much surprise.

“And there I was. In a tavern, a shitty day… even shittier than my usual ones. And in the corner… a lunatic. Getting drunk like the world was ending.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow.

“A lunatic?”

“A girl,” he continued, then let out a grunt mixed with a chuckle. “And on top of it… she mocked my cannon. And, well… I almost killed her.”

Ekko let out a brief laugh. He barely knew the captain, but that didn’t surprise him at all.

“But the crazy girl offered to fix it if I didn’t slit her throat. And I had plenty of rage to let out, but… I gave her a chance.”

“And?” Ekko asked, raising an eyebrow. That, he hadn’t expected.

“She showed up the next day. The cannon looked eccentric, that’s for sure. But it worked. I took off again to the waters of the Isles… not knowing why. Or for what.”

He paused for a second. His voice grew lower.

“But that day… the sea knew. It saw my lack of movement. Saw my stagnant soul… and gave me one last chance.”

Vargo rolled up his sleeve, showing the tattoo of the Great Kraken on his arm.

“It was her. She offered me the one thing you can’t buy at any port: purpose.”

Ekko looked closely at the tattoo. He was sure he’d seen that image in some of his books.

“And all I had to face the test was this cannon. Honestly, I don’t know if it was luck, or if that lunatic carved runes that scared death itself. But I survived. I lived.” His gaze hardened, but a spark gleamed in it as he turned toward Ekko. “That day I breathed again. With purpose, this time.”

Ekko’s brown eyes met his, and a small glimmer of understanding formed in his pupils.

“Is that why you sail these waters?”

“Yes. I could no longer atone for my mistakes with the living. But I could give back to the dead of these waters… a bit of the peace they gave me.”

Vargo turned to him, more serious than ever.

“What I’m trying to say is that maybe you don’t know what you want right now. Maybe the world has to put it right in front of your eyes. But when it does… you’ll know. And believe me, boy, you won’t want to let it go.”

Ekko looked at the sea and… took a deep breath. To be honest, the scent didn’t bother him anymore. It was even comforting, almost familiar. He didn’t know if that was out of habit, or because…

Before letting himself wander too far down that line of thought, he raised an eyebrow and recovered his mocking tone.

“So that’s why you don’t like the living? Because they ruin your cannons and get drunk in taverns?”

Vargo snorted a rough laugh through his nose.

“Not all the living are as rotten as a drowned siren,” he grumbled. “Some barely smell like brine and madness.”

Ekko burst into laughter.

“Are you talking about that priestess you fell in love with?”

The captain’s eyes widened for a few seconds, then he took a long drag from his pipe in frustration.

“Oh, no. That woman will be the death of me, trust me.”

One of Ekko’s hands ran through his white hair, snorting in defeat but letting out a small laugh in the process.

“Yeah, I get the feeling.”

Vargo touched his cannon and gestured toward it with his chin.

“I’m talking about the lunatic. After that day… the least I could do was protect her. Bilgewater would’ve tried to take her head off before her hangover wore off.”

“That sounds strangely sweet coming from you.”

Vargo studied him for a few seconds. Then, he pointed a finger at him. 

"If it weren’t for the fact that I can see in your brat eyes your heart already has a name, I’d say you’d like the lunatic. She’s got a few loose screws, just like you."

Ekko raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes, letting out a chuckle. It was hard to imagine anyone else in this world living up to what he had been through with Jinx.

"Pass."

Vargo let out a nasal laugh.

"Lone pirate, I see."

"Speak for yourself," Ekko laughed.

"I’m very happy being a lone pirate."

Ekko clicked his tongue, gripping the railing with both hands to stretch his muscles a bit.

"But you can’t always be a lone pirate, you know?" he said with a mocking smile. "Sometimes it’s good to have a ‘crew’. People to watch your back. Even if it’s just to yell at you when you smoke too much of that disgusting tobacco."

But the captain didn’t seem to be listening anymore. Instead, he stayed silent for a moment, staring at the tide more intently. His eyes seemed to be trying to focus, searching for something through the dense mist over the waters.

And apparently, he saw it.

He straightened with a slight grunt, stretching his shoulders.

"Speaking of that," he muttered.

He walked over to the helm, his boots thudding on the damp wood of the ship. He looked ahead, where a few small islands emerged from the fog.

"We're making a stop before we reach Bilgewater," Vargo continued, steering the helm.

Ekko tilted his head, curious.

"Where?"

"You don’t really think I’m heading into the Great Hunt without a crew, do you?"

Before Ekko could even formulate a question, The Stygian Serpent had already stopped in front of a small bay. It wasn't large or deep, but its presence was strangely unsettling, and the first thing Ekko noticed was that he didn't remember seeing it on any of the maps he’d studied. There were no signs of settlements or marks on the yellowed paper he kept in his memory. And yet, there it was: a forgotten corner where five figures were waiting.

As the ship approached, Ekko could make them out better: three men and two women. They were all robustly built people, the kind one immediately recognized as natural survivors. The skin on their faces showed clear traces of a life at sea, their gazes firm and confident. Each carried a piece of gear: harpoons, canvas backpacks, knives, small trunks they seemed to guard like their lifes depended on it. 

What caught Ekko’s attention the most, however, was something they all shared: each one bore, somewhere visible on their body, the tattoo of the Kraken. The same one he’d seen before on Vargo, though here the placement varied: one wore it on the forearm, another on the neck, another on the calf, and so on. The design was identical, a kraken with tangled tentacles and a solitary eye.

The sight of the symbol triggered a flash of recognition in Ekko. A vague memory from one of the many books he had carried with him before beginning his journey struck him little by little. He remembered it well: among the yellowed pages, he’d read about that emblem. It didn't belong to a crew. If his memory served him correctly, it was the symbol of Nagakabouros, the deity of movement, life, and continuous change. According to the book, in these regions they revered Nagakabouros almost as much as Zaun revered Janna. It was said that Nagakabouros represented the ceaseless vortex of existence, the life flow that must never stagnate, the eternal struggle against inertia and death.

The thumping of boots on the deck pulled him out of his thoughts. The five strangers were boarding The Stygian Serpent, and one by one they approached Vargo, who greeted them with a vague nod of his head.

"You still smell like fish shit, Jorek."

"And you're still a damn hardhead, captain."

A short-haired woman with scars crossing her cheek greeted him with a forearm handshake.

"I thought you had abandoned us to our fate, Vargo."

"Your stupid asses won't die under my command."

Another, a man with a sharp gaze, simply nodded, and Vargo returned the gesture.

The last to approach was a woman almost completely covered in tattoos, her hair braided into dozens of small, tight dark cords.

Vargo positioned himself next to Ekko as the crew settled in.

"Lunatics, this is Ekko, another lunatic. Ekko, these are the lunatics, but they call themselves my crew."

Ekko let out a small chuckle, rolling his eyes and giving a quick nod. He had several comments right on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't make them. For some reason, these fanatics, unlike the Solari, didn't bother him.

The captain turned to Ekko and pointed to each one.

"Lani, our shaman and spiritual navigator." An older man, covered in pendants and sea beads, gave him a slight nod. "Hullen, the best harpooner this side of the sea has ever seen... when he doesn't overdo it with the rum." The harpooner nodded with a tight jaw, just before flipping Vargo. 

The captain returned the gesture and continued.

"Sira, my second and hunt tactician." The short-haired woman offered Ekko a smile. "Jorek, lookout and signal reader." The sharp-eyed man scrutinized him for a few seconds. "And finally, Nahlira, expert gunner at blowing up everything that breathes... and what doesn't too."

Nahlira, the youngest of them all, looked Ekko up and down with no subtlety at all.

"So this is my new artillery partner?" she asked Vargo with a smile on her face.

Ekko raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat.

"I'm just passing through. I need to get to the coast of Bilgewater to fix my ship," he clarified, crossing his arms.

The girl clicked her tongue and gave him one last look.

"Too bad."

Ekko raised an eyebrow even higher.

Vargo watched the girl with narrowed eyes, his expression hardening as he realized there were only five figures on deck.

"Artillery partner? What the hell are you talking about? Where's Vynn?"

Hullen, the harpooner, intervened, scratching the back of his neck.

"Vynn won't be coming. He had... urgent business in Shurima. He sent his apologies."

The captain widened his eyes for a few seconds. Then he slammed his hand hard against the ship's railing.

"His apologies mean jack shit to me. The Great Hunt is today. I needed him today."

Sira raised her hands in a calming gesture.

"Captain, we tried to locate you, but you were... well, on the Isles."

"And what does that have to do with anything?" 

"It's hard to send crows or ghost letters there," Jorek defended.

Nahlira crossed her arms and tilted her head.

"Are you saying I'm not a good gunner?"

"You know you're the best, kid," Vargo responded, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "But half the cargo is runic weapons. And you, unlike Vynn, have never worked with them. It's different. Besides, Vynn was the best second at the helm in case something happened to me."

A small silence settled over them. Someone cleared their throat. Ekko was about to throw himself over the railing before the sharp looks from the crew caught him and killed him on the spot.

The captain spoke again.

"I'll find someone in Bilgewater to serve as a gunner alongside Nahlira."

The others exchanged glances filled with distrust.

"It'll be hard to find someone... the same day as the Great Hunt."

"I'll figure something out," Vargo growled, and with that, he ended the discussion.

But he hadn’t finish. There was still much to say. With a sigh, he lifted his gaze once more toward the silhouettes on the deck.

"Thank you all for being here," he said, his eyes scanning each of their faces in turn. "I know this duty doesn't fall solely on me, but on each of you. Ensuring that no one interferes with the trials of the Great Mother is a responsibility we share."

He paused briefly.

"I also know," he added, with a dry half-smile, "that showing up for the Great Hunt wasn't part of many of your plans... and yet, here you are. And for that, I am grateful."

A murmur rippled through the group until Hullen, leaning against the mast with his arms crossed, broke the moment.

"Have you had any news from Gangplank?"

The question immediately thickened the air. Vargo cleared his throat, his posture growing even more rigid.

"Illaoi has spoken with him," he said, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. "She convinced him not to interfere. You all know that only she can reach him like that. At least that's one less problem..." His voice dropped a tone. "But it's not enough. We still need to keep him away from Bilgewater's waters today. And for that," he added, raising his voice slightly, "you all know we mustn't give him a single damned reason to come closer."

The crew nodded, though some exchanged worried glances.

Ekko narrowed his eyes. Was that the pirate Vargo had mentioned before? Because the situation didn't sound good at all.

Vargo continued.

"If Miss Fortune's crew wins today..." he went on, locking eyes with each of them, "we'll only be giving him more reasons to attack, as I've already told you and will repeat again."

He ran a hand over the back of his head.

"She already wounded his pride once. He won't allow her to do it twice. You all know him."

Sira raised an eyebrow.

"Haven't you thought about talking to her? They say she'd be more than willing to hand over her crown, and even a couple of corsets, if it helped keep Gangplank away."

A brief, almost nervous laugh escaped from some of the crew. But Vargo did not smile. His face hardened even more.

"If I approach Miss Fortune—worse yet, if I ally with her," he said firmly, "then the deal with Gangplank will go to shit."

He stepped closer to the group, frowning.

"As long as I keep Miss Fortune away from me, it'll be easier for him to keep believing my loyalty is with him."

The crew nodded slowly. The captain, seizing the moment, concluded:

"Remember the deal. Gangplank agreed to step back in exchange for me ensuring The Fortune Sharks don't win today. He'd rather anyone else take the title than her... even me."

Jorek, the lookout, couldn't help but raise his voice:

"Captain, you might be able to keep him away for this Great Hunt... but you won't be able to contain him forever."

Vargo clenched his fists for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"No. But I buy myself time," he said at last. "Time to move better. Time to act when I'm ready. When we're all ready."

A heavy pause followed his words. Then, one by one, they all nodded. It wasn't a perfect plan, but in Bilgewater, the game was never played clean. And sometimes, a little time was more valuable than any immediate victory.

Before anything else could be discussed, the ship was once again in open waters.

The creaking of old wood and the flapping of sails whipped by the wind seemed to be the only things that slightly eased the tension. The crew, though silent, moved around, checking ropes, adjusting sails, and occasionally murmuring to one another. Ekko, leaning against a rusted railing, watched them with a raised eyebrow. The guys looked tough, no doubt about that, but if Vargo already seemed like a lunatic whispering to the sea, these guys surely took the prize. Was everyone really that comfortable sailing waters surrounded by death?

Great. We're sailing in a bathtub crewed by suicide enthusiasts.

Suddenly, something pulled him out of his thoughts: subtle knocks against the hull, barely audible under the whistling wind. Ekko frowned, straightening up. He looked around. No one else seemed to have noticed. The sailors continued with their tasks, whispering, chewing tobacco, or wrestling with some rebellious knot.

But the knocks persisted, rhythmic, insistent.

What the hell...?

Without thinking too much about it, Ekko made his way to where Vargo was, keeping his eyes ahead and his hands on the helm. 

"You hear that?" he blurted out, without preamble.

The captain tilted his head, his expression hardening as he focused his hearing. For a few seconds, only the usual creaking of the ship could be heard... and then again: knock, knock, knock.

"Shit," Vargo growled, walking over to the railing and peering into the dark water. He muttered a barely audible curse. "We're passing over a reef of prey hunters."

Ekko blinked, feeling his stomach tighten.

"A what?"

"Semi-aquatic monsters. They look like giant eels, segmented bodies, curved fangs. And worst of all, they grow and reproduce fast. I'm sure there wasn't a fucking reef here a few days ago."

Ekko ran a hand over his face, sighing, putting on the calmest expression he could muster.

"Perfect. So what do we do? Jump in and swim with them?"

The man gave him a sideways glance, returning to his position.

"First, don't alarm the crew. Second, keep moving forward quietly. And third... pray."

"I don't pray."

"This would be a good time to start."

But they couldn't keep the crew in the dark for much longer. The knocks against the hull grew more insistent, more audible, now mixed with a dull sound, as if something massive was brushing against the keel. The crew began exchanging uneasy glances, and one by one they started moving toward the railings, peering down into the water.

Ekko and Vargo exchanged a quick glance, and that was enough.

"Get away from the railings, you idiots!" Ekko barked, pushing bodies away from the railings and stepping forward.

As soon as he positioned himself, he turned to Vargo, muttering under his breath:

"Tell me you have some artillery on board."

In the blink of an eye, the captain was already next to him in front of the rest of the crew.

"A heavy crossbow, a double runic spear... and the cannons. With luck, it'll be enough if we're fast."

Ekko swallowed hard.

"Fast for what?"

"To strike back when those things ram us. Because I guarantee you, they will."

A thick silence fell over the deck. Only the whistling wind and the creaking sails broke the stillness. Ekko clenched his fists, his body tense like a spring, while his brown eyes scanned the water.

But he didn’t have much more time to do so.

With a muffled roar, two prey hunters burst from the waters, lunging at the ship.

Their bodies shimmered under the lantern light, huge and segmented, with open jaws full of curved fangs that gleamed like blades.

Ekko didn’t think twice.

He pushed off from the rail with a swift kick, landing next to the steering wheel as the ship pitched. His fingers ran along the rigging ropes, releasing half a sail and tilting The Stygian Serpent just as the first monster rammed in from starboard.

The crew was already in motion against the slimy creatures. Ekko watched them from the corner of his eye as he worked at full speed on the adjacent sail. They were experienced in combat and artillery, that was clear, but still…

They weren’t a team.

"Bones" - Imagine Dragons

And he knew that was the only way to survive when things got ugly.

Sliding across the deck and dodging a tail swipe from one of the hunters, he passed two crewmates battling side by side without even looking at each other.

Ekko growled, dodging another blow.

"You two! To the spears, and get the emergency ammo ready!"

The two figures—Hullen and Nahlira—turned toward him with narrowed eyes, just before one of the hunters was inches away from leaping at their throats.

Ekko shot them a glare.

"NOW!"

And they moved.

Hullen leapt and planted his feet on the deck. His harpoon, long and reinforced with bone hooks, whistled through the air and sank into one of the creature’s segments. The beast writhed, spewing black foam. He gripped the rope with both fists, dragging it toward the ship’s side, but the beast didn’t give up.

A buzz to his left: Nahlira loaded a dynamite detonator into her launcher. The charge ignited with a burst before flying toward the monster. The water boiled where it struck, ripping a guttural shriek from the hunter. Ekko didn’t stop to see the result. He slid toward the main mast pulleys, releasing rope lengths, readjusting the sails to favor a tight maneuver.

"Come on, old man!" he barked at Vargo.

The captain wrenched the helm in a brutal gesture. The ship veered violently, making the wood groan. The second hunter roared again, forcing its way onto the deck with its jaws wide open.

Ekko swallowed hard.

Come on, come on, think.

"Sira, left flank! Jorek, high position!" Ekko roared, already lunging toward the loose ropes threatening to trip him.

The woman drew her curved blade and lunged to intercept the creature’s head. She struck the beast’s eye with a direct thrust, but it didn’t stop. Jorek, from his perch in the crow’s nest, didn’t miss a beat: he had already loaded his repeating crossbow and was firing bursts at the monster’s joints.

Ekko felt the wind shift just a hair, but enough for him to notice the difference. A difference that didn’t favor them at all.

Seriously?!

They didn’t have much time. Without losing momentum, he raced across the deck, jumped over a loose mooring line, and, using centrifugal force, swung his weight to lash a taut rope across the jaw of the nearest hunter, deflecting its bite from Sira.

"Stay back!" Ekko roared, and she rolled across the deck just in time.

The beast lunged at him. Ekko released the rope, spun on his heel, and in two strides, climbed the mast ropes. From there, halfway up, he scanned everyone’s positions at a glance: Hullen wrestling with the rope; Nahlira preparing another explosive charge; Jorek still firing in sync with the orders Ekko shouted.

Vargo threw him a brief glance from the helm. Ekko nodded once.

"Hold on!" he roared.

At that moment, the captain released the wheel’s locks, and Ekko pulled the mainsail, catching a sudden gust. The ship swung so violently that the waves spewed foam across the deck. The motion threw the hunter off balance toward the rail. Hullen, grunting, seized the opportunity and plunged his harpoon into the creature’s exposed belly. The beast, taking advantage of its sliminess, immediately slipped free from the blow.

In the next blink, Nahlira fired her second charge directly at the wound, but missed by a few inches. The blast rocked the entire ship, splattering them with viscous fragments.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ekko saw the second hunter starting to circle the ship, looking for a new angle. Without thinking, he released the ropes, slid down the lines to the helm, and took control alongside Vargo.

"We have to face into the wind," he said, raising his voice just enough for the captain to hear over the din.

"So now the brat’s giving wind orders," Vargo growled.

"Just listen to me, will you?"

Vargo growled loudly. Then he maneuvered quickly, while Ekko hurled himself back onto the deck. The captain shouted over his shoulder.

"Lani, cover the deck! Now!"

The shaman, until then crouched at the mast’s base, raised both hands and traced a symbol in the air. The wind seemed to swirl around the ship like a vortex, slowing the hunter’s charge.

Ekko took advantage of the breathing room. He adjusted the moorings, released one of the smaller sails to purposely unbalance the ship, causing the hull to creak ominously.

It worked: the hunters were pinned against the tilt of the bow, but the distraction wouldn’t last long. He needed more time.

Amid the chaos, Ekko ducked to dodge a tail swipe that grazed the railing and split one of the main pulleys in two. But suddenly, his eyes caught a metallic glint under a pile of broken nets and soaked ropes: the double runic spear.

He grabbed it, and the moment he had it in his hands, he felt its perfect weight, its precise balance. It was a double-bladed spear, each end sharp as a tooth, and along the shaft, engraved in the metal, were runes that glowed under the deck lamp. Runes Ekko… knew very well. He raised an eyebrow. Whoever had made this was a fucking genius.

He ran his fingers over the engravings, over the combinations of lines, spirals, and interwoven rings. An impact rune… yes. And beside it, an activation rune. His mind raced faster than his hands. He was grateful, if only for a second, that he had smashed his head five years ago in an alternative timeline studying rune notes while everyone thought he was dead.

The idea struck his mind like lightning: crazy, stupid, suicidal...

And absolutely perfect.

He threw himself onto a fallen dagger and, shielding himself with his body while one of the beasts hissed just meters away, began scraping the metal quickly, sweat slipping down his temple. He dug among the runes, his hand moving at full speed. Finally, he blew off the metallic dust and saw what now gleamed on the surface: between the impact rune and the activation rune, he’d carved one that very few knew, one that had cost him countless sleepless nights to figure out: the temporal echo rune.

Please, let this work.

He jumped to his feet, spear raised, and shouted:

"I need you to lure the hunters toward that column! Quick!"

He pointed at a huge side mast, splintered but still standing.

"What?!" shouted Sira from the railing, dodging a snapping maw.

"Trust me!" roared Ekko, already running toward the captain. "Vargo, get your crossbow ready! When they get close, I'll immobilize them and you finish them off! You know the key points better than I do!"

Vargo, now reloading his massive manual crossbow, glanced at him sideways.

"You're completely insane," he growled. "Those things slip off spears before you can blink! And you’d have to catch them both!"

"I don't even have to hit them directly!" Ekko yelled. "As long as they're within close range of the blades, it's enough! I'll buy you a few seconds—you know where to shoot!"

Vargo looked at him, jaw clenched, sweat gleaming on his forehead. Ekko held his gaze, unwavering.

"Trust me."

The captain let out a low growl.

"Damned crazy brat..." he muttered, and fitted a special bolt into the crossbow. "May the spirits protect me if I survive this nonsense."

Meanwhile, the crew sprang into action. Sira barked orders to Hullen and Jorek, who began provoking the beasts with burning harpoons and nets. Nahlira threw a small explosive charge that burst near one of the hunters, forcing it to slither toward the wooden column.

Ekko's heart pounded in his throat. Every breath felt like a countdown. He watched the movements, calculating trajectories, measuring the wind, the ship’s sway. Every fiber of his body vibrated.

Come on, come on.

The hunters rushed forward, their slimy bodies sliding toward the column just as he had predicted. With a roar, Ekko sprinted a few steps and hurled the spear with all the strength in his body.

The spear spun through the air, its blades gleaming as the engravings began to activate, and when it struck the base of the column, they lit up as if they'd captured lightning. A wave of energy reverberated.

And the temporal echo rune activated.

An almost invisible field enveloped the hunters. They became trapped, suspended within their own delayed movements, barely vibrating. Just for a few seconds. 

"Vargo! NOW!"

The captain snapped out of his astonishment immediately. He let out a roar, aimed, and fired. Two heavy bolts crossed the distance in less than a blink. Both struck them—one in the segmented head of the first hunter, the other in the slimy throat of the second.

The temporal bubble shattered with a dry pop, and the beasts began writhing in spasms, their bodies slamming violently against the deck. The captain seized the moment and fired four more bolts, all hitting vital points on the hunters.

With a few final shrieks, their bodies finally went still.

Then, silence.

For a moment, no one moved. Some wiped the sweat from their brows, but little by little, every crew member collapsed onto the deck with a relieved sigh.

"And the Great Hunt hasn't even started yet," Jorek panted, leaning on his harpoon.

"Someone should chain up the brat before he gets us all killed with his suicidal genius," laughed Hullen, wiping blood from his face.

Trembling, Ekko let himself fall backward onto the slippery deck. He ran a hand over his face, trying to process everything that had just happened. But that had always been life for him, hadn’t it? First fight, survive, and then process—if he even had time for that afterward.

He covered his face with his forearm.

"You know, right now..." he gasped, "...I could really use some of your disgusting tobacco, captain."

Even with his vision blocked by his arm, Ekko could feel the captain’s gaze on him for several long seconds. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t bother thinking about it too much. Vargo no longer intimidated him in the slightest.

With a resigned snort, the captain tossed him a hand-rolled cigarette followed by a lighter.

Ekko caught them midair, lit up with trembling hands, and took a deep drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He lay there, staring up at the open sky above them. It was almost black, sure. But it was still the sky.

Vargo watched Ekko for a few seconds. He wondered, as he crossed his arms, how the hell it was possible that all the lunatics were also damned geniuses.

"Who the hell taught you to do all that?" he finally asked.

Ekko tilted his head slightly, the cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Do what?"

The captain let out a long sigh, gesturing broadly at the deck.

"All of it."

For a few seconds, Ekko thought, squinting and letting the smoke roll down from his throat to his lungs. And he smiled. No matter how much he thought about it, there was only one right answer to that question.

"No one."

Vargo watched him a moment longer, clicking his tongue.

Ekko's chest began to tremble slightly, struggling to stifle a laugh.

"What's so funny, brat?" the man barked, frowning.

"I'm waiting for you to say it," Ekko replied.

The captain ran a hand over the back of his bald head, growling under his breath.

"You're a good sailor."

Ekko let out a soft, satisfied chuckle, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"I already knew that."

"You know how to handle runic weapons," Vargo added, almost reluctantly.

"Not exactly weapons," Ekko corrected with a crooked smile, "but to this day, I still dream of runes. I know them like the back of my hand."

The man glanced sideways at him, lowering his voice slightly.

"Have you ever been a captain before?"

Ekko gave a brief laugh.

"Not exactly a captain..." he said, rolling the cigarette between his fingers, "but I can assure you I spent more years leading than you. Some tricks you just don’t forget."

Vargo nodded slowly.

During a long silence, neither of them noticed the whole crew staring at them.

Until, from the other side of the ship, Nahlira's voice floated over.

"Why bother looking for a new candidate in Bilgewater, captain, when you already have one aboard your own ship?"

Ekko and Vargo turned their heads at the same time toward her, raising an eyebrow. The girl shrugged.

"I just said out loud what everyone’s thinking."

The captain sighed silently, looking at the sky, then at the sea, probably praying for divine patience.

Meanwhile, Ekko let out a giggle. There was no way that would happen, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the moment a bit. 

"Let's see how long it takes for you to lose your pride. A couple of minutes? An hour?"

The captain grunted.

"Or how about a contest to see who can swallow more raw kraken?" He added with a laugh. "They say it’s the official ceremony to accept new crewmates."

"I should throw you into the sea right now," Vargo muttered.

After a short silence, the man exhaled heavily, running a hand over his face.

"If you agree to be my gunner alongside Nahlira just for today, you won’t have to pay me anymore."

Ekko blinked, the cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers. He had almost completely forgotten about the debt. Still, there was no way he would—

A spark lit in his eyes. An idea.

And Ekko smiled, always one step ahead.

"I’ll join your crew... just for today... if you cancel the debt... and get me everything I need to fix my ship. Everything."

The captain looked at him in silence, his jaw tight.

Just when Ekko thought he would tell him to go to hell, the man spoke, this time with more determination.

"Be my gunner... and second-in-command at the helm today during the Great Hunt. I’ll cancel the debt, fix your ship... and make sure no bastard in Bilgewater dares to touch a single dreadlock on your head while you’re there."

Ekko's eyes widened suddenly. Of course. In a city like Bilgewater, that was worth more than gold. Another thing he’d almost completely forgotten was that being an outsider in that port would very likely lead him to a swift death the second he set foot on shore.

Besides, even if he wouldn't admit it, there was something deliciously tempting about being part of a crew, even if just for one night.

When he returned to Zaun, he was definitely gonna write a book about all this madness.

Without hesitating any longer, Ekko threw his cigarette into the sea, stood up, and planted himself in front of Vargo, extending his hand.

"Deal."

The captain nodded firmly and shook his hand with strength.

"Welcome to the crew, Ekko."

••••

Jinx hadn’t left her workshop in days.

Not because she couldn’t—the doors were always open to anyone with enough golden krakens or anyone needing to pick up a commission—but because, somehow, those cracked and rusted walls still offered her a sliver of safety. Or at least, the illusion of it. Because in the past few days, pirates, corsairs, sea monsters hunters, and sailors from all over Bilgewater and the surrounding areas had been constantly coming and going from her workshop, their boots pounding against the floor, eager to pick up their orders and rush off to chop heads at the most important event of the year. There wasn’t a shred of order or peace in that daily parade of foul-smelling bodies, rune-forged weapons, and laughter that was far too loud. But as long as she didn’t step outside… as long as she stayed there, at least she didn’t have to run into Sarah. Or the Fortune Sharks.

It was strange. Sarah knew that workshop like the back of her hand: every hidden corner, every makeshift trap, every hideout. And yet, she hadn’t shown up. Not even when the agreed-upon deadline had passed. Jinx hadn’t shown up either. Not because she didn’t want to finally make a decision... but because she couldn’t. Because her mind was now a wasteland of thick, confusing fog, where thoughts barely formed before dissolving into a hollow hum. Her body functioned on autopilot: wake up, deliver orders, receive golden krakens, swallow the bare minimum to avoid fainting, and drink just enough to make sure that, when she closed her eyes, the void didn’t scream too loudly. Then, everything would begin again.

The orders the hunters and pirates picked up were heavy, deadly works: rune-reinforced crossbows with bronze mesh, enormous harpoons capable of piercing the thickest hides, repeating grappling launchers mounted on portable supports, and anchor bombs loaded with marine stunning essences. Each weapon had the sole purpose of facing beasts whose mere presence made the waters around ships tremble. Jinx handed them over without looking too much into the clients’ eyes, without stopping to listen to their stories or their bets on which monster they’d hunt. The important thing was that they took the weapons. That they paid. That they left her alone.

And yet, amid that tedious back-and-forth of coins and weapons, Jinx sometimes found herself missing that brief time aboard the Red Fortune. It was absurd. She, who had decided to give up everything that seemed human, now missed something as simple as sharing space with others, as feeling a tiny bit of purpose in her chest. In recent years, feeling alive had been an almost impossible task. But on that ship, with a crew that, in a strange and chaotic way, had accepted her, Jinx had felt… something.

Maybe it was the sea. Maybe it was the adrenaline, the brutal impulse to leap into the void knowing someone had your back. Maybe it was having a reason to get up that wasn’t just to dodge the gasps of desperate pirates and secure a new bottle of rum. Maybe, deep down, she knew that even though she was already a stone sunk at the bottom of the ocean, that didn’t mean she couldn’t help others stay afloat.

Maybe having the ability to get her hands dirty wasn’t a flaw, but a virtue—albeit a strange one. Maybe she could do what others didn’t dare for a reason. Maybe, even being what she was, she could still make a difference.

Maybe none of this had to go wrong.

With a long, rough sigh, Jinx slumped over her old chair, which creaked in protest under her weight. The worktable in front of her was a landscape of forgotten tools, scattered gunpowder, and fragments of magical sea-stones that flickered in their stabilizers with their corresponding rune anchors.

Outside, beyond the walls of the Beast’s Spine, Bilgewater’s roar was beginning to rise. The taverns on the higher levels—the closest thing to a privilege the city’s inhabitants could afford—were flinging their doors wide open, transforming during this season into betting houses where gold, chance—and blood—danced together to the rhythm of the Great Hunt. The day had come.

And Jinx, still glued to her chair, wondered if she truly wanted to move. If she wanted to do anything beyond simply continuing to breathe. Because, after all, even a stone at the bottom of the ocean could sometimes dream of the surface.

She snorted and looked at the table again. Among all the junk, Vargo’s batch gleamed: the Crimson Hydra, nearly finished except for the final tweaks on the activation locks; the Claw, still missing the final welds on its stabilizing runes; and dozens of harpoons, rune-nets, engraved spears, and compact crossbows ready to pierce the flesh of the fiercest—and, of course, the most expensive—sea monsters.

The Crimson Hydra, the Claw, the portable crossbows, the nets—the whole gear itself was a beast that, to any onlooker, seemed indestructible.

And yet, all of it could collapse with a simple movement.

Jinx bit her thumbnail, tilting her head as her pink eyes darted from weapon to weapon. It was so easy… more than easy.

The main runes—the activation and persistence ones—could be altered with just a scratch in the trace's direction. Changing an "attraction" rune to a "reversal" rune would cause a net to close… over whoever threw it. Filing down the release rune’s traces on the Crimson Hydra would prevent the secondary spikes from ever firing, trapping them inside.

Even something as small as slightly rotating a resistance engraving on a crossbow bolt would be enough to make shots break mid-flight. Subtle, almost imperceptible. No one would even suspect.

Who else in this damned port could think of something like that as trivial?

Who else could plan such meticulous sabotage… without screwing themselves over in the process?

Who else, if not her?

Jinx let out a dry, ironic laugh that died in her throat, and her hands began skimming the table’s surface, pushing aside loose parts, abandoned tools, wires, cables, rusted nuts. Beneath a pile of blueprints—an incomplete design for a repeating crossbow she’d never managed to finish—there was something else. Something that made her freeze.

Two pistols.

The two pistols Sarah had thrown away in that alley when everything had gone to shit. The ones Sarah hadn’t even bothered to retrieve—and the ones Jinx hadn’t even known why she’d decided to take with her.

She slid the blueprints aside with a brush of her fingers. She looked at them. One of them, of course, was jammed, its structure rusted and worn, a spring about to snap, and a hammer that looked like it had survived one war—or several. The other... still worked. Kind of. The cylinder spun, but its axis was loose, and the slide would barely withstand a few more shots before breaking apart.

Jinx picked them up carefully, letting their weight rest in her dirty palms.

And suddenly, some hidden door opened somewhere in the back of her mind, and the repair process began to unfold before her.

The truth was, it wasn’t that hard.

The jammed pistol needed a new tension spring, which she could improvise with one of the flexible sheets she had saved for a sea trap. The hammer only needed to be disassembled, polished, and reinforced with a new anchoring bolt. The other required disassembling the cylinder, sanding the axis, replacing the fastening joints, and adjusting the slide with a small pressure screw. She could even—why not?—improve the trigger precision by filing down the firing contact and lightening the action weight.

She could even… make them more fun.

Her hands, hesitant at first, reached for the right tools almost without thinking: screwdrivers, fine files, pliers to remove tiny bolts, gear lubricant.

The world—that same world that so often closed in on her like a trap of rusty steel—now seemed to open up, to unfold, to welcome her with wide, embracing arms made of nuts, screws, and fleeting sparks.

The fog inside her head began to lift.

She wasn’t sure exactly what she was feeling. It wasn’t happiness. It wasn’t sadness. It was simply… something. And that, at least, was different from feeling nothing.

Among tools and parts, Jinx found herself working at full speed, with movements that didn’t even require thought, just muscle memory and skill. Repairing. Adjusting. Creating.

Maybe she couldn’t save herself anymore. Maybe it was too late to help herself. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t help at all.

••••

The Splintered Seashell Tavern was one of the few refuges still resisting the tide of gambling sweeping across Bilgewater. Outside, the streets boiled with shouting and sudden fights as the entire city prepared for the Great Hunt. Inside, in a corner secured by a few trusted thugs, Sarah was trying to find something resembling calm.

She gripped a glass of dark rum tightly in one hand, rubbing her temple with the other in a vague attempt to ease a migraine. Her red hair hung dull over her sweaty face. Under the table, one of her legs kept nervously tapping the floor, and her eyes stared into the void with an expression that could only be described as total disconnection.

At the door, the thugs let Salazar through without bothering to stop him. The broad man made his way through the woman's pipe smoke. His wide back and visible scars made him unmistakable, even if Sarah barely glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

Salazar reached her and stood in front of the table.

"Good news?" She asked, her voice hoarse, worn out.

The man shook his head, letting out a sigh.

"Not many options... and even fewer good ones." He settled into a chair across from her. "The best way to reach Vargo was through his weapons. And we already know who supplies him. But about his crew... conveniently, nobody knows anything."

Sarah let out a tired huff as she leaned back in her seat, tapping her fingers against the glass.

"And the offers some made in exchange for the gold..." Salazar continued with a dry laugh, "are laughable. One proposed stuffing damp gunpowder into his ship’s holds. Another suggested releasing venomous snakes on deck. And one particularly deranged fellow... offered to place a curse." He rolled his eyes. "A true collection of idiots."

She sighed, defeated.

"So we’re right where we started."

He leaned forward, resting his thick elbows on the table.

"No word from J?"

She took a long sip before answering, bitterness scraping her throat.

"Her silence is already a pretty clear answer. I asked too much of her... and I knew it."

For a moment, they both sat in silence, listening to the distant noise of a fight in the street that was now starting to include cannon fire. Then, Salazar let out a sigh that seemed to deflate him.

"What do we do now?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes, watching the small bubbles forming in her glass.

"What we’ve always done." She shrugged. "Prepare for the worst. And pray to the seas, if they still hear us."

He let out a sad and disbelieving laugh at the same time.

"That's it?"

"What do you want me to say?"

Silence, again. The man looked into the captain’s green eyes, now so dull they seemed more gray than any other color. After a long few seconds, he spoke.

"You do know you don't have to carry all this weight alone, right?"

Sarah barely moved her head, offering a sad smile that didn’t reach the gray in her eyes.

"If I don’t... who else will?"

Salazar didn’t reply. His jaw tightened, his gaze hardened, but the truth was, he had no answer for that. Instead, he stood up and, with a grunt, began pulling out three cannons wrapped in thick cloths that he’d brought with him.

The first was a short, wide cannon, decorated with engravings of krakens and sharks tangled in combat; the characteristic markings of the Old Cradle workshops on Bilgewater’s northern coast. The second was longer, made of blackened iron, and came from Ulric’s Hammers, a forge hidden down a back alley in the Sunken Market. The third was the most peculiar: a compact cannon, covered in bone plates, crafted in the Salted Forge, a small workshop built on stilts in the eastern marshes.

He set them carefully on the table.

"I got them from different places," he explained as he unwrapped the cloths. "They’re the best Bilgewater has to offer."

Sarah let out a dry, bitter laugh.

"The best, huh?"

"You could give them a chance." He looked at her seriously. "You know it's not a good idea to be walking these streets without a cannon at hand."

She barely gave them a glance, but finally nodded, without much conviction.

The man stood up, and before leaving, he turned once more toward her.

"We’ve got your back, captain. Don’t forget it."

Without waiting for a reply, he left.

Sarah stayed there in silence, listening to the distant roar of Bilgewater celebrating while the rum warmed between her fingers. She took a long sip, letting the burn slide down her throat and settle heavily in her stomach. She gave a tired sigh, lazily sweeping the table with her gaze, and raised a hand to randomly choose one of the cannons. Her palm closed around the metal, and dragging the chair back, she stood up.

She examined the cannon under the flickering light of the lamp hanging from the tavern’s ceiling. The weapon wasn’t bad; the joints were firm, the barrel well-balanced. However, it wasn’t what she would have preferred: the welds were rough in some spots, the grip finish showed slight irregularities, and the mouth of the barrel, though clean, lacked the refinements that allowed for a truly elegant shot.

Sarah lifted it with both hands, aiming toward some empty barrels stacked in a corner. Her hips aligned, her legs braced on the wooden floor, and her eyes narrowed as she measured the distance. A second of silence... and she fired.

The projectile flew, hitting the barrel squarely in the center and making it tremble and roll a bit before lying still. A clean, sure shot... but empty.

She lowered the cannon with a sigh of frustration, feeling the weight of defeat pressing on her chest.

But barely a second later, a female voice rang out behind her.

"Nice shot."

Sarah spun around, startled, her fingers tightening reflexively on the weapon. There, casually strolling between the tables, was the unmistakable silhouette with blue hair.

Jinx.

Before she could even form a word, Jinx had already closed the distance, swinging her hands in the pockets of her linen pants.

"You know," she said, smiling, "if you’re trying to hide or protect yourself, your thugs suck. Not sure if they told you, captain, but there’s a back entrance in the storeroom. Open. Unwatched. I found you in three minutes, and that’s counting the time I spent stealing some fried eels from the kitchen."

Sarah blinked. The blue-haired girl simply let out a giggle.

"And those cannons," Jinx continued, pointing a finger at the weapons on the table, "are not bad. But they're not exactly a marvel either. Look, the striker's feedback is slow, the escape valve has a micro-leak," she said, stepping a little closer and pointing to a small side tube, "and the weight balancer is... well, it's there because someone was afraid the barrel would blow up in their face."

Sarah let out a muffled laugh as Jinx came even closer, until she was right beside her.

"But..." Jinx added, her voice suddenly dropping to a softer, almost tender tone. "Why don't you try these?"

She extended her hands. Sarah froze.

There, held with evident pride, were her pistols. The twin guns that had accompanied her through hundreds of battles, duels, and hunts. But now... now they were different. They looked polished, gleaming under the tavern's light. The grips now shone with new inlays of runes anchored to pink coral, filigree that seemed to pulse gently to the touch.

The reloading mechanisms had been renewed: more compact, faster, clearly allowing for consecutive shots without the risk of jamming. Small rune cores had been inserted into the internal barrel, capable of amplifying bullet power and generating a slight shockwave upon impact, useful for scattering enemies in a small area. Additionally, the sight system had been refined with a minimal, hidden magnifying lens, almost invisible, allowing for more precise aiming at mid-range.

Sarah blinked, dazed, as Jinx let out a proud giggle.

"Come on, try them. I didn't burn half a lock of my hair fixing your old junk just for you to stare at them like they're ghosts."

With hands that trembled slightly—not from fear, but quite the opposite—Sarah took the pistols. They looked different, yes, but... the weight was the same. Familiar.

Without thinking, she spun on her heels, aiming again at a lone barrel. Her body moved on its own, fluid. The trigger gave way under her finger, and almost simultaneously, a vibrant pink shockwave shot out with a roar, smashing the barrel and pulverizing two others that stood beside it.

The boom left a hollow echo in the empty tavern.

For a moment there was silence. And then they burst into laughter.

"Ha! Look at that!" Jinx shouted, pointing at the wreckage. "Now that's being a captain with style!"

Sarah let out a clear laugh, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

"I think that barrel had more guts than most captains in this dump."

"More brains too, for sure," Jinx added through her laughter, giving her a gentle nudge with her elbow.

For the first time in days, Sarah truly smiled.

Their laughter bounced between the old walls and the piles of shattered barrels for a few more seconds. But little by little, the laughter began to fade. First into broken sighs, then into mere silent smiles.

Sarah, still with a hand resting on the butt of her renewed pistol, shifted her gaze from the barrel's remains and glanced sideways at Jinx.

"I didn’t think you were gonna come."

Jinx slowly turned her head, blinking, then toying with the floor using the tip of her boot.

"Yeah… me neither," she admitted with a shrug and a giggle.

The captain crossed her arms, tapping her foot against the dusty floor while lowering her head for a second. Then she sighed and looked up.

"So why did you come?"

The blue-haired girl opened her mouth but took a few seconds to find the words. Her restless pink gaze danced between the scattered cannons and the wreckage.

"Because..." she began, biting her lower lip. "Because I can help a friend when she needs me."

Sarah stood there, arms crossed and foot tapping. She knew what she wanted to say, but honestly, no words felt quite right.

Until, finally, she spoke again.

"About the other night..." she murmured.

Jinx tilted her head, raising an eyebrow with a mocking smile.

"Which night?"

The redhead let out a growl.

"You know which one."

One of Jinx's fingers traveled to her chin.

"The night we shared rum and a few fluids?"

"Jinx…"

"The one where you lost something and tried to find it in my mouth?"

"For fuck’s sake—"

"Or the night you finally admitted my corsets are prettier than yours?"

Sarah snorted and pinched her nose.

"Are you gonna let me finish?"

Jinx grinned, savoring her victory for a few seconds longer, but finally raised a hand in surrender.

The redhead lowered her gaze for a second and tried to gesture vaguely with her hands.

"I was never... I was never close to anyone. Not like this."

"Close like not throwing something sharp at them?" Jinx interrupted.

Sarah let out a nasal laugh.

"I mean... I know how to lead a crew, I know how to make deals, I know how to sleep with someone if I want to. But this..." she gestured vaguely between them. "This... I don't know how to handle it."

Jinx let out a light giggle. Suddenly, she stretched out her hand toward Sarah in a greeting gesture.

"I'm Jinx."

The woman looked at her with a frown.

"Did you lose another screw or what?"

She rolled her eyes before answering, not lowering her hand.

"Isn't this what people do when they want to start over?"

Sarah blinked, and against her will, a giggle escaped her lips. With a resigned sigh, she shook Jinx’s hand.

"I'm Sarah."

"What brings you to this rat's nest, Sarah?"

"Business," she answered. "Trade, piracy... and a few score-settling jobs. And you?"

"Oh, me..." Jinx leaned dramatically. "I'm looking for trouble. Though solving a few wouldn't be bad either."

They laughed again, until the sound faded in their throats, leaving something different behind. Something new.

The captain arched an eyebrow, watching Jinx’s hair with a wrinkled nose.

"Did you really burn your hair?"

Jinx, without missing a beat, crouched slightly and showed a charred lock with slightly blackened and cracked tips.

"I did. And that's why, Miss Captain, you shouldn’t rush runic processes."

Sarah let out a laugh.

"And why did you rush them?"

She shrugged and locked her pink eyes on her.

"Because we have a Hunt to attend today."

The woman looked at her skeptically, crossing her arms, though with each blink the sparkle in her eyes seemed to grow.

"We?"

Jinx rolled her pink eyes and shrugged again.

"Though there's a tiny detail you forgot to mention..." she sang.

"What detail?" the redhead asked, narrowing her eyes.

Jinx leaned against a nearby table and smiled at the captain conspiratorially.

"How should a co-captain dress?"

••••

On the deck of the Stygian Serpent, Captain Vargo took a sip of rum from his flask before speaking.

"The Great Hunt," he began, "is the most brutal competition in Bilgewater. It's held only once a year, and believe me, it's the only day that unites captains, mercenaries, buccaneers, and lunatics..." he swept his gaze over the crew, "...in a single purpose: to hunt the biggest, ugliest, and most valuable sea creature they can find."

Ekko tilted his head, curious.

"And who organizes the circus?" he asked.

Vargo let out a low chuckle.

"Slaughter Docks, boy. An alliance of monster hunter houses, tavern keepers, beast part traders... and a handful of old retired captains who refuse to die in their beds."

"Rules?" Ekko insisted, skeptical.

"Of course. And few, as it should be," Vargo growled. "First: it's not enough to say you killed the beast. You have to bring physical proof. Whole, if you can: skull, heart, or intact jaws. The more intact, the more points."

Ekko nodded, absorbing every detail.

"Second: after setting sail, no external help. Each ship fights alone. No reinforcements, no messengers, no whining."

Sira let out a dry laugh from her corner.

"Sounds like the perfect death trap."

"And it is," Vargo confirmed without blinking. "Third: don't stray from the deep waters of Bilgewater. If you hunt outside the recognized limits, not only are you disqualified—they can execute you on the spot."

Hullen muttered something under his breath about "the damn port guard," but Vargo continued without paying him any mind.

"And fourth: you have forty-eight hours. From the first cannon blast to the final bell at the Bay. Not a minute more."

"And outside those rules?" Ekko asked, raising an eyebrow.

The captain smiled.

"Everything else is allowed."

The crew exchanged quick glances. But Vargo wasn't finished.

"Tonight..." he continued, leaning toward them, "...all kinds of monsters can earn points. Chumerlings, Sharpmaws, Howler Eels, Siltfin Horrors, Deep Terror Crabs, Gloom Leviathans, Tidebreaker Serpents... even various species of sea dragons, abyssal rays, and the old, damned Scyllas."

The mention of those monsters stirred a low murmur. No sane sailor in Bilgewater was free of fear toward those creatures.

The man straightened and surveyed the group.

"Now you," he said, more seriously, looking at the group marked with the Great Kraken tattoo, "you already know what to do. And you know the tests today must not be interrupted." He looked at Lani a second longer than the rest. "We're here to make sure of that. But what concerns us all as a crew" —he struck the barrel with his closed fist— "is that the Fortune Sharks don't win."

Ekko frowned.

"Gangplank’s least favorite faces, I assume?" he asked.

Vargo nodded.

"Yes. Gangplank agreed not to lift a finger in this Great Hunt... as long as we fulfill the other part of the deal: to make sure Miss Fortune and her sharks don't win today. If the redhead wins, she keeps climbing. And we all know that's the last thing Gangplank wants."

Nahlira cracked her knuckles, visibly anxious.

"The Fortune Sharks are smart," Vargo continued. "Strategic. Lethal. And knowing them, I'd bet my finger they're going after the biggest prize: the Abyssal Megatusk."

A heavy silence fell over the deck at the mention of that name.

The captain cleared his throat before continuing.

"We have two ways to take the winning title from them:" he raised two fingers, marking them, "one, trail them like dogs and make sure they don't catch it."

A crooked smile crossed some faces. Others frowned, more skeptical.

"And two..." Vargo lowered his voice to almost a growl, "catch it ourselves first."

The crew looked at each other, this time with brightened eyes.

"So," the captain growled, "we're gonna do it the way we know best: silent, in the shadows, without the monster or anyone else noticing."

Nahlira clicked her tongue.

"So no explosions? What a disappointment, captain."

"Not while it sleeps," Sira corrected with a lopsided smile. "Afterward, if everything goes well, you can blow up whatever you want... but not before it's secured."

Ekko raised an eyebrow, watching them with some distrust.

"And the arsenal? We're not throwing these fairground toys and hoping they work, are we?"

"All Pink-Twist," Vargo smirked. "Bone spears, light resonance-free siege crossbows; more explosives and cannons than we can count... and the binding harpoon. The main course."

"The sea fog bombs are ready too," Nahlira added, tapping the barrel next to her. "Thick as lobster soup and with a sedative touch, courtesy of Lani."

The shaman, silent until then, nodded slowly.

"The fog brings deep sleep. If the Megatusk's spirit is strong, we will need all our cunning."

"And the stealth nets are ready," Jorek chimed in. "No waves, no vibrations. Like ghosts."

Vargo struck a railing with a closed fist.

"Then you know. There's no second chance if it wakes up too early."

"How do we find it?" Hullen asked, sharpening one of his spears with a piece of black stone.

Sira answered before the captain could.

"Jorek will use the current cartographers." She pointed to the device beside her. "The Megatusk usually sleeps after hunting in slow-current zones. Those areas are our best bets."

"And once we find it," Vargo added, "we'll release calming essences into the water."

Ekko let out a brief laugh.

"Magic oils, mist, shadow nets? This sounds more like sorcery than a hunt."

"Call it what you want," the captain replied, "but it works."

The shaman leaned forward.

"The Megatusk must not sense our fear, nor our haste. It must only sink into deep calm."

Vargo turned to Ekko then, his expression hardening.

"And here's the important part. You are the one who’s gonna fire the harpoon to guide it to a safe, distant spot so it doesn't wake up over the ship."

The rest of the crew turned to Ekko, some with fierce grins, others with relentless seriousness.

"The shot must be at just the right moment," Vargo explained. "If you do it too early, it will smell your trick. And then you'll have a furious, half-awake beast. If you do it too late, it’ll already be charging, and no harpoon will stop it."

Ekko flashed a smug, confident smile.

"Got it, captain. Piece of cake."

"It better be, boy. Our lives depend on that shot unless you want us to end up as mush at the bottom of the ocean."

"And after the shot?"

"Runic spears in the main joints," Vargo indicated, tapping the table at four points. "Jorek, Hullen, and Sira will do it in sync. And absorption nets on top to neutralize any spasms."

"And the towing?"

"Floating chains and rune-gravity anchors," Vargo replied. "Nahlira will coordinate the towing ships. We don't want to damage the flesh. The more intact we bring it back, the more points we score."

The crew kept talking, planning, but Ekko had already tuned them out. His smile grew a little wider.

This was gonna be interesting. And definitely fun.

•••

In an improvised corner at The Splintered Seashell, Sarah Fortune tapped the handle of her pistol lightly against the spread-out map. Every member of the crew occupied their place: some standing, others lounging casually on barrels or crates.

The woman fired a bullet into the ceiling, instantly capturing everyone’s attention.

"Alright," said Sarah, smiling. "Let's see if you can focus. You already know the target. The Megatusk isn’t going to let itself be captured with polite manners. We’ll stun it, hunt it down, and drag it home like the damn champions we are."

"Sounds romantic," muttered Jinx, sitting on the back of a chair with her boots resting on the seat. "Should we bring it flowers too?"

A few muffled chuckles rippled through the room. The captain flipped her off, but Jinx, the co-captain, quickly jumped to stand beside her.

"First, the arsenal," Sarah continued, turning toward her blue-haired companion.

"The piercing spears are ready," Jinx reported. "Each tip has concentrated rupture magic. If those things don't pierce its shell, nothing will."

"And the heavy crossbows?"

"Mounted, calibrated, and meaner than a protective mother. The Kraken-glass bolts are oiled and gleam like the teeth of an angry shark just before it bites."

Sarah blinked.

"Do you get my joke?" insisted Jinx with a grin, elbowing her. "Shark? Sharks? Fortune Sharks?"

"You know I still have time to use you as Megatusk bait, right?" the captain responded.

Malik let out a nasal snort of laughter, cutting them off.

"Feels like we’re about to fight a god. Anyone else feel their asshole clench?"

"If you're scared, stay in the kitchen," Salazar growled.

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"We’ve also got the anchor harpoons," she said, pointing to a schematic. "Coated with Shadowtide pearls and magic-lock runes. They slice through its regeneration like a knife through hot butter."

Darla, from her corner covered in jars, nodded before speaking.

"I'll handle the Drowned Nets. They're braided with marine essence threads. Not even its fangs will tear through them."

"And the shock bomb?" asked Lysander, raising an eyebrow.

"Ready," confirmed Ivy, patting a small metal barrel beside her. "When this goes off, the Megatusk's head will ring worse than a sailor after half a dozen barrels of rum."

Sarah chuckled, and Jinx shot her a look.

"Reminds me of someone, doesn’t it, captain?"

"Quiet, bug."

The atmosphere relaxed just a little, but everyone refocused when Salazar laid out a more detailed map on the table.

"As for location," he explained, "we’ll use rune sonar beacons. They mark its position without alerting it. I’ve calculated the currents: if we shoot here and here," he pointed to two spots, "we’ll corner it between the Silent Reefs."

"Then, the bait," Malik chimed in, grimacing. "Shark blood, young whale meat, everything that makes it drool."

"It’ll stink like a slaughterhouse," commented Ronan.

"A perfect slaughterhouse," said Jinx, rubbing her hands together. "Couldn’t ask for a better welcome sign."

The captain nodded.

"Now, the critical part," she said, looking directly at Jinx. "The Main Harpoon shot."

This time, everyone fell silent.

"When the Megatusk follows the trail and is half-dazed," Sarah explained, "there’s a window. A small one. Right before it fully wakes up. In that moment, you must fire toward a safe spot where we want to lure it once it emerges. If you fire the harpoon too soon, it could break free. If you wait too long..."

"It surfaces right over the ship and eats us like shrimp at a festival," Malik interrupted dryly.

"Exactly."

"Perfect timing is my middle name," Jinx responded, laughing.

"We don’t even know your first name."

"Trust me. I’ll guide it to a dirty cave, hit it right in the nape, and it’ll move less than Salazar after three rums."

Salazar pointed at her with a finger and a threatening glare.

"That was just once, brat."

More laughter slipped among the crew.

The captain smiled, satisfied.

"After the anchoring, it’s an all-out assault," she resumed. "Crossbows, cannons, explosives. Aim for the weak points: eyes, gills, sides."

"I’ll throw the nets," said Darla. "So it can’t use those fins to thrash around."

"And the final blow," added Ivy, a hungry gleam in her eyes. "The abyssal essence cannon straight to the heart."

"Then we secure it with deep anchor chains," Sarah concluded. "And tow it back as our trophy."

There was a moment of silence. Each one of the Sharks, in their own way, tried to process the madness they were about to dive into. It wasn’t an easy task.

Sarah placed her hands on the table, looking at each of them.

"We can do this."

Jinx let out a giggle, looking confidently at the captain and then at the rest of the crew.

"Do this?" she said. "This is gonna be a piece of cake."

••••

The Stygian Serpent finally descended, after long hours of travel and attacks from prey hunters included, onto the coast of Bilgewater.

Ekko, still leaning against the railing, tried to absorb every detail. Though, truth be told, none of it was very pretty.

The smell was the first thing that hit him. A merciless blend of rotting fish, cheap rum, fermented sweat, and something Ekko would swear was a corpse in an advanced state of decomposition. He covered his nose with his sleeve, with little success. Bilgewater’s air seemed to have the ability to seep into your bones even more than Zaun’s polluted air.

The coast was buzzing like crazy. People of all shapes, sizes, and levels of danger jostled each other without any kind of control. Ekko saw tattooed sailors hauling nets, merchants shouting offers that sounded more like threats, and pirates with smiles slashed by blades.

A barefoot boy ran past him shouting something about "bets on the first monster decapitated!" A pair of women—one of them carrying a harpoon almost bigger than herself—were arguing about what seemed to be two crews that would present themselves today. Though more than arguing, they looked about ready to draw cannons. And a few meters away, a group of men were betting bags of gold while two sailors punched each other hard enough to be lethal.

Bilgewater wasn’t just alive that night. It was deranged.

Ekko swallowed hard, trying to process the scene without looking like a lost tourist. He’d read—and heard—about Bilgewater. He knew about its floating markets, its taverns where you could lose an arm—literally—if you didn’t pay your tab, its sea monsters... but seeing it in the flesh was another story. Something in his chest wavered between fascination and the urge to run back to the ship.

A clatter of chains and wood signaled that The Stygian Serpent had finally run aground, but when Ekko blinked, there wasn’t even a shadow left of the crew. Gone, with only the echo of their hurried steps lingering in the murmur of the crowd.

Vargo passed by Ekko, who had already jumped onto the shore, letting out a snort that sounded dangerously close to a sneeze, and muttered something about "the temple" and "they’ll be back soon." But Ekko barely registered it: he was too busy dodging a crab vendor trying to force a live creature onto him.

"So this is the infamous Bilgewater?" Ekko muttered, shrinking back as a group of fishermen so drunk they looked like they had been dragged straight from the ocean floor stumbled past them. "You know? I always dreamed of visiting a market of pestilence, veiled threats, and ocularly transmitted diseases."

The captain let out a kind of grunt that, coming from him, probably counted as a laugh.

"It’s the Great Hunt. Everything’s worse."

"Oh, right," Ekko continued, dodging a guy carrying what looked like a still-bleeding shark fin over his shoulder. "Of course. A festival of sea monster slaughter was exactly what this dystopia was missing—"

"Someone just stole your cannon."

Ekko blinked.

"What?"

He slapped his belt. Then checked his hip. Then nearly dislocated a wrist rummaging through his pockets. The handheld cannon he’d brought—and that, in his opinion, should have been a basic human right to carry—was gone.

"But I’ve only been here a minute!"

Vargo shrugged, finishing up work on one of the ship’s moorings.

"Bilgewater counts minutes differently. And I was busy."

"Busy!?" Ekko’s eyes widened as he brought both hands to his hair. "Wasn’t preventing me from being robbed part of the deal?!"

"Saw you too late." Vargo looked around, evaluating the crowd with indifference. "Anyway, you should be grateful you still have all your fingers and your throat uncut."

Ekko groaned toward the sky, this time pulling on his dreadlocks.

"Fuck Bilgewater. Fuck this humid air, fuck this stinking water. Fuck everything."

The man shrugged again, standing up straight.

"Stop whining and go get yourself proper sea clothes."

Ekko glared at him.

"And where are you going, huh?"

"To pick up weapons," Vargo replied. "You don’t hunt a leviathan from the depths with a toy cannon."

"And what am I supposed to do meanwhile? Wander around unarmed like a walking menu?"

"Get yourself a new cannon. Something quick. You don’t want to walk these streets today without a weapon at hand."

Ekko opened his mouth to argue, but by the time he managed to form the first syllable, Vargo already seemed distracted, worlds away.

From his spot, the captain caught sight of the Bay of the Great Surge, the grimy heart from where the crews competing in the Great Hunt would set sail. It was a seething mass of boats swirling in the gray water, colorful sails flapping, and sailors running to and fro.

But what hardened Vargo was what he saw.

Three figures had stopped not far away, stabbing their eyes at him like daggers. And at Ekko.

A huge man, broad-backed and scarred. Beside him, a thinner guy with an angular face. And between them, a red-haired woman, her green eyes as vivid and dangerous as freshly sharpened emeralds.

Vargo would recognize Miss Fortune even with his eyes closed.

First they looked at Vargo as if they wanted to rip his head off. Then at Ekko, with a momentary confusion. But that confusion evaporated in a sigh, and the next thing Ekko felt were six eyes boring into his back with clear intent to perforate him.

Vargo turned to him and sighed heavily.

"And you’re not coming with me."

Ekko stared at him, incredulous.

"What? Why?"

The captain didn’t even look at him.

"You know that crew doesn’t want me around. By association... it looks like they don’t want you around either now. They won’t try anything with me, but if you come along, I’ll endanger the lunatic... And that’s the last thing I want."

Ekko opened his mouth to protest, but Vargo silenced him with a gesture.

"Go to the market. Get yourself a cannon. Something suited for the sea. And don’t draw attention."

He crossed his arms, snorting.

"And how am I supposed to get to the market?"

"From here, head to the main street, cross the Coral Bridge, pass the Broken Hook, and then take the ramp at the Old Breakwater. The market’s after the alley that smells like death’s got a shrimp stand."

Ekko raised his eyebrows.

"Thanks for the verbal map. And for the motivational words."

"If you follow the people, you’ll get there. The crowd will keep you out of trouble. You’re smart, you won’t get lost."

"So what? I just hope I don’t get murdered along the way?"

The captain let out a grunt, starting to walk.

"Someone from the crew will find you before some Fortune Shark slits your throat. You know it doesn’t matter where you’re from or who you are..." he glanced over his shoulder at him, "in a crew, we look after our own."

Vargo turned away again.

"See you in a bit at the Bay," he said before disappearing into the crowd.

Ekko watched him go, then let out a long sigh, planting his hands on his hips.

Perfect. Wonderful. Bilgewater, stolen cannons, murderous crews, Fortune Sharks...

Coral Bridge, Broken Hook, Old Breakwater... and then? Oh, right. Follow the stench of death. Everything under control.

Or something like that.

••••

The reflection in the broken workshop glass returned to her an image that, for once, didn't make her frown.

Jinx stared at herself closely, hands on her bony hips, tilting her head the way one would when evaluating a stranger. In a way, that's exactly what she was doing.

Her chest was adorned by a black leather corset, tightly laced with reddish cords zigzagging down the center. Just below, a belt of matte silver rested, decorated with a large medallion shaped like a kraken coiled around a broken anchor—a symbol of strength in the storm and survival through shipwreck, supposedly. Several hooks hung from the belt, arranged in such a way that, with a single movement, she could secure a few chompers to them if the situation called for it. Her abdomen, completely exposed, shamelessly displayed the blue clouds tattoos running across her skin, just as Jinx liked.

Her arms were covered up to the shoulders by loose sleeves of dark red linen, tied at the wrists by two large bronze bracelets, from which hung small charms shaped like broken seashells and leviathan eyes—marine amulets said to bring fortune and ward off the evil eye.

On her legs, worn-out black-and-red striped pants mockingly reminded her of her old Zaun pants, the ones that barely went past her knees. At least now she looked more intimidating... or something just a bit scarier than a half-eaten circus tent.

Her boots reached up to her knees, made of oiled leather to repel saltwater, with reinforced stitching and silver studs running along the sides; on the soles, symbols of braided waves ensured better traction on a wet deck.

On her hips, another belt—this one of wide, tanned black leather, with a handcrafted engraving of a shark with open jaws—proclaimed her affiliation without the need for words: Fortune Sharks. From that belt hung two runic cannons for short and long-range combat, along with several small daggers: one with a hardened coral blade, another with a wavy edge, and a double-edged dagger with runes that barely glowed pale pink.

Around her neck, she still wore her old leviathan tear stone necklace. Hidden under the linen sleeves, pressed against her skin, she still carried the tidelight stones wrapped around her wrist. She didn’t know why she hadn’t taken them off yet. Maybe out of habit.

Though today, precisely today, it would have been wiser to get rid of them.

But of course, wisdom had never been one of her virtues.

She sighed, brushing a rebellious strand from her face. Two crucial details were still missing before she was ready.

Her large red coat hung over a chair: thick, heavy, embroidered on the back with a silver-threaded shark, another emblem that distinguished her as part of the Fortune Sharks. Though it wasn’t just for show; the thick, waxed fabric could protect her from the treacherous wind if the tide turned wild.

Finally, her hat. It was made of imbued leather, wide-brimmed, with a slight tilt to one side and edges stitched with red thread. A small black feather, tied to one side, completed the look. It wasn’t just a pirate hat.

It was her co-captain's hat.

She stayed one more second staring at her reflection. She sighed, half-smiling.

Co-captain. I'm really gonna do this shit. 

Behind her, the sounds of clattering dishes and laughter reminded her she wasn’t alone.

Gus, Sprocket, Nella, and Luz were devouring what was left of dinner: dried fish, hard bread, and some fruit stolen from the market.

"Where are you going all dressed up, Miss J?" asked Sprocket, mouth full of bread, squinting at her.

Jinx sat on a stool and began to wrestle with her hair, which fell all the way down to her hips. In front of her, a handful of marine-themed clips waited their turn: one shaped like a broken trident, another like a siren’s eye, one shaped like a blue starfish, and one imitating the open jaws of a shark.

"Are you gonna join the Great Hunt?" chimed in Gus, excited, stuffing a slice of fruit into his mouth so big he almost choked.

Jinx let out a chuckle, separating locks of hair with her fingers.

"Maybe. Or maybe I'll just climb to the top of the Lighthouse and shout at everyone passing by," she said, pinning the first lock into an improvised bun with the broken trident clip.

Nella looked at her with wide eyes.

"Did you become a captain?"

"Captain? Please!" scoffed Jinx, securing another lock with the siren's eye clip. "That sounds like way too much work. I'm just going to... supervise from above. With style."

Luz dropped her spoon with a clatter.

"That means you did become a captain!"

"Shhhh, don't you know you're not supposed to shout with a full stomach?" Jinx replied, fixing the third lock of hair with the blue starfish. "If everything goes as planned, you'll know exactly where I'm going. And if not... well, maybe you'll find me floating among the kelp."

"Don't die!" shouted Gus, alarmed, a half-chewed piece of bread in his hand.

Jinx let out a laugh as she gathered the rest of her hair into a large bun at the nape of her neck, securing it with the shark-jaw clasp. A few strands escaped, rebellious, and her side bang fell across her face, ever loyal.

"Relax, kid," she said, standing up. "I'm good at a lot of things, but dying isn't one of them."

When she finished tying up her hair, Jinx looked at herself again in the broken mirror. The reflection staring back was a strange version of herself: more armed, more prepared... more serious than she would have liked to admit. And yet... she smiled. She liked it.

Behind her, little Nella watched with wide eyes. Then, her voice came out in a sigh.

"I wish I were as pretty as you."

Jinx stayed still for a few seconds. Then, she gave a soft smile to herself. She turned and crouched down to the girl’s level, and tapped her forehead with a finger.

"Pretty, me? Nah. I'm dangerous, crazy, and a walking disaster. But you..." She paused, winking at her. "You're the pretty one. If I had that face, I'd be charging a bag of golden krakens for every person who looks at me."

Nella let out a shy giggle, lowering her gaze, while Gus, Sprocket, and Luz, from the table, made fake gagging noises.

The moment was fleeting.

Something—a shiver down her spine—forced Jinx to glance at the high window of the workshop. Her heart froze as she spotted the silhouette of a pirate approaching. Not just any pirate. The pirate. The only one who hadn't yet picked up his batch of weapons. The only one Jinx was still waiting for.

Vargo.

She swallowed hard, her tongue suddenly too thick for her mouth. She turned toward the kids with a tight smile, trying to muster one last trace of calm for them.

"Hey, fleas," she said, patting her own knees, "I've got a super secret mission for you."

The children immediately lifted their heads, excited.

"What mission!?"

"Go to the main streets and count how many Bilgewater residents and how many outsiders you see." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "It's extremely important. Life or death. Candy or no candy."

"And how do we know who's who?" asked Gus, frowning.

Jinx let out a brief laugh.

"Please, you're the smartest little heads in Bilgewater. If you can't tell a local sailor from an outsider, we're doomed."

"Let's go!" Luz squealed, already climbing onto the chair to reach the ventilation shaft.

The others followed, one by one disappearing through the hidden grate, leaving a trail of giggles as they talked about the market and tossed a few bits of bitten bread.

When the last shoe vanished, Jinx allowed herself to exhale the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She immediately turned back to her workbench. There was the batch meant for Vargo. All organized, all perfect. Or rather, imperfect.

Wasting no time, Jinx grabbed her red coat and hid it under a pile of fabrics. She did the same with her hat, making sure to cover it with an old tarp. Then she improvised: she took a wide scarf and wrapped it around her hips, covering the shark-engraved belt. At first glance, she looked like just another Bilgewater girl, not the co-captain of the Fortune Sharks.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the salty, dusty air of the workshop.

It's gonna be fine. It's not gonna be a disaster. You're not gonna jinx this.

The sound of knocking at the door dissolved her thoughts in an instant.

Jinx closed her eyes for a second. Then, trying to gather all the normalcy she could, she opened the door.

Vargo was there, massive and hunched against the frame.

"Hey, little fish."

She stepped aside to let him in, forcing a small smile. She shut the door behind him with a louder slam than she had intended.

"How've you been?" Vargo asked, resting one hand on the edge of the table while his eyes roamed over the orders. "Have you been out of the workshop? Anything interesting?"

"I'm the same," Jinx replied. Something inside her screamed to make this quick, that small talk was pointless, but another part of her sometimes made her mouth move first. "How was your trip?"

He let out a short, rough laugh.

"The same as always. Death everywhere. But nothing I can't handle. I even brought back a lunatic." He smirked. "A fucking genius. Half-crazy, yeah, but the best."

Jinx barely raised an eyebrow, not returning the smile. Without looking him in the eye and without thinking too much about her answer, she pointed at the table.

"There's your arsenal."

Resting on the table were the Crimson Hydra, the Claw, the double crossbows, the compact cannons, several marine bombs, and more. At first glance, everything seemed impeccable... but Jinx knew the flaws were there. None serious enough to be fatal—except maybe the harpoon, which she still wasn’t sure wouldn't overload when activated. But she preferred not to think about it too much. She’d already had the chance to say no. To make her choice.

She let out a dry chuckle, a sound somewhere between sad and resigned.

"All yours."

Vargo nodded and started picking up the weapons, testing the weight of some with one hand.

"Knew I could count on you, lunatic."

Jinx swallowed hard, not answering.

As he hefted the Claw onto his shoulder, he glanced sideways at her.

"Going somewhere?" he asked.

She glanced at her outfit, which was anything but casual, and hesitated for just a second. She had to sound natural.

"The Blind Siren already closed its bets," she said with a shrug. "I don't want to miss the fun. It's always hilarious watching drunk pirates cry because they lost everything or blow someone's head off for winning."

He let out a low laugh, but his expression hardened slightly.

"Be careful."

She didn’t answer. She just kept biting her thumbnail, like she always did when she was nervous and didn’t want anyone to notice. The captain stopped moving, watching her more closely.

"You okay?" he asked, trying to sound gentler.

For him, used to shouting over deck noise or not talking at all, it was quite an achievement.

She kept biting her nail, without lifting her gaze. Part of her wanted to laugh in his face, spit out a venomous joke. Another part just wanted to stay still and not think. Another one just wanted to sit down and chat with him and not go to any Hunt.

"I know you don't like talking about what's going on in that head of yours, but if you ever need to get it out, you know you can trust me, right?"

Jinx answered without thinking.

"Can I?"

He stayed silent. So did she. 

Vargo let out a deep sigh, lowering his gaze to the floor. But he said nothing.

He loaded the last pieces into his improvised bag and walked toward the door. Jinx didn’t move, frozen in place.

Before leaving, the captain turned around. He let out one last breath and gave Jinx one last look.

"Whatever happens today, little fish..." he said in a hoarse voice, "remember, that every time you find yourself in the depths of the ocean, every time you feel the temptation to remain in that darkness, you can always choose to swim your way back up to the surface. And breathe again."

And with those words, Vargo left.

Jinx stood frozen for a few seconds, feeling the air in the workshop grow harder to breathe. Outside, Bilgewater roared: the shouts of the crowd, the laughter, the celebratory cannon fire. Everything was just a few steps away from beginning.

She shook her head, forcing herself not to think about anything else. There was no time for distractions.

With a swift gesture, she removed the scarf covering her belt, revealing the shark engraving once again. She put on the red coat, settling it over her shoulders, and finally pulled her co-captain’s hat firmly onto her head.

It was time.

•••

If Bilgewater’s coast looked like a bad joke, the main market looked like something ripped straight out of hell.

The first thing Ekko noticed was that the whole damned place stank of a hellish mix of sea salt, rotting fish, sweat, cheap spices, and, to top it off, wet gunpowder. Ekko had smelled horrible things in his life—and he had lived in Zaun, where the average "fragrance" could corrode your nasal passages—but this was a direct insult to his olfactory dignity.

Around him, makeshift stalls creaked under the pressure of dozens of dirty hands rummaging through dubious goods; merchants bellowed prices while knives passed from hand to hand; children slipped between legs, picking pockets in the blink of an eye; and vendors shouted offers so suspicious they sounded like insults.

Ekko had made a notable effort not to look like an outsider freshly vomited out by some lost ship. He’d traded his usual clothes for an outfit that, at least in theory, would let him walk among pirates without being immediately stabbed or swindled—though in Bilgewater, those two options were always a constant risk. Besides, Vargo was right. He needed something suitable for the sea.

His new shirt was white, with long, wide sleeves, made of rustic, flexible linen—the kind of material sailors there loved because it dried quickly, didn’t rot at the first hug of humidity, and was tough enough to survive both a boarding or a drunken brawl. His pants were black, made of waxed canvas that repelled water better than any linen; wide enough for movement, but tight at the ankles so as not to snag on every damn rope or anchor lying around.

A wide belt, made of shark-oil-tanned leather—the subtly unbearable smell gave it away—adorned his hips. On the leather, a pattern of entwined sea tentacles had been engraved, and Ekko had decided that if he was gonna keep smelling like dead shark, he might as well look badass while doing it. Several new daggers he’d acquired hung from his belt, ready to ruin the day of anyone who tried to get smart with him.

On his feet, marine leather boots sealed to withstand constant humidity. They were rough and heavy... and the best friend of a man who didn’t want to slip and break every bone in his body on the slippery planks of a wet deck. Ekko also wore a dark orange vest made of thick canvas, similar to the sails of the ships, designed to withstand the salty wind without tearing to shreds at the first gust.

Of course, not everything about his new look was strictly functional, simply because Ekko himself lately wasn’t either. He’d indulged in a few whims—because you can be practical and still have style. Hanging around his neck was a necklace with a bluish stone that, according to the seller, was a leviathan tear stone, supposedly formed at the bottom of the sea when a siren died of a broken heart. Besides finding it pretty, Ekko decided to buy it because... well, because it was pretty. Just that. 

And there was his bandana. The same burnt orange shade as his vest, it firmly held his dreadlocks in place. Bilgewater’s salty wind was a sworn enemy of his precious locks, and if there was one thing Ekko knew for sure, it was that he might be about to be devoured by a sea monster, but his dreads would die with dignity.

Though he was more than satisfied with his purchases—especially the daggers, which had saved him from the trouble of being unarmed—his mood soured every time he thought about the damn cannon. The ones he’d seen so far were a cruel joke: rusty pieces patched together with crooked nails, or artifacts that looked more likely to blow up in his face than to actually fire. And the prices... well, if Bilgewater was already a nest of full-time scammers, the day of the Great Hunt had brought an additional plague.

He’d been zigzagging between stalls for about twenty minutes, evaluating options, dodging overly curious hands, and trying not to crush any kids under his boots. However, there was something else that was starting to eat away at his patience: every so often, he swore he heard voices. And no, not the ones that lived in his head. Unfortunately, real voices. Quick, sharp whispers, followed by a small chorus of hurried footsteps. Sometimes behind him, other times above him. But always, always, too close.

The first time he heard it, he spun on his heels, expecting to find some kid trying to slip a hand into his belt. There was no one. Only a fat rat staring at him from a ledge.

The second time, he just shook his head, not entirely sure if he’d already lost his sanity completely or if the ghosts from the Isles had followed him all the way to Bilgewater.

He shook his head and kept walking, trying to think about anything but the smell that kept violently invading his nostrils. Did all of Bilgewater smell like this? Or was it just worse in the market streets because of the rotting goods? Now that he thought about it, the smell was more like decomposing bodies than rotten fish.

He shook his head again. He had more important things to worry about. 

But as if it wasn’t already hard enough to focus, the voices came back to breathe down his neck.

“I’m telling you, he’s an outsider!”

“And I’m telling you he’s not! He’s probably a bounty hunter. He looks tough.”

“Maybe the clouds are just the trend now.”

“But she said they were a secret map!”

“Maybe they match hers.”

“Look how he walks. Confident. That's an outsider thing, you idiots.”

Ekko pinched his nose and sighed. Now he could hear them more clearly. Male and female, but all children’s voices. He turned around slowly.

“Quiet! He’s moving!”

“Can I help you?” he said aloud, trying to summon all the patience he could.

What followed then was a series of disorganized murmurs, just before a string of thuds echoed against the ground. Four small bodies landed on their butts from the rooftops, where they had apparently been for the last minutes.

Ekko sighed. Four kids quickly got up, dusting off their tattered clothes with all the dignity they could muster. Four pairs of eyes locked on him with a mix of surprise and something very close to fear. He raised his hands, impatient.

“Well?”

The kids froze like statues, but quickly furrowed their brows and began to whisper among themselves.

“See! He’s nice! Definitely an outsider!”

“That doesn’t prove anything!”

“Shhh, who’s gonna talk to him?”

“Not me. He looks like he could toss us all as bait with one finger.”

“You’re such a coward!”

“A coward who won’t die today! I say Gus talks. It was his idea to follow him.”

“I just said the tattoos looked suspicious! I didn’t say we should face him like we’re Port Guard!”

“Are you gonna keep whispering over there or are you gonna tell me why you’ve been following me for the past twenty minutes?” Ekko interrupted, crossing his arms. At that point, he was begging Janna to grant him a little patience.

One of the kids—the last one who had spoken—gulped. Then he straightened his shirt and stepped forward with very unheroic steps.

“Uh… hi. We’re… well, I’m Gus, she’s Nella, the little one is Sprocket, and the one hugging the gunpowder barrel is Luz.”

The girl waved at him with one hand. 

Ekko blinked.

“...Uh-huh?”

The boy—Gus—took a deep breath.

“Are your tattoos also a secret map?”

Silence. Long silence. Ekko pinched his nose again.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, turning around.

“That’s a yes!” shouted Sprocket, running after him. “Nobody says ‘I don’t have time’ unless they’re hiding something!”

“Or unless they’re in trouble!” added Luz with a wide grin.

Ekko kept walking, not turning back.

“Yeah, I’m in trouble, and a big one. Finding a new cannon is the least of my problems right now, and that’s exactly why I don’t have time for this.”

The four kids gasped excitedly all at once.

“You’re looking for weapons? We can help you!”

“And he is an outsider. We can charge him double,” added one of the voices in something that was definitely not a whisper.

Ekko turned around with a mocking smile. They were trying to scam him? 

“A tip, kids. If you’re gonna scam someone, at least don’t reveal your master plan to their face.”

“He didn’t say it! He thought it!” Luz clarified.

“Uh-huh, so I heard it because I can read minds.”

“Well, maybe.”

Ekko snorted, now putting both hands to his face.

“I don’t need your help. I can get my stuff at the market.”

“But the market’s a joke!” Nella scoffed. “All they sell here is rope, fish, weird stones, and cannons that’ll take your arm off.”

“Besides, if you’re looking for her, she doesn’t sell her weapons here.”

“We know where her workshop is. We’re her assistants,” said Gus proudly.

“What are you talking about? Whose workshop?” This time, Ekko raised his voice considerably. His last trace of patience was starting to fade.

“What do you mean whose?!” the four of them said in unison.

“The one with the same tattoos as yours!” insisted Sprocket. “You and her match!”

Ekko stopped.

“What?”

“Maybe they both have parts of the same map, and if you put their tattoos together, the treasure appears,” Luz whispered to her friends.

“What if the blue clouds mean something else? What if they’re part of a cult?”

“Miss J? In a cult? Ha!”

But Ekko wasn’t listening to them anymore. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t even breathing. The whole world had frozen in that instant.

Blue clouds tattoos… Weapons… Miss J?

No.

No fucking way.

He turned around trembling, his legs stiff and his chest tight. His gaze landed on the children for just an instant.

You have to try.

And in a brittle thread of voice, he asked:

"That girl you are talking about... Does she...?"

"Ekko!"

He didn't get to finish. A deep, raspy voice sounded behind him, cutting him off.

He startled and spun on his heels, his heart hammering against his ribs. A few steps away, a sturdy figure was approaching him. Jorek, a member of the crew, coming for him. Just like Vargo had said.

As soon as they saw him, the four children gasped at the same time, maybe because the figure looked anything but friendly and did not inspire the slightest trust for them to stay there. Without thinking, they bolted in opposite directions, running to hide among alleys, piles of scrap, and half-open doors. In the blink of an eye, Ekko lost sight of them.

Jorek reached him with an expression that, to be kind, could only be described as impatient.

"Vargo sent me to get you," he said. "Not a good idea for you to be wandering these streets alone, boy. The sharks have their eyes on you."

Ekko blinked, his mind still trapped in the children's words. His body wanted to move, to run, maybe even to scream, but his brain could barely string coherent thoughts together.

The man, noticing his distraction, huffed tiredly and added:

"And don't let yourself get carried away by everything you hear, you hear me?" His voice lowered to a growl. "These days, anyone will do anything to scam someone. Even kids make up the best lies if it fills their bellies or saves their hides."

Ekko’s heart skipped a beat. But he nodded.

He had to focus. He had to get out of that situation as soon as possible. Though the children's words still bounced around his head, he knew getting killed by the enemy crew wasn't exactly the plan for today. And it was too late to back out of... well, everything.

The man let out an approving grunt at seeing him nod and, pointing roughly southward, spoke again.

"Let's go. The crew is ready at the Bay."

••••

The Great Surge Bay of Bilgewater was in complete chaos, offering the best possible welcome to one of the most important nights of the year.

The night of the Great Hunt was only minutes away from starting, and the entire harbor seemed like a wild animal, expectant, ready to pounce. Torches burned along the palisades, illuminating the faces of sailors, hunters, and gamblers crowding the docks. Voices, nervous laughter, curses, and orders mixed with the roar of the waves crashing against the shore and the sails of ships unfolding.

The participating ships rocked their hulls to the rhythm of the ever-growing tide. Sails furled, harpoons oiled, ammunition stacked: everything was ready for the most important hunt of the year. Every crew wore their best war rags, reinforced jackets, greased boots, and weapons ready to tear through the flesh of the most valuable beasts.

Among them, climbing up the way toward The Red Fortune, were the captain and co-captain of the Fortune's Sharks. Miss Fortune and Jinx. Their boots thudded hollowly against the wood as they ascended, though Jinx didn’t seem to hear them. She didn’t seem to hear much of anything at all. The world around her reached her as if through a thick layer of glass. Every step felt, for some reason, like an order her body obeyed automatically. Her fingers trembled slightly as they gripped the ropes, and when she did, breathing properly felt like a conscious effort rather than something instinctive.

Jinx caught flashes of scenes out of the corner of her eye: crews shouting last-minute chants, men drinking deep swigs from rum canteens, boatswains haggling last-minute prices for forgotten supplies. An old couple selling lucky charms beside an overturned barrel. A boy weaving through euphoric sailors. Hasty last-minute bets.

Aboard The Red Fortune, the entire arsenal was already secured. Every piece of metal gleamed in the torchlight, every rope had been checked three times. Everything had to be perfect. Any mistake would be fatal.

From her position, Jinx scanned the other anchored ships. Seven crews were participating today. The Fortune Sharks were among the youngest, and it showed. On every other ship, the faces she spotted looked carved out of stone. People who had survived merciless seas.

Her eyes locked onto a ship in the distance, one she had seen before: The Stygian Serpent. The banner of black sails that screamed nothing less than Captain Vargo.

She stared at it, barely blinking. On the deck, Vargo was handing out weapons to his crew. Some laughed, shouted, warmed up their muscles, while making sure everything was in order.

A dry pang shot through Jinx. Nothing was in order. 

Her hands tensed without her noticing, and for a second her stomach twisted so hard she thought she might vomit. Before the nausea could overwhelm her, she decided it was best to look away.

But before she did, she saw something else. Something that stopped her heart.

White hair.

There, among the crew of the Stygian Serpent, she caught a glimpse of white hair. And not just that. The hair belonged to a figure whose movements and posture she knew all too well. She was too far from the ship to see more clearly, but the longer she looked, the more she could swear, with every fiber of her being, that it was—

The shouts of the Fortune's Sharks beside her yanked her violently from her trance. They were calling her to her post, urgent, excited.

Jinx shook her head violently.

Focus, idiot. It's not the time for nonsense. He’s not coming back. Your mind already tricked you once; you can't let it happen again. Not now.

It was time to fight. To hunt. To not fail. To not jinx. 

The crews were already in position, ready for the shot that would announce the beginning. Each ship aligned, sails taut, captains at the helm, first mates shouting quick orders so as not to lose a second when the tide of hunters was unleashed.

Jinx, still feeling the pounding in her temples, tried to take a deep breath. The Red Fortune vibrated beneath her feet, almost as impatient as she was. The crew secured nets, loaded cannons, checked lines at the last minute. A low murmur ran along the coast.

And the cannon thundered. The Great Hunt had begun.

The blast shook the harbor, and the Bay erupted in cheers. Sails unfurled, ships broke anchor with fury, shouts of orders rose above the roar of the waves.

Jinx clenched her teeth and ran to her post on deck as The Red Fortune began to move. There was no room for doubt. No room to get lost in ghosts.

All she had to do was not screw it up.

And, above all, not miss her harpoon shot.

••••

When the cannon thundered in the Bay, Ekko felt as if he’d been brutally ripped from a dream he did not even remember having in the first place. For years, he had been an expert at locking away his worries in the deepest corner of his mind. And this moment could be no different—it had no reason to be different. With some luck, everything would soon be over. With some luck, he would escape as quickly as possible from a certain death in that hole... and would have time to face his other problems.

In the blink of an eye, the crew of The Stygian Serpent was already cutting through the open waters of Bilgewater.

All around, other crews were setting off in different directions. Torches swung in the darkness, orders were shouted over the wind, and the tide slowly rose—a movement Ekko knew would soon turn into a strong swell.

While the others secured the nets, prepared the hooks, and checked the enchanted baits, Ekko and Vargo were steering the helm. They needed to position the ship exactly in the current corridor where the creature usually rested. Amidst the movements of the sails, adjustments to the rigging, and a final inspection of the marine oils that lubricated the hunting mechanisms, the ship kept advancing. The weapons were aligned on deck, while some crew members murmured—or prayed—a few words under their breath.

The Stygian Serpent finally came to a gradual stop, the engines slowing enough that Ekko could hear the sounds around him more clearly.

Including the voice he heard behind him. The raspy voice of Jorek.

"Port side, Ekko!" he said, tossing him a harpoon with both hands. "The shot is yours."

The weapon landed in Ekko's hands. He felt his muscles tighten under the weight, and, slowly, he moved toward the bow, where the salty wind whipped against his face and sent his dreadlocks flying. His steps appeared steady, but inside, his heart was pounding against his chest at a shameful speed.

Taking his position, with the harpoon braced against his shoulder and his eyes locked on the safe zone—his target—Ekko held his breath. 

One shot. One instant.

••••

The moment had come. It was now or never. 

Jinx, with her knee pressed against the wet wood, held her aim steady and her teeth clenched. Her hands gripped the harpoon, her breath held, pink eyes locked on the target. That shot—that one shot—could seal everyone's fate.

The cold seeped into her bones, but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were narrowed, her finger a breath away from pulling the trigger.

Until a distant voice rang in her ears. A voice that didn’t belong to her crew.

"Port side, Ekko! The shot is yours."

She froze. Again. 

Her heart squeezed in her chest, and her breath shattered in an instant. The hairs on her arms stood on end the moment she heard that name.

She blinked once, and then again, but the world remained suspended. The voices of the crew rose behind her—shouts, commands, warnings—but it all became a muffled hum. She couldn’t hear. Couldn’t process. 

She could only turn her head, and look.

Look toward the source of that voice. Toward the other ship. Vargo’s ship.

The ship where she saw the silhouette of...

Ekko?

No, it can’t be him. 

But the more she looked at him, the more she realized it was, indeed, him.

Taller, stronger, more real than she’d ever seen him in her memories or in the image her own mind gave back to her. That last part made her hesitate for a moment. But only for a few seconds. Because it was him. 

«I even brought back a lunatic. A fucking genius. Half-crazy, yeah, but the best.»

No. 

No. Fucking. Way.

Of course, it was him. Even if the whole world burned to ashes, she’d recognize him among millions. The white dreadlocks fell down his back, longer than she remembered. He wore an orange bandana tied around his head, and his face... Dear Janna, his face. That broad nose, full lips, the jaw that framed the most stupidly beautiful face Jinx had ever had the misfortune of memorizing. 

It was definitely him. Different, yes, but him. In a way her mind had never pictured him, an image her cruel hallucinations could never replicate.

But there was no time for wonder. Because Ekko was leaning over the bow of that ship. And in his hands...

In his hands, he held that harpoon. The same one.

The one Jinx had carved with mismatched runes, in the name of a deal that now seemed the stupidest of her worries. Because she knew. She knew one wrong angle and the shot would fail. One off-beat spark and it could overload. Cause an explosion, even.

"J, what the hell is wrong with you?!" Sarah’s voice yelled behind her. "Why aren’t you firing?!"

But the world had gone mute.

Jinx let go of the harpoon. Let it drop to the deck. The metal hit the wood with a thud. It didn’t matter. Nothing did.

She leaned over the railing, trembling, unsure if it was from cold or from what was before her. Her eyes, wide open, began to glisten. Tears that asked no permission, that gathered without yet falling, because she couldn’t even blink. She didn’t want to miss a single detail. Not a single new line on his face, not a gesture, not the way Ekko held the harpoon with his eyes locked on the target.

Silent sobs escaped her lips.

It’s him. It’s him. What the hell is he doing here? What is he doing with Vargo? 

It wasn’t an illusion. Wasn’t a reflection. It couldn’t be.

Her mind had never imagined him like this. Not like that man, that real Bilgewater pirate. She’d never seen him like this. Not in five fucking years.

And yet, there he was. Fulfilling his damn promise. Being there, somehow, with her, even as the world crumbled apart.

Jinx didn’t understand how. Didn’t understand why. But that didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was the harpoon in his hands. The faulty weapon. The shared target.

And his expression… that focused expression. Jinx knew him well enough to recognize that gleam in his eyes in an instant. Ekko was calculating his shot.

Her breath turned to a broken thread. The crew’s voices were far… so far away.

Nothing else mattered. Only him.

The cold, salty wind cut into her skin, but she didn’t feel it. She staggered away from the railing of The Red Fortune, the Sharks’ screams bursting behind her.

"What are you doing?!"

"J, you need to fire NOW!"

Jinx didn’t hear. She couldn’t. Her body moved on its own. Tears traced salty lines down her cheeks, blending in a cruel, exquisite mix with the ocean mist clinging to her face. Her feet carried her to the rope net leading to the highest point of the sails. The mast. She knew she wouldn’t make it in time by swimming. But maybe, just maybe, from up there... he might hear her.

And Ekko had always heard her. Even when no one else did. Even when she felt like she was screaming buried underground.

He’d always heard her.

Her fingers clutched the rope knots desperately. She pulled herself upward—fiercely, angrily, sorrowfully, joyfully, desperately. The cannon at her hip knocked against her with every motion, a useless burden. She let it go. It dropped with a thud onto the deck, but she was already higher.

Then she removed her belt. Then the red coat. Both bearing her crew’s symbol.

And she kept climbing.

The metal pieces adorning her wrists were left behind, one by one, dropped like dead weight. None of it mattered. All of it was in the way. She had to reach the top. One by one, the buckles in her hair trembled against the growing winds and slipped to the ground. All slid from her hair and vanished into the darkness.

The wind unleashed her blue hair, long down to her hip, and the salted waves danced to the rhythm of that howl.

Her breath shattered with every new knot she climbed. The voices below called her, distorted, like echoes from the ocean’s depths, but she didn’t hear. Only the top mattered.

Her small hands lifted her one last time, until her body was at the very top of The Red Fortune's mast.

The whole world seemed to sway beneath her feet. But there she stood, arms stretched out, clutching the last wooden beams before the sky.

The wind struck her face with cruelty, and the tears in her eyes, mixed with the blinding light of flares from other crews, threatened to close them. But Jinx didn’t allow it. She needed to see.

And so she did. Her pink eyes saw him again. There he was.

Ekko.

Her chest tightened. The tears flowed freely now, accompanied by deeper sobs, the kind you don’t choose, the kind so shameful you pray no one else hears them.

You’re here...

Her throat closed. Her lips trembled. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t scream. She never could, right? Her voice always vanished. Like smoke. Like dust. Like herself.

Please. Please, Ekko. Look at me. Hear me. You have to look at me. You have to hear me. Now more than ever. I can’t lose you.

Because he’d always seen her. Even when she didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. He’d seen her. Always.

But now... would he again?

Her whole body was trembling, but she didn’t give in. She knew she could scream with all her might and the whole world would never hear her. That her voice would be buried beneath all the things the world had chosen not to listen to.

But she couldn’t let that stop her. Not when Ekko held that harpoon in his hands. Not when she could jinx him. Here, now, at this very moment.

So she filled her lungs with all the wind in the world. Until she felt, little by little, her vocal cords beginning to respond. To awaken.

She tore through the night. Broke her soul into a thousand fragments, fragments that gathered in her throat in a single piercing scream.

A scream that, finally, found its way out.

“EKKO!”

••••

With his eyes focused and his body tensed, Ekko aimed. The harpoon rested in his hands, ready for a precise shot. His index finger was already prepared. Just one more breath, one perfect moment... and the shot would be inevitable.

But before that could happen, something made his skin crawl.

A shiver that didn’t come from the salty wind or the danger. He frowned, and turned his gaze away from the fireline. The voices around him suddenly became distant murmurs. He strained to hear, blinked, leaned forward… Had he heard that right?

Just as he was about to shake his head and regain focus, he heard it again.

A voice. A broken scream that the wind tried to tear from the sky, but couldn’t.

“EKKO!”

Not just any voice. Her voice.

"What The Water Gave Me" - Florence + The Machine

His throat closed up. His eyes opened wide as if waking from a years-long dream. He would recognize her even in another life. He heard her again. Once more. And again.

“EKKO! EKKO, HERE!”

His body froze. His heart was beating at a ridiculous speed. His muscles tensed in perfect contradiction: they wanted to run and stay still at the same time. Time seemed to stretch, freeze, rewind and fast-forward all at once in the moment he slowly turned his head toward the source of that call.

There she was.

High atop the mast of the enemy’s ship, silhouetted against the sky like blue fire in the middle of the darkest night. So far, and so clear, just within reach.

Jinx.

He could recognize her blindfolded and with a shattered soul. He could draw by heart the curve of her shoulders, the small hands that trembled when she laughed, the slender legs firm like the mast she now climbed, the exact line where her neck began, the way her hair braided—the same hair now falling loose, free, blue and wavy. Even the way she clung to the world when everything seemed to break, and she somehow managed not to break with it.

She looked different. She looked like a true pirate, like a legend. And yet, there was still something sacred in her silhouette, something not from this world, something that never had been. Not a pirate, but something like a goddess.

Ekko lowered the harpoon without thinking. He let it drop onto the deck, where it hit with an insignificant thud. The voices of the crew began to shout his name, calling him, urging him.

But he heard nothing. Saw no one. Only her.

He braced his hands against the railing, almost falling to his knees, and looked at her more closely. Up there, drenched in salt and wind, Jinx was crying... and laughing. A clumsy laugh, broken by tears. She’d seen him too. She knew. He was there. With her. For her.

And Ekko laughed. Laughed like a madman on the edge of a cliff. Laughed with a broken and full chest, with his soul exposed. His fingers gripped a nearby rope as he stood on the ship’s railing, swaying. He laughed and sobbed at the same time.

Of course it was her. Of course she was here. Defiant and glorious, the coolest pirate in all of Bilgewater.

And of course—he thought, as tears blurred his vision and he felt his heart finally catch up to him—even if the world tried to separate them, even if the waters of all Runeterra swallowed the horizon, even if life itself pushed him away from her… he would find her.

He would always find her.

He didn’t hesitate for a second. The harpoon lay forgotten on the deck. His mind, his body, his entire being responded to one truth: she was there. Everything else was noise. The bandana on his head was the first to go, ripped off clumsily, almost angrily. Then the vest flew through the air, leaving him in just his white shirt. Next went the belt, landing with a thud on the deck. None of it mattered. Not the cold, not the danger. Nothing weighed more than all the years dragging him toward her.

From the top of The Red Fortune, Jinx watched him with reddened eyes, her breath short from the uncontrollable tears that kept streaming. And still, she laughed. Laughed in anguish, broken and happy. Because of course she knew him. Of course she knew what he was about to do. No one else in the world could read Ekko’s movements so clearly.

In the distance, she could see Vargo’s crew beginning to shout at him, waving their arms in desperation. They called him as if that could stop him. Oh, they didn’t know him at all. They didn’t know they were dealing with the most stubborn soul in all of Runeterra, and that when he set his mind on something, he chased it to the end.

Almost at the same time, the Fortune Sharks shouted her name too, their voices warped by wind and waves. But nothing came through clearly. Only her laughter. Only her sobs.

Fuck the crew. Fuck the plan. Fuck everything. She’d waited five damn years for this. She’d dreamed it so many times, she no longer knew if this was a dream or if she had finally woken up.

Jinx stood firm, her feet entwined in the ropes. She held on for a few seconds, her body trembling with restrained emotion, her fingers white with tension as she gripped. In those seconds, she saw Ekko take a running start from his ship’s railing… 

And leap into the water.

She did the same at the same time.

Two shadows flew through the air. Ekko from the bare, trembling railing, Jinx from the heights of the mast. Their bodies soared through the night, the flare smoke, the sea’s moisture, launched by a force neither deitys nor oceans could contain.

The water opened beneath them with a brutal, searing impact.

The embrace was freezing. The waves slammed against their bodies fiercely, salt filled their noses and eyes, and the cold nearly stole their breath. The currents dragged them down, forcing them to fight their way to the surface with clumsy, desperate strokes. But as they broke through, as they crossed the threshold between sea and sky, their faces rose at the same time.

They breathed in furious gasps, both panting, spitting out seawater, hair stuck to their faces and eyes shining with tears.

They saw each other. From afar, from the black and churning waters. They saw each other again. 

And they laughed.

They laughed, cried, and screamed, floating, swimming, no matter the distance, the cold, or the chaos of the Great Hunt around them.

"JINX!"

"EKKO!"

Both swam with all the strength they could muster.

Ekko moved his arms in furious strokes, even though he could barely feel his body. But he wasn’t gonna stop now. There was no fucking way he was gonna stop. He’d sailed the waters of Targon, of Shurima, of Ixtal, of the fucking Shadow Isles. And now she was just a few meters away. He could swim a little further.

The sea roared between them, raising curtains of foam that separated and dragged them under each time they tried to keep swimming. The waves struck them, one after another, pulling them back, forcing them to swallow salty water. Ekko coughed, lost his rhythm for a moment, but didn’t stop. Jinx was hit by a stronger current that spun her and pushed her down, but she surfaced again, kicking hard.

They both swam furiously, with lungs ablaze and muscles on the verge of collapse, between gulps of salty air and salty tears mixed with the water. But the sea pushed them back with a perverse will. The waves grew, the currents tossed them like broken dolls, and the distance between them only stretched, pulled. Broke them.

Jinx fought as if her life depended on it—and maybe it did—but there was a moment when her strength began to falter. She saw the irregular shape of a rock, dark and slippery, emerging from the waves. She swam and clung to it with both arms, nails digging into the wet moss, gasping. Her body trembled, her chest shook with silent sobs, but she held on. From there, between foam and cold, she searched for Ekko. As she always had.

He’d also found a rock, farther away, and he clung to it as if his life depended on that single point in the world. He was exhausted. Water dripped from his hair, lips slightly parted and eyes wide open. But Ekko’s eyes found Jinx’s. As they always had.

They were far. So far.

And the damn sea was still determined to pull them apart. The world itself was still determined to always place an ocean between them. Maybe, in the hope that it would be enough to make them stop searching for each other. But it never had been.

He looked at her. Saw the messy blue of her hair stuck to her face, the pink eyes lit with both fury and tenderness, that tremble in her lips that was so hers, so her. He knew. He knew she was real. There was no way his mind could gift him an image that perfect. There was no way his heart, as broken as it was, could make up something so exact.

He smiled.

It was just a tiny curve at the corner of his lips, barely a whisper on his exhausted face that anyone else would’ve missed. But Jinx wasn’t just anyone. And the moment she saw that smile, she knew with certainty that they were thinking the exact same thing.

Like so many times. Like always.

Words weren’t necessary. They never were. Jinx knew exactly what Ekko was thinking. And Ekko knew exactly what Jinx was thinking. There was a way. One single way to avoid the waves, to outsmart the surface currents. A way to outsmart the fucking world itself. 

They didn’t think twice. They took a breath, deep and urgent. 

And they dove into the depths of the water. 

The surface was left behind in an instant. Below, everything was nothingness. Nothing had weight. There was no Great Hunt, no ships, no sound, no sky, no scent or wind. Only the cold biting the skin, the overwhelming darkness, and the beat of their hearts.

Jinx felt how her clothes floated around her with each movement, how her hair danced and drifted in a slow rhythm. She felt the necklace around her neck float, making it difficult to move, so she yanked it off. The leviathan's tear stone fell and sank into the depths. Her arms stretched out in front of her, fingers stiff, searching for something, searching for someone. Searching for him.

Ekko swam with clenched teeth and narrowed eyes. His own leviathan’s tear stone necklace was beginning to cause him discomfort, so he didn't hesitate to tear it off and throw it into the abyss. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know exactly what he was running toward, he couldn’t see it, he couldn’t hear it. And yet, he’d never been more desperate to run toward something.

The sea no longer roared down there. It didn’t scream. It didn’t separate.

Down there, there was only emptiness. And within that emptiness, within that darkness, two souls swam clinging to an idea so fragile and so immense it seemed impossible: that at some moment, one of their bodies would brush against the other.

So they kept going. Without seeing, without hearing. Swimming, swimming, swimming and swimming.

«You know, the sea is darker at night because the moonlight doesn’t reach deep enough to light it. So if you fall in, it’s like being swallowed by nothingness. You can’t see what’s beneath—you only feel it.»

Oh, and it was true. The entire world seemed to have dissolved and reduced itself solely to feeling. Underwater, there was no up or down, no horizon, no moon, no sky. Only her movements reminded her she was real. Her arms stretching like worn wings, her legs kicking against the water’s pressure, even though they were starting to hurt. She swam without seeing, without hearing, without thinking. She swam with her body on the verge of collapse, but with a soul steady, held up by a single certainty: he was there.

He had to be there.

The water and the darkness offered them a strange peace. It was easy for the body, wrapped in that absence of everything, to begin surrendering. It was so easy to imagine letting go of the effort, allowing the waters to completely engulf them. All it took was to stop kicking, to squeeze their eyes shut a little harder and never move a muscle again. They could disappear. They could become one with nothingness.

But they didn’t. They kept going. They kept swimming.

She kept pushing with every muscle, guided only by a feeling. She kept swimming because there was something, someone, calling to her even in the deepest silence.

Until she felt the tips of her fingers brush something. Something warm, even though everything around her was cold.

Flesh. Skin. An open palm. Just a touch.

And before they saw each other, they felt each other.

Jinx’s soul trembled. She reached out carefully, afraid that it was all an illusion, her pulse racing. But the palm opened wider. It was waiting for her.

She clung to that warmth. First the hand, then the forearm, then the shoulder. She recognized it without hesitation. Every muscle, every curve, every bone beneath the skin spoke to her with a familiarity that hadn’t required eyes for a long time.

There was no doubt. There couldn’t be. It was Ekko.

Even though the darkness was absolute, even though neither of them could see anything beyond the surrounding blackness, they saw each other. With a clarity that burned. They didn’t need light. They never had. They had always known how to find each other, even when the world covered them in shadows.

Jinx’s hands rose, trembling. She touched his cheek, his jaw, the bridge of his nose. Ekko did the same. His fingers slid along the curve of her face, the line of her neck, her chin. The movements were clumsy at first, searching for any confirmation of their wildest fantasies, but once they found it, they grew slow.

It was him. It was her. 

Their hands spoke for them. They traced memories across skin way too familiar, searched for scars only they knew, followed the contours that time had failed to erase. They didn’t need to see to know. They already knew.

Because even in the deepest darkness, even when the world disappeared, Jinx and Ekko always knew how to recognize each other, how to touch each other, how to see each other. How to feel real, even when everything else seemed to fade. Even when they were nothing, they knew that by finding their way back to one another, they could be again.

Ekko let out a strangled gasp, his body refusing entirely to obey the laws that dictated life or death. The pain in his lungs was real, the burn in his chest screamed at him to swim up, to breathe, to escape. But his hands betrayed him. They didn’t search for air. They searched for her.

His fingers found with clarity the shape of a face. The texture of that skin he knew the way one knows home. He brushed against a small nose, the one he remembered scrunched up every time she got mad, every time her fury became something funny to him, even adorable in her rage. Then, some eyebrows, arched with that intensity that could stop the world with a single glance.

He let his hands wander lower, to seek more, to confirm what his soul already knew. Her small hands, always cold, yet paradoxically so warm. The floating blue hair like a halo. He touched it, gripped it between his fingers. Its texture, its weight, its shape... he would’ve recognized it even if he were dead.

Maybe he was. But if death meant this, if it meant holding her in the most absolute nothingness, then he never wanted to return to the surface.

In front of him, Jinx was trembling too. Suppressed sobs shook her chest and throat, sobs muffled by the water. But still, she touched him. She touched him with devotion.

Gently, her fingertips traced the sharp jawline she’d dreamed of so many times. The firm texture of his face, the white dreads floating in the darkness, the contours of his nose, and his lips. Those lips. The ones she’d wanted desperately, with hatred, and with love. The ones she would’ve died and killed for just to feel again. And now they were there.

Before seeing, they felt. And after feeling, they embraced.

They melted into a hug that defied logic and time. Their bodies searched for each other with visceral need. Both their sobs were trapped in the density of the water.

Jinx pressed her face against his neck. Ekko wrapped his arms around her, afraid to lose her again if he didn’t. They didn’t move. They didn’t breathe.

They could’ve stayed there forever.

«Remember, that every time you find yourself in the depths of the ocean, every time you feel the temptation to remain in that darkness…»

But they didn’t. They kicked with strength, their arms moving in sync. They never let go of each other. They swam through the water, crossing the abyss with each stroke, each kick, drawing closer and closer to the surface. Together.

«…You can always choose to swim your way back up to the surface…»

Little by little, the darkness gave way. Light filtered through the waters. Sound returned, muffled at first, then growing: the crackling of waves, the murmur of air. Little by little, they began to see the sky.

«…And breathe again»

Their bodies emerged together, tangled.

And they breathed again.

The air rushed into their mouths like an explosion. A shared breath, alive. Together.

This time, they looked at each other. They looked to convince themselves it was all real. They looked as if the world they knew had exploded beneath their feet and only now, only in that instant, was beginning again. And they cried.

Jinx sobbed with her face pressed against Ekko’s neck, her voice cracked from a mix of laughter and weeping. Her slender fingers moved restlessly over his face, touching every line, every contour. She touched his cheekbones, his forehead, his nose, his eyebrows. She touched his lips, trembling. She sobbed brokenly, letting out shattered sounds between her own laughter.

Ekko wept uncontrollably, his chest convulsing without any kind of control. He clung to Jinx’s body with the strength of someone who had crossed hell to get there. A hell that had begun five years ago. He buried his face in her shoulder and cried. Cried like the kid he once was, like the man who only found peace in those arms, the only ones in which he could break down without feeling stupid for doing so.

All around them, the thunder of the Great Hunt continued. The distant sound of cannons, crews shouting orders, and the sky stained with red and golden flares from other ships. But none of it touched them. Not there. Not in that moment.

Jinx wrapped Ekko tighter, with her arms, with her legs, with everything she was. Her body trembled… and screamed. She screamed, letting her chest break open. She screamed in the only arms that had always heard her scream… even when she made no sound at all.

Then, she finally spoke.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" she gasped between sobs, hitting him in the chest with her clenched fists. "You could’ve gotten hurt. You could’ve gotten yourself killed..."

Ekko laughed and cried at the same time, running his hands through her blue hair.

"It’s you... It’s you... Is it really you?" he said, the words fractured by his crying. "Please… please tell me you’re real, please, please, please... tell me you’re real...please…”

Jinx pressed her forehead against his, her eyes overflowing.

"I’m here," she whispered. "I’m here, Ekko. It's me."

He cried harder. The sound was swallowed by the waves, by the distant screams of Bilgewater, and the explosions of the battle at sea. She hugged him again, drowning her words in the curve of his neck.

"I thought I was gonna lose you," she sobbed. "I can’t… I can’t lose you. I thought… this time I was really gonna lose you."

Ekko held her face in his hands gently, pulling her away from the crook of his neck where she was trying to hide. He guided her pink eyes to meet his own.

"You’re never gonna lose me, Jinx..." he murmured. "Can’t you see? I always find my way back to you. Even if I have to sail the whole damn world."

They both let out a little laugh and hugged again. Still sobbing, but more softly now. Their souls, breathing once more, wished with everything they had that time could stop, so they could stay in that moment.

But time never stops.

Jinx felt it first, the nape of her neck prickling with warning. Still in Ekko’s arms, she heard a sound unlike anything she’d heard before, nothing like any sea monster she knew or had seen. A deep growl that didn’t come from any Scylla, or any Aghir-Kraken, or any sea creature known to the hunters of Bilgewater. At least not the ones still alive.

But she’d always trusted her instincts. She knew that growl... came from the Megatusk.

They both froze, still holding each other, and before they could process their next move, something slipped into their ears.

Or rather, into their thoughts.

A female voice, unfamiliar, seeped into their nerves, into the beat of their hearts, into their very souls.

“The bonds forged in the storm are not a gift. They are an invitation to move. The ocean sings to those who row, not to those who float. The sea watches your souls, and will give you the chance to free them from their stillness... or claim them."

Jinx and Ekko shuddered and held their breath.

And then, the Megatusk roared again. 

Notes:

Well, I don't have a single fucking word left to say. You just finished reading, but as I'm writing this, I'm about to hit the "post" button, and I'm literally crying. I’ll probably open a bottle now to celebrate.

If you liked the chapter, remember that kudos are deeply appreciated, and I’m incredibly grateful for every one of your comments — your thoughts, critiques, or whatever else you feel like telling me 🫶

You can also find me on Twitter as @jinxedbypow

I love you all, and I'm infinitely thankful for joining me on this journey ♥️

Chapter 10: "The Great Hunt: Part 1"

Summary:

Nagakabouros forces the souls of Jinx and Ekko to face their demons in the Test Of Spirit. Choices made in the past and present put the enemy crews in danger as they try to fight the Megatusk… And live to tell the tale.

Notes:

I'm back!!! I can't believe it's been so long since the last update, I'm so sorry 😭😭 I truly did everything I could to make sure this chapter didn’t take as long to publish, but I didn’t want to risk the quality just for the sake of speed. But here it is, finally, and I have absolutely no regrets about how this chapter turned out—probably the most intense one you’ll read so far!

I want to thank all of you for being so patient and for always motivating me with your beautiful comments to keep going with the madness that is this story. And a huge thanks as well to the artists who have created stunning pieces inspired by this story—I swear it doesn’t feel real that my writing can inspire the kind of talent I’ve seen 🥹

One last but super important thanks to my beautiful girl @mearpsdyke on twitter for being my beta reader for this chapter, and also for helping me get over my fear of beta readings 🙂‍↕️

Without further ado, enjoy Bilgewater, the spiritual journeys (which, if you haven’t noticed by now, I absolutely love), the sea monsters, the fights, a little bit of angst… and the piratebomb I’ve been dying to share 😭

Vargo didn’t know Ekko very well, that much was clear. He’d barely gotten a read on him—just enough to trust him with that night’s exclusive deal. And while he didn’t know him completely, he’d seen enough to know the boy wasn’t stupid.

At least, not stupid enough to leap into freezing, monster-infested waters at the most critical moment of the night just because.

He could be reckless. Even a little suicidal. But not stupid.

The captain knew that with unwavering certainty. That boy had a mind as sharp as a leviathan meat cleaver, and he wielded it with the grace of an alchemist. Ekko understood what the harpoon shot meant. He knew the tension of the cable, the precise turn, the anchor, the bait, and the Megatusk’s blind spot were all aligning in one unique, unrepeatable moment. And yet, he’d jumped.

Even if he didn’t give a damn about Vargo’s plans to protect Bilgewater, to keep the Fortune Sharks at bay—even then, Ekko wouldn’t have wasted their one chance to hunt the Megatusk... and get out of there alive.

Behind him, the deck was in utter chaos. The crew’s screams crashed into one another in a frenzy.

“He’s a fucking lunatic!”

“Somebody bring the nets!”

“Where the hell is the goddamn harpoon!?”

“Who the hell jumps now, for fuck’s sake!?”

But Vargo didn’t turn around. Not yet.

He kept watching, hands clenched tight on the railing, squinting through the sea fog. It wasn’t hard to spot the silhouette of the boy swimming on the surface. Ekko’s strokes were fast, powerful—almost violent. If a sea dragon didn’t eat him or a Scylla didn’t drag him under, the bastard might just be the luckiest man alive today.

As he focused his gaze further, he saw something that threw him off. Ekko was swimming... towards The Red Fortune.

Shit.

“You think the Sharks planted a spy among us?” Jorek’s hoarse voice rang out behind the captain, almost reading his mind.

A chill ran down Vargo’s spine, sharper than the salty wind. The thought was poisonous. And far too easy to fall into.

But he shook his head.

“No.”

“You sure?” Jorek pressed.

The captain clenched his teeth.

“I found him in the waters of the Shadow Isles. About to die. A spy doesn’t take that kind of risk,” he paused, inhaling deeply. “And the Sharks... they’re strategic. If they sent someone, it wouldn’t be some fucking maniac jumping into the water at the worst possible time.”

He turned his head again. But when his eyes returned to the sea, his heart skipped a beat. Ekko was gone.

The surface was empty. Churning, yes. Cruel as always. But empty.

Vargo scanned the water, eyes darting through the mist. He leaned farther over the railing, knuckles white, searching for that silhouette among the waves.

“Captain,” came the rasping voice of Nahlira, the other gunner, behind him. “I’ve got the harpoon ready.”

The man stayed still. In the distance, he saw The Red Fortune had come to a dead stop as well. Something wasn’t right. Something had caught them by surprise too.

“I can take the shot. I’ve got it,” the girl repeated.

Vargo didn’t move. His breath rose in his chest like smoke from damp gunpowder—short, heavy bursts. He didn’t answer. He just stared.

“Captain,” she pressed. “Tell me—do I fire!?”

But just then, the captain’s eyes went wide.

“Wait!” He roared.

Something was moving in the water. A shadow. A shape.

It was Ekko. No doubt about it. But he wasn’t alone.

“What the...?” Vargo muttered, squinting even harder.

The boy was floating against the current, defying the freezing, turbulent sea, but doing so with both arms... Occupied. Something—or someone—was clinging to his neck, holding on as if life itself depended on it. Vargo strained his eyes. Through the darkness and shifting mist, he caught a glint that couldn’t be a coincidence: blue.

Blue hair.

And not just any blue. That shade, that shine, that mess—he knew it well. Even the clothing. Vargo had seen it just hours earlier, when he visited Jinx’s damned workshop.

No way...

The figure, though trembling and battered, was unmistakable. And the way she clung to Ekko was definitely not how strangers, or even crew mates, would hold each other.

Vargo let out a low growl, teeth grinding in pure fury as his mind worked at full speed.

What the hell was Jinx doing with the Fortune Sharks? Why the fuck was she there, on the night of the Great Hunt, the most dangerous night of the year—and without telling him a single word about it?

But then, his gaze hardened in an instant.

Of course she hadn’t said anything. It was exactly the kind of move the Sharks would pull. Strategic, calculated... bastards. They hadn’t sent a spy onto his ship. They had gone for Jinx herself. A low blow. Brilliant. Lethal.

He tried to unclench his jaw, but every muscle in his face was taut. Still, something didn’t add up.

If Jinx was with the Sharks... Why the hell had she jumped into the water for a lunatic from his crew?

He looked again. The silhouettes were still afloat, still struggling. Jinx was sobbing, arms wrapped around Ekko’s neck. Vargo frowned. It wasn’t a mask. It wasn’t an act. Those two knew each other. And what was between them wasn’t just camaraderie.

He sighed. Of course. There was only one feeling capable of turning brilliant minds like Jinx’s and Ekko’s into hopeless idiots.

And that thought led him, inevitably, to think of Illaoi.

«On the day of the Great Hunt, two people must be put to the test. That girl will be one of them.»

«And the other one?»

«It’s someone whose soul is connected to that girl’s in ways neither of them understands.»

«It’s a boy. If he allows them, the deities will guide him here.»

«So he’s not in Bilgewater?»

«No. But he will be.»

Vargo swallowed hard. The salty air scraped his throat. He knew. He had always known. Like everyone else, he could be a vessel—one more, chosen by the Great Mother to guide when needed. Illaoi had told him again and again.

«You know what you have to do. The same thing you do on the Isles. You only guide.»

Could it be that all of this... Wasn’t a coincidence?

The groan of the hull shaken by the currents snapped him back to reality. So did the growls rising from the depths. The monster was stirring. Getting closer.

And Jinx and Ekko were still fighting to stay afloat.

The captain wiped the sweat from his forehead with a sharp gesture. There was no time to think. Not now.

“Lani!” He shouted over the roar of the sea.

The shaman approached at a brisk pace.

“Can you give them a safe place? At least until we reach them with the ship.”

The shaman nodded and stepped just a few paces away. Sira, another crewmember, stepped forward, frowning.

“And what about the sea beast that’s roaring right now?”

“We’re all here for a reason, Sira!” Vargo shouted, trying to be heard over the hunting drums, the screams, and the fury of the ocean. “You know in the end, it’s the only thing that matters tonight.”

Sira’s eyes widened.

“You think the boy…?”

“I have a feeling,” Vargo muttered.

Lani returned to them and raised his arm, pointing through the mist at a jagged cave just a few meters from the silhouettes.

“That one. I’ve already protected it. They’ll be safe there… For now.”

Vargo didn’t wait any longer. He ran to the helm and began steering the ship toward the cave. The Stygian Serpent responded with a deep creak. The captain held his breath. If those two were lucky, they’d manage to swim there.

As he advanced, he kept an eye on the two flailing figures in the water. Despite the chaos and the snarls still shaking the currents, he saw Jinx and Ekko realize their only option and begin swimming toward the safe spot. The captain let out a heavy breath of relief.

Jorek approached silently, staring in the same direction.

“You think the boy is—?”

“The other one who will be tested. Yes,” Vargo finished without looking at him.

And he kept navigating, eyes fixed on the path. Focused. Determined.

So determined that he didn’t even feel the sharp gaze piercing the back of his neck from the ship with red sails. The ship of the Fortune Sharks.

••••

“What the fuck happened with J, Sarah?!”

“Is she completely insane?!”

“She screwed us all! At the worst possible moment!”

“She missed the shot, Captain!”

“She just doomed us!”

Sarah wasn’t listening to them. Not really. She was leaning over the railing, her jaw clenched so tightly it throbbed at her temple. A chill had run down her spine to the tips of her toes, and it hadn’t left. She barely heard the voices of the crew behind her. Her eyes were fixed on the turbulent surface of the sea, where, just seconds ago, she had seen Jinx’s silhouette swimming.

She knew the girl was a little unhinged. She’d seen it with her own eyes. She knew Jinx could be a damn idiot when she wanted. But this… This was something else.

She had missed the shot.

Jinx knew this moment was crucial. That a single mistake could ruin everything. That it wasn’t just about Bilgewater. It was about her. 

And still, Jinx had jumped.

“Sarah… Tell me that crazy bitch didn’t infiltrate us,” Salazar spat, his eyes wide. “Tell me she didn’t set us up from the fucking beginning!”

Sarah tried to respond. Tried to find words—any words—that could deny it. Even if the same question was tormenting her. But then, she saw the silhouette again. And her breath caught in her throat.

Jinx had surfaced… But she wasn’t alone.

No…

There was someone else with her. A male figure. Arms holding her tightly as they fought the current. But the confusion didn’t last. Recognition was immediate.

White hair.

The captain’s jaw clenched even tighter, until it hurt.

It was him. The same boy she’d seen just hours ago from the bay with Lysander and Salazar. The one with Vargo. With Vargo’s crew.

And apparently, they hadn’t missed it either.

“She was with them?!” Lysander spat. “She infiltrated us?! This whole time?! Sarah, say something, for fuck’s sake!”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

A deafening roar shook the ship’s hull, interrupting the shouting on deck. A guttural, deep sound. The Megatusk.

The deck fell silent.

“Ivy…” Salazar murmured.

“We lost it,” Ivy said, lips pale. “It’s too close now. That thing will tear us in two if we don’t move.”

“Should we fire the harpoon now?”

“It’s no use,” Ronan growled. “We won’t drive it away anymore. Best we run.”

“What do we do, Captain?”

But Sarah remained frozen. Unable to speak. Unable to move.

Jinx couldn’t have betrayed her.

No. She couldn’t. She knew how important this was. She knew what it meant to Bilgewater… And to her. Jinx knew everything. Because she had told her. Everything. Because Sarah had trusted her enough.

«All I had were these two pistols, too many burns, and too much noise in my head. And believe me, J… I would’ve given anything not to be alone when the noise in my head became an unbearable hell.»

«That’s my name. Sarah.»

«It’s not really a secret, not exactly… But not everyone knows it. Just a few people. People I trust.»

No. She couldn’t.

Because she had given her the chance to walk away from all this. And still…

She had come back.

She had come back… To stab her in the back at the most critical moment of the Hunt?

«And I’m sorry. I really am. Especially after realizing how good I feel with you.»

«I like being with you, and that’s it. And that’s not something that happens to me often, you know?»

Another shiver scraped down her spine as she saw Jinx—and the white-haired boy—swimming toward a sea cave.

The same sea cave that the sleek black silhouette of a ship was approaching.

The Stygian Serpent. Captain Vargo’s ship.

"Fuck my fucking life, Sarah!" Ivy shouted. "That’s Vargo’s ship! He’s getting closer! He’s getting closer to her!"

"We’re screwed."

"She screwed us, Sarah! She screwed you! She used us like idiots!"

A high-pitched ringing began to thunder in the captain’s ears. Intense, sharp, deafening. She couldn’t hear the Megatusk anymore. She couldn’t hear anything.

Her green eyes were locked on The Stygian Serpent, gliding over the waves, straight toward the cave. Straight toward them. Toward Jinx. Toward the boy.

It couldn’t be real. Jinx couldn’t be betraying her.

She herself hadn’t exactly played fair, sure. But she had given Jinx an out. The chance to keep her hands clean. To stay out of it. To be free. To choose.

«I don’t exactly have many friends, Jinx. Let alone friends I can… Just be with. Have fun. Laugh without weighing every word.»

And Jinx had come back.

«Because… Because I can help a friend when she needs me.»

After everything she had said. After everything they had shared. After what she knew.

Had she come back just to bury a knife in her back?

«I was never... I was never close to anyone. Not like this.»

«I feel honored then! The great Miss Fortune trusts me? That’s new.»

«Maybe more than I should.»

Sarah’s breath started to falter, ragged with fury. Her throat burned. Her stomach twisted. And when she saw Jinx entering the cave, vanishing, with Vargo’s ship right behind her, the urge to vomit overwhelmed her.

How could she have been so stupid?

«Maybe more than I should.»

Jinx never intended to join the Fortune’s Sharks. Never thought about sabotaging Vargo.

She didn’t give a damn about what could happen to Bilgewater or to Sarah.

«Because I can help a friend when she needs me.»

Lie. She didn’t give a damn about her.

Of course. The lunatic was smart. She always had been. Smart enough to plan something behind everyone’s back. Even hers.

Sarah’s eyes locked onto Vargo’s figure, standing on the prow of his ship. He stood firm, unshaken, gripping the helm.

That damned bastard.

How much more did he want to take from her?

How much more did he want to humiliate her?

Hadn’t it been enough to rip everything from her?

Now he had to make her look like a fool, too. For believing she could trust. For thinking, even for a second, that Jinx would have her back.

For thinking anyone would, at all.

Sarah swallowed the knot in her throat in fury. She wasn’t gonna be stupid enough to cry about this too. She had already been that for far too long.

The captain spun on her heel and started walking across the deck.

"Lysander, get ready the net cannons and make sure the stun loads are prepped! I want that Megatusk unable to blink without us locking on!"

Lysander blinked, bewildered.

"You want nets? Now? I thought the plan was to spear it the second it surfaced!"

"The plan changed," Sarah said without looking at him, already heading to the other end of the deck. "Now we’re stalling it."

"Stalling it?!" Ronan roared, appearing by the main mast. "And what the hell for?!"

"So it doesn’t swallow us all whole, damn it. Malik, toss bait over portside. Use the bloody stuff, the nastiest we’ve got. Ivy, prep the sonic bombs in case it comes up starboard. And they’d better not blow up in our faces this time!"

"What the hell are you doing, captain?!" Darla yelled. "Where are you going?!"

But Sarah was already striding furiously toward the side where the boats rested, her soaked coat whipping in the wind stirred by the rising tide. She crouched and pulled the lever that released the main boat’s securing system. The creak of rusted metal echoed, followed by the snap of taut straps releasing. Then she lifted the latch on the hydraulic arm, adjusted it to the descent angle, and checked the balance on the floats.

While securing the attachment cable to the deployment anchor, her voice rose again.

"Ronan, if you see the Megatusk near the surface, don’t engage it head-on! Turn it! Use fire, sound, blood—whatever. Just keep it away from the ship."

"You still haven’t told us where you’re going!"

Sarah didn’t respond. She clenched her teeth tighter as she adjusted the ropes and stepped onto the edge of the boat. With one hand, she secured both pistols to her belt. Then she raised her gaze and shouted:

"Darla! Salazar! Here, now!"

Both came running, breathless, confused and tense. Darla was the first to speak.

"Sarah, this is madness. What are you gonna do?"

"Darla." She looked at her with urgency. "Do you still have the Tenacious Blue?"

The young witch frowned.

"Of course I do, but… What for? That potion is for emergencies! It can save a life if someone takes a lethal hit—you told me that yourself!"

"And it can also slow the neural signals of a colossal sea creature if released into its respiratory system," said Sarah. "Especially if the creature feeds by suction, like the Megatusk. It’s not ideal or safe, but it’s our best plan B."

Darla paled.

"But we only have one dose! Do you know how hard it was to distill? We gathered black coral essence for weeks!"

"Then don’t waste it," Sarah leaned in, her eyes still blazing with fury. "If the Megatusk is about to take us down, use it. If I don’t come back… Use it."

"Captain..." Darla murmured, but Sarah was already turning away.

"Salazar," she called firmly, looking him straight in the eye, "you’re in charge while I’m gone. Coordinate the attacks. Make sure no one does anything stupid. And if the Megatusk charges at you, execute the deterrence protocol. And if you get the chance, use the damn potion."

Salazar raised an eyebrow, wary.

"Where are you going, Sarah?"

The captain cocked both pistols with sharp metallic clicks and quickly returned them to their leather holsters. Then she turned to the edge of the boat, and as she began descending with the rope, her voice rang out so sharp it froze the blood of the entire crew:

"To settle some scores I should’ve settled a long time ago."

••••

When the waters trembled again, neither Jinx nor Ekko hesitated.

It was a muffled, deep shudder that ran through their bones like a smothered thunderclap. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. They clasped hands—gripping tightly—and dove forward to swim together.

The current was fierce, and the icy water cut off their breath, trying to force its way into their nostrils. Ekko felt a wave crash against his chest, his muscles tensing immediately from the cold. He thrashed his arms with force, fighting against a sea that seemed determined to swallow them whole. His legs kicked in coordination, struggling to keep his body balanced against the shifting density of the waves. His free hand pushed the water away, while the other clung to Jinx’s, desperately.

Jinx fought to move forward through the water with all her strength, which felt a hundred times colder without Ekko’s arms around her. Her blue hair floated around, sticking to her wet face as she tried to catch a breath. Each time she raised an arm, her body arched violently, breaking the surface just enough to inhale. Her heart was pounding, chest burning, legs buckling with every wave’s blow. But she didn’t let go of Ekko’s hand. She couldn’t.

The water pummeled them with freezing foam, dragging them, tossing them, spitting them out. The salt stung their eyes, almost as much as the fear burned in their guts. Ekko gasped, and when he felt Jinx nearly pulled out of his reach by the current, he tried to make himself heard above the crashing waves.

“Jinx, listen to me! Don’t let go! We have to get out of here, but don’t let go of my hand!”

She nodded firmly, coughing up water. Then, between two waves, she raised her arm and pointed toward something in the shadows of the cliff.

“There! That cave!”

Ekko turned his head, saw the dark entrance, and nodded. They could shelter from the tide there. Both surged toward it with urgency. Jinx could barely feel her fingers, but she kept moving, clinging to Ekko.

Even through her blurred vision from the saltwater, she could make out a structure.

A ship. Not The Stygian Serpent nor The Red Fortune, but likely another crew’s ship. A fast one, with a black hull and hanging ropes. A gunner crouched at the bow, aiming a weapon. But not just any weapon.

Jinx went pale. She recognized it immediately.

It was a reinforced crossbow, one of her early designs. Simple, made of oiled wood and tempered metal, crafted to hunt swarms of creatures like karmaels or zarphyos—small sea monsters with wide mouths and twitchy fins, dangerous in groups but not lethal individually. They moved like living clouds, bit with fury, and left venom in the blood that burned for hours.

The crossbow was aimed right where they were, though not directly at their bodies. Jinx’s eyes widened. She knew that weapon only activated when those creatures were very close—something the gunner likely knew as well. And if the crossbow wasn’t aiming at them…

“WATCH OUT!”

Without thinking, she threw herself over Ekko, wrapping herself around him in a flash, a pink gleam in her eyes. She barely managed to shield him when a swarm of scorp-rays burst from the water around them. Small, with serpentine bodies and translucent stingers, they moved like lightning in every direction. They swam as one, fleeing from the projectile the gunner had fired without even noticing the two silhouettes in the water.

Ekko didn’t even have time to process, much less keep up with Jinx’s shimmer-speed. All he could do was feel her body covering him. She clenched her jaw, wrapping him in her arms and legs as tightly as she could.

But by the time he could react, a piercing scream had already escaped Jinx’s mouth.

A sharp cry burst from her throat like a thunderbolt. Ekko felt a tremor run through her. Almost instantly, he too trembled and paled.

“JINX!” Ekko gasped, turning to hold her as the swarm scattered into the dark.

He saw her curled up, eyes squinting in pain, gritting her teeth. She brought a hand to her left thigh, gasping louder. He followed her hand’s direction and his fingers brushed open, bleeding flesh.

“Shit, no…!” Ekko murmured, desperate.

His face paled even more. The drops of water running down his cheeks mixed with cold sweat. He held Jinx with both arms, pressing her tightly against him.

“Look at me! Come on, Jinx, look at me! Are you okay?! Tell me you're okay, please!”

She growled something unintelligible, teeth clenched, her hand still pressing the wound.

“Scorp-rays…” She muttered, her voice rough. “Damn things...”

Ekko lifted her, carrying her weight easily thanks to the surrounding water, swimming with all his might. Jinx clung to his neck, breathing with difficulty.

He cast a quick glance at her. And as always, that was all he needed to find the strength to keep going.

Even groaning in pain, Jinx couldn’t help but find it sweet. Yes, the bites from those sea creatures were extremely annoying and painful, but she knew they weren’t lethal and the pain would fade soon enough. But Ekko didn’t know that, of course. And there was something in his expression as he carried her in his arms that made Jinx’s stomach twist in every possible way.

Still, the pain kept dragging her back to reality. The bite had torn part of her thigh—not enough to be alarming, but enough to make her curse every time the saltwater touched the open wound.

When they reached the cave entrance, Ekko emerged from the water lifting Jinx’s body—a move she had no idea where the hell he found the strength to pull off—and carefully knelt down, propping her against the wet stone wall of the cave. Her back hit the cold rock and she let out a sharp whimper when her injured thigh brushed the surface.

“Shit…” She muttered, squeezing her eyes shut for a second.

He looked at her with a frown, his breathing ragged more from fear than effort. He knelt in front of her, inspecting the wound without saying a word at first. Honestly, neither of them really knew what they were supposed to say at that moment.

His hands were trembling slightly, and when he placed them on Jinx’s thigh, her skin reacted instantly. A shiver ran down her spine and she trembled. She would have preferred that her body was shaking from the cold, but the truth was she didn’t give a damn. His fingertips, despite being far from warm, burned against her skin in ways they definitely shouldn’t have in such a critical moment.

Jinx knew it wasn’t the time or the place. They were both a mess. But she couldn’t help but sigh. There, in front of her, was Ekko, after five years, still looking at her and touching her as if she were the most valuable treasure in all of Runeterra—even though she knew she wasn’t.

He was talking. Moving his lips with concern, but she couldn’t hear him. She was too absorbed in watching the contour of his jaw as his mouth moved, the way water droplets slid down his face, the slight tremor in his furrowed brows. Only when Ekko repeated his question did his voice finally reach her.

"Jinx, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

She blinked, and for a second, she considered slapping herself to wake up from her daze. Instead, she shrugged.

"I'm fine."

Lie. She was trembling from pain, yes, but nothing felt that terrible if she was with him.

Ekko shook his head, clearly not believing her. Then, he turned his gaze toward her thigh.

"It’s not deep, but you’re bleeding. I have to stop it."

"Don’t worry so much, firelight. No one in Bilgewater ever died from these things," she replied, trying to sound carefree.

"Don’t ask me not to worry. Please."

Jinx immediately felt a pang in her chest.

"When The Party's Over" - Billie Eilish

She swallowed hard against the knot forming in her throat. She watched as Ekko paused his hands on her thigh for a few seconds, saw him close his eyes and exhale sharply, clearly trying to calm himself.

Quickly, his hand wiped away a tear starting to slide down his cheek. A movement anyone else would have missed—but Jinx saw it.

A fresh pressure tore through her chest mercilessly. Ekko was crying for her? Even after all these years?

Her pink eyes narrowed, fixed on him.

She could imagine that Ekko had missed her at first. Maybe even shed a few tears for a while. But she also knew that once she was out of his life, eventually he’d be better, he’d be happier. Even if at first he couldn’t see it.

But what she saw... Was something completely different. Ekko didn’t look like someone who had forgotten what Jinx’s face looked like—far from it. He didn’t look like someone who had found happiness away from the curse her presence meant. 

He felt Jinx’s eyes on him, so he looked at her. She melted instantly. It still felt unreal how easily Ekko could sense the exact moments when she began to spiral into her own black holes. Even more unreal was how quickly he could bring her back, even when he wasn’t trying.

He smiled at her. A tired, pained, but tender smile. Just enough to pull her out of that labyrinth. She gave him a small curl of her lips in return, just before Ekko went back to work on her leg.

Then, without saying another word, he grabbed a portion of his shirt and began tearing it just at the abdomen. Jinx watched him.

"What are you doing?"

"Got a bandage in your pocket?" he replied with a small chuckle, barely a breath escaping through his nose.

He began to wrap the strip of cloth around her wounded thigh, applying pressure. Jinx wished she had been stronger, strong enough for her eyes not to betray her... But they did. Her gaze dropped to the exposed portion of Ekko’s abdomen and for a second, she thought that if she opened her mouth, she’d drool onto the floor.

Oh, for the love of Janna and all the taverns I’ve blown up...

That... She hadn’t seen it coming. Ekko had grown. She’d felt his clearly larger muscles when she wrapped her small arms around him, but now that she was seeing it, it was hard even to breathe. She remembered perfectly the lines of his arms, the shape of his abs, the ones she used to cuddle at night and had dreamt about involuntarily on so many others. Now, every muscle looked like it had been sculpted by Ekko’s sheer stubbornness over time. What had he been doing all these years? Lifting houses in Zaun with his own arms?

A sudden tug on the bandage pulled her out of her thoughts. Jinx gasped at the sharp pain spreading from the wound.

"Sorry," Ekko said instantly, his voice trembling. "I have to apply pressure. I’m sorry."

Seeing the tremble in Ekko’s hands, she tried to lighten the mood a little.

"It’s okay. If you screw up my leg, I’ll charge you for the favor later."

He let out a small chuckle. Jinx barely smiled—at least that had worked.

"And who said you're the one who gets to charge me?" He replied, with a faint smile as he secured the bandage around her thigh with a knot.

"That sounds like you're gonna be charging me favors. The expensive kind."

"Maybe. The kind that means next time, you at least let me know you're alive, for example."

Jinx swallowed hard.

Of course she wasn’t going to escape that tiny—not tiny at all—detail so easily. Ekko was kind to her, yes, he’d always been, but she could see through that tenderness in his brown eyes. He was hurt. And she wasn’t sure a simple "I'm sorry" would make any difference now.

One of the emergency flares burst just meters from the cave they were in. Ekko flinched and stood up immediately, glancing quickly outside.

"Some crews are starting to move away," he said. "This is our chance. I have to get you out of here. It’s not safe."

He stepped toward her, helping her up, even though Jinx didn’t really need it. Taking his arm, she looked at him.

"Sheesh, Ekko, I’m fine. I can walk. I’m not gonna—"

"Die?"

This time, it was Ekko who swallowed hard. His voice had come out rougher than he meant, but he hadn’t been able to stop it.

Jinx looked at him, their eyes meeting. 

What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to find a word, a sentence remotely adequate for everything she wanted to tell him? Should she tell him how many times she dreamed of seeing him in front of her one more time? Should she apologize, here and now? Should she explain that many things scared her, but that the thing that scared her most was jinxing him? Should she tell him she loved him, and beg him not to leave her? Should she push him away, protect him, and ask him to go?

A sigh came from Ekko’s nose. Then he spoke.

"That’s what you said last time," he said softly, with no reproach. Just tiredness. "And I ended up going to a cemetery."

She wanted to say something. Anything. At least articulate a word, something that could express the whirlwind flooding her mind in that moment. The whirlwind that had flooded her for years. But no sound came from her mouth.

He simply sighed, and then smiled. That same weak, pained, but real smile. Just enough to assure her that he was still there.

"Anyway..." He continued, "you can’t die twice, right?"

Without waiting for an answer, he began to turn around, ready to inspect the surroundings once more and get them both out of there. But a hand on his stopped him.

"Ekko..."

He lifted his brown eyes to meet Jinx's, and in that instant, he melted in a matter of seconds.

A faint light from the many flames shining outside illuminated the outline of her face. Her eyes, large and round, looked at him, searched for him with an intensity that made him completely forget where they were, how much time had passed, and any wound his soul might carry regarding her. Her blue hair no longer clung to her face. Instead, it began to fall in soft, damp waves down her sides, reaching her hips. It was then that Ekko realized he’d never seen her hair like that. He’d seen her long braids from afar countless times, he’d seen her short hair, the same hair he himself had later cut… but never like this. And he tried—he really tried—to find some logical thought within the mess in his head, tried to find something that might be useful to them at that moment.

But the only thought he could find, was how fucking beautiful Jinx looked. 

It was, honestly, unfair. How was he supposed to have any kind of argument with her? How was he supposed to talk, to stop staring at her? How was he supposed to think clearly, to pay attention to anything other than the unreal beauty in front of him?

"Yeah?" His question came out in a completely different tone, accompanied by an involuntary sigh.

Jinx seemed to immediately notice the change in his voice, letting out a sigh of her own. A slight shiver ran through his hand when he realized they still hadn’t let go of each other. Their skins touching suddenly felt warmer. Way too warm.

When Jinx’s lips parted just slightly to let out an exhale, Ekko felt his knees weaken. His gaze was no longer on her eyes, but shamelessly fixed on her lips. Those lips that had invaded his mind without permission so many times, those lips that could turn him into an idiot just by looking at them. It was pathetic, really. Falling apart in seconds before them when he hadn’t even had the chance to kiss them.

And while he still stared shamelessly at her lips, it was hard—really hard—to stop that train of thought now. Especially when Jinx, clearly noticing where he was looking, was now one step closer to him.

He wanted to kiss her. He needed to kiss her. He needed to feel those lips against his, even if it was the last damn thing he’d ever do. Even if he was going to die in that very instant just for wasting time kissing her. He felt like he’d die anyway if he didn’t.

"I..." Jinx’s voice was barely a whisper, and it died completely in her throat when Ekko softly brushed her wrist with his thumb.

He stepped one pace closer to her.

"Jinx..."

Before he could take another step forward, a precise jump behind them startled them both.

Ekko turned first, body tense. She did too, but more slowly. And right then, Jinx’s heart gave such a violent lurch that she almost believed she’d heard it. At the cave entrance, now motionless, stood Vargo.

He said nothing. No one did.

Vargo stared at them, still not fully understanding what was in front of him. His face flickered between restrained surprise and automatic hardening. His eyes went from Ekko to Jinx. From Jinx back to Ekko, and when they landed back on Jinx, they stayed there.

Jinx’s eyes met his. For an eternal second, they just stared at each other. And in that second, Jinx wished with all her strength to see something else. Something easier. That Vargo was just another faceless smuggler, a hunter who came and went with his orders, a pirate without a past or ties. That she could convince herself the man in front of her wasn’t the same one who had taught her how to properly reinforce the walls of her workshop, who had passed her rum with dry laughter while telling stories of those waters, probably made up, who had gifted her the tidelight stones. Who had been there for her.

But no. There was Vargo. With the same eyes that looked like they could slit throats with a glance, but had never—never—hurt her.

And because of that, Jinx couldn’t move.

She didn’t know how to act, how to speak, not even how to breathe. Her whole body was frozen, unable to respond.

And while she was trapped in that trance, Ekko stepped forward, slowly, hands raised.

"Vargo… I can explain. She’s—"

"What happened to Jinx?"

The captain’s eyes shifted to her visibly injured leg, and his brow furrowed. Almost at the same time as Ekko’s, who also narrowed his eyes.

"You know her?"

"I do. I’ve known her for years," Vargo said through gritted teeth. "And I’d like to know why she’s hurt and why you didn’t bother to mention you knew my weapons maker."

Ekko took another slow step forward, narrowing his eyes more and more. As the pieces clicked together in his mind, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to slap himself or the captain more.

"And how the hell was I supposed to know your weapons maker was my…!?" Ekko let out a growl but immediately stopped himself, running a hand through his hair. "You didn’t even mention her to me!"

The man clicked his tongue.

"I don’t have to mention shit to you, but in fact, I did. I told you you’d like her. Though I’m convinced now you’re the one with more loose screws."

Ekko raised both hands, exasperated. He definitely should slap him. Though, to be fair, he also deserved a slap himself.

"Goddamn son of a bitch. You couldn’t have let a name slip!?"

Vargo pointed a finger at him.

"Watch your mouth, kid."

"Or what?"

"Or I’ll use you as bait before giving you a chance to tell me whether you’re spying for the Fortune Sharks or not."

"A spy?!" Ekko raised his voice considerably. "What the hell are you talking about?! No, I don’t even know them, I don’t usually invite them to my birthday, and I have no idea why Jinx was with them! I didn’t even know she was alive until two weeks ago, and five minutes ago I found out she’s in Bilgewater! So what do you want from me?! Sorry for fucking existing, then!"

The man ran both hands over his face with a growl.

"Stop whining, will you? I believe you. Doesn’t change the fact you’re a lunatic and you’ve screwed us. You, her, and everyone."

Ekko crossed his arms and gave the captain a grimace.

"Hate to break it to you, Captain, but I care more about her than hunting your stupid monster."

"And what makes you think I—"

Meanwhile, Jinx couldn’t hear a single word coming out of their mouths. She couldn’t hear anything at all.

It was all a dull hum. Her vision blurred at the edges, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her body was trapped in a prison of flesh that wouldn’t respond. She saw their lips moving, their hands gesturing, their expressions shifting. But she couldn’t understand a thing. Not even process it.

Desperation climbed up her throat. Her fingers trembled but wouldn’t move. Her eyes burned, fixed, lost.

Until she could see, through the blurry haze, Ekko taking one more step toward Vargo—a movement the man responded to with a soft push to his shoulder. And that was all it took.

She could endure being used. She could bear the lies, which had become easy to expect. She could endure the same blow to the same open wound over and over again, could turn her back and ignore it like just another crack in a wall already falling apart. But never—never—someone using Ekko. Hurting him.

Jinx blinked. The world snapped back all at once. And with it, her speed.

In the blink of an eye, her body ignited and moved at the speed of a bullet. She crouched, pulled the hidden knife from her boot—the only weapon she hadn’t left on the ship—and, with sparkling pink eyes, stepped between Ekko and the captain.

The blade shimmered, trembling, pointing directly at Vargo.

“Don’t come any closer!” She shouted, her voice cracking. “Don’t you dare to touch him! Don’t fucking touch him!”

Tears ran hot down her face, still smeared with dust and soaked in sea salt.

Vargo stood still, eyes wide. So did Ekko, hands half-raised, unsure whether to intervene.

The knife’s blade gleamed under the light that seeped into the cave, and though the edge trembled in the air, Jinx’s eyes burned with furious tears. In front of her, Vargo didn’t flinch or move an inch. His expression, though hardened, was eerily calm. A shadow of tension was visible in his jaw, but his eyes held no trace of anger.

It was ridiculous, really. If he wanted to, the captain could have blown the knife out of her hand with a breath. He could kill someone with his index finger if he felt like it. But he wouldn’t. Not to her. Never to Jinx.

The man let out a slow sigh.

“Jinx…”

“No!” She screamed at him, and the blade trembled even more. “I said don’t come closer! Stay away from Ekko!”

He raised his hands, not in surrender, but as a vague attempt to calm her. The lack of even the slightest fear in his expression only made Jinx clench her teeth harder.

“I wasn’t going to hurt him… I didn’t even know—”

“Liar!” Jinx’s voice cracked, and the tears kept falling. “You already lied to me! And now you want to use him too? How did you know about him? How did you even find him?!”

“I swear I had no idea you knew him. It was a coinc—”

“But you did lie to me!” She burst out, practically spitting the words. “You used me. Is that why you wanted to get close to me? To bring back your little pirate buddy and get yourself a damn arsenal on discount?”

Vargo opened his mouth, trying to reply, but stopped abruptly. Something in his expression shifted.

Of course. Of course, if the Sharks had managed to turn Jinx against him, it hadn’t been with gold or fancy rum. It had been with a low blow. And the worst part was they hadn’t even needed to lie to her. Just spit in her face all the things he’d left unsaid—partly to protect her, and largely to feel, at least with one person, that he could still start over.

He let out a sigh before speaking.

“What did Sarah tell you?”

“Everything,” Jinx spat.

Vargo shook his head.

“No. She couldn’t have told you what even she doesn’t know.”

“What no one knows is why you keep disappearing. Why you’re here,” she growled. “Making deals behind everyone’s back. Using me for your plans. Saying you’re going to the Isles… And I’m just supposed to swallow that shit.”

“The Shadow Isles?”

Ekko’s voice beside her pulled her instantly back to reality. She glanced at him sideways. He was trying to approach her, clearly more tense than the captain, though with his hands slightly raised.

“That’s… Where I found him. Well… Where he found me.”

They both looked at him. Jinx turned her head fully this time, stunned, trembling. She frowned.

“What?”

He swallowed hard.

“Vargo found me there. I was on the coast of Ixtal, running from some pirate gangs, and I ended up in those waters. And he… Well…”

Ekko looked at the pirate, perhaps searching for the right words, perhaps for confirmation that what he was about to do was the right thing. The truth was, he already knew. 

It wasn’t that Ekko was quick to trust. In fact, he was quite the opposite. But he’d seen enough in the man, had pieced together enough to know that the captain he’d come to know… Didn’t match the person Jinx believed she had in front of her.

Vargo’s gaze softened, almost imperceptibly. And that was the confirmation Ekko needed.

“He saved my life.”

Jinx froze. The tears stopped for a moment, caught in astonishment. Her pupils trembled, her breath caught. The knife was still raised, but her hands seemed made of stone.

She made a superhuman effort to bring order to the chaos in her mind. If there was one thing she knew in that moment, it was that she wasn’t sure she could trust anyone at all—not a single person in this world…

Except Ekko.

And for that, it was worth giving it a chance. 

“Was he… Alone?” She asked, almost in a whisper.

Ekko nodded.

“Yes.”

Silence. The knife was still there, but the rage in Jinx’s eyes now mixed with a confusion she didn’t know how to handle.

“Then…” She said, her voice trembling. “Why did he bring you to the Great Hunt?”

He stepped a bit closer, still tense.

“We made a deal. I needed to fix my ship. He needed a gunner.”

“Your ship?”

“Long story,” Ekko murmured. “I’ll explain everything… But later. When we’re not about to die, if you don’t mind.”

There was a pause. This time, Ekko stepped close enough to place a gentle pressure with his hand over Jinx’s hand that held the knife, the first vague attempt to make her lower it.

“Vargo… Wanted to avoid a mess here. It just so happened I was there. That’s all. I promise.”

Jinx’s lips trembled. And her gaze returned to the captain. Her racing heartbeat still thundered in her ears.

Vargo was still watching her, though not with the same harshness as before. Something in his expression had changed. Perhaps sadness. Perhaps guilt. Perhaps exhaustion.

"I know I'm not a good man, Jinx," he said, his voice low but clear. "And maybe none of this would be happening if it weren’t for me. But precisely because of that… It’s my responsibility."

He took a deep breath, eyes fixed on her.

"My responsibility to keep everything from going to shit again in this port at the hands of that man. Even by Bilgewater standards."

Jinx said nothing. She couldn’t.

"That’s why I had to enter the Hunt," he continued. "To take the title before the Fortune Sharks did. If I made it… All of this could end. At least for a while."

The captain took another step toward her.

"I asked you for weapons because you're the best. Period. Anyone who doesn’t see it is blind."

Jinx swallowed hard.

"Sarah said—"

"What Sarah told you… Isn’t a lie," Vargo interrupted. "But it’s not the whole truth either. Believe it or not, we all want the same thing."

"Then why didn’t you talk to her in the first place?" She replied, her voice lower, more fragile.

"For the same reason I always wanted to keep you out of it," he said. "So no more people get hurt. Especially people who don’t need to be dragged into something only I can fix."

He lowered his gaze for a second.

"Sarah shouldn’t have dragged you in… But I’m not one to blame her. She probably wouldn’t be who she is today if it weren’t for me."

Jinx closed her eyes. Finally, she lowered the knife completely and let it fall to the ground. She stepped back, swallowing hard, letting the tears fall more silently as she stared at the floor.

"Then…" She began, her voice broken. Something was still tormenting her. Something she was even ashamed to ask. "Why did you spend time with me? Why did you come to the workshop? Why did you help me? If you didn’t want to..."

She trailed off, bowing her head even lower. The thought was stupid. Really stupid, and she should be more ashamed of it than she already was.

And as if the captain could read her mind, a barely curved smile appeared on his lips, as sad as it was warm.

"Why is it so hard to believe that someone simply cares about you?"

Jinx blinked. The air left her lungs. She opened her mouth and closed it again. Several seconds passed before she could let out a sigh.

She was about to speak. Just one word, just one sound. But as she tried, something slipped into her thoughts—strong enough to make her rub her temple with a groan.

A female voice. The same as before.

"The still souls approach the trial of their movement. The current decides whether they float… Or if they sink."

"What the fuck is that?" She growled, this time rubbing her head with both hands.

"You hear it too?" Ekko asked, who now had a hand on his forehead and a grimace on his face.

Vargo looked at them both, pale as if he had just seen two ghosts—or as if he were one himself. His eyes widened even more.

"So it was you…" He said slowly, looking at Ekko.

"What?" He asked, confused.

But the man didn’t answer. Not yet. Because what was coming hadn’t yet emerged from the abyss.

The air in the cave grew dense. Not from the humidity or the salt. It was something else. Something invisible, warm and cold, that seemed to seep through their skins and nestle in their chest. Jinx blinked more than usual, tilting her head, trying to dispel the strange discomfort that began to settle in. Ekko swallowed hard, and for a second his vision blurred.

The captain watched them with a furrowed brow. He stepped closer and spoke in a deep voice.

"It wasn’t a coincidence, Ekko. None of it was. That I found you. That you came to Bilgewater. None of this happened just because."

Ekko looked up, frowning, a slight tremor in his fingers.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

This time, the surface of the cave began to tremble. The captain looked around with the same urgency as Jinx and Ekko, though without the confusion painted on the young ones’ faces. He stepped toward them and spoke as fast as he could.

"There’s not much time. I’ll handle Sarah. And the Megatusk. My duty is to keep you two safe... For as long as it lasts."

Jinx gripped her head harder.

"For as long as it lasts, what!?"

"The test."

Ekko took a step back, his breathing quickened for no apparent reason. Jinx hugged her stomach, this time feeling a pulling sensation growing by the second.

"Dammit, what test!?" She shouted.

Another tremor made Vargo scan the terrain quickly before returning to them with greater urgency.

"The Great Mother has chosen you both. There’s… Something clogging the universal flow. Something that has to do with you two."

Ekko went pale. His pupils contracted, and a whisper seemed to vibrate in his deepest organ—not in his ears, but in his soul.

"For it to flow again," the man continued, "you must flow as well. You must move. Break out of your own stagnation."

Jinx staggered back a step.

"And what the hell do we have to do with the fucking universal flow?!"

Ekko lowered his head, frozen for a few seconds. And then, he paled.

Fucking anomaly. Fucking core. Fucking artifact. Fucking everything.

He clenched his fists.

"Shit... Dammit, Powder!"

Jinx looked at him, wide-eyed.

"What the hell did I do now?!"

"Not you!"

Vargo, still inspecting the surroundings, turned his attention back to them.

"I don’t know. But she has seen inaction in both of you. And the potential to overcome it."

Jinx collapsed to her knees. Her hands trembled. Ekko felt a cold weight in his chest, and his legs also began to give out.

Vargo knelt before them, his voice now more urgent, rawer:

"Listen to me carefully, because nothing and no one will be able to help you there. The only path is forward. Truth is not something you think. It’s something you live. Action reveals. Doubt devours. Follow movement, no matter where it leads. If you stop... You’ll be lost."

Jinx tried to respond, but could only let out a low gasp. Ekko was gasping too, a drop of sweat running down his neck. The distant roar of the Megatusk began to shake the cave walls. The water quivered, the stalactites echoed with a hollow sound.

"Illaoi isn’t here," said the captain. "Maybe… Maybe it’s the Great Mother herself who’s coming to take you. Maybe she already is."

The waters began to fold into themselves more and more. Jinx looked up, almost at the same time as Ekko, and the last thing they saw before everything turned black was their own distorted reflection in a suspended drop.

"So good luck."

••••

A second roar made the rock crack. The beast was approaching, and there was no doubt about it now.

Vargo stood up abruptly, his body already in motion. The earthly protection of Jinx and Ekko was secured as long as he was around… Though now, every time he heard the monster roar again, that seemed like just one more of his problems. He climbed up the cave entrance in long strides, without looking back. His heart hammered in his chest, not from fear, but from the weight of the responsibility looming over him. All the things that could go so damn wrong that night.

He emerged climbing the rocks like a hunted animal, scaling the hull and leaping onto The Stygian Serpent in one swift movement. If his breathing was already short and fast, the moment he turned on the deck and locked eyes on the horizon, it stopped entirely.

The Megatusk.

The beast was rising from the sea like fury made flesh. Its skin was gray-green, rough like rotting coral. Huge bony plates covered its back. Its eyes, two black moons, were fixed on The Stygian Serpent in the distance. Its tusks were as long as the mast of a galleon. The water split before it, and the waves dragged floating debris all around. It moved with a slowness that, far from being reassuring, was downright terrifying.

But there was no time to be terrified, not when you were a captain. Vargo extended a hand, ready to give the order.

But he stopped.

He felt the familiar cold of a cannon pressed against the back of his skull. And then, the clear click of the hammer being cocked.

A woman’s voice spoke from behind.

“Move a single finger and I’ll blow your brains out and use them as bait.”

Vargo didn’t even flinch. He remained still, his gaze still fixed on the Megatusk.

Even after all these years, he still remembered exactly how her voice sounded. Despite being hoarse from time, from years of tobacco, rum, and the commanding shouts befitting a captain, there was something in her tone that still gave her away as the little girl he had once known.

“Hello, Sarah.”

••••

Pink eyes flew open.

Jinx's body didn’t ache, but she couldn’t quite feel it either. Her skin felt made of smoke, and each part of her seemed disconnected from the rest. She noticed the air’s scent was familiar: rotting salt and rusty metal. Everything was tinged with a greenish hue, like the moss that clung to ships left too long at sea.

She was alone. The ocean stretched for miles in every direction, with no shore, no clear horizon. The sky was covered by unmoving clouds, fixed in place as if painted by hand. No breeze stirred her hair, and yet, she could still hear the wind howling in her ear.

Where the hell am I…?

She gripped the edge of the railing, trying to clear her mind, and when she felt the cold beneath her hands, she inspected the rest of the structure. She was on a ship.

She walked across the deck. The ship creaked, but it never moved. Not a single wave rocked it. Only the creaking and a faint murmur could be heard in the background. There were frayed ropes, empty barrels, more ropes hanging from the mast, and torn sails.

She walked to the center of the ship. And what she saw there made her tremble.

She saw it on a table soaked with the rain that never quite fell: a monkey bomb. The monkey bomb. Old, rusted, but intact. With the same painted face, the same cymbals raised, ready to strike the blue crystal in the center. The same one that had destroyed the world she once called her own.

“No, no, no, no.”

Jinx stepped back a few paces. Her chest tightened and the world spun. She wanted to spit, to vomit, but her body didn’t respond. She dropped to her knees before the bomb.

Who’s messing with me?

The murmur of the sea grew clearer.

"Break the chains with that which bound you."

“What…?” she turned toward the railings, searching for a source, a voice.

But what she saw didn’t come from the sea—it came from the ship itself.

First came Mylo. He appeared at the stairs leading to the cabins. He looked older, and though his hair and clothes were different, his gaze was the same, as was his grin. He smiled the way he used to when he mocked everything.

“Sleep well, sis? Took your sweet time,” he said. And behind him, Claggor appeared, adjusting his goggles.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Pow.”

Jinx’s heart stopped. She wanted to run toward them, but her legs were rooted to the floor.

“Waiting for her to stop snoring, you mean,” said Mylo, rolling his eyes. “She sleeps like a log.”

“And you never sleep.”

They both laughed. Mylo patted him on the head and Claggor shrugged.

Jinx touched her face, trembling. She looked at them again.

“Is this a dream?”

“So what if it is? Don’t you want to stay a little longer?” Mylo asked.

Behind them, Vander and Silco appeared. Two figures as opposite as fire and a river. They looked at each other and seemed to greet one another with a smile.

What the hell was happening?

“You’re taking your time, child,” said Vander.

“It’s not too late. You can still get us out,” added Silco.

Jinx took a step back. Her chest burned.

“Get you out…? How?” She looked at the bomb.

“We have to leave this place,” said Claggor.

“Get us out, Powder. Please,” Vander insisted, stepping closer to her.

Silco took a few steps forward until he stood face to face with her.

“You can do it. You always could.”

“I don’t understand what you want from me,” Jinx whimpered.

The figures began to duplicate. She saw another Mylo, smaller, sitting on the mast, humming a melody. Another Claggor, a teenager, nose bleeding, dragging himself across the deck. Vander leaned toward her and his face rotted, revealing decayed flesh beneath his beard. 

“Stop it!” Jinx screamed, clutching her head. The visions murmured all at once, shouting, whispering, crying.

"We have to get out of here..."

She ran to the helm. She grabbed it tightly. The sea stirred. The figures faded and returned, over and over again. Overlapping voices, like echoes bouncing inside her skull. She tried to turn the ship. Nothing moved. She began to force the wheel.

And in an instant, the sky roared with a furious storm.

Thunder without light, lightning without spark. The sky split in roars while the waves made the hull shriek. Rain began to pour down suddenly, deafening.

“Come on! Move, damn it!”

“We have to get out of here!”

“And I’ll get you out! I’ll get you out of here!” Jinx roared, her whole body soaked.

Her hands were bleeding from the force of her grip. Or so she thought. The monkey bomb fell off the table and nearly rolled across the deck, but Jinx quickly hooked it to her belt without even looking at it.

Because she didn’t want to look at it. She couldn’t. But in the end, it was all she had.

The figures approached, some pleading, others crying. Mylo held Claggor in an embrace as they seemed to tend to his wounds, only to walk off seconds later to another corner of the ship as if nothing had happened. Vander dragged Silco in a futile attempt to save him, but Silco screamed at him in rage, lungs full of water.

“Pow, we have to get out! You have to get us out!”

“And what if I can’t?!”

But Jinx didn’t have much time for more tears. A second later, the ship creaked like it was going to split in two. The wood was sinking. Water began rising along the edges, menacing.

Jinx looked around frantically, still with her hands firm on a helm that didn’t respond. The figures surrounded her.

"Get us out of here, Jinx."

She let out a desperate growl and released the helm. She grabbed the ropes, turned the helm, but the ship resisted. The sails billowed under the furious wind, and the hull groaned louder.

“Come on! Come on!” she shouted.

The storm grew. Thunder that no longer seemed to come from the sky, but from the sea itself and its cruelty.

“We have to get out of here!”

“I CAN’T GET OUT!” she screamed, crying. “I DON’T KNOW HOW!”

The first lightning bolt split the sky without a sound. It was the light that alerted her, followed by a thunderclap that didn’t sound in the sky but in her bones. The cracks in the ship echoed louder and louder, more inevitable, more alarming.

Jinx gripped the helm.

“Hold on! Come on, you fucking piece of wood, hold on!”

Her knuckles were white and bloodied, lips cracked, soaked hair falling down her back.

The sails flapped wildly. One had already torn from the mast, thrown into the wind. The ship rocked, slamming into waves like fists. Each of the dead watched her from different corners of the deck, and though it was hard to tell what they were doing amid the chaos, all their eyes were fixed on her. Watching. Waiting.

“You’re not going to sink! I’ll get you out of here! I swear!”

Raindrops pelted her already frozen face, creating the sensation that her body was cracking beneath a layer of frost. She turned her head, her neck numb, and began speaking urgently, eyes wide.

“Claggor! Let go of that rope! Mylo, hold on to whatever you can! Vander, help me with the helm!”

But no one obeyed. She didn’t even know if they still heard her. They just stayed there, still, waiting.

CRAAAACK

A hit. Something beneath the ship. Something that bit the keel like a jaw. Jinx went even paler as she looked down.

Water slipping over her ankles.

“No... no, no, no, no...” She crawled to the hatch. Kicked it open. Went down. The first level groaned. Shredded hammocks, hanging nets, crates drifting aimlessly. Water was beginning to seep through the floorboards.

“Where are you going!?”

“I have to find the source! I have to seal it! There’s still time!”

She went deeper. Descended a broken ladder, cutting herself on rusted nails. They all followed her, one by one. Mylo. Claggor. Vander. Silco.

There was no time to look back, but at least hearing their footsteps behind her gave her some comfort.

“Don’t leave me alone! Please, don’t leave me!”

Third level. The cabins. Rotted walls. A gas mask floating. A letter without an address pinned to the wall. The water was already climbing up there as well. 

There had to be something, anything—a safe place, secure ground, some way to stop the flooding. And that’s what she found.

A metal door at the far end, half-open, with a warm light on the other side. Almost as warm as the woman peeking halfway through the frame, gesturing to her.

Felicia. Long dress, braided hair. Big eyes that Jinx barely remembered.

“Come, Pow,” she said. “You’ll be safe here.”

Jinx hesitated for a few seconds, feeling her heartbeat in her head. But the water left no room for doubts. So, without hesitating, she ran into the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

The room was like a womb: thick walls, an airtight hatch. The lights didn’t flicker. The water hadn’t come in.

“We’ll be safe here,” her mother said, hugging her. “Rest.”

“No!” Jinx shouted, breaking the embrace, trembling. “I didn’t come here to rest! I came to get them out!”

She ran across the room. Looked for windows, hatches, escape routes. Nothing.

“There has to be a way out! A valve, an elevator, something!” she yelled, soaking wet, crying.

The room had metal walls covered in rust with a faint salty smell, even before the water began seeping in. And yet, the atmosphere felt strangely warm. If Jinx weren’t in that situation, she might have even found it comforting.

She was still breathing hard, her chest rising and falling as if oxygen was already running low. She didn’t understand where she was or why. She only knew she had to get out, but couldn’t.

But the illusion of warmth that the room gave her vanished in seconds: a drop, then another. Water began leaking through the cracks in the floor and joints in the walls. Jinx staggered backward, hair disheveled, damp from the cold sweat dripping down her forehead. Her eyes widened, vibrant with fear, and she started searching the room again with trembling hands, feeling the walls, rusted pipes, valves that wouldn’t budge.

“There has to be a way out! There has to be!” she cried, voice cracking.

“Pow... you have to get us out of here,” murmured Mylo, his voice drowned between what sounded like bubbles.

“We can’t stay,” added Claggor, watching her from the water already covering her feet.

“Come on, girl. Come on. It’s over,” Vander whispered.

“I’ll get you out! I’ll get you out! I promise I’ll get you out!” Jinx shouted, spinning, panting, desperate. She ran from corner to corner, slipping over a broken pipe, hitting a lever that wouldn’t move. Her fingers traced grooves, the contours of steel plates, an old panel covered in rust that creaked but wouldn’t give. She was looking for something, anything.

She saw a metal structure on one of the walls: a rusted ladder leading to a second level, a small loft, or maybe a maintenance platform. Jinx climbed without thinking, placing her feet on rungs that groaned with each step. The water was rising, but hadn’t touched her since she’d entered the room.

“Hold on! Please, hold on!”

Above, she found a hatch. A heavy steel square with reinforced edges, and a handle embedded in the center. Mold had coated it like a second skin. Jinx threw herself against it, with both hands, with her shoulders, with her whole body.

“Open! Open, damn it! Come on, don’t do this!”

She pushed, pulled, gritted her teeth. Her knuckles tore from the friction against the metal, and still she didn’t stop. The water was already licking the lower rungs.

“I’m not leaving you all here! No!”

With a snap, the hatch shifted. Barely a centimeter. Jinx groaned with relief, stuck her fingers in the gap and pulled with all the strength in her body, tense like a spring about to break. But then, the hatch’s internal structure shifted: a gear burst backward, and the steel panel slammed shut on her hand.

“AAAAAGH!” Jinx’s voice rose inside the metal enclosure, raw, painful. 

She staggered backward, clutching her trapped hand—now free, but bleeding. The torn skin revealed vivid red dripping over her clothes, mixing with the salt water that already covered almost the entire floor of the room. She collapsed to her knees on the platform, gasping, and for the first time since everything had started, she stopped moving.

She curled up, trembling, and began to cry.

Her crying was unlike any other. It wasn't rage, not even fear. It was pure defeat. She wept like someone who no longer expected to be heard, because she had stopped hoping for it long ago. Her sobs shook her shoulders as she cradled her wounded hand to her chest, head down, her hair falling over her face.

"I tried... I tried..." she whispered, watching the water rise. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

The water kept rising, climbing its way through the edges of the platform where Jinx remained on her knees. The lights began to dim, and in the increasingly opaque gloom, the figures surrounding her began to sink as the water reached them. Not with violence, but with a stillness that hurt more than any roar.

Mylo was first. His scrawny, ever-moving figure seemed to grow heavy. Jinx watched him disappear slowly, his eyes fixed on her, warm for the first time, without mockery or resentment. Then Claggor, standing with his arms crossed, gave a half-smile just before the water covered his face. His silhouette blurred, offering no resistance as the water swallowed him.

"No! Don't go! Don't go!" Jinx cried, pushing herself up unsteadily on her knees, reaching out with her bloodied hand toward them. The sharp pain in her fingers was nothing compared to the ache in her chest. "I'm gonna get you out! I promised! We're gonna get out! We're gonna get out together!"

Vander and Silco looked at her in silence. Their faces showed no fear or anguish, only an unbearable calm—a calm that Jinx herself could never quite reach. Silco wore that melancholic expression she had seen so often in dreams and visions, while Vander seemed to summon all the tenderness he’d never been able to show her during those years apart, or during that time together when his face had been far from the father Jinx had known.

"Please! Don't leave me!" Jinx screamed, her voice cracked by crying, by helplessness, as her body folded in on itself. "I need you! I don't wanna be alone!"

But none of them answered. They just looked at her. And one by one, their silhouettes dissolved like blood in water, without a sound, without a goodbye. Jinx collapsed, curled up, her chest beating frantically and her breath broken. Her sobs shook her like a storm, one that had never found release.

The water kept rising. And for a moment, Jinx felt that she, too, was starting to disappear. For a moment, she wished that it wasn’t just a feeling, but an imminent reality.

Please, make me disappear. Please...

But a sudden sensation didn’t let her continue sinking into that spiral.

Soft, warm arms wrapped around her from behind. At first, she thought she was imagining it—even if nothing she’d seen or experienced in her daily life made any sense. But the feeling wasn't like the hallucinations. It wasn’t like those visions, both cruel and comforting. It felt almost real. The contact had weight. It had warmth. Hands moved slowly along her back.

Jinx went still, paralyzed by that unexpected tenderness. Her trembling body gradually relaxed under that embrace, under that touch that became more and more familiar with each passing second. She felt fingers stroking her damp hair, gently moving it away from her tear-soaked face. 

She frowned when the touch was no longer the only familiar thing, when a scent reached her nostrils.

Axle grease.

••••

Brown eyes flew open.

Air caught in Ekko’s throat as if he’d just emerged from a deep, formless dream. It took him a few seconds to regain a normal rhythm of breathing, but once he did, confusion overtook him.

Darkness surrounded him completely. For a moment, he didn’t know exactly where he was, or how much time had passed. He only felt the cracked, cold floor beneath his body, the distant echo of endless dripping, and a faint hum that didn’t belong to any place he knew.

He slowly rose, resting on one knee. As his eyes adjusted to the blackness, he vaguely recognized the silhouettes of rusted structures, collapsed chimneys, hanging cables, and corroded machinery. He wasn’t in Bilgewater. He was in... Zaun.

But not the Zaun he knew. The image his eyes returned to him could only be described as broken.

The air had a sharp smell of rust, old oil, and mold. But there was something else: a strange, almost sweet scent that made his skin prickle. He stood up fully and felt how his body was weightless. It didn’t hurt. He didn’t feel the old tension in his legs or the pressure on his shoulders. He didn’t feel the muscle pain that, at times, he didn’t even realize had accompanied him with such intensity. If it weren’t for the place around him looking nothing like the Mount, he would’ve thought he was back in that torturous climb.

What the hell is going on?

But the answers didn’t come clearly. Only in the form of voices. Voices he, even if he wanted to bury them, knew far too well.

"You never did know when to walk away."

Ekko spun sharply, heart pounding, but no one was there.

"I don’t wanna be rescued. I’m Jinx now."

His eyebrows furrowed. He took a few steps forward as the echoes around him kept sounding.

"Vi? Mylo? Claggor? Is anyone there?"

"The tree is dying. It’s over."

His throat tightened.

"There are too many, Ekko. We can’t save them all."

"Shut up! Who the hell are you!? What the fuck do you want!?" he shouted.

But his voice was swallowed by the immensity of the place and by the voices that chased him.

"Vi? Where’s Jinx?"

"I used to be friends with your parents, you know?"

His steps carried him through a corridor covered in faded graffiti and twisted pipes. In one corner, something that looked like a machine sobbed with blue sparks. He entered what must have once been a workshop; the walls were blackened, the floor covered with rusted tools and dry rags. Everything felt vaguely familiar, but corrupted.

A different voice rose again, but this one was unlike the others. A voice he couldn’t associate with any of his memories.

"That which matters is only saved in the fragments you flee from seeing. The lost pieces lie in your shadow."

Ekko stopped. The hair on his arms stood on end. He spun on his heels, searching for the source, but there was no way to locate the voice. It vibrated, rather, in his mind.

Something caught his attention. A faint blue glow was coming from a corner covered in debris. His feet took him there before he could think. He knelt down, pushed aside a rusted metal sheet and a handful of dead cables. In the darkness, a small device pulsed softly: his Z-drive.

His breath caught. He took it in both hands, feeling its weight again after so many years. It had been more than five years since he’d seen it for the last time. His fingers slowly traced the notches and edges, the rusted metals, the loose parts. He almost didn’t dare press anything.

More voices chased him. But this time, instead of trying to ignore them, something in them triggered an alarm inside him.

"This way!"

"Claggor, wait!"

"Powder, run, run!"

He looked up and for a moment, just one, he froze at the silhouettes he saw.

Mylo. Claggor. Benzo. Vander. Vi. And Powder. All of them running, shouting, vanishing among ruined streets. Little Powder stumbling, eyes terrified, while Vi picked her up in desperation. The same scene repeated, over and over. The same words, the same steps.

He stood with the Z-drive in hand and tried to sharpen his hearing amid the murmurs of voices. There was something else in the air that sounded strangely familiar.

He tried to listen more closely, until he finally identified the sound. A timer. That chilling sound that always came before an inevitable explosion. A sound coming precisely from the direction the silhouettes had just run toward.

Sweating and trembling, he began to run.

"NO! WAIT!"

He dodged broken columns and fallen scaffolding. He crossed alleys, jumped over railings, climbed rickety stairs, but he could never reach them.

Suddenly, the explosion finally roared to his left. The ground shook, and a wave of heat pushed him back.

"NO!"

Desperate, he pulled the Z-drive’s cord.

The world blurred for a second, but instead of going backward, everything stayed still. Suspended.

He frowned. Tried again. Pulled. Nothing.

Again. Once more.

The Z-drive glowed faintly, but there was only silence. Everything was frozen. Why the hell wasn’t it working?

The bodies around him were immobile. Nothing moved, nothing responded—except him.

"Come on, damn it! WORK!"

He struck the Z-drive. Shook it. But it didn’t respond.

"In the image you fear lies the way out."

That voice, again.

His breathing sped up so much his chest hurt. He didn’t know whether from the effort or from the terror of not understanding, of feeling completely trapped.

"What is this? A punishment? A dream? Am I dead?"

But only silence responded, while around him, time remained frozen. He looked up, his fingers still clenched around the faulty Z-drive. The silence was full, dense, vibrant… until he heard those familiar echoes again.

"You never did know when to walk away."

"I don’t wanna be rescued. I’m Jinx now."

"Vi? Mylo? Claggor? Is anyone there?"

"There are too many, Ekko. We can’t save them all."

"Vi? Where’s Jinx?"

"I used to be friends with your parents, you know?"

"The tree is dying. It’s over."

The echo of the voices rumbled as if coming from everywhere and nowhere. They rose, repeated, dragged like blades. Ekko slowly sat up, swallowing the lump in his throat, and this time, he let himself be guided by that murmur. Maybe it led somewhere. Anywhere.

He arrived, guided by the voices, at an alley shrouded in shadows; the buildings on either side leaned under their own weight. There, at the mouth of the alley, he saw something that resembled something he’d seen before. Small pulses in the air, blurring together chaotically, and yet with a strange order. If he wasn’t mistaken—and he rarely had been when studying such things—he was facing temporal distortions. Loops.

He squinted, trying to identify them better. They didn’t group themselves together, but acted independently. He counted quickly. Seven distortions. Seven fragments of broken reality hung suspended in the air, each pulsing with its own energy. In each loop, the same phrase repeated in its own cycle. The same voices that had guided him there.

"You never did know when to walk away."

"I don’t wanna be rescued. I’m Jinx now."

"Vi? Mylo? Claggor? Is anyone there?"

"There are too many, Ekko. We can’t save them all."

"Vi? Where’s Jinx?"

"I used to be friends with your parents, you know?"

"The tree is dying. It’s over."

Each word was a hammer blow to his temples, his mind, his very soul. Ekko covered his ears with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

“No… no,” he murmured. “Stop it. Stop. Not again.”

He stepped back, stumbled, and his breathing quickened. His chest hurt, and he could feel it tightening in on itself. He searched for the Z-drive, holding it with trembling hands, hoping to distract himself. His fingers traced the metal frame, the parts he knew by heart. And that was when he realized something in the device was different, felt different.

The activation switch didn’t respond, nor was he even sure it was still there. He touched it more. The phase regulator was there, yes. But the energy calibrator… missing. As well as the oscillation core, the stability coil, the destination modulator, the anchor focus, and the cycle emitter.

Seven parts. He was missing seven parts.

His heart sank. He looked up, strained his ears, looking once more at what was in front of him. And his chest tightened a little more, even though that shouldn’t have been physically possible.

Seven distortions.

You’ve got to be kidding me…

That female voice returned, almost as if reading his mind. Maybe that wasn’t so far from the truth.

"You won’t find what you seek in what you’re glad to see. The pieces to move forward… sleep where it hurts to look."

The realization hit him like a cold, merciless wave. He stepped back, his lips trembling, his eyes misting over.

No… no, please.

The tears started to stream down his cheeks as a tremble took hold of his knees. His chest hurt as if a claw was gripping it from the inside. He struggled to breathe. His vision narrowed. Palpitations. Dizziness. Vertigo.

I can’t. I can’t. Not again. I can’t see it. I can’t. Please, I can’t.

He dug the nails of one hand into the flesh of his other arm with such force that he was sure the skin began to bleed. But it didn’t matter. Anything would do if it kept him away from that black hole that now felt impossible to escape.

Above, the sky—completely still until that moment—began to crack like glass under pressure. Fine cracks of light appeared, subtle but growing deeper. Time, the bubble in which everything was suspended, was beginning to give way. And he knew what would happen when it did.

“Shit,” Ekko gasped. “Shit! There’s no time!”

Through tears, he wiped the sweat from his face. He knew what he had to do. 

Seven loops. Seven missing pieces.

Though fear gripped him like never before, Ekko began to move forward. It was ironic, really. To feel completely terrified of something whose ending he knew like the back of his hand. It was ironic to be more afraid of what was known than of what was yet to be discovered.

With trembling steps, he approached one of the distortions. He chose at random, but as soon as he heard the words, he wanted to retreat.

"There are too many, Ekko. We can’t save them all."

The voice was unmistakable. Scar. A firm, calmed voice… and broken. As broken, or more, than his own that day.

Ekko trembled. Every part of his body screamed for him to run, but his feet seemed to understand the urgency of the situation and refused to obey. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

The air around the distortion warped, crackling with static electricity. Ekko raised his hand. His skin bristled. He took a step. Then another. And another.

Tears fell silently while he still struggled to breathe. He knew what he would find behind that window. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Still, finally, he stepped fully into the loop.

He felt the cold envelop him as he passed through it. The smell of blood, sweat, and gunpowder was the first thing he noticed, though he had been expecting it. Then, the blurred sight of an improvised shelter, lit by lamps flickering with limited energy, like everything else that day.

The sounds were impossible to ignore, even if he wanted to. Groans, moans, cries, ragged breathing, the creaking of bodies lying on stretchers made of improvised materials. Ekko tried blinking, with the faint hope that if he did it enough, the world would change. But it didn’t. It never did. 

His legs faltered when he saw it: himself, just a little younger, his face smudged with soot, his forearm bandaged with a torn shirt. His hands were covered in dried blood, and his eyes were sunken. Lost. In front of him, Scar held a small, nearly empty vial of Noxigenin B. A rare and volatile piltovian medicine capable of regenerating damaged tissue… but useless if the body was already too far gone.

Ekko remembered it. As much as he wished with all his might not to, he remembered it all too well. It had been useful in treating the wounded days after the War. And it would’ve been even more useful… if only they’d had more of it.

He looked away. He knew exactly what was coming. He bit down on his sleeve, unable to hold back the tears, and began frantically searching every corner for what he had come to find.

But the conversation happening just meters away from him was impossible to ignore.

“We have less than five milligrams, Ekko.”

Ekko wiped a hand across the skin of his forehead, where there were still traces of dried blood.

“Who’s in the worst shape?”

“Many.”

“Give me an answer I can use, Scar.”

Scar sighed loudly, defeated.

“Iza and Wren. If we don’t use it on Wren’s arm, he might not make it. But if we give it to Iza… even with it, she might not even breathe anymore for more than ten minutes.”

“Isn’t there a way to split it?” Ekko growled.

“We ruin it if we do. Half the concentration is useless. It has to be all five in one dose.”

“What if Wren can survive without it? What if all he needs is pressure and time?”

“What if he doesn’t? What if we lose them both and also use up the last of what we have?” Scar’s eyes widened urgently.

“Everyone’s bleeding, Scar… I can’t think. I don’t want to… Decide their fates.” Ekko rubbed his face again, frustrated.

"Someone has to."

Meanwhile, outside that core, Ekko crawled along the edges of the distorted room. He felt the tears soaking his neck. Every word was drilling into his skull. He clutched his chest, trying to calm the wild pounding of his heart. «Don’t think about that, just find it.»

He ran trembling fingers through the rubble. A broken respirator. A toolkit.

“Give it to Wren. He can make it with this. As for Iza… tell the others we’ll all come together to say goodbye. She won’t last much longer.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course not.”

Ekko forced himself to lift a smashed crate. And there, half-hidden among bandages and rusted syringes, he saw it: the activation switch of the Z-drive. He grabbed it with both hands, feeling his pulse race wildly.

While the Ekko of the past ran toward one of the wounded, the Ekko of the present dashed to the opposite corner. He pulled out the Z-drive with shaking fingers and fitted the piece into place. A small blue spark coursed through him. The air trembled.

And in that instant, he was ripped from the loop.

The dark alley returned just as the memory faded, like a blow straight to the chest. Ekko fell to his knees. He screamed. A muffled scream, barely a desperate gasp. He cried as if his heart had split open from the inside. And maybe it had.

He looked up to the sky. The time bubble was now covered in cracks. Fragments of the sky were dissolving faster.

There was no time.

Barely managing, Ekko got to his feet, staggering. His legs ached. His whole soul ached. He looked around and spotted another loop, warping the air like an open wound.

And when he heard the voice emanating from it, he knew maybe that’s exactly what it was.

“Vi? Where’s Jinx?”

Ekko shuddered. He wanted to cover his ears, wanted to run.

But, once again, he didn’t.

With one last tremble, he stepped forward. And then another.

Ekko entered the new loop without even blinking, feeling how the air’s density shifted, how the colors became just a bit more saturated. The moment he set foot in that place, the smell of rust, old paint, and smoke hit him hard. He was in Jinx’s hideout, or what was left of it. The stopped turbine still vibrated slightly from inertia, and the lights flickered with an intermittent buzz. Broken.

He saw himself, and instantly, he wanted to slap that version. Young, naïve, full of hope. He walked among the wreckage with uncertain but hurried steps, dirty from head to toe, his eyes searching desperately. The Ekko of the past stopped upon seeing a silhouette curled up on one of the ledges: Vi.

Vi was lying down, hugging her knees. Her face was buried in her arms, and still the swelling of her eyes, the trembling of her shoulders, the way her skin clung to her face with dried tears was obvious.

“Vi… Are you okay? What happened? Where’s Jinx?”

Silence. Vi didn’t move an inch.

“Vi?” he repeated, stepping closer. “Where’s Jinx? Is she okay?”

Nothing.

Ekko knelt in front of her. His voice started to crack.

“Tell me something, please… Where is she? Did something happen to her?”

Ekko, hidden in the shadows of the memory, felt the tears burn before they even left his eyes. He clenched his teeth and looked away, though his gaze kept returning like a traitor.

«Focus. Focus. The piece, the piece, just that…», he told himself mentally, rummaging through junk, lifting metal plates and moving scorched cables. His hands trembled so badly it was hard to hold anything. His chest felt like it was filled with lead, and every word he heard dragged him down deeper.

“Vi, tell me what happened!” Ekko’s voice rose a pitch, broken, desperate. “Tell me where she is!”

Vi lifted her head just barely. Her eyes were unfocused, lost, empty like a dry well.

And though Ekko wanted to pretend otherwise, that look was answer enough.

Ekko dropped to his knees for a moment. He couldn’t breathe. He felt a tug in his chest as his mind kept repeating over and over to stop. That he couldn’t go on, that he couldn’t do it. Not again.

But he had to find the piece.

He went back to digging through old tools, heavy plates, and broken pipes. And then, among the dust and debris, he found the Z-drive’s energy calibrator.

His fingers grabbed it, and with urgent, though clumsy movements from the anxiety, he slotted it into the device. The Z-drive vibrated slightly, a blue light lit up his arm, and the world began to dissolve like sand in the wind.

The memory dissipated in a sigh. The turbine, Vi, his own desperate screams—everything evaporated.

Ekko fell into the dark alley once more, feeling like if his racing heart didn’t kill him, his sobbing would drown him.

Make it stop… please, let it stop…

He looked up and saw the portion of the time bubble to his right crack even more. As he turned his head, he saw one of the loops beside him, without him even needing to approach. And the words coming from it, like those from the others, were far from comforting.

“I used to be friends with your parents, you know?”

Ekko frowned at first. The voice was clearly Benzo’s, and though the words sounded vaguely familiar, he struggled to place them in any specific memory.

He swallowed hard. His body was still trembling, but he didn’t allow himself to stop.

He moved closer. He knew there was no turning back. And without thinking much more, he stepped into the new loop.

Himself, again, much smaller. A boy with a lost gaze, fists clenched and legs dangling from a chair too tall for his body. In front of him sat Benzo, hunched over, frowning, lips pursed in helplessness.

Ekko squeezed his eyes shut. Now that he had it in front of him, he knew exactly how everything would unfold, even before it began.

“Everything will be okay, Ekko,” Benzo said. “No one... no one could’ve done anything. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

The boy didn’t respond. He stared at a fixed spot on the floor, his big eyes dim and lifeless.

Ekko felt his throat tighten instantly.

“Do you know what it means… that they died?” Benzo asked, pain evident in every word.

The little one remained silent. He just blinked and let out a sigh.

“They were very sick… but they loved you. They loved you so much, Ekko,” Benzo insisted, leaning in slightly. “And they asked me, before things got worse… they asked me to take care of you if something happened to them.”

Benzo’s voice cracked slightly, but he tried to recover at once. He reached out a hand and touched the boy’s shoulder.

“I used to be friends with your parents, you know?” he said, with a sad smile that faded before it could form. “Everything’s gonna be okay, kid. Really.”

Ekko stumbled toward a corner, unable to keep watching. Tears fell silently, but his whole body shook as if every word grazed an exposed nerve.

His hands rummaged through old tools in Benzo's shop—remains of broken clocks, pieces of metal that cut the skin without him noticing. Breathing was still difficult, but at least he no longer felt like he was going to die that very instant.

“Everything will be okay…” Benzo repeated.

Ekko was gasping, no longer able to ignore him completely. His eyes kept drifting back, and every time they did, he saw himself—so small, so broken—and it felt like his body shattered all over again. He buried his face in his arm for a second, but didn’t allow himself that luxury for long.

Amid a cluster of twisted wires and a dismantled stopwatch casing, something glowed with a soft blue hue. The oscillation core of the Z-drive. Small, dirty, with a slight crack on one of the edges—but functional.

Ekko picked it up with clumsy fingers. He snapped the piece into the Z-drive, and the device vibrated faintly as everything began to dissolve.

He exited the memory screaming. This time, he was already tired of crying. He just wanted to scream.

And he did. He screamed as loud as he could, screamed until his throat felt raw, screamed until his vocal cords stopped responding—and only then was he forced to stop.

He stopped screaming. Stopped seeing. Stopped fighting. Stopped moving. 

Because what was the point of doing it anymore? 

••••

Sarah Fortune’s pistol was still aimed firmly at Vargo’s head.

Her gaze could burn hotter than a live flame. Her lips were pressed tight, her knuckles white from the force with which she gripped the weapon. But Sarah hadn’t fired yet. She stood still. Unyielding. The night wind made her red hair dance, strands clinging to her sweaty and furious face.

Captain Vargo didn’t move. He was staring toward the bow, where the Megatusk was emerging from the water with monstrous slowness. He watched his crew run to their posts, some glancing around in the shadows, completely unaware of what was happening in that corner. The cannons rotated on their mounts, the nets tensed, harpoons lined up one after another. No one had any idea that the captain was seconds away from being executed by the woman standing just behind him.

"Bite Marks" - TEYA

Vargo took a deep breath, eyes locked on the approaching beast.

“For the record...” he murmured in a hoarse voice, “I am sorry about this…”

Sarah didn’t lower the gun. On the contrary, she gripped the handle even tighter. The trigger trembled beneath her finger.

The man, however, didn’t tremble in the slightest.

“Because I truly don’t want to fight you.”

She didn’t even have time to blink before he had already turned.

With his elbow forward, he knocked Sarah’s forearm upward just as she pulled the trigger. The shot rang through the air, lost to the sky. The recoil made Sarah step back, but she didn’t waver. Her other hand was already reaching for the second pistol at her side, but Vargo didn’t let her.

He blocked her arm with his left forearm and delivered a sharp blow to Sarah’s ribs with his right. The impact made her groan, and the weapon dropped from her hand. But she wasn’t an amateur. With a quick kick aimed at Vargo’s knee, she forced him to retreat. He grunted, stumbled slightly, but kept his balance.

The Megatusk rammed into The Stygian Serpent just then. The ship groaned under the impact, and both staggered. One of the smaller masts tilted dangerously. When an inhuman roar erupted from the monster’s maw, the deck filled with screams. Loose ropes whipped through the air like enraged serpents. But Sarah and Vargo were already within their own storm.

She lunged with a knee to the abdomen. He twisted to absorb the impact and responded with an open palm to the jaw. Sarah staggered, a trail of blood running down her lip. She clenched her teeth. She dodged his next attempt to grab her and rolled across the floor, pulling a dagger from her ankle.

Vargo saw it coming and blocked the slash with his steel bracer. The blade screeched, leaving a scratch. Then he caught her wrist, but Sarah used the momentum to spin around and drive her elbow into his collarbone. He let out a grunt but didn’t let go. Instead, he used their proximity to shove her against the nearest mast. The blow left her dazed for a moment.

The Megatusk rammed the hull again. A cannon toppled over, and a crew member fell into the sea, screaming as the monster raised one of its massive fins.

“Sarah, stop!” Vargo yelled, desperate.

“Never again!” she screamed, launching a headbutt.

Vargo staggered back, blood pouring from the bridge of his nose, but he didn’t strike back. He only defended himself, always. Because he knew what was driving her wasn’t madness. He recognized in the woman’s green eyes the same rage he had grown tired of seeing reflected in his own bottles so many times before.

The groans of The Stygian Serpent sounded like the moans of a wounded creature as the Megatusk rammed the hull once more. But Sarah and Vargo no longer heard the chaos behind them. They had jumped.

Their boots slammed hard onto the jagged rocks jutting from the sea beside the ship. Saltwater splashed against their sides, soaking them up to their knees. Vargo barely had time to soften the landing when Sarah was already upon him, blade in hand. She thrust straight at his throat, but he spun and caught her wrist midair.

“Stop it, Sarah! You have no idea what you’re doing!” he roared, gripping her tightly.

“You’re wrong!” she shouted. “I know exactly what I’m doing! I should have killed you a long time ago, you bastard!”

With her free leg, she delivered a kick to his thigh, forcing him to release her. She stepped back twice, panting, eyes blazing with adrenaline. Then, with a swift motion, she drew both pistols and aimed at Vargo’s chest.

She fired. Once, twice, three times.

He dove to the ground, rolling onto his left side, the bullets striking the rock behind him. He got up on one knee, an arm across his face to shield himself from the next attack. Sarah fired again. The captain spun and ran toward a higher formation, climbing with bloodied fingers over a sharp rock. Sweat soaked his brow, but his jaw muscles remained tense. He didn’t want to hurt her. He couldn’t.

Meanwhile, on the ship’s deck, Vargo could hear his own crew fighting the beast.

“To the mouth! Shoot the mouth!” Nahlira shouted, leading the firing line.

Their cannons thundered against the marine colossus. Lani and Sira hurled harpoons in synchronized motion, aiming for the creature’s softest parts: the throat, the eyes, the belly. Jorek, perched on the main mast, unleashed a barrage of explosive darts, while Hullen secured the reinforced nets with hooks, trying to trap one of the Megatusk’s fins. But the monster seemed unbreakable against their weapons. The weapons barely pierced its thick hide or did any damage at all. One sweep of its fin was enough to tear Hullen’s net apart. Sira was dragged backward as she tried to hold onto her spear and fell on her back onto the deck.

“It’s not working!” Sira shouted, her hands bloody. “It’s not penetrating!”

“Nothing is working!” Jorek howled, watching one of his explosives simply fizzle in an instant before bouncing off the Megatusk’s armored skull.

The beast roared. A tentacle emerged from the water, about to lash the side of the ship, but the helmsman made a sharp turn just before the vessel could be struck. Several people fell to the floor from the sudden movement. But no one could stop. Chaos reigned. And their captain was nowhere in sight.

He, instead, was dodging a new burst of gunfire.

Sarah was chasing him through the rocky formations like a whirlwind, leaping from stone to stone. Every time Vargo took cover behind a rock, she fired. When she finally got within a few steps of him, she lunged with a fierce cry, ramming forward with both pistols.

He deflected the first blow with his forearm. The second struck him on the brow. A trickle of blood ran down his cheekbone, but he didn’t stop. He grabbed her wrists and tried to pin her against an outcrop.

"You’re screwing everything up, Sarah!" he spat, panting. "I’m not who you think I am! I only want what’s best!"

"If you wanted what’s best, you wouldn’t have sent your damn buddy to my mother’s workshop!" she shouted in his face. "And you wouldn’t have made Jinx betray me!"

The mention of that name triggered something violent in Sarah. She shoved him with both legs, making him fall onto his back. She leapt on top of him and punched again, this time landing a blow on his jaw. Vargo tried to block, but one of his arms gave out, and he took the hit fully. His ear rang. The pain knocked the air from his lungs.

She pressed the barrel of her pistol against his neck and pulled the trigger.

Click.

No bullets.

He took advantage of the moment of hesitation and pushed her to the side. They both rolled across the rocks, falling to a lower, damp level. Sarah got up quickly again. She kicked him in the stomach. He dropped to his knees, but still raised his arm and caught her leg, twisting it and making her fall onto her back. He grabbed her wrists with both hands, digging his knee into her thigh to pin her down.

"End this!" he roared.

But Sarah spat blood straight into his face.

"I should’ve blown your head off years ago, you son of a bitch!"

She shoved him with her hips, broke free, and tried to shoot him again with her second pistol. The flash lit up the rock, but Vargo threw himself to the side and rolled down the slope. The shot barely grazed his side.

Adrenaline tightened the muscles in his neck and arms. Sarah dropped down onto him from a higher rock, slamming into him with her shoulders, and they both rolled down the incline until they ended up apart.

The roar of the Megatusk charging once again at The Stygian Serpent made them both turn. Its titanic mass crashed against the hull of the ship, which groaned under each blow. On the deck, Nahlira was hurling blazing blades at the creature’s right eye, which roared with a low vibration. Lani was trying to flank it, climbing a rope to hurl pressure bombs beneath the scales of its neck. Sira and Jorek fired arrows and modified darts, aiming at its hind legs, trying to force it into retreat.

"It’s not reacting!" Sira screamed, watching her arrows break without piercing the beast’s thick hide.

Jorek cursed as one of his grenades simply bounced off, inert, as if it hadn’t even been activated. Nahlira shouted orders, but her eyes were starting to fill with panic. The weapons weren’t responding as they should. One by one, the deadly tools that were supposed to save them were failing.

And Vargo didn’t know it.

He was there, fighting for his life against the fury of the captain of The Red Fortune. Sarah pushed off a ledge with both feet and landed in front of him. She pulled out her pistol and fired at point-blank range. He turned, the bullets grazing his side, tearing through his coat.

In the distance, without Sarah noticing the exact moment, the Fortune Sharks began a bold maneuver: they tossed gunpowder-charged nets into the water, near a series of barrels floating like bait. The Megatusk turned its head. The captain clearly saw her crew’s strategy: lure the monster toward the smell of decaying flesh and the explosions. An effective decoy… but suicidal. Idiots.

But Sarah couldn’t focus on that much longer. She was too busy trying to slit Vargo’s throat. He caught her wrist, twisted her arm, and forced her to drop the knife she was holding in the other hand. She responded with a direct kick to his chest. He staggered back, spitting blood.

And it was at that moment, just as Sarah raised her remaining pistol aiming straight at Vargo’s forehead, that a bloodcurdling scream interrupted them.

They both turned their heads.

“HULLEN!” someone roared from the ship.

There, standing on an elevated platform of The Stygian Serpent, Hullen had tried to fire a harpoon. The projectile whistled… and bounced back. It flew toward him with a strange force and smashed into his own cheek. Blood poured down his face as he screamed uncontrollably, falling to the ground, writhing in pain.

Vargo froze. Confused. Disbelieving. Something was happening with those weapons, that much was clear. Something he didn’t know.

But Sarah did.

An invisible tremor shook her from within. Her pupils dilated, her breathing quickened, a constant ringing filled her ears. Her hands trembled, and her lips parted in a vague attempt to catch her breath. She brought a hand to her chest, her heart pounding like a war drum.

Had Jinx... not betrayed her? Had she kept the deal?

The little air left in her lungs began to escape.

Jinx did it. She kept the deal.

Everything became blurry. Vargo’s face distorted like in a nightmare, the sounds of the battle behind them became muffled echoes. She barely noticed when he broke free from her grip and slipped toward the lower rock formations, fleeing.

Sarah remained there, panting, sweating, her eyes unfocused. Her gaze drifted into the distance… Where she saw something that paralyzed her even more.

The rear hull of The Red Fortune. A section of the left mast… Was now on fire.

And there was Vargo, still moving away.

Sarah looked at him. The desire to kill him burned like a fever. But when she turned her eyes back to the horizon, there was her ship.

Burning, with her crew aboard. Her family, or the closest thing she had to one.

Her eyes filled with tears—slow at first, then unstoppable. A muffled sob escaped her lips as she saw the upper deck of the ship, the same one Jinx had blown up almost just for fun… Now turned into a blackened, flame-wrapped structure.

Jinx hadn’t betrayed her. Jinx wasn’t fighting alongside that crew. She had been with her from the beginning… And to the end. She had stayed with the same crew that Sarah had abandoned just moments before… and that now burned without a captain on board to help them.

She clenched her fists. Her mind was a storm. Her chest ached from screaming inwardly. She looked again at The Stygian Serpent. The crew of that ship painted a picture of defeat almost as devastating as that of her own crew.

Jinx had done it. Jinx had never betrayed her.

As she looked once more at The Red Fortune in the distance, she knew she had to make a decision. Even if it was too late. A decision that split her in two, but she didn’t hesitate any longer.

She took a step back, then another, and jumped. The water received her as cold as her own soul. She swam with all her strength, with everything she had left.

From his ship, Vargo stopped for a moment. He saw her. Saw how Sarah swam away, heading toward her ship, her people, while he ran, wounded, to assist his own crew. And to find out what the hell was happening with those weapons.

Until a sound caught his attention. A sharp, wet growl coming from the side of The Stygian Serpent’s hull. A sound clearly coming from sea creatures.

Of course. The waters were alive, infested. And the Megatusk was nowhere near the only monster prowling that night.

Vargo let out a dry, bitter laugh.

“We’re fucked,” he muttered.

And he was right. Because now, besides being in the middle of the sea with weapons that no longer worked… They weren’t alone.

••••

"Unlike Me (Acapella)" - Kate Havnevik

The water was getting closer to the platform where Jinx knelt, but at that moment, it no longer mattered.

"It's okay," whispered a calm voice. Perhaps too calm for what Jinx’s life had been.

She lifted her gaze, eyes red and misty with tears.

Felicia, her face aglow with that soft light, wore the same smile she had used to lull her to sleep as a child. Her eyes shone with tenderness, not a hint of judgment, no reproach—the kind Jinx had grown used to expecting just to lessen the blow when they inevitably came. Only love.

"Mom..." She gasped.

"It's okay now, sweetheart," Felicia repeated. "Mama's here with you."

And Jinx couldn’t bear it any longer. She couldn’t hold it back anymore, not there, not with her. She completely broke down. She threw herself against her mother’s chest like a lost child who had finally found her way back home. She clutched Felicia’s torso tightly, with her good hand and the other still bleeding, ignoring the pain. She buried her face in that warm embrace and began to cry hard, like never before. She cried for everything she hadn't had time to cry since she lost it all—though the day it had begun was no longer a precise moment. Not exactly. She’d started losing everything the moment she existed. The rests from that pain had just been illusions of impossible happiness, of an impossible world, inevitably collapsing before her eyes. A world that, in the end, wasn’t made for everyone. And definitely not for people like her.

And Felicia held her. As if she’d always been there. As if the water couldn’t take them, not them—even though the water had taken them long ago.

Jinx’s body trembled uncontrollably, shaken by pain and fear. Her mother’s caresses were slow, steady, so light that at times they barely seemed real—but they were. Every stroke of her fingers on Jinx’s back, every time she gently brushed the wet strands from her face, brought a little warmth back to a soul far too broken to rise again.

"It hurts..." Jinx murmured, barely a whisper between her gasps. "It hurts so much..."

Felicia placed a hand over her daughter’s, the one clutching the wound, and covered it gently.

"I know, sweetheart... I know," she replied softly. "Mama is here."

Despite the desperation still tightening Jinx’s chest, the sound of the water crashing against the metal structures felt distant compared to Felicia’s murmuring voice.

"It hurts..." she repeated through sobs. "Everything hurts, mama..."

Felicia held her a little tighter, resting her cheek on Jinx’s head. Then she began to hum a melody. One that Jinx recognized, though she thought it had been forgotten and buried in the fragments of her mind she preferred not to look at. That old lullaby her mother used to sing when she couldn’t sleep. Jinx felt her bruised, trampled heart find a small corner of relief in that voice. She tried to imagine there was no yesterday or tomorrow, no before or after. She tried to imagine there was time to cry—even in a world that could shatter you without warning if you dared to stop and do so.

"I don't know if I can..." she said suddenly, her voice a mere thread. "I don't know if I can get them out... I don't know if I'm gonna be able to—"

Felicia kissed her head, still caressing her.

"It's okay," she whispered. "Everything's fine. You don't have to worry about us. Not anymore. We're gonna be fine."

The water was already beginning to reach the structure they were in. And Jinx, seeing how Felicia’s skirt began to sink, gave a startled jolt.

"No… no… mama, no," she whispered, alarmed.

Felicia only smiled. One last time. The light in her face began to fade. Her body dissolved into the air like mist in the sun. The hands that had been caressing her became formless warmth.

And suddenly, Jinx was alone again.

As much as she wanted to cry a little longer, she quickly wiped her tears. The water had already reached everyone. The least she could do was try not to let it reach her. Even if she didn’t quite know what for.

With a stifled cry, she pushed herself upward, climbing an old shelf of rusted metal, then a crooked beam hanging from the ceiling. She pressed her back against a column to help her climb a detached panel hanging at an angle, soaked and slippery. The adrenaline muted the pain in her wounded hand momentarily as she climbed higher and higher, searching for safety. She pulled herself onto an old observation platform, nearly at ceiling height, with a railing barely held in place by two bolts.

And across the room, she saw a silhouette she hadn't seen before.

In a partially collapsed ventilation duct was a little girl. Small. Trembling. Her legs hugged to her chest, and her amber eyes opened wide. She seemed to be trying to escape the water, which was rising closer and closer to where she was.

And in that moment, Jinx knew with even greater certainty that the world never warned you before punching you in the face. Because there, in front of her, was Isha.

Instinctively, she looked away. Her stomach churned. She couldn’t see her. No. Not her. Not now. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to erase the image. 

But the girl’s soft, fearful gasps pierced her with more force than any memory or fear ever could. And that voice, so gentle and frightened, was like a spear straight to the heart.

So, slowly, she opened her eyes again. Slowly, frozen with fear to the bone, but she did. And when she did, she found them again.

Those amber eyes, wide as the moon that never shone in the world they had been given. That small face, braver than any thug three times her age. The blue braids still streaked with brown strands. The helmet they had painted together, the one that seemed glued to her head.

"Isha..." she whispered, paralyzed.

The girl looked at her with fear, but Jinx knew it wasn’t fear of her. Never of her. It was of the water. Of the end.

And that was all it took for Jinx to move. That was all it took for her to start getting closer, wishing her little one could give her all that pain. She could take it.

She crawled to the edge of her platform, her chest overflowing, her throat in knots.

"Isha… jump." Her voice broke. "Jump, bunny. I’ll catch you."

The girl barely moved, trembling. Her big eyes stared at her, full of uncertainty.

"I’ll catch you, I promise. I’ll always catch you."

Isha hesitated for a few more seconds, but the rising water left no space or time to doubt. The water was going to touch her. Jinx stepped closer to the edge and stretched out her arms, feeling her body on the verge of falling. Though, honestly, she didn’t give a shit about that at that moment.

"Jump, baby…" she said with a trembling voice. "Jump… I’m here. I’ve got you."

Isha frowned, worried and afraid, but she stood up. Jinx let out a smile, her eyes cloudy. She’d always been that way, always knew how to stand even in the deepest fear.

The girl approached the edge, taking a deep breath. And she jumped.

The air seemed to freeze. Isha flew with arms outstretched, but her jump was short, just barely enough. For a moment, it seemed she would fall. The water rose as if to swallow her. But Jinx’s arms caught her.

The force of the impact shook them both, but Jinx held her with all her strength.

"I got you… I got you… See? I told you I’d catch you," she sobbed hard. "You’re with me. It’s over. It’s over..."

Isha clung to her tightly, trembling.

But the water didn’t stop. It kept rising.

Jinx clenched her teeth. Isha could take her time to cry, but not her, not with the girl in her arms and the water getting closer. Holding the little one to her chest, she climbed through a rusted hatch onto one last elevated structure: an old system of cables and pulleys hanging just below the ceiling. With effort, she pulled herself up onto a narrow panel covered in dust and cobwebs, barely a metal ledge below a blocked vent.

The girl trembled in her arms, her eyes wide with fear, but silent, with those tears that fall without sound, without permission, and without control.

Jinx stroked her back with a trembling hand, while with the other she kept her little body tight against hers. She gently caressed her blue braids, still feeling the salty dampness of that hair they had once dyed together, so many years ago, in another life.

"Shh… it’s okay, love…" Jinx whispered through sobs. "I’m here. I’m with you, okay?"

Isha clung tighter, her little arms around Jinx’s neck. The girl buried her face in her neck and whimpered softly.

"Nothing’s gonna happen to you… Nothing’s gonna get you when I’m here. I promise." Jinx kissed her forehead. "You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay… I got you."

Jinx’s arms wrapped around her like a wall against the world, but when she looked up, she saw something that made her heart beat in hope. Another small metal hatch in the ceiling, covered in dust and rust, barely visible in the shadows. It was a few meters above them—maybe the only way out.

But just as she prepared to move, she felt something. A chilling sensation. She looked down… and saw how the water, now climbing with relentless urgency, had reached Isha’s leg. Where the water touched, the skin disappeared. Slowly. Ruthlessly. Isha’s ankle was dissolving in soft, cruel ripples with every drop that reached her.

"No! No, no, please!" Jinx begged, clutching her to her chest. "Just a little longer, please… just a little longer…"

The water kept rising, climbing the corroded iron steps around them, licking the pipes that hung from the ceiling, devouring time. Jinx felt it cold on her own ankles, but nothing happened. Her body remained. Isha, on the other hand, was vanishing, inch by inch.

Jinx whimpered, torn by the pain. She didn’t know whether to pray, to scream, to keep holding on.

She only knew she would give anything for a little more time. Just a little more.

In her desperation, she looked at the girl in her arms. She remembered, with pain and warmth in her chest, Felicia’s arms around her, her humming voice, and her own body relaxing under the lullaby.

"Isha..." she whispered. "Do you want me to sing you a song? It's one my mom used to sing to me when I was scared… And it always made me feel better..."

The little girl gave a faint nod, rubbing her wet face against her chest. Jinx swallowed hard, taking a deep breath, trying to push away the tremor in her voice just a little longer.

"Zona De Promesas" - Gustavo Cerati & Mercedes Sosa

"Mama knows well,

I lost in the battle..."

The melody floated between, barely broken by her sobs. Water crept up the rusted legs of the structure, beginning to engulf it, reaching the edges of the twisted old iron.

"I want to go back

To kiss her and hug her..."

Jinx closed her eyes as she held Isha tightly. Her hands trembled, her chest rose and fell, but she didn't stop singing, even when her voice broke as much as everything around them, like it once did. 

"It’s not wrong to be mine once again,

Nor to fear the river bleeding and calming

As I tell it my wishes..."

The water had begun to drip onto Isha’s braids. Part of the blue was fading, dissolving with a cruel and merciful slowness. The girl whimpered… and Jinx held her tighter. Just a little longer. 

"It takes time to come

And in the end

In the end, there’s a reward..."

Isha clung to her, fingers digging into the fabric of Jinx’s shirt, trying not to disappear. But she’d already done so long ago. So Jinx tried to keep singing through her own tears. Just a little longer.

"Mama knows well

My sweet, little princess..."

Jinx was openly crying now. The water reached her waist, climbed up the old pillars, soaked the edges of a ruined control panel, and reached the shattered lights.

"Cause when I came back

It all was on fire..."

Then, she cradled Isha with her whole body. Maybe in a vague attempt to keep the water from reaching her, even though both knew it always did, somehow.

"It’s not wrong to dive in once again

Nor to fear the river bleeding, oh, it's fine

I can swim in silence..."

Jinx’s eyes could no longer see clearly. She cried without restraint, her throat burning. But she didn’t stop singing.

"It takes time to come

And in the end

And in the end, there’s a reward..."

The water touched her chest. Nothing. She was still there. But Isha...

She let out a deep sob through trembling lips, pressing Isha against her once more. Then, with trembling gentleness, she laid her down on the corroded metal surface that barely stayed afloat. The girl’s body seemed to weigh almost nothing in her arms. For a moment, Jinx didn’t move; she just looked at her. 

Until she slowly stood up. Through tears and with a broken heart, but she did. 

Lifting her gaze, she saw the hatch in the ceiling again: small, square, metallic, barely visible among the damp shadows. The water kept rising, closer and closer, more and more inevitable.

She reached for her belt, searching for the only weapon she had, and it was still there: the monkey bomb. Still intact.

Her pink eyes looked at Isha once more, and she squeezed them shut. The girl was disappearing beneath the cruelty of the water, the same water that was now beginning to wrap around Jinx. But she didn’t vanish. The water on her skin wasn’t a threat or something swallowing her like it had with the others—just water.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, wishing it didn’t have to be this way. But it did. She was never gonna be able to get them all out.

Only she could touch the water without vanishing. Only she could climb through that hatch.

Only she had to get out of there.

Jinx held the bomb in her trembling hands. The little toy, rusted in places, was almost mocking. It was absurd. It was grotesque. And it was all she had.

Her lips quivered. A sob tore through her chest and the tears began to fall—heavy, burning. She squeezed the bomb in her hands.

"Shit..." she whispered through clenched teeth, squeezing her eyes shut.

She inhaled deeply, very deeply, and wound up the bomb. The small mechanism creaked as it activated. Jinx climbed with effort up a tilted beam until she reached the platform by the hatch. There, she placed the monkey.

The toy began to move.

Clack... clack... clack...

The cymbals started to crash together. Slow. Rhythmic. Familiar.

As the cymbals kept hitting, Jinx climbed down from the platform. She returned to Isha. The girl looked at her with wide eyes. Those eyes. Jinx dropped to her knees and hugged her with every ounce of strength she had left, even what she didn’t.

"My girl..." Jinx cried. "My little girl..."

Isha hugged her too, weakly, but tenderly. She rested her cheek on Jinx’s shoulder, like she had so many times before.

Clack... clack...

Sobs shook her body. She held her even tighter.

"I love you. I love you more than you know, Isha. You’re everything to me. You always will be..."

Clack... clack... clack...

Finally, Jinx pulled away—just a little. She caressed the girl’s face, gently wiped the drops of water from her lashes. She leaned in and kissed her forehead for a long time.

"I will always love you. Always. Mama loves you."

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Jinx knew the sequence by heart. She knew what came next.

So she closed her eyes, savoring the last second with a whisper.

"But I have to get out of here."

Clack.

BOOM.

An explosion shook the structure. The hatch in the ceiling burst open.

And Jinx began to move her arms. Her legs. Her neck. Her torso. Her entire soul. She began to move like never before, not knowing exactly where she would end up, but with the certainty that she had to keep moving. 

Moving, perhaps, toward the surface. Perhaps, toward a world where she would finally be able to breathe again.

••••

The Z-drive still hung over Ekko’s shoulder. Slowly, its blinking began to stabilize, returning to function.

Maybe there was no point of doing this, or doing anything at all anymore. Maybe nothing ever made sense, and he wasn't sure if that would change someday. What he did know was that he was already into this. What he did know was that he couldn't give up now. 

He already gave up once, and it ended up hunting him for the rest of his life. Moving hurt, yes, and staying still while hoping the world would swallow you at some point, was tempting. But he had already lived with the pain of regret over his shoulders before. He knew moving forward could hurt—but he also knew regret could hurt even more. 

Ekko staggered, and furiously wiping his face, didn’t waste another second.

I have to keep going. I have to keep going.

Before him now vibrated another loop. One that had hurt for more years than he wanted to admit.

And even if he wanted to convince himself it was all buried in the graveyard of his mind, it still hurt like it was the first time.

“I don’t wanna be rescued. I’m Jinx now.”

Ekko closed his eyes for a few more seconds. His soul broke into as many pieces as it did that day.

But that never stopped him from moving forward.

As soon as he saw the dim light and smelled the sharp scent of tobacco, he didn’t even need to listen to the loud music thumping from the lower level to know where he was.

He was in The Last Drop. In Silco’s office.

Ekko barely narrowed his eyes, walking past the blue-haired girl and the white-haired boy standing in the middle of the room. He needed to move quickly. This was a moment he definitely didn’t want to stay in any longer—especially since he already knew how it ended.

“We have to go, Powder! There’s no time!” Ekko shouted, yanking her urgently, desperation in his eyes.

“I already told you I’m not going! I don’t wanna be rescued!” she snapped, tearing away from his grip viciously. “I’m Jinx now.”

Ekko felt something collapse inside him. He took two steps back, staggering, as a rough knot began to form in his throat. He shook his head. He didn’t want to see this. Not again. He clenched his teeth, spun on his heels, and started rummaging through drawers, shelves, and furniture.

“You have to come with me! We’ll be safe!” Ekko pleaded, struggling with her. “Please, Powder! I came here to rescue you!”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Jinx roared, her blue eyes blazing with fury.

Ekko clumsily pushed aside a pile of rusted tools and empty bottles. His fingers were bleeding, but he didn’t notice. His hands were trembling, his forehead damp with sweat.

“GET OUT OF HERE, EKKO!” Jinx screamed, her arms shaking. “GO!”

But Ekko didn’t let go. When she saw her struggles were useless, Jinx went blind with rage for an instant. An instant in which her hand landed across Ekko’s face with a ruthless slap.

Ekko covered his mouth with one hand, letting out a sob he couldn’t contain. He turned his head away entirely, no longer able to ignore it. Though Powder—Jinx—couldn’t see his eyes, he could see hers. So lost. So broken.

Almost as broken as his own had looked that day. Ekko wanted to yell at him, wanted to shout that he shouldn’t give up on her, that he’d regret it for the rest of his life—but he knew the scene by heart well enough to know that wasn’t going to happen.

Finally, beneath the blackened desk, he saw a glimmer. The Z-drive’s stability coil. He grabbed it. He could barely hold it.

“Go…” Jinx whispered, as Ekko stood, trembling and sobbing. “Just go.”

And he did.

Ekko slotted the piece into the Z-drive with a definitive click. A wave of energy coursed through him, and the loop dissolved.

He screamed again.

He struck the floor—once, twice, three times. Idiot, useless, stupid. Is that all it takes for you to give up on her?

The Z-drive was still vibrating faintly, its blue light pulsing. But slowly, it began to stabilize, to respond.

Ekko lifted his face toward the cracked ceiling, toward the void itself

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!” he shouted. “I don’t want this! I don’t want this anymore! I just want to fix it! I want to fix it!”

His voice hung in the air, shattered.

Seconds passed. Maybe minutes. Minutes Ekko didn’t have—never had. Then, he stood up again. His legs were shaky, his eyes burning, but he moved forward.

And when he thought nothing else could break him further, what he heard shattered him a little more.

"You never did know when to walk away."

Ekko clenched his teeth, closed his eyes for a moment, and walked toward it. This time with resolve. With rage boiling in every pore of his body.

Now, he stood in front of Benzo’s shop. The rotting wood and the smell of oil were almost too real, just enough to make everything more painful than it had already been that day. The day his whole world began to fall apart.

In front of him, Vander and Benzo stood firm, though alarmed. They stared at the enforcer’s body lying on the floor, their breaths ragged. The creature, now hidden in the shadows, seemed to be waiting once more for its moment. And from inside the shop, the young Ekko watched everything with wide eyes, fear pounding in his chest.

Ekko clenched his jaw so hard his temple began to ache. Even so, he started searching, even as everything unfolded with a painfully familiar rhythm.

Silco emerged from the mist, walking with an unsettling calm. Vander’s eyes went wide, his face pale, too stunned to speak. But Benzo did.

"Silco? You animal…" Benzo spat with rage, walking toward him with an iron baton in hand. "Go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of!"

Ekko took a step back, heart racing. He knew what was coming. He wanted to look away, wanted to run. But he couldn’t. There was nowhere to run. Not until he found what he was looking for.

Silco smiled, the kind of smile that never meant anything good.

And Vander noticed.

"Benzo, stay back!"

"You never did know when to walk away," Silco muttered.

He had to find the piece. He had to hold on. He started searching desperately through the corroded walls of the shop, through old boxes, rusty tools, and useless engines. Sweat ran down his forehead, mixing with the tears already pooling on his cheeks.

Don’t listen. Don’t listen, he repeated in his head as his hands clumsily sifted through scraps.

But he heard it.

"Wait!"

But there was no time left for warnings. The beast lunged at Benzo, splattering blood all across the floor.

"NO!"

Vander’s desperate scream tore through the air, and the small Ekko, there in the shadow of the shop, dropped a piece of metal he was holding, paralyzed.

And Ekko himself broke, too. He fell to his knees among boxes and gears, clutching his face with both hands.

"Benzo...!" he sobbed hoarsely. Broken.

His stomach churned so hard he thought he might throw up.

Silco stared at the bloodstained floor without even blinking.

"Mhm. Stubborn to the end."

While Ekko still sobbed on his knees, hugging himself, he saw something just beneath the counter. The destination modulator. The piece he had been looking for. He crawled to it with trembling hands and picked it up carefully, still shaking from his own sobs. He fit it into the Z-drive as quickly as he could.

The world vibrated around him, and in the blink of an eye, he was expelled from the loop.

He hit the floor with a groan, gasping as if he had been running for hours. The pain in his chest was unbearable. He screamed, rolled among the debris, pounding the ground with his fists.

"I don’t want this anymore! No more! I just want to fix it! I just want to fix it! I don’t need to see this!"

The Z-drive pulsed slowly, coming back to life. Only two pieces were missing. Just two. But he could barely stand.

And he didn’t even have to to hear the voice coming from the next loop.

"The tree is dying. It’s over."

Ekko shook his head, his face soaked in tears.

"No... I can’t... I can’t..."

He hugged his knees, trying to go somewhere else, anywhere but here. Anywhere the memories didn’t hurt so much.

"Let it end..." he whispered. "Please, just let it end already..."

But the Z-drive glowed a little brighter. And he looked at it a little more closely.

The artifact had been a useless piece just minutes ago, incapable of doing anything at all. And now... it was working. Awakening. Thanks to pieces he had found. That he had hidden, that he had cried over, again and again.

Nothing was in vain. Nothing had ever been in vain. The pieces he had found weren’t just useless cries of despair. They were there to build something new. To bring the Z-drive back to life.

They were part of the puzzle. A puzzle whose isolated pieces were nothing but painful cracks, but that together could form something that maybe wasn’t entirely lost.

He wiped his face with the dirty sleeve of his shirt. Took a deep breath. Stood up, though his legs still trembled.

"The tree is dying. It’s over."

And, hearing those words once more, spoken in his own voice, he entered the second-to-last loop.

The image before him became clear. It was the clearing of the Firelights’ sanctuary, though it no longer had the warm glow it once held. Several roots were dried, cracked like burnt branches. The once green leaves had a grayish tone, and the ground, usually covered in wildflowers, was stained with purple streaks.

In front of the tree, the Firelights were gathered with somber faces.

"Have you seen it?" asked a tall boy with copper hair, his voice barely steady. "The west wing is completely dry. Not even the bugs go near it anymore."

"And the trunk..." added a slim girl with her arm in a cast. "It has cracks that weren’t there yesterday. Like something’s... eating it from the inside."

Ekko was there, back straight, dark circles sunken in, his face hard as stone. In that moment, he looked even older than he was. He listened in silence, jaw clenched.

"We can’t give up yet," said another Firelight, voice trembling with hope. "Maybe if we try pruning the dead zones... if we dig around and remove the contaminated sections..."

"It’s no use," Ekko interrupted, dry. "There are no healthy roots left. There’s nothing left to save. The tree is dying. It’s over. It’s just a matter of time. The sooner you accept it, the better."

Everyone stared at him in silence, holding back tears, though Ekko didn’t shed a single one. No one replied. Ekko turned his back and walked away.

Ekko watched from the shadows of a corner. His breathing had finally calmed, but that didn’t stop the sharp pain in his chest as he watched what was happening before him. He walked among the illusory remains of the sanctuary, rummaging through boxes, through hollow roots that made him shed a few tears when he touched them.

Far from everyone, curled up between two large roots, he saw the Ekko from that moment. He was hunched over, arms wrapped around his knees, crying silently. Just as he himself had done so many times. Without making a sound. Without even taking a deep breath. Just trembling. Alone. 

Ekko felt something inside him break without shattering.

"Don’t be alone," he whispered, taking a step toward him, though he knew the boy couldn’t see him. "Go back to them. They need you... you need them. Don’t do this, idiot..."

Of course, that Ekko didn’t respond. He remained there, unmoving. And Ekko could only think of how much he wished he had let himself be held by them in that moment, if only for a little while.

Under a half-buried stone between roots, Ekko saw the bluish glow he had been looking for. The anchor focus. He knelt, moved the stone aside, and held it tightly between his fingers as he fit it into the Z-drive’s mechanism.

Everything around him shattered, and this time he didn’t want to look away. He gave himself one last glance with tearful eyes, before the same alley rose before him once again.

The Z-drive, hanging from his shoulder, pulsed with growing intensity. Its light wasn’t stable—not yet—but it was beating again. Only one piece was missing. One.

Ekko raised his head, his face damp and stained. He heard it. The last one.

"Vi? Mylo? Claggor? Is anyone there?"

He swallowed. Bit the inside of his cheek so hard a metallic taste filled his mouth.

The phrase came again, clearer, more insistent.

"Vi? Mylo? Claggor?"

The Z-drive glowed even brighter. Ekko stood still for a moment, staring at his trembling reflection in the machine’s glass. He no longer saw a lost child. Not the same one who screamed in desperation in that loop. He saw someone who had endured. Someone whose memories weren’t useless.

He took a deep breath. Wiped his tears, stood up, and took a step toward the last loop.

"Vi? Mylo? Claggor? Is anyone there?"

He barely heard it. That voice. His voice. A frail, high-pitched voice of a child who still didn’t understand the irreversibility of what he had just lived through.

The scene unfolded with brutal clarity: the abandoned factory, blackened by soot, devoured by rust. Little Ekko stumbled among the wreckage of a disaster that had happened just the day before. The disaster that had changed everyone’s lives forever.

"Vi?" he called. "Mylo? Claggor?"

Ekko watched him with glassy eyes. He couldn’t look away. The child ran among the charred fragments of a collapsed wall, jumped over a mound of bent beams and shards of broken glass, searching, searching through ruins for something he knew he wouldn’t find.

"Vander! Powder? Where are you?"

Ekko clung to a corroded column, crying silently. He didn’t want to escape. Now, he wanted to look until the end.

He began searching for the last piece without averting his gaze. He knew it would be somewhere in a corner of the memory, just like in the previous ones. His fingers searched under metal sheets, lifted rusted cans, moved loose gears as the scene continued, unmoved, ahead.

"No, no, no, no..." Little Ekko let out a heartbreaking whimper.

Ekko lifted his head. The child had stopped in front of two bodies. Mylo. Claggor. He stared at them, not understanding, shaking them clumsily, desperately.

"No! No, no, no, no!"

Tears streamed down little Ekko’s cheeks uncontrollably.

Ekko clenched his fists, beginning to cry his own tears. He watched as he rummaged through a pile of scattered parts.

But he paused for a moment to approach the child. Because he knew all too well what came next.

"You couldn’t have done anything," Ekko said aloud, trembling. "You couldn’t have stopped it."

The child crawled between the bodies, got up on unsteady legs, kept walking, choking on his sobs.

"Vi? Powder? Is anyone…?"

The echo of his voice broke. He walked toward the center of the factory, where the roof had collapsed and the polluted Zaun sky peeked through. There he stopped, spinning in place, gasping.

"Is anyone alive?"

Silence.

After a few seconds, the child dropped to his knees. He screamed. Pounded the ground with his fists, with blind fury. With a fury he had no idea would stay with him for all the years ahead.

He screamed again. Kicked shards of glass, punched whatever he could find with clumsy fists. Kept screaming, growling through tears, enraged. Always enraged.

Ekko couldn’t take it anymore. Not when he knew exactly what was going through the child’s mind.

"You couldn’t have done anything!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "It wasn’t in your hands! No one knew! No one!"

But the child couldn’t hear him. He just cried. Furious. Alone.

Ekko kept sobbing, shaking, trembling, almost forgetting completely that time was running out. Almost.

His hands, still trembling, moved aside some panels from an old valve, and there, deep inside a cracked structure, the cycle emitter glowed. The last piece. He took it. Held it in his hands for a moment, then brought them to the Z-drive.

Carefully, he fitted the piece. The structure emitted a low hum.

Ekko knew he had no more than a few seconds. So he made the most of them.

He took one more step toward the child, who was still crying on the blackened floor. He knelt in front of him. Watched him for a second, trying to find his own broken voice. Almost as broken as the silhouette in front of him.

"You couldn’t have done anything… It was out of your hands."

One last tear fell.

And the loop collapsed. Everything vanished with a sigh.

Ekko reappeared in the heart of Zaun, in that same alley full of shadows where everything had begun. The hum of the Z-drive’s living energy buzzed in his ears, and his chest heaved under the adrenaline flooding his body. The temporal bubble in front of him trembled with unbearable intensity, its final cracks forming. It was only a matter of seconds before it shattered completely.

Without hesitation, Ekko pulled the Z-drive’s cord with all his strength.

Almost at the same instant, the explosion shook the air. Distortion waves spiraled along the alley walls, and Ekko was flung backward—not in body, but in time. He returned to the same initial position: standing in the shadows, with the alley’s entrance twisting in on itself.

He looked around, disoriented. The explosion had happened anyway. The same sounds repeated like an old scratched record. The figures trapped between sparks screamed, laughed, died. Nothing seemed to obey the temporal fracture of the Z-drive… Except himself. Ekko squinted, swallowed hard, and stepped forward.

He pulled the cord again.

Another jolt. This time he returned to the same spot in Zaun where he had been a few seconds ago. But the explosion was still there. The loops still trapped people, and Ekko was the only one moving. The only one changing.

His breathing became frantic. His body trembled.

“I’ve already done everything!” he shouted at Zaun’s opaque sky. “It was supposed to work! Everyone was supposed to be okay!”

He pulled the cord again.

And again, nothing changed… except his own position. Everything around him kept progressing beyond the Z-drive’s control.

Tears blurred his vision as he activated the device once more. Over and over. The same result.

Except that… it wasn’t. Not entirely. 

It wasn’t the same. He had changed. He had moved.

Ekko stood completely still, eyes wide. His heart pounded violently in his chest, but paradoxically, his breathing began to steady and deepen. He brought his hand gently toward the cord, no longer in the same urgency as before.

His own figure receded, but everything around him continued to move according to its own laws and fates. Smoke still spread, figures still ran within their loops.

It didn’t matter how many times he repeated the cycle. It didn’t matter how many times he fixed the Z-drive or how precisely he pulled the cord. None of that would change what was happening. The device couldn’t control everyone’s fates. Only his own. He couldn’t save them all. Only himself.

Only himself.

The sob that followed was silent, devastating. Ekko didn’t scream this time. He simply let the tears fall down his face, watching how the echoes of the people he loved repeated senselessly. How everything happened with nothing he could do to stop it, how everything slipped from his hands… Except himself.

Would their own loops break? he wondered. Could any of those people save themselves? Escape? The more he thought, the clearer the answer became.

He didn’t know it. It wasn’t in his hands.

The only thing that was, was pulling himself out of there.

He wiped his tears away fiercely. Inhaled deeply. His trembling fingers found the Z-drive’s knob. He turned it, slowly, all the way to its limit. Just before the beginning. Just before everything started.

He gripped the cord tightly. Took one last, deep breath, letting Zaun’s polluted air fill his lungs.

A single destiny in the universe was completely under his control. Only one.

And then, with resolve, he gave the chain one final pull.

••••

When Jinx opened her eyes again, confusion was the first thing that hit her. Then, a heavy ache spreaded through her whole body, different from the kind she was feeling just seconds ago. She instinctively looked at her wounded hand… Which was now healed, as if she'd never gotten hurt in the first place. Her clothes, her hair, soaking wet just a moment ago, were now dry. 

Was it… Over? Was this real? 

But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Just a few seconds later, the thunderous sounds of the place around her screamed one instinct: run.

And she ran. She ran at full speed, panting, dodging rusted iron columns and thick pipes dripping with a dark, viscous liquid. With every stride, the wood creaked under her boots with an unsettling familiarity. She noticed it quickly: the walls were reinforced with dented metal plates, some covered in old nets and some in new ones, still wet and reeking of salt. The smells didn’t lie—tar, wet rope, and that piercing stench of fish and rum. She was in a ship’s hold, that was for sure. But… Which one?

The lamps hanging from the ceiling swayed with the ship’s movement, which kept tilting at dangerous angles. She didn’t recognize the structure, nor the markings on the walls, nor the large barrels chained next to crates bearing symbols she couldn’t decipher. The floor was wet, and in some spots, she slipped before continuing to run, even though the ship shook worse than a drunk in a tavern brawl.

From the deck, the sounds struck her ears: human voices, torn by fear, rage, or both. Screams, broken orders, desperate curses. But also growls. Not human. Sounds that made the walls vibrate: wet roars, likely coming from a monstrous throat. She heard the thunder of claws against wood. Then, high-pitched screeches.

Jinx kept running, not knowing where to, just that she had to move. Every muscle ached with a dull but insistent throb. Her body was heavy again, the pain and numbness hitting her not like an illusion, but like something real. The walls and structures around her no longer seemed like a nightmare’s creation. She felt awake. More awake than ever.

Whatever all of that had been, that ship, it was definitely different from where she was now. This was real, and she knew it with absolute certainty now. Even though she hadn’t missed the weight in her body, something inside her felt incredibly light in a way she had never experienced before.

Turning a corner, between two columns supporting a low ceiling full of pipes, she saw a familiar silhouette. And she exhaled with relief and desperation before running toward it.

“Ekko!”

He turned his head sharply. His eyes found hers and, without thinking, they both ran toward each other. They stopped so close they nearly stumbled, breathing hard. They gave each other a quick hug.

“Where the fuck are we?” Jinx asked, looking around with wide eyes. “Is this real?”

“We’re on Vargo’s ship,” Ekko replied, frowning. “But this place is a fucking maze.”

Another crash shook the hull, and both of them jumped. An inhuman scream, a mix of fury and hunger, echoed from the upper level. Something hit the deck so hard the beams groaned.

“What the hell was that?” She burst out. “I wasn’t here. A few seconds ago… I wasn’t here.”

“Me neither. I have no idea what happened,” He said, shaking his head. “I just… Appeared.”

She stared at him, seeing into his brown eyes, into that exhausted but somehow relieved expression, in a way she had only seen a few times.

“Something… Happened to you too… Right?”

Ekko lowered his gaze slightly, then nodded.

“Yeah. I don’t know… What exactly… But it looks like it’s over. Whatever it was.”

She kept looking at him for a few seconds. Then she gently took his arm and caressed it with her fingers, never taking her eyes off him.

“Are you okay?”

Ekko hesitated a moment, maybe expecting the question to trigger some internal alarm. But it didn’t. Surprisingly, it didn’t.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

As he said it, he knew it was true.

He brought a hand to her face carefully, brushing aside a blue strand that had slipped in front of her eye and tucking it behind her ear. He stroked her cheek with his knuckles.

“And you?”

“Yeah,” Jinx said without hesitation.

And her answer also sounded strangely genuine.

They looked at each other for a few seconds. They didn’t move. They didn’t speak. They just stared into the only eyes in the world that made them feel like everything was gonna be alright.

Until another brutal crash shook the structure. Something was still crawling up there.

Ekko reacted first, grabbing Jinx’s hand firmly.

“We need to get out of here. If this thing collapses… We’re screwed.”

She nodded and squeezed his hand tightly, already running by his side.

The pounding of the wood intensified as they began to run through the labyrinthine halls of The Stygian Serpent’s lower decks. The floor vibrated with each roar from above, and small clouds of dust rained from the ceiling whenever a structure trembled above their heads. The floorboards creaked beneath their feet, some cracked, others held together by rusted nails.

“You lead the way!” Jinx shouted between gasps, dodging a fallen beam. “Apparently, Captain Ekko knows this ship better than I do.”

Without stopping, Ekko gave her a cocky grin

“You know, I think I’d make a hell of a captain.”

A side structure in the hallway collapsed right in front of them, a mix of wood and ropes falling inches from their faces. They both jumped to the side, holding hands even tighter.

“I’m not so sure,” she said with breathless laughter. “You’d definitely distract your whole crew.”

He let out a low chuckle, squeezing Jinx’s fingers with his own.

“And how exactly would I distract them?”

Just then, a second crash shook the hold. The floor vibrated and Jinx lost her balance. She stumbled forward and fell against Ekko’s chest, who caught her firmly before she could hit the ground, and instinctively, she clutched his biceps. But her fingers, instead of letting go once she regained her balance, stayed right there, stroking and gripping the muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. Damn, she could get lost in those curves all day and night, and having that bastard dangerously close to her face now, smiling in satisfaction, was not helping her clear her mind at all.

“With your… Dynamic textures,” Jinx said, still touching him. “Tell me, who could possibly focus?”

Another section of the ceiling collapsed, and Ekko had no time to answer. He dodged the falling structure with a sideways leap, spinning and pressing Jinx against the wall, shielding her with his body as debris crashed down beside them. Their faces hadn’t separated in the slightest. Ekko’s eyes boldly scanned her entire body, unaware of when one of his hands had ended up resting on her waist.

"You’re one to talk," he said, still staring at her.

Jinx responded with a smile that, far from innocent, seemed almost hungry. A plank fell from an upper level, and she reacted with shimmer reflexes, twisting her body and covering Ekko with her own this time. He ended up pinned against the wall as Jinx pressed herself against him, dodging the fragments still raining down near their heads. Their eyes didn’t part, nor did their bodies. She stared at him intensely, then dropped her gaze to his lips, not bothering to be subtle at all. She bit her lower lip, her heartbeat roaring in her chest.

“Fuck, Ekko… If we weren’t about to die, I swear…”

But another crash interrupted her. The sound of a rope snapping, a distant scream, the screech of a sea beast shaking the hull. Ekko, somewhere between frustrated and nervous, looked at her and let out a snort.

“But we are.”

They started running again, without letting go of each other’s hand. 

“Why can’t a girl just be horny in peace?!” Jinx shouted at the sky she couldn’t see, and Ekko laughed loudly, the sound mixing with another crash.

They passed a storage room where barrels of marine essence spilled across the floor, releasing a thick mist that burned their eyes. Further ahead, they crossed a section where the gears of a motor shook as if something from the sea were trying to tear them out from the depths. There were twisted metal columns, ropes dangling from the ceiling, an old armory with burst-open crates, and even an improvised altar to Nagakabouros.

Finally, at the end of a slanted corridor, they glimpsed a half-closed iron hatch. From there, beams of flickering light filtered through, mixed with the sound of absolute chaos reigning on the deck. Roars, gunfire, and shouted orders.

Ekko and Jinx paused for a second in front of the hatch. They were both sweating, bodies tense with fear and adrenaline. Jinx was the first to reach out toward the iron.

The hatch creaked with a rusty sound under her fingers. Apparently, they were in a dark storage room beneath the deck, dimly lit by a lantern. Jinx wrestled with the lever, already ready to leave.

“Wait!” He said, grabbing her arm. “Don’t open it yet. Something’s attacking up there.”

“Yeah, no shit,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But at least up on deck, there are boats to save our asses if everything goes to shit.”

Then Jinx frowned, leaning her ear closer to the hatch. The first thing she heard was that same wet, high-pitched roar. Then a dull thud against the wood and a flurry of shouted orders from the deck.

“Hold the line! Aim for the mouth, not the scales!”

“Oh, shit…” Jinx muttered. She moved to the wall to listen better. “I know what they are. Slaughter Eels.”

“Slaughter... What?”

“Slaughter Eels. They swarm like they’ve got a hive mind, but they just follow sound. They hang off the sides of ships and spit slime until they’re tired or someone dies. Pure grossness with teeth.”

Another roar shook the hatch, and the storage room vibrated.

“That was starboard side,” Ekko said.

“Or what was left of it.”

“And the crew sounds like they’re losing to a pissed-off seafood platter.”

“We can’t stay down here forever,” Jinx said as she turned her wrist, checking if her glove still had spare cartridges. It didn’t. “Stupid, right? We came to hunt a Megatusk, and now we’re gonna die like bait, covered in slime.”

“How tough are Slaughter Eels?” Ekko asked, crouching beside some crates. “Like ‘run away screaming’ tough or ‘half an hour of screaming and guts everywhere’ tough?”

“More like ‘make noise and shoot a lot, and maybe they’ll go away’ tough.” Jinx paused and ran a hand through her bang, huffing in frustration. “With the tiny detail that this crew’s weapons don’t work.”

Ekko stared at her, eyes narrowing.

“Why? How do you know they don’t work?”

“Because I made them,” she groaned.

He squinted even more.

“Since when does a weapon you made not kill things?”

“Since someone paid me to make sure they didn’t.”

Ekko sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Let me guess... Your captain?”

“She thought she was doing the right thing, okay!?” She snapped, massaging her temple, trying to think fast.

“Uh-huh, sure. How noble,” he mocked, scanning the room with his eyes.

Another creak shook the floor, and some tools fell off a shelf. Ekko stepped back and looked around more carefully. Jinx did the same.

The materials at hand weren’t promising. Old mechs, barrels of locust tree resin, nets with hooks, copper tubes, gears, broken valves, rusty hooks, and more junk. Oh, and rum. Lots of rum.

And just when Ekko’s eyes lit up with an idea and locked on Jinx, they both knew they were thinking the same thing. Any junk could become wonders with a little bit of genius… And madness.

They both quickly launched into working with whatever pieces they could find.

“What do you know about Slaughter Eels?” Ekko asked, starting to wrap a piece of wire around two connected hooks.

“They’re ugly,” she replied, jamming a gear into what she hoped might work as an improvised crossbow.

“I figured that.”

“And they are damn fast out of the water. They slide more smoothly than the market thieves. But if they smell gunpowder or hear explosions… They go wild.”

They both looked up, pausing their work, and stared at each other for a second before smiling with excitement.

“We know what to do, then.”

Ekko began gathering tubes, resin, and greasy scraps of cloth.

"If we make a sound trap, like a rhythm generator with the valves, we can lure them to a single spot."

"And make that spot explode?"

"Exactly," Ekko said, winking at her.

"What if we fill the tubes with grappling hooks and launch them from the top hatch like shrapnel?"

He nodded, smiling.

"Yes! And what if we use the weighted nets to catch...?"

"...The ones left hanging from the masts? Yes!" She replied, eyes shining.

Ekko turned to her, pointing a finger, excited.

"What if instead of lighting the rum bottles, we stick fuses into the dynamites and catapult them onto the deck?"

"No." Jinx turned to him with wide eyes, shooting him a glare. "That would kill us too, wacko."

He clicked his tongue and made her a face while finishing adjusting a few pieces.

"Since when are you so boring?"

"Since when are you so suicidal?" She mocked while scanning the very unorthodox design of her ‘crossbow.’

He moved toward one of the shelves behind Jinx to grab another hook, though it was really just an excuse to get closer to her and flash a smug smile.

"Since when are you so pretty?"

"Eh, I was born this way," she answered with a shrug and a little grin, leaning a bit closer to his face.

He stepped back with the hook in hand, fitting it with the other parts until everything snapped together with a satisfying ‘click.’ Ekko looked at her again, still smiling.

"Exactly."

A new tremor shook the floor. From the hatch above, clearer voices rang out, along with more orders shouted in vain.

Jinx sprang upright.

"Well... This could go incredibly wrong."

"Or incredibly right," Ekko replied, strapping one of the hook-filled tubes to his arm.

She shrugged.

"Either one works for us."

She grabbed the rum bottles with the improvised fuses. Ekko loaded the weapons on his back, and together they climbed up to the hatch, ready to launch onto the deck.

"On my count," he said softly, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

Jinx nodded.

"Three..." Ekko whispered.

She swallowed hard and held her breath.

"Two..."

Ekko kicked the hatch open, letting the chaos outside spill into the storage room. Jinx's eyes went wide as she started to climb, scrunching up her nose.

"You were supposed to say one, asshole!"

••••

The deck trembled with each blow. And with every new tremor, Captain Vargo became a little more convinced that they were screwed.

The creaking of old wood, soaked in water and blood, mingled with the growls of the creatures and the screams of a crew that, despite everything, refused to go down without a fight.

The captain plunged his curved knife—one of the few handheld weapons they could count on—into the soft flesh of a Slaughter Eel that had coiled itself around the starboard mast. The beast shrieked, a high-pitched vibration that pierced the air—and probably a few eardrums. Vargo gritted his teeth as the monster’s viscous slime stained his arms. He kicked the convulsing body and stepped back just in time to avoid another of those vermin lunging at him.

Slaughter Eels were worse than he remembered. Faster than a whip, with scales hard as rusted nails and mouths that looked like a grotesque oceanic mistake, filled with disordered rows of spiral teeth. Their looks weren’t the worst part—it was their cunning. They attacked in groups, moved below deck, emerged from barrels and drains, launched themselves from the masts like they’d lived there all their lives.

He spun hard to throw a flare at a beast crawling up the hull. It did little more than startle it for a second.

A few steps away, Nahlira was trying to cut the head off one that was coiled around her leg. Sira had blood on her eyebrow and kept hitting with the broken barrel of her pistol like it was a club, while Jorek and Lani fought back to back, covering each other with knives, hooks, and a stream of curses. Hullen roared, now with a bandage on his cheek, wielding a broken chain like a whip. But nothing worked the way it should. The plan was falling apart with weapons that were anything but useful.

“Sira! Lani! Aft! Cover Hullen’s back!” Vargo shouted, gasping.

But as soon as he turned, he felt the air shift. A wet hiss surrounded him. He turned just in time to see a creature larger than the others—nearly twice the size—sliding across the floor straight at him. It had a wide-open eye on its forehead and looked at him with something that might’ve been hunger or hatred. Vargo tried to raise his knife, but the beast lunged with a roar that made his skin crawl. It knocked him onto his back, his head slamming hard against the deck.

Everything went blurry in an instant. The monster loomed over him, jaws open like a trap, black drool spilling onto his face.

And then, an explosion of sparks and steel.

A toothed chain flew from some corner, anchored to a metal plate with steaming valves. The creature screeched as the chain wrapped around it and tightened, dragging it toward a container that spun like an improvised sea-hunting trap. The beast flailed in a frenzy, then went still.

"Enemies" - The Score

Vargo blinked, still lying down. A figure climbed down the side of the sail—muddy boots, torn shirt, hair curled by the humidity.

Ekko. That damn genius brat.

The captain ran a hand over his sweaty face with an ironic chuckle. The lunatic was alive. He made it—just in time.

“Look who’s still in one piece,” Vargo said with a grimace.

Ekko extended a hand, panting.

“Were you already getting your hopes up?” Ekko replied, offering his hand. “Though I bet Jinx will be pissed she didn’t get to make the entrance.”

The man let out the breath he’d probably been holding all night, emptying his lungs. Jinx is alive. She made it. 

“I was hoping at least you wouldn’t come through that hatch,” Vargo said, accepting the hand with a grunt.

Ekko helped him up, gripping him firmly as they dodged a new burst of flying scales.

“In a crew, we look after our own, right?” He said. “Technically, I’m still part of yours.”

The captain spat blood onto the floor and shot him a sideways glance.

“And since when do you follow rules?”

“I don’t,” Ekko replied with a half-smile. “But... I’m a man of word too.”

A roar made them turn.

At the other end of the deck, a creature lunged at Hullen—and just then, Jinx came sprinting across the cabin roof with her latest makeshift invention: a modified crossbow with loose springs and reinforced copper bolts that ignited in flames before firing. She leapt onto the mast, spun in the air, and fired a bolt straight through the monster’s throat before it touched Hullen. She landed next to Vargo and Ekko, already aiming at another creature that approached.

“Hey there!” She shouted, lighting a new bolt. “Glad to see you two are getting along… As weird as that is. But mind giving me a hand?”

Ekko rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle.

Vargo straightened with a grunt, his shoulder bleeding from a claw gash and his hands still gripping the broken anchor he’d used as a mace. Around him, the bodies of his crewmates stirred sluggishly, trying to rise among torn sails and useless harpoons.

Ekko turned to the captain.

“You get the rest out! To the hold or somewhere they can’t get hurt! Jinx and I will handle these bugs!”

“Have you gone absolutely insa—?!”

“You’re hurt, you can barely lift that anchor, and your people won’t last another minute without help. Do what you do best, Vargo: keep them alive. Leave the rest to us,” Ekko cut in, his gaze steel. And that was it. The man growled, and turned with a huff to drag the wounded crew members below deck.

Jinx slid up next to Ekko with another of her creations in hand; a crossbow armed with serrated blades tied to taut copper wires, attached to a pressure tank that fired short gas bursts to increase power. She pressed her back against Ekko’s, tilting her neck slightly to look over her shoulder.

"So now you’re giving orders to Captain Vargo himself, huh?" She said with a laugh. "Your stubbornness has outgrown your ego—and I thought that wasn’t even humanly possible."

"Still doubting I’d make a good captain?" Ekko shot back without looking, adjusting the bottle he had just stuck to the end of a broken spear, the lighter ready in his other hand.

She pressed her body a little closer to his with a giggle, loading another bolt and blowing open the skull of a creature that lunged over the rail.

"Never doubted it, buster. What I do doubt is whether your future crew will actually look at just your eyes when you give them orders."

He laughed and spun sharply, lighting the flame on his lighter and hurling the spear with all his strength, slicing open the bellies of two Slaughter Eels slithering between the barrels.

"Then I’ll have to make you my captain," he said as he turned, his breath brushing her ear, making her shiver. Jinx shook her head with a giggle, trying to compose herself just before hurling a grenade made of fermented rum, nails, and twine. It exploded with a bang, flinging slippery guts through the air.

“Is that an offer?” Jinx chuckled.

“Nah,” Ekko said, smiling. “It’s a promise.”

And with that, he started running, ready to attack. They sprang apart and threw themselves into the fight on deck with everything they had.

Jinx fired the crossbow, each bolt sparking on impact, searing the creatures’ flesh and drawing screeches from them. One of them leapt at her, slime drool dripping from its fangs, but she threw herself onto her back and fired straight up. The creature burst in a slimy rain.

Ekko vaulted over barrels, swinging a heavy chain wrapped in gunpowder, then dropped it into a bucket of flaming spices that burned like living fire. The next creature that came close swallowed the chain just as he ignited it, and it exploded from the inside with a hellish roar.

A Slaughter Eel coiled around a broken mast and dropped like a spear toward them. Ekko deflected it mid-air with the flat edge of a splintered paddle, and Jinx finished it off with an electrified cable she had swiped from the generator. The shock made the beast convulse until it stopped moving.

The two of them spun, retreated, covered each other, shoved one another, shouted warnings—and laughed like life was nothing but a game. In a blink, Jinx climbed onto Ekko’s shoulders to gain height and hurled a bottle of ignilamp slime, which exploded in a turquoise-blue flash over three creatures climbing up the anchor rope.

Ekko flung her off with a sharp motion, and when she landed in his arms, he gave her a crooked smile.

"You’re gonna snap my neck with those boots."

"But you’ll die a happy man, captain," she replied, tapping his forehead and hopping out of his arms. Her pink eyes sparkled as she launched a bolt that split one of the creatures in two just before it could leap at them.

Ekko let out a sigh he didn’t even try to hide. Fuck, she’s even hotter than I remembered.

"Never said otherwise."

One last creature, much bigger, emerged from the water with a deafening screech. It lunged at Ekko, ramming into him. He rolled to the side, but the beast clipped him, sending him crashing into a pile of nets.

Jinx climbed up its back, jamming one of her explosives into the monster’s spine. She rolled to the ground when the creature tried to hurl her into the water.

"EKKO, NOW!"

From the ground, he lit the end of his spear and hurled it straight at the explosive, triggering it. The blast was so powerful it cracked the deck—and the monster. One half crashed into the ship; the other went overboard.

And then, finally, silence.

Only the distant hum of other crews’ battles remained, and the panting of two lunatics drenched in blood and sea monster slime.

Jinx spat out some slime that had gotten in her mouth with a grimace of disgust and dropped down, exhausted.

"You know, I could get used to this kind of date," she said, trying to catch her breath.

Ekko dropped down next to her, his chest rising and falling.

"If this is a date, I really need to work on my manners," he laughed. "Maybe, I don’t know, not bring murderous creatures next time."

"Where’s the thrill in that?" Jinx elbowed him. "I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t look half as hot on a normal date as you do killing sea monsters."

He turned his head toward her, chuckling.

"I’m pretty sure I’d look twice as hot if I hadn’t gotten distracted."

"Mhmm, and what exactly distracted you?" Jinx replied, scooting a little closer.

"I don’t know," Ekko said with a grin, leaning in a little more, "maybe the hottest, toughest, most beautiful girl I’ve eve—"

"Can someone tell me when the fuck this turned into a brothel in the middle of a butchery?! You think corpses make good romantic decor?!"

They both flinched and pulled apart. In front of them, Captain Vargo was trying to push his way through dismembered Slaughter Eel parts.

Ekko simply raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, but his smile didn’t fade. They both stood up, and she began walking across the deck, heading toward the railings. She heard Vargo snort and start arguing with Ekko, making Jinx let out a chuckle. But before she could listen more closely to the conversation, she stopped hearing the world entirely.

Because her eyes, suddenly, locked onto something on the horizon. And the laugh vanished from her lips.

She placed both hands on the ship’s railing, her knuckles turning pale as the cold of the metal crept up her arms. Less than a hundred meters away, her ship… The Red Fortune… Was burning. Flames climbed the tattered sails, devoured the masts, and wrapped around the figurehead with alarming speed. Around the hull, the water boiled and splashed. Not from the fire. But from something beneath. Something massive.

The damn monster. The Megatusk, attacking The Red Fortune mercilessly

A roar hit her square in the chest, and for a second, Jinx stopped breathing. Sweat ran down her back and her ears began to buzz. She turned sharply, barely stumbling over a half-crushed corpse, and ran toward the side of the ship where the emergency boats were tied. Her hands trembled as she untied the knots with clenched teeth.

“Jinx?” Ekko’s voice reached her. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t leave them,” she said without turning, still trembling. “My crew is there! They’re alive, Ekko!”

“Jinx, wait!” He approached quickly, grabbing the edge of the boat she was preparing. “You can’t go! That monster—”

“I know! Of course I know!” She shouted, finally turning around. Her face was pale. “But I won’t abandon them. I can’t.”

Ekko swallowed hard, hesitating for a second.

“I just… I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said, this time more softly. Almost in a whisper.

“Ekko… I have to go,” she replied, her voice broken but her gaze steady. “I can’t stand here like a coward and watch them sink.”

“Have you lost your mind, Jinx?” Vargo cut in. “That ship is falling to pieces! And you don’t even have weapons!”

“There are weapons on The Red Fortune!” Jinx snapped. “We’ve got harpoons, cannons, trap bombs, marine charge launchers!”

“And if the ship sinks?” The captain interrupted sternly. “Where are you gonna take that whole crew? On your back?”

She froze, half her body inside the boat, a rope in her hands. She clenched her teeth, her jaw trembling from frustration and fear. Then she lowered her gaze, still gripping the rope, but didn’t move.

Ekko huffed. Without another word, he jumped into the boat with her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll do it together,” he said, looking at her closely. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

She looked up at him, and for a moment—just one—the panic gave way to relief. But only for a second. Because the moment her eyes returned to The Red Fortune, the main mast burst in a crack of fire and splinters.

Her pupils shrank.

Jinx turned to Vargo, who was already frowning, anticipating what she was about to say.

“I need to ask you something…” She began, breathing hard. “And you’re not gonna like it.”

••••

"Black Sea" - Natasha Blume

At some point, that ship had managed to become one of the most feared emblems in Bilgewater. At some point, The Red Fortune had been considered invincible. 

But now, it proved to be anything but that. The ship blazed like a lighthouse in the middle of the black ocean, and its crew fought with the last of their strength.

Salazar, wielding a double-shafted runic spear, struggled on the flaming prow while the Megatusk struck with one of its curved tusks, snapping part of the main mast like a fairground toy. The man rolled across the deck, barely dodging a tentacle that slammed down like a whip, splintering the wood inches from his head.

Ronan was in the fallen watchtower, wielding his dark steel crossbow. With bloodied hands, he loaded arrow after arrow, each one infused with the last of their magical marine oils. One of them struck the Megatusk’s left eye, provoking a shriek so sharp it made the already charred sails vibrate. But the monster barely flinched before ramming the hull with its deformed, bony head, caving in one side of the ship.

Among the wreckage, Ivy, covered in soot, leapt with two sharp curved blades. She sliced at the limbs trying to latch onto the railing while shouting orders into the wind, praying for the captain’s return—or even the mercy of a god. Her good leg bled profusely, but she didn’t stop. Malik, from the ruined helm, tried to steer the ship, though it no longer responded. With his twin-bladed sea axe, he repelled an attack that broke the rudder, leaving The Red Fortune adrift.

Darla, dodging flames, clung to a harpoon linked to a cable of pink energy. She launched it at one of the Megatusk’s back plates, but the monster spun violently, lashing the deck with its tail. Lysander, who had been carrying a sea bomb loaded with gunpowder and stealth runes, was flung into a cabin wall. His nose bled, and his arm hung limp, dislocated.

In the middle of the chaos, when hope seemed to sink with the ship, two figures burst through the smoke.

Jinx landed with a leap beside a white-haired boy, both carrying all the weapons they had managed to collect from the deck.

Jinx grabbed her double runic cannon and began firing condensed energy projectiles, hitting the monster’s weak points: the gaps between its plates, the joints of its tentacles. Ekko wielded what appeared to be a resonance spear, seemingly capable of syncing with the creature’s magic. He leapt from plank to plank, dodging each of Megatusk’s charges by mere inches.

“Left side, Jinx!” Ekko shouted, and she rolled to avoid a blow that swept the deck like a whip.

Jinx placed a trap in a barrel of spilled oil. Ekko triggered it from afar with a snap, causing an explosion that engulfed Megatusk’s face in the ship’s own flames. The beast bellowed, truly wounded for the first time. Still, it did not fall.

“We have to get them out of here NOW!” Ekko said, rushing toward the wounded crew members.

They found Salazar first, half-conscious. Jinx dragged him to the boat while Ekko covered the flanks with his spear. Then they helped Ronan, whose trapped leg was mostly shattered when they pulled him from the debris.

Ivy was surrounded by fire. Jinx used a runic frost bomb to clear a path through the flames and carried her out slung over her shoulder. Malik and Lysander were found together, shielding themselves with pieces of mast. Jinx threw a blinding smoke bomb in the beast's face, and Ekko helped them down to the boat.

Darla was the last. Trapped between beams, she screamed in pain. Ekko deflected the strike of one of the monster's secondary jaws with a leap, and together with Jinx, they cut through the wooden wreckage to free her. Then they lowered her down the rope that tied the boat to the ship along with the others.

One by one, the crew members dropped into the boat. Ekko was the last to descend... Or almost.

"Jinx! Get down now!" He shouted from below, as the boat drifted away and the Megatusk kept attacking the wrecked ship.

She stood at the railing, blue hair billowing among the smoke and ashes, her face shadowed. She looked desperately at the boat, then at the deck, then back at the boat.

"The captain!" She shouted. "Sarah's not here, Ekko! I haven’t seen her!"

"The ship’s falling apart! It’s over, Jinx! Get down now!" He insisted, desperate, as part of the mast crashed into the sea with a loud roar and the flames reached the waterline.

Jinx looked one last time at the burning heart of the ship. She took a deep breath, eyes full of tears, staring at the boat. Without thinking much more, she released the rope that tied the boat to the ship.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Ekko shouted.

"Get them to safety! I’ll find Sarah!" Jinx yelled before diving back into the fire-engulfed deck.

"JINX!" He shouted again, trying to climb to the deck, but Salazar, who was in the best shape of the crew, grabbed his arm.

"We have to get the rest away before the damn fire reaches the boat! Then we go back for them!"

As the man began rowing with all his strength, Ekko still shouted a few last desperate cries.

"WAIT! JINX!"

••••

Jinx started running across the collapsing deck, the searing heat burning her skin through the sweat- and soot-soaked clothes.

Flames danced atop the fallen masts, and the smoke tore at her throat with each breath. There was no sign of Sarah on the deck. Only the roar of the monster and the increasingly sharp creaks of the breaking hull.

A fresh blow from the Megatusk rocked the ship. A tentacle slashed through the air and destroyed the port fin, sending flaming splinters everywhere. Jinx covered her face and rolled along the side walkway. She got up immediately, coughing, eyes red from the smoke. The structure of the main cabin collapsed behind her, and she ran without looking back.

"SARAH!" She cried, her voice breaking from the burning. "SARAH, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

She passed through the remains of the navigation room, where nautical charts floated among embers. She leapt over a fallen beam and descended a stairway now missing its handrail, gripping it with trembling hands. The metal burned, and her scorched boots slipped.

The monster roared beneath the hull, the sound vibrating through her bones. A tusk pierced the hull near the bow, tearing it like paper. The impact slammed Jinx into a wall. She crawled, forehead bleeding, and stood up again. She went lower, toward the holds.

The storage decks were chaos. Burning barrels, charred ropes, beams crashing from the ceiling. She finally reached the armory. One wall had collapsed and the lit torches scattered sparks over piles of hunting weapons.

And there, among a mountain of toppled crates and weapons gleaming with various inscriptions, was Sarah Fortune.

She found her on her knees, coughing blood, her face drenched in sweat and ash, trying to carry more weapons than her battered body could handle. Her right arm hung limp and bloody, and a deep gash ran from her collarbone to her chest. She carried a crossbow on her back, a pair of pistols sealed with sea-silver at her waist, and a harpoon she could barely hold.

"Sarah!" Jinx ran toward her, pushing debris aside.

The woman looked up with glassy eyes.

"Get out, Jinx! Get the fuck out of here now!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Jinx grabbed her by the shoulders. "You’re hurt, the ship’s falling apart!"

"I have to stop it!" The captain screamed. "That beast is my responsibility! All of it is! And I left my damn crew to deal with it alone!"

A new roar interrupted the conversation. From above came the sound of the lookout tower collapsing entirely. The main mast crashed onto the deck with a thunderous blast, and the fire surged upward like a wave.

"Sarah, stop! It’s over!" Jinx shouted, desperate. "If we don’t leave now, you’re gonna die! Is that what you want?!"

"YES!"

Jinx froze. The captain’s tears began to flow harder—angry, overwhelmed, defeated.

Sarah looked away, trembling.

"If anyone should go down with this damn ship, it’s me. I screwed everything up. Everything. It’s all my fault."

Hearing those words, Jinx’s chest tightened so hard she felt like she could pass out right there. She clenched her teeth, swallowing hard, futilely trying to dissipate the huge knot forming in her throat. Her lips trembled, exactly as they used to do when she was a kid. And in that moment, she certainly felt like one again. 

She stepped closer, letting the rifle she held fall to the floor. 

When she spoke, it was impossible to tell if the tears clouding her vision and soaking her cheeks were only from the smoke.

"Maybe it is."

The captain barely lifted her head and began to sob louder. Jinx’s own sobs started escaping her mouth, breaking her voice, tearing at her throat and her soul itself.

"And maybe... Maybe you’ll never be able to fix it."

Their crying grew a little louder. Jinx closed her eyes, letting the tears flow as she took a deep breath.

"But that doesn’t mean you should stay here."

Sarah trembled even more.

"That doesn’t mean you deserve this!" Jinx raised her voice urgently, the sound breaking under her own sobs.

"I..."

But she didn’t finish the sentence. The captain let her arms fall limp at her sides, this time to sob silently.

Jinx took a deep breath and approached her. She held her face with both hands, grasped it firmly, and pressed her forehead against hers.

"I’m the captain of this ship too, you know?" She whispered. "And I say I’m not letting you die here."

She barely opened her green eyes—just enough for them to look at each other once more through their tears.

"You have to get out of here, Sarah."

Jinx looked at her for a few more seconds. Until, finally, she felt the woman’s head nod slowly against hers.

Both stood up. Jinx offered a hand and helped her up as the armory ceiling began to give way. The suffocating heat of the fire mixed with the icy cold water starting to rise through the broken hull structures, while the groaning of collapsed metals and splintered wood filled the air like a final lament. The Red Fortune was dying. The two women ran through its burning guts, heading for the deck with the monster still breathing down their necks.

They pushed through the ruined corridors, one behind the other, amid toxic vapors, black smoke, and collapsing structures at every step. Jinx led the way, wielding a sharp spear and clutching her cannon, blindly guiding them through hell.

A roar shook the skeleton of the ship—or what was left of it. From the other side of the hull, the Megatusk charged with its head, piercing a section of the hold with its tusks. Wood, metal, and fire burst outward, and Jinx barely managed to cover herself by rolling beneath a fallen beam. Sarah screamed her name, gasping, a bloodied hand pressed to her broken rib.

"Up there!" Jinx shouted, pointing to the hatch leading to the upper gallery.

They stumbled up a rusty staircase, its steps giving way one by one beneath their feet. Jinx threw a chomper toward the roar, and the explosion made the beast stagger for a few seconds. They took the chance to run through a corridor that was no longer a corridor, but a dismembered path with flames licking its edges and the sea surging from below.

Another charge. The ship tilted violently to the left. Sarah slipped and nearly fell through a crack in the floor, but Jinx grabbed her arm, pulling her close. The momentum slammed Jinx against the wall—the same wall that, a second later, was pierced by two tusks from the other side.

She felt a blunt impact followed immediately by a burning sensation in her abdomen. It was an electric instant—a brutal pressure. Just after, a damp cold rushed through her torso. And then… Nothing. Only deafening noise, the pounding of blood in her ears, and dizziness. She felt something being violently pulled out of her body, and a dull pain lit up in her stomach, but she shoved it out of her mind. There was no time to think. No time to fall.

"Come on, come on!" Jinx shouted as she staggered, not looking back.

They burst onto the half-collapsed deck. The sky was black and the fire made the ocean surface glow in the gloom. Just a few steps away, by the railing, their heavy red coats still lay, the shark embroidered on the back. Sarah pointed at them, gasping, trying to wipe the soot from her eyes.

"Grab it," she said hoarsely. "This is gonna be fucking freezing."

Jinx lunged for the coat without thinking, putting it on quickly while the captain beside her did the same. The sleeves were already soaked, and both of them had trembling hands from the effort and the heat. Jinx could already feel the thick fabric sticking to her torso. But she said nothing.

One last creak thundered beneath them. The Red Fortune split in two. The two women looked at each other one last time, climbed onto the railing, and nodded.

"NOW!"

They both jumped from the ship at the same time.

The impact instantly knocked the air from their lungs. Salt filled their eyes and the monster’s roar sounded even deeper down there. Both broke the surface gasping, swimming desperately.

In the distance, Vargo’s ship took shape through the mist, barely lit by lanterns.

"There!" Jinx shouted, her voice breaking as she swam as best she could. "The crew’s there. We have to go there. They’re waiting for us!"

Sarah didn’t even have time to ask. She simply nodded as the two women began swimming with the last shred of strength they could muster.

••••

The deck of The Stygian Serpent had descended into total chaos. It was hard to tell whether the uproar came mostly from the laments of the wounded from The Red Fortune’s crew, the shouts and arguments of everyone else, or the roars of the abyssal beasts still lurking.

What was certain was that the Fortune Sharks were in panic, unable to find a trace of their captain. Those who could stand leaned against the railing, hoping—probably—for a miracle.

The same miracle Ekko was hoping for, cheeks soaked in tears as he struggled against Vargo’s grip, trying to break free and jump into the water to go after Jinx.

Amid that chaos, the Fortune Sharks felt the closest thing to relief they’d experienced all night. It was Lysander who raised the alarm.

"It's Sarah!"

The uproar was immediate. Shouts, footsteps, ropes descending. The crew of The Red Fortune crowded the deck, expectant. When Sarah stumbled aboard, soaked and bruised, her crew rushed to receive her. But it wasn’t her who caught Ekko’s eye—it was the figure emerging beside her.

Jinx jumped onto the deck, staggering, her coat torn and splattered with water and soot. She walked as if her bones were made of glass, her lips bluish and her fingers trembling with each step. And still, her gaze searched for someone.

"JINX!"

Ekko ran toward her without thinking, his eyes alight. When he reached her, he wrapped both arms around her so tightly he had to restrain himself before breaking her. Jinx barely managed a sigh before she broke down. She sobbed, first silently. Then the tremors overcame her, and her sobs were muffled against the curve of Ekko’s neck.

"Shhh, shhh, I'm here, I'm here..." He murmured again and again, his voice trembling as he buried his nose in her damp hair. "You're here now. I’ve got you. I’ve got you."

She said nothing. She just clung to his shirt with numb fingers, burying her face even deeper into his skin, letting the hot tears slide down her cheeks. Ekko stroked her head with a trembling hand, tangling his fingers in her messy blue hair, not caring about the salt, or the blood, or anything that wasn’t her.

"Don’t do that again, Jinx," he whispered, a knot in his throat. "Don’t disappear like that. Not when… Not when I haven’t even told you everything properly yet."

But Jinx could barely hear or process his words. Her mind was a blur of salt, fire, black water, and the screams on the deck. All she knew... Was that the cold wouldn’t go away. Even with Ekko holding her, even with her body against his, she felt herself growing colder and number with each passing second.

"Ekko... I’m cold."

He tightened the embrace, pulling her closer to his chest. His hands slid along her back, caressing her, and kept moving over her body. He rubbed her arms, her shoulders, carefully tracing her spine down to her waist. Jinx leaned into his touch, trembling harder, feeling the tingling of Ekko’s whispers against her ear.

"It’s okay... You’re safe now. I’m with you. Everything’s gonna be alright..."

His hands moved over the sides of her coat, trying to generate warmth, rubbing every inch of soaked fabric with his palms. Jinx let her body fall more against him, though she couldn’t tell if it was because she needed him more than air or because her knees were starting to give out. Her forehead rested against his collarbone.

Ekko frowned. Her legs felt weaker, more clumsy. Her crying was softer. As the seconds passed, he felt Jinx’s weight growing heavier and heavier in his arms. Her body seemed to go limp in his hold.

Something was wrong.

"Jinx?" He asked softly, still caressing her.

But she didn’t respond.

Ekko felt his heart lurch. Maybe she just needed to rest and regain her strength. Maybe the freezing water had really messed her up, and the best thing he could do was help her warm up as quickly as possible. He slipped a hand under her coat, searching for the warmth of her waist, her back, her skin. He wanted to give her direct heat. To make sure her bones didn’t freeze.

But what he found was wet. Thick. Warm.

His fingers froze.

With his hand still under the coat, he slowly and tremblingly moved it down to her abdomen. When he touched again, he felt blood spill between his fingers. Not seawater. Not mud. Blood. A lot of it.

"Walk Through The Fire" - Klergy

Ekko turned pale instantly. He parted the coat just slightly. And what he saw paralyzed him.

The lower half of Jinx’s coat was soaked in dark crimson.

The panic started as a small, cruel knot in Ekko’s chest, but it grew violently as he saw the scarlet puddle spreading beneath his boots. The blood began to soak the deck... pouring from Jinx’s belly.

He moved her face from his neck quickly, holding it in his hands. Ekko’s trembling fingers brushed the coldness of her skin, and when he lifted her face toward the light, he nearly collapsed from the shock.

Jinx’s eyes were barely open, her lips slightly parted, and her face held almost no color. Her head kept falling forward, unable to support its own weight.

But Ekko didn’t have much time to examine her, as just a second later, her legs gave out completely.

“No, no, no!” he repeated. He caught her as her body collapsed, keeping her from hitting the wood, and gently laid her down on the deck. “Vargo! VARGO, DAMN IT, I NEED HELP HERE!”

He heard fast footsteps behind him immediately.

“Shit!” Vargo’s voice thundered as soon as he saw her. He knelt down beside her without wasting a second. “Bring bandages, boiling water, syringes, anything you can find to seal wounds! And get me the stygian herbs, the black ones!”

Ekko was pressing his hands against the holes in Jinx’s abdomen, desperate to stop the bleeding.

“Hang in there, Jinx, please, baby, listen to me, you’re with me, you understand? You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay…”

Jinx, through breaths that barely left her chest, looked at him with eyes clouded by tears.

“Ekko…” Her lips trembled, and her sobbing intensified. “Please... I don’t wanna die… Please, I don’t wanna die!”

“You’re not going to die!” Ekko shouted, broken by his own crying.

Sarah came running just seconds later. When she saw the figure on the ground, her entire body froze for a moment before she knelt beside her.

“No… No, no, no, no.”

Two worryingly large holes marred the exposed skin of Jinx’s abdomen, from which a tide of blood flowed rapidly. The captain turned pale.

Those damn tusks. 

She took Jinx’s face in her hands roughly, shaking her gently as she saw her eyelids falling.

“Don’t close your eyes! Don’t you dare do this, you fucking crazy bitch! Not now! You don’t die, you hear me?!”

“SARAH! I need clean cloths and alcohol, now!” Vargo roared, never taking his eyes off the wounds. “And something to contain the infection. Fast! In the hold!”

The captain didn’t even bother to protest.

“Salazar, Darla, you heard him! And bring bandages, anything to contain this! Run!”

Sarah turned her gaze back to Jinx.

“Listen to me, listen, okay? Breathe with me. Stay awake. Just breathe, like we did before, remember?”

The woman took a slow breath through her nose, and then exhaled. Jinx watched her with teary eyes and, with difficulty, imitated her.

“Good. Again.”

She inhaled. Exhaled. Jinx imitated her.

Ekko kept applying pressure to Jinx’s abdomen, feeling the blood soak his fingers, feeling how her whole body trembled uncontrollably. For the first time in his life, he prayed for the shimmer to do something, to keep her there. But no amount of shimmer in her body seemed capable of containing those wounds. 

“Please, stay here Jinx, just breathe. You can do it. Keep breathing.”

Thunder rumbled all around, screams, explosions, and screeches of sea creatures filled the air. The Megatusk emerged once more from the black waters, ramming one of the nearby ships. Its tusks pierced the hull, splitting it in two. Some sailors threw nets loaded with phosphorescent light to distract it. Others fired cannons in different directions.

“Damn it, someone distract it more!” Vargo shouted. “Use bait, flares, whatever you’ve got!”

Jinx was crying, too weak to lift her head.

“I don’t want to… I don’t want to…”

“Don’t do this, don’t do this, please!” Ekko took her face in his hands again, caressed her cheek, her soaked hair. Vargo and Sarah took over applying pressure while Ekko embraced her. “Pow Pow, please. You can’t go. I love you, do you hear me? I’ve always loved you, and I’m not letting you go. I never did. I'm not doing it now.”

“Ekko?”

He squeezed her small hand with his, as tears streamed uncontrollably from his eyes.

“Tell me.”

“Can you hold me tighter?”

Ekko sobbed harder and wrapped his whole body around her, shielding her from the wind, the water, the cold. From the world.

Why wasn't that fucking anomaly doing something? Why had it saved his ass so many times back in the Mount, and now was letting her die? What kind of sick joke was that? It needed both. It couldn't let her die… Right? 

“Help is coming. You’re gonna live, I swear it.”

Salazar returned with black bandages, thick needles, thread, and a jar of greenish liquid. Vargo wiped the sweat from his brow and got to work.

Sarah pressed harder on her wounds.

“Don’t you dare pass out, goddamn it! You owe me a whole round of rum and a story about how the hell you blew up my ship’s bridge without killing us all.”

Jinx barely smiled. Barely.

The Megatusk emerged again in the distance, but this time, a group of barges lured it away with concentrated fire from another direction.

The blood wouldn't stop flowing. The makeshift bandage Vargo had applied was soaked, useless. Sarah now held a small bottle of alcohol with trembling fingers, but she couldn't even open it.

In Ekko's arms, Jinx's eyes began to close. He trembled even more and shook her.

"No, no, no! Come on, come on, Powder! Jinx, please!" Ekko sobbed. "You can't go now. I haven't taught you how to fly yet. We haven't even looked at the stars together. I haven't even shown you my ship!"

She barely blinked. Her head lolled to one side, so light she couldn't even hold it up. Her chest rose and fell faintly, slowly. Ekko caressed her face desperately, pushing her blue bang back, leaving small kisses on her forehead as his tears fell onto her pale skin.

"Don't fall asleep. Stay with me, please, please, please."

Vargo clenched his teeth tightly. His hands looked the steadiest despite the tremor running through his body. He pulled an old syringe from the arsenal Salazar had brought, containing an experimental antidote they used to counteract sea creature’s venom, and without hesitation, injected it into Jinx's arm. Nothing. No change. Not even a shiver.

"Come on, girl..." He murmured. "If anyone can survive this, it's you."

Nothing. Not the slightest movement. The captain lifted his head toward the sky for a second, his tear-filled eyes shined under the flare lights.

"Shit! Take me if you want someone, but not her! Not her, damn it!"

"Bring more bandages, crystals, oils, anything!" Sarah roared to her crew through tears. "Bring even the damn ropes if they'll help keep her here!"

The man tore what was left of his jacket to use it as a pressure pad. Ekko placed Jinx’s head on his lap and rested his forehead against hers, sobbing uncontrollably. Sarah held her hand, but Jinx no longer reacted.

"Wake up, you idiot!" She screamed through tears. "Wake up right now!"

At that moment, the Megatusk emerged directly toward The Stygian Serpent. One of its side jaws struck the rail, splintering it. The ship shook violently. Some crew members screamed, others responded by firing electric nets that bounced off the monster’s thick hide. Ivy threw the last of her forge bombs, which exploded in the water, momentarily luring the Megatusk away.

But nothing stopped the colossus. It kept coming. Again and again.

Sarah's clouded green eyes swept across the deck for a second, trying to find something, anything, that could help them. 

And she did. But when she saw it, she froze.

Amid the chaos, her gaze landed on something small rolling across the tilted deck. A blue bottle. The Tenacious Blue. The one she thought had sunk with The Red Fortune… But now it was right before her eyes.

Her last resort. To hunt the beast and end this once and for all with everyone safe… Or to make Jinx’s heart beat again.

The monster thrashed in the air. And there, in the middle of the waves, its blind spot was revealed. Right behind the secondary dorsal fin, where the lower vents briefly opened before each charge. A single shot with the Tenacious Blue there, and the beast would stop.

She could inject it now. She could end all of this. Kill it. Win.

But when she looked down, Jinx had lost all color. Her mouth no longer moved. But even unconscious, her chest still rose and fell. A faint, almost imperceptible movement—but it was there.

And as the captain felt something inside her break, her mind screamed a single question.

What now, Sarah?

Notes:

I am fully prepared to be burned alive. I can’t believe I had the audacity to write “a little bit of angst” at the beginning. HA.

For the record, I was holding all your hands while you read that ending.

If you enjoyed the chapter, remember I always really appreciate comments with your thoughts!! And if you have any questions, feel free to ask. I’ll be replying to everyone here, and if you want to reach out via twitter, you can find me as @jinxedbypow.

With love,
Juli ♥️

Chapter 11: "The Great Hunt: Part 2"

Summary:

The most dangerous night in Bilgewater comes to an end.

Notes:

Hi guys!! I'm back after the evil cliffhanger in chapter 10. I have to say, the threats I've received have been very creative and I'm still laughing at them. But don't worry, I'm sure you'll like this chapter.

This chapter was supposed to be posted yesterday, but I had a heart attack when I saw the Worlds Collide MV and the timebomb kiss fried my brain. I love my babies so much. We're so getting that spin-off.

Without further ado, enjoy the read ♥️

Sarah Fortune was not someone who missed the details. She never had been. She’d learned far too early that mistakes didn’t always arrive with a warning. Sometimes, it was just a glance gone astray, a poorly chosen word, an action that seemed trivial… And everything could change forever.

The night she lost everything didn’t start with a cannon blast. It started with silence. With trust misplaced. And when she opened her eyes, the world she had known no longer existed.

Since then, she had lived to correct. To anticipate. To destroy every possibility of error before it could even sprout. She had learned to shoot before they spoke. To kill before they hesitated. And, above all, to manage damage before damage even existed.

She had seen her home burn. She had seen her mother collapse in fire and blood. She had seen Gangplank rob her even the chance to mourn.

And she had also seen herself rise. With hands still stained, with a shattered face, but standing. She had seen herself take back what was hers, even if that “something” could no longer breathe, let alone rise from its ashes.

Because if she couldn’t bring the dead back, at least she could claim the only thing she still had: her pride.

And she had done it. With gunpowder. With blood. With every ship sunk. With every head blown apart.

Miss Fortune, they said. The deadly bounty hunter. The relentless captain.

But at that moment, Sarah was none of those things. She was just a woman, trembling among the splinters, staring at a damn bottle with the certainty that, for the first time in a long while, she had no fucking idea what she was doing—let alone what she was going to do next.

It was just a bottle. A damn bottle of Tenacious Blue. Small, insignificant. It was hard to believe that inside that container could rest either her salvation… Or the greatest regret of her life.

The bottle gleamed with an almost mocking blue amid the grime and blood. A spark of pure power, capable of slowing the Megatusk and taking it down once and for all.

If she took it, if she used it against the monster, she could return to the bay with its head on a spike. She could stand tall with an absolute victory. She could look at all those bastards who had underestimated her and spit in their faces with the gesture alone.

But… Could she look at herself?

Could she look in the mirror and feel that pride she longed for so desperately?

Could she feel anything but a disgusting, heavy shame if that choice meant losing Jinx?

Because Jinx was still in the arms of the white-haired boy, her skin smeared with blood and soot, her chest barely rising and falling in an invisible rhythm. Unconscious. Deathly pale. But alive. Still alive.

He held her as if there was still something to be done, as if, in some inexplicable way, time itself could undo the inevitable. And Vargo… That foul-mouthed, rough bastard… Was crying. With clenched teeth, useless hands, cursing through sobs as he tried to help with something not even all his strength could fix.

Sarah clenched her teeth. Her breathing was fast.

No. It wasn’t fair. She had planned every detail. And still… Everything was going to shit.

And this time, the one to blame was her. Not Gangplank. Not a traitor. Not chance.

Her.

And, honestly, she wasn’t sure which scenario she preferred.

The tears wouldn’t come. Not because it didn’t hurt, but because she no longer had the luxury of crying. Because if she did, she wouldn’t be able to move. Her eyes were still fixed on the bottle. She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.

She thought of the girl she once was.

The girl who dragged herself through the alleys alone, skin burned and bullet holes in her torso. The girl who slept holding herself because no one else would. The girl Gangplank had destroyed, humiliated, crushed until there was nothing left but a shell.

And then she thought of Jinx. Of the strange way that unhinged girl had of making no one feel like a freak around her. Of the countless nights spent talking about sea adventures that often felt like empty stories—until Sarah had someone to tell them to. Of the times the lunatic had saved her ass and the entire crew’s, even though she insisted on seeing herself as nothing but a curse.

Jinx, who had seen her bleed and didn’t run. Jinx, with whom she didn’t have to be Miss Fortune. With whom she could simply be Sarah.

Was everything she could gain worth the price of everything she could lose?

Deep down, Sarah already knew. But only now, with life shaking her in the middle of a wrecked ship and a monster roaring from the abyss, was the truth staring her in the face.

And she had nowhere left to run.

The thought made her feel the blood pounding in her ears like a death drum while her eyes burned with rage and despair. But that wasn’t all she felt. It wasn’t a sound or a movement. It was a presence. A gaze stabbing into the back of her neck.

Sarah turned, and she saw him.

Captain Vargo, soaked to the bone, was watching her. His jaw was tight, eyelids narrowed, and his eyes—for the first time since she’d known him—didn’t drip violence or contempt. They were wet, but not with seawater.

Sarah barely breathed. She was still trembling, her hands stained with Jinx’s blood, and it only took that one second of shared glance for everything to become clear.

Vargo lowered his eyes. Not toward the chaos or the tusks of the creatures rising from the sea. He lowered them to the same bottle she had been staring at seconds earlier. The bottle of Tenacious Blue. That potion whose qualities were well known to any veteran pirate of those waters—including the very man standing before Sarah, the one she’d tried to kill with her own hands not long ago.

And when Vargo raised his eyes to hers again, she thought her senses were betraying her. Because she never thought she’d live to see that expression on that bastard’s face. Captain Vargo’s eyes screamed just one thing.

Please.

She clenched her teeth. Felt her lip split from the pressure. Until, in the midst of that storm, clarity struck her like a lightning bolt.

To hell with it. You’re not dying.

She turned toward the boy holding Jinx with a desperate fury.

"You!"

And he turned to her, just as—if not more—desperate.

"Keep her alive! Do whatever it takes, but don’t let her go! Just give her a few seconds! I just need a few fucking seconds!"

He raised his gaze, eyes glassy. He was about to say something, but didn’t have the time.

Sarah stood up and cocked her pistols.

"No one in my crew dies on me. Especially not her."

The Megatusk’s roar thundered across the deck. A membranous limb slammed down nearby, sweeping away shattered cannons and torn sails. The other creatures weren’t far behind—a Craskmanta, with blackened skin and blade-like wings, circled above with high-pitched screeches, while a Tide Serpent slithered across the ropes and rigging.

Captain Vargo was on his feet in two seconds. And when he met the redhead’s gaze once more, he wiped a hand quickly across his forehead.

"Fuck my miserable life, Fortune," he growled, slinging a harpoon launcher over his shoulder, its cord stained and frayed. He wasn’t even sure it would work. But it didn’t matter. Nothing else did.

She ducked a plank flying straight at them, scanning the path toward the Tenacious Blue at the same time. Before they realized it, Captain Vargo and Captain Miss Fortune stood shoulder to shoulder, ready to charge.

"If she dies, I’ll smash your teeth in with the butt of this pistol," Sarah said through gritted teeth.

"If she dies, I’ll bury you alive with her corpse," the man replied, grabbing a spear off the deck.

"You don’t have the guts."

"I don’t have the time. That’s different."

Sarah clicked her tongue, gripping her pistols tighter. Vargo picked up a jagged bowie knife in his other hand.

"Port deck?" she asked.

"Too crowded. Go portside. Use the broken mast as cover."

"I’ll take the mouth, you take the tentacles."

"Deal."

They started running. Together. 

"Ekko!" Vargo bellowed over the Megatusk’s roar. "Get a syringe ready! And make sure she’s still breathing!"

Ekko lifted his head, panting, hands pressing down on Jinx’s chest, unsure if he was trying to revive her or keep himself from falling apart. He looked at Vargo. Then at Sarah. Then at the bottle.

He didn’t know if that thing was a solution or just a desperate hope. But if hope was all he had left, he would cling to it with everything he had—if it meant not losing Jinx. Not ever again.

• •••

Amid showers of splinters, blood, and saltwater, two shadows—never before seen in the same picture in Bilgewater—moved across the deck of The Stygian Serpent, refusing to surrender without trying everything first.

Sarah, drenched in sweat, spun around while firing her pistols at the scaly back of a sea serpent attempting to climb over the rail. Beside her, Captain Vargo, with a bowie knife in one hand and a chain of anchors in the other, brought down a crustacean the size of a barrel.

"Left! Now!" Sarah shouted, pushing him with her shoulder as a tentacle slammed into one of the masts.

"Dammit, Fortune! Give me a heads-up before you throw me into a dance!" Vargo spat, sliding across the tilted deck, driving his knife into the base of a tentacle trying to drag a deckhand away.

Behind them, crew members from both ships were too busy staying alive to notice what the captains were doing. Nahlira and Sira were shouting orders to their crew while trying to coordinate a synchronized attack on a pair of Slaughter Eels. On the other side of the deck, Salazar, Ivy, and Ronan were firing incendiary tinder rounds while the rest of the Fortune Sharks—those who could still stand—wielded their smoking hand cannons. No one had time to fall.

The great beast gave no quarter. Its trunk swept the deck as its massive tusks tore chunks from the very air. The monster’s eyes were fixed on the crew; its back, covered in spears, gave it only the faintest appearance of being wounded. But Sarah’s and Vargo’s eyes were on something else: the bottle of Tenacious Blue, trapped among the splinters of a shattered crate, right in the most unstable part of the deck.

"I see it! Cover me!" Sarah shouted.

"Move! Now!" Vargo roared, spinning around to block the advance of a lamprey-like creature slithering down the rigging.

They both moved forward. Sarah ducked under a spiny tendril that whipped past her like a lash; she rolled across the splintered planks and fired into the open gullet of a scaled predator leaping from a broken barrel. Vargo was shielding himself with an improvised shield—a metal hatch lid with welded nails—and using the chain as a whipping anchor.

A giant claw fell from the ocean sky with brutal speed. Vargo saw it coming.

"Back!" he shouted, shoving Sarah aside and placing himself directly under the impact. The blow sent him flying several meters, crashing into the mainmast with a sickening crunch. The bottle bounced toward the edge of the deck, sliding along a crack.

Still gasping for breath, Sarah ran, her boots sliding over the wet wood, and dove to her knees, stretching out her arm. She caught it just before the sea could claim its prize.

"I got it! I got it!"

But a slippery beast, with razor-sharp tentacles and bone jaws, blocked her path. It leapt at Sarah from a torn sail, jaws wide and suckers glowing red-hot. The redhead couldn't get up in time.

But a spark did arrive in time.

A flash cut through the air. A spear with an impact grenade at its tip embedded itself in the monster’s skull. The creature’s body exploded and sizzled across the deck.

From the other side, she saw Ekko. He was holding a deathly pale Jinx with one hand and the launcher responsible for the attack with the other.

"HERE!" he shouted, his voice raw. "THROW IT, NOW!"

Sarah didn’t hesitate. She pivoted on her wounded heel, bleeding from the calf, and with a dry motion hurled the bottle spinning through the air. She watched it fly, barely missing the jaws of the Megatusk.

Ekko stretched his body as far as he could. His free hand caught the bottle mid-air, with no room for error. Without thinking, without shaking, he broke the seal with his teeth, filled the syringe with trembling fingers, and drove it into Jinx’s chest without hesitation.

The injection hissed as it entered. The Tenacious Blue bubbled inside her fragile body like a living current. Jinx didn’t move.

Her body, barely contained within Ekko’s trembling arms, stopped twitching. Her convulsions ceased, her chest no longer rose or fell. Ekko stopped hearing the screams, the monsters’ roars, the cannon fire. Everything vanished. Only she remained. As always.

"No... no, no..." He murmured, voice breaking, his breath increasingly ragged.

His eyes overflowed. Tears streamed down his cheeks in rivers, beyond his control. His chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside.

His world was collapsing.

He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to hers, the empty syringe still in his hand.

"Come on, Jinx... please... please..."

Then, a sound. Barely there. A whisper turned into a miracle.

And a desperate gasp of air escaped Jinx’s lips. Her body arched slightly, like a spring recoiling. She coughed hard—rough, irregular, wet coughs. Her chest began moving again, slowly, but steadily. Her face, little by little, began to regain color.

"JINX!" Ekko dropped the syringe and cupped her face in both hands. "Jinx... Jinx, look at me... look at me… say something, anything, please, please, please ." 

His voice was a ragged thread between sobs, and his thumbs gently stroked her cheeks, stained with dry blood and salt.

Jinx’s eyes, barely open, searched for him as if swimming through a thick fog. Several seconds passed until her breathing found a steady rhythm.

Until a faint, crooked smile formed on her cracked lips.

"Why the funeral face, boy savior?"

Ekko let out a laugh between tears, a broken chuckle from the deepest part of his chest. He leaned in and hugged her tightly, with fierce tenderness, still trembling.

"You’re alive... You’re alive..."

"I… Am?" Jinx frowned, her face buried in his chest. The whole world was spinning for her. 

"You did it, baby... You did it..." He stroked her hair gently, still giggling.

"Years together and you still think you’ll get rid of me that easily, huh?" She laughed against his chest.

Ekko laughed again, unable to help it. He ran his clumsy hands through her hair, soaked in sweat and blood.

"You’re an idiot. And a moron."

Jinx looked at him, her eyes still heavy, but bright.

"Well, in none of the places I’ve lived was I known for being cautious..." She said with a weak chuckle. Then she brought a hand to her abdomen, feeling surprised. The skin was still blood-stained, but healed. "Oh... Wow. No guts hanging out."

"Do you feel okay?"

"I feel amazing," she replied, standing up before Ekko could stop her. "What was in that thing, huh?"

"Tenacious Blue potion," Vargo answered, who appeared beside them, staggering, with an open wound on his arm and red eyes from exertion and crying.

She looked at him and smiled.

"Never thought I’d live long enough to see you cry."

"And you’ll live many years more as long as I’m still breathing, girl," he replied, stepping closer, cupping her head in his hands and planting a long kiss on her forehead. "You gave us a hell of a scare, lunatic."

Sarah arrived behind him, panting, covered in blood and salt. Her eyes were soaked with tears, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

“And you…” Jinx crossed her arms, stepping closer to the captain, who was still trembling. “After all the heads you’ve chopped off, I expected a monster wouldn’t—”

Sarah’s arms wrapped around her, cutting her off mid-sentence. Jinx could barely breathe in her grip, but she quickly returned the hug, stroking her back as the captain’s silent sobs still shook her shoulders.

“I don’t give a shit about that monster…” Sarah whispered.

Jinx let out a small smile, resting her chin on the woman’s shoulder.

“Easy, Captain. I just beat death and you’re already trying to choke me,” she laughed, pulling back with a little giggle as she caught her breath outside the tight embrace.

As she pulled away, Ekko wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her sit down with the other. She, wobbling, rolled her eyes and stretched her arms.

“I don’t wanna sit. I’m fine, really. Look,” she lifted a leg, “I could even dance if I had to.”

“You’re not dancing, airhead,” Ekko yelled, not letting go of her for a second. “No dancing, no running, no jumping onto any ship, into the water, or onto the back of another sea beast for at least the next five years.”

Jinx squinted, leaning closer to him.

“And is kissing allowed or is that also on the dangerous activities list?”

Ekko looked at her, blinking, and narrowed his eyes too. Then, he pointed a finger at her.

“You’re evil.”

“Uh-huh."

“And you’re not getting anything until you feel better.”

“But—!”

“No buts, Pow.”

In front of them, Sarah and Vargo had already launched into the fray against the packs of sea beasts still trying to ram the deck. Jinx, eyes gleaming, stood up again.

“But I’m more than ready to kill anything that breathes water and has more teeth than neurons!” She flailed her arms, looking for her cannon, but found nothing nearby, so she just raised her fists. “Come on, where are those chunks of ceviche?!”

Before she could dive headfirst into whatever moved, Ekko grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her back toward him.

“No! You’re staying here, with me! If there’s anything harder than fighting sea monsters, it’s keeping you alive!”

Jinx clicked her tongue, turning her head toward him.

“Was that flirting or a threat? ‘Cause I can live with both.”

At that moment, Vargo dodged a tail swipe from a creature with suction-covered claws, firing point-blank as he spun to cover another attack.

“Good luck with her, boy!” he shouted without turning. “Tenacious Blue has side effects!”

Ekko looked at her more closely, panic invading him again. He held her face with both hands as she laughed, his fingers trembling slightly. He turned her a bit toward the light of the nearest fire and examined her in detail: her skin, though pale as always, looked alive again. Her lips were regaining some color. Her pupils were dilated, yes, but aside from that, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“What side effects?” He asked, still inspecting her with shaky hands and a furrowed brow. “Jinx, do you feel okay?”

She burst into laughter, grabbing Ekko’s cheeks firmly.

“Okay? I feel amazing, pretty boy. I could dance with a leviathan and kick its spine out from the inside, and I’d still have time to drag you to my workshop and fuc—”

“Watch it, idiots!”

Sarah blocked another attack from a sea dragon that rose portside directly toward them. She rolled across the deck and stood with her pistols ready. While firing twice, she looked at Ekko with raised eyebrows, rolling her eyes.

“ Those side effects, genius.”

He furrowed his brow. But then, he brought a hand to the bridge of his nose, sighing.

Great. Just what we needed.

The Megatusk emerged starboard, raising a wave that swept part of the deck. Ekko and Vargo had to duck, while Jinx squeezed Ekko’s hand tightly.

“Tell me this isn’t more fun than wannabe street thugs!” she shouted.

“Jorek!” Vargo yelled while shooting a creature trying to sneak up the mast ropes. “Close the east hatch! And set that swarm on fire before they climb up!”

“Got it, Captain!” Jorek was already turning the helm as the side cannons roared with hot powder.

“We have to get out of here!” Ekko shouted, shooting toward the eyes of a beast climbing over the rail. The creature recoiled slightly, blinded.

“I’m with you on that, believe me!” Vargo shoved him aside and cut a rope that dropped a spiked net onto one of the smaller creatures. “But we can’t go to the bay or any nearby coastal zone!”

“What?! Why not?!” Ekko turned, blocking Jinx as she tried to vault over the edge of the railing.

“Because every corner of Bilgewater is full of bait and decoys thrown by hunters!” Vargo growled. “They’re all luring monsters here! The whole coast is a trap!”

Ekko gritted his teeth and growled, ducking as another creature leapt onto the deck and was blasted by a side cannon.

“Then let’s head for open waters! As far from here as possible!”

Sarah rolled in from the aft tower, shooting and yelling toward Ekko and Vargo.

“You can’t hunt in open waters, dumbass! The Port Guard could execute us on the spot!”

“You think I want to hunt!?” Ekko responded, on the verge of losing it. “I want to think! Save her! Save us!”

Jinx tried to run toward the edge again, but Ekko intercepted her with his arm, stopping her. She let out a huff.

“I wasn’t gonna jump! I’m not that crazy!”

“I’d rather not risk losing you in the dumbest possible way, you know?”

“Sheesh, at least buy me a drink first!” Jinx shouted, pointing at the Megatusk. “That one looks like he wants a shot with me!”

“WE’RE GOING TO OPEN WATERS!” Vargo shouted loudly. “JOREK! SET COURSE SOUTH, AWAY FROM THE BEASTS! GET THE DAMN STYGIAN SERPENT OUT OF THIS MASSACRE!”

Jorek turned the helm sharply and the rear engines roared with steam and hydraulic pressure. The sails unfurled into the wind, catching every gust with tension. The Stygian Serpent trembled as it turned in a violent maneuver, leaving behind the infested waters of Bilgewater. The creatures roared behind, some chasing for a few meters, others staying back, drawn to new explosions, new bait.

And as both crews moved away from danger aboard the ship, each one of them became a little more convinced that they were all completely screwed.

••••

"If she's not a traitor, then I'm a fucking merman!" Ronan shouted, pointing a trembling finger at Jinx, who was sitting on the floor humming ‘boom goes Miss J.’

"If you were a merman, at least you would’ve saved the crew from seeing the light!" Jinx yelled back. "Oh, wait… That was me , you mass of rancid testicles!"

"Enough!" Salazar growled, looking at Ekko, who was standing with his tongue bitten so hard it was about to bleed. "If J had wanted to sabotage us, she would've done it in a smarter way, not with the dumbest thing I've ever seen across all the seas! She jumped off our ship for that idiot, can't you see that!?"

"That idiot?" Ekko repeated, raising an eyebrow, letting out a chuckle. But his smile faded as he began walking slowly toward Salazar. "Say that one more time ."

"ENOUGH!" Ivy yelled, stepping between them. "J came back—"

"It's Jinx, my dear Sharks!" Jinx interrupted from the floor. "You’ve already seen my soul from the inside, so at least call me by name! Though, actually, it was my guts, but—"

"Jinx came back to save us! Again! If she were a traitor, she would’ve let us sink with The Red Fortune!"

"Besides," Darla added, "the lunatic doesn't do anything she doesn’t want to. She blows your head off first. Right, darling?"

"Uh-huh!" Jinx answered, raising both arms. "I only jump and drown for love, for my weapons… and for Ekko’s abs."

"Thanks, Jinx," Ekko muttered, massaging his temples, letting out a sigh.

"What the fuck do we do now?!" Hullen interrupted. "We’re in infested waters, with weapons that can’t even hunt sardines, and on top of that, we’ve got guests who scream more than they help!"

"Who's a guest here, huh?" said Malik, stepping forward. "Did you save us or lead us into a trap?"

"Oh, sure!" Sira snapped, rolling her eyes. "Because risking our lives to haul you onboard was part of some suicide plan, right?"

"They could’ve thrown us overboard!" Lysander cut in. "But they didn’t. So let’s not be idiots. Let’s just get the hell out of here alive!"

"We’re already idiots for not having a single damn functional weapon," Nahlira growled, kicking an empty crate. "Not even the grenades go off! What’s wrong with them?! The captain said they were the best!"

"And they are," Vargo grunted. "But…"

"You said she was the maker, didn’t you?" Nahlira continued, on the verge of exploding, pointing at Jinx. "Then let her explain."

Ekko immediately felt a chill run down his spine, and when he turned to Jinx, he could see she was lucid enough to be scared too. He shot her a sharp look, urging her to speak.

Some of the Fortune Sharks swallowed hard. If they hadn’t been thrown into the sea yet, learning about a planned sabotage was definitely a good reason to be.

"Look, I don’t expect you to understand how even a toy gun works," Jinx began in a trembling voice, looking at Nahlira. "But when you handle runes, something can always go wrong. Especially if—"

"It was me."

Everyone turned their heads suddenly. Leaning against a railing, Miss Fortune raised her voice for the first time since they had started sailing away from the coast. All eyes were on her.

"I saw Jinx had Vargo’s arsenal ready, and since she sometimes comes back dead drunk and doesn’t lock her door, I snuck into her workshop the night before to make sure they’d fail. She sleeps like a corpse after a few bottles."

For a second, Jinx felt a lump in her throat and forgot any stupidity her brain had to offer in that moment. She turned her head toward Sarah, who was staring at the floor with her jaw clenched. The stares kept stabbing into the back of the captain’s neck, especially the furious eyes of the crew from The Stygian Serpent. But the woman didn’t care.

Instead, she lifted her head before speaking again.

"So yeah. It was me, and only me. If you’ve got a problem with that, then take it up with me. Not my crew."

Jinx’s pink eyes remained fixed on Sarah, so wide she was sure they could pop out of her face. At that moment, the redhead turned slightly toward her.

"I’m sorry, Jinx."

And from that angle, where no one else could see her, Sarah gave her a curve of her lips and a quick wink of her eye. It was subtle, but just obvious enough that no one except Jinx would catch it.

Except Ekko. And he really, really wished he hadn’t.

Because that was enough to trigger an alarm inside him, dragging him into a line of thought that made his chest ache for a moment.

Jinx was important to that woman, and he could see that Jinx cared about her too. But now… he wasn’t so sure that was all there was to it. He wasn’t sure there wasn’t, maybe, something more between them. Honestly, he couldn’t blame either of them if it was just flirting. But what if…?

Ekko forced himself to push the thought away immediately. It wasn’t the time to think about painful things. And the mere suspicion that Jinx could love someone else that way, even if it brought her the happiness he so desperately wanted to see on her face… was more pain than he could bear.

It was time to focus.

"You. Fucking. Bitch." Nahlira growled through clenched teeth.

Before anyone could stop her, she launched herself at Sarah with her fists raised.

Chaos erupted on the deck. The fight broke out immediately as Sarah didn’t hesitate to defend herself from the girl’s attacks. Soon, fists and slaps flew through the air while a few brave ones tried to get close to separate them.

Jinx let out a laugh.

"Get her, Sarah!"

"I'm gonna cut your fucking throat, asshole!" Nahlira screamed, as Sira grabbed her around the waist, trying to restrain her. "I'm gonna decorate this ship’s sails with your fucking blood!"

"Oh, so you can make them red like mine, you jealous bitch?!" Sarah roared, struggling to free herself from Ronan’s grip.

After much struggling and flailing, they managed to separate them.

"You all don't deserve to be on this ship! You've doomed us all!"

"Don't you dare blame my crew!" The redhead growled.

"Then you’re the one who goes!"

Hullen stepped forward, interrupting.

"Your crew can stay. But you're getting the hell out of here!" he added.

The crew of The Stygian Serpent nodded in agreement.

"She doesn’t deserve our mercy. She tried to kill Vargo!"

"We should leave her to her fate like she left us to ours."

"We wouldn’t even be here if—"

"ENOUGH!"

The boom of a cannon echoed in the air, silencing everyone. All heads on the deck turned toward the figure still holding the cannon aimed at the sky. Captain Vargo.

The man, who had remained silent until now, observed them with a chilling stare. He inhaled deeply before speaking.

"The sabotage is done, and the one responsible is aboard. If you, as a crew, agree to let the Fortune Sharks stay, then they stay. Honestly, I don't give a shit."

The crew of The Stygian Serpent gulped almost in unison. Vargo was not a man who smiled often—that was clear—but there was a big difference between seeing their captain grumpy… and seeing him angry . And that was enough to send shivers down everyone's spine.

"But I’m still the captain of this ship, and I say Fortune stays. She saved Jinx’s life, and that’s enough for me. And if you don’t like it, go whine to someone who cares."

Ekko had to cover his mouth to hide a giggle. He had to admit, it was pretty damn cool how intimidating Vargo could be sometimes.

The man’s gaze hardened further as he looked around at his crew, and his voice dropped a notch.

"Does anyone have a problem with this?"

"No, captain," Nahlira muttered through gritted teeth.

"No, sir."

"No."

"Good," Vargo muttered. "Now let’s reach a safe point and figure out how the fuck we’re getting out of here."

"That’s what I’ve been saying, but everyone keeps whining instead of thinking," Ekko mumbled.

Sarah let out a snort.

"Right, because you’re thinking so hard."

Ekko narrowed his eyes and turned his head toward her with a slight smirk.

"Excuse me, do you have something to say to my face...? What was your name again?"

"Miss Fortune to you ," she replied with a sneer, watching him. "But sure, keep pretending you don’t know it."

"I don’t have to pretend. I don’t usually remember people who don’t matter to me."

"And who the fuck are you to talk to me like that?" Sarah snapped, stepping closer.

"Someone actually trying to think. Nice to meet you," Ekko replied without missing a beat, or his smile.

"Yeah, right, just like you did when it was time to save Jinx’s life, huh?"

If Ekko hadn’t been fuming before, that low blow was enough to make his face burn with rage.

"Don’t you dare. You don’t know shit."

"What I know is that you think you have the right to point a finger at me like you’re innocent and actually doing something now," she shot back.

"I am trying. But it’s hard to think with a gun-toting woman yelling at me every two seconds like I stole her hat."

"Someone did steal my hat once. I didn’t yell. I killed three men." She chuckled.

"Great priorities. No wonder you almost lost your crew."

"That’s enough, both of you!" Vargo interrupted. "Ekko, stop acting like a brat and lower your tone. And you, Fortune, I know not killing me left you upset, but this isn’t the time."

"Oh, finally he admits it!" Nahlira shouted from the helm.

"And after that, you defend her, Captain?" added Sira.

"Because I wasn’t going to let her succeed!" Vargo shouted. "And because Gangplank must not know about our movements! If I said anything to her, he would’ve found out!"

"What do you think I want, too?!" Miss Fortune shouted, her voice full of rage. "Gangplank can’t set foot in Bilgewater, we agree on that! But if we’re on the same side, do you think I’d have attacked you in the first place?! Why didn’t you tell me?!"

"Because Gangplank doesn’t want to see you even in his nightmares, Fortune!" Vargo said, his tone freezing the air. "If he finds out you and I are working together, he’ll kill both of us—and everyone else here. No poetry. No speeches."

"FUCK!" Ronan yelled. "We’ve lost The Tenacious Blue, we’ve got no ship, no weapons, and now we have to listen to some cheap opera!"

"The Tenacious Blue was our last resort!" Malik exclaimed. "And we gave it to Jinx so she wouldn’t bleed to death, and now she’s over there making puke drawings on the deck!"

"It’s not puke, it’s art!" Jinx shouted.

"Focus!" Vargo bellowed. "We need a plan! How do we get back to shore safely?"

"We can’t go back!" Sira yelled. "Bilgewater is surrounded by monsters and we don’t even have a sharp spoon!"

"Then we need to find a blind spot!" Darla suggested.

"There is no blind spot. Not while the bait and lures are still in those waters."

"What if we sink as bait and make them follow us?" Jinx suggested.

"We’re not using you as bait, Jinx!" Ekko yelled, desperate.

"What if we use Ronan?" Jinx asked, grinning. Ronan shot her a death glare.

"We could head toward the eastern reefs," Ivy said. "The monsters are big. They can’t squeeze through those rocks."

"What if there’s already one waiting for us?" Hullen asked.

"Then we fight. With whatever we’ve got," Sarah replied.

"With what? Your fists and a butter knife?" Ekko responded, raising an eyebrow.

"Better than your plans."

"If you two start fighting again, I’m locking you both in the hold!" Jorek shouted.

"Please lock me in the hold. Anywhere but here," Lani begged, looking up at the sky.

Sarah, jaw tight, turned on her heels toward Vargo, who had just turned away, muttering something under his breath.

"Oh, don’t walk away now, coward!" she shouted.

Vargo raised his hands without turning back.

"I’m adjusting the side sails before this ship turns into a soup pot full of talking heads. Keep yelling if it keeps you warm." And with that, he walked off, muttering a stream of curses.

In the middle of the argument, Ekko turned his head to where Jinx should’ve been sitting… but she wasn’t there.

"...Where’s Jinx?" he asked, to no one in particular.

Silence.

Until Jinx’s laughter erupted from the other side of the deck.

Ekko ran, dodging crates, ropes, and barrels. When he arrived, he found Jinx trying to climb onto the railing.

"JINX! What the hell are you doing?!"

"Trying to look at the textures… of the tide…"

"The what ?! You're not climbing up there!" Ekko shouted, grabbing her tightly by the waist before she could move forward.

"Is that a challenge? You know I love challenges," Jinx laughed.

He tried to respond, but she had already slipped out of his grasp and was sprinting toward the railings on the other side before he could even blink or register her speed. Ekko huffed and immediately ran after her, crossing paths with Captain Vargo along the way.

"How long does… this last?" Ekko asked, bringing one hand to his face and using the other to hold onto Jinx.

"As long as the potion remains in her blood," the captain replied, adjusting the side sail. "She shouldn’t be driving you crazy for much longer. I think."

"You think?"

"For the record, I did wish you good luck."

Ekko opened his mouth, ready to hurl an insult, but he didn’t notice when Jinx had slipped away again straight to the railing. By the time he reached her, she was already climbing onto it.

"Jinx. No. Don’t even think about it."

"I'm not thinking. I'm doing it," she said, pointing a finger at him while balancing on the railing with a giggle.

He sighed, quickly moving closer to hold her by the waist.

"If you fall, we don’t have another miracle potion stashed in our pants," he muttered, tightening his grip on her waist when she stretched out her arms and momentarily lost her balance.

"But you are stashed in my mental pants," she said, pointing both fingers from one hand at his forehead like a gun.

"What does that even mean? Wait, no—" Ekko stopped, frowning. "No, actually, don’t explain it."

Jinx burst out laughing, stretching both arms wide, letting the sea breeze blow through her hair and the salty spray wet her face.

"I won’t explain it. I’ll show you."

Ekko frowned again, but this time he couldn’t help letting out a laugh. He stepped a little closer, wrapping his arms around her waist more tightly.

"Here? On a ship, in the middle of the sea, running from sea monsters, with thirteen other crew members on board?"

"Eh, details."

He laughed again, letting his hands slide slightly lower to her hips as she placed her hands on the railing and leaned in a bit toward him.

"You’re insufferable," he said, brushing his fingers along the skin of her abdomen.

"And you’re hot. Have I told you you’re hot?"

"Only about… Five times in the last ten minutes, I think?"

"Then let it be six!" she shouted to the sky, throwing her arms wide again.

Once more, Ekko couldn’t hold back his laughter. He gripped her tighter, trying to convince himself it was simply to keep her from falling face-first into the water. Though, truth be told, having Jinx perched on the railing in front of him, her hips nearly at the level of his face, wasn’t helping his case much.

"Oh, Ekko! Look at that! Look! It’s Fishbones!"

"What?" he asked, frowning, trying to focus.

"The stars, dummy!" she shouted, pointing to the sky. "Those right there are shaped like Fishbones! Don’t tell me you don’t see it."

Ekko’s heart stopped for a moment. His gaze turned, but not toward the sky. Toward her . 

"And those over there…" Jinx brought a hand to her chin, thinking, still with her gaze fixed on the stars. "Looks like a pipe. No, a pipe smoking another pipe. Do you see it? Tell me you see it, it’s right the—"

But when she turned her head to look at him, his expression had changed.

Ekko was looking at her with tearful eyes, a soft curve barely forming on his lips. A single tear looked ready to slide down his cheek, straight into his smile. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at her. Held her. Smiled.

"What’s wrong, pretty boy?" She asked, lowering her tone a bit.

He blinked and wiped a tear away with the back of his hand, quickly holding her again. But this time, he hugged her from behind.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

He lowered his gaze. Jinx wrapped an arm around his neck, crouching down as much as she could until she was at Ekko's level.

"Hey," she murmured, tilting her face slightly and gently caressing his dreadlocks. "Don’t cry now. Save those tears for something better, like… my body’s funeral, okay?"

He let out a broken laugh, tensing under Jinx’s touch. Still, he couldn’t help but lean slightly into her hand.

"I already went to your funeral, Jinx. And I don’t plan on going again."

Oh. Fuck. 

Jinx felt a sting in her chest that was worse than the time Vargo threw freezing water on her to sober her up. The funny feeling that had filled her body was suddenly pushed to the back of her mind, allowing clarity to come through. And with it, sadness. She slowly turned around, keeping her balance, and her trembling arms moved to wrap around Ekko's neck.

"Everyone on deck!" Jorek shouted from the helm. "We’re entering safe open waters!"

A murmur of relief rippled through the ship. Silence flooded The Stygian Serpent as the engines stopped roaring, and the vessel came to a complete halt in that deserted stretch. All around them there was only water… and more water.

Ekko let out a sigh, and before Jinx could hug him, he carefully helped her down from the railing. She felt her chest tighten a little more. He was trying to hide it, and often even seemed to forget it, but Ekko was more hurt than Jinx would like to admit.

As they gathered on the deck, a tense silence enveloped them. Vargo was the first to speak.

"Alright, the problem is obvious: we're stuck here with no weapons, and the coast of Bilgewater is a monster feast. We need a plan to get back, and fast."

"A plan that doesn't involve us becoming Megatusk bait, or another ship at the bottom of the ocean," Miss Fortune added.

"How are we supposed to fight even fish with just knives and cannons?" Jorek growled.

"We could try a detour, go around the densest area. Though it would take us longer and perhaps we wouldn't be alone anyway."

"Time is what we have least of," Salazar retorted. "Every minute that passes, they grow bigger and hungrier. We need a solution for what's already on top of us, not for what might come."

"If we try to go straight, with all those decoys, and no defense... it's suicide."

"And what do you suggest, Hullen?" Ivy asked, with a somewhat defiant tone. "We wait for them to find us and devour us one by one?"

Vargo pounded his fist on the railing. "Enough! We need ideas, not laments. Does anyone have a real proposal?"

"Maybe we can use the ship's lights to scare them away. Or create a distraction with something we have on board."

"We don't have enough fuel for a distraction that big," Sira said. "And the lights would only attract the curious, not scare them away."

To the side, Jinx remained with her arms crossed and her head resting on Ekko's shoulder, who had an arm around her waist while rolling his eyes at the crews' words. But there, amidst his frustration and the throbbing in his temples, Ekko thought of something. Perhaps, something useless. But something worth trying after all.

He gently released Jinx, who stopped leaning on him and looked at him with a frown. His hand slid from her waist as he began to move away. Specifically, towards Vargo.

"Hey," Ekko said, approaching the captain. "Where are the weapons, by the way?"

But the captain was already too busy arguing to answer him. It was Nahlira, with a frustrated gesture, who pointed towards a corner of the deck, near the stern, where a pile of marine hunting equipment lay heaped.

"There," she replied.

Ekko walked towards the mound of weaponry. He knelt, completely ignoring the heated discussion still ongoing on deck, and began to inspect the weapons.

He first picked up what was clearly a specialized spear. He observed the triangular iron tip, then slid his fingers along the joint with the handle wrapped in sea snake scales. He frowned. There it was. Micro-corrosion, almost invisible to the naked eye, but creating a minimal wobble at the tip. A subtle problem, yes, but enough to deflect a critical blow.

Interesting.

It was such a small, insignificant flaw that most hunters wouldn't even notice it until it was too late. Brilliant. Very, very Jinx.

Then, his hands moved to a weapon he didn't recognize, but which resembled a claw with a red gem in the center. The gem, polished and surrounded by intricate runic engravings, should be pulsing with constant energy. But instead, it was intermittent. Ekko lifted it, his eyes scrutinizing the surface. And there it was, under the dim light of a nearby lantern: a microscopic fissure.

Something similar happened with the grenades. His fingers slid over them, detecting the slight imprecision in alignment. It wasn't an engraving error, but rather a millimeter deviation, a barely perceptibly twisted stroke that would nonetheless create "dead spots" in the runic energy cloud. A detail that only an extremely sharp eye, or that of an engineering genius, would notice or achieve.

As he examined the same harpoon he had held hours earlier, Ekko focused on the retractable claw mechanism. He tested the claws with his thumb, and though they extended, there was a slight rub, an almost imperceptible jam that prevented full extension. One or two claws, perhaps, would not fully extend upon impact. The kind of failure that would cost you your life against an enraged Megatusk.

"What are you doing, buster?"

In the midst of his concentration, Jinx's voice resonated behind him. But when she saw what he was observing, she let out a giggle.

"Do you like my designs? They're cool, right?"

Ekko didn't even flinch, his gaze fixed on the faulty rune on the explosive.

"Do you know what's even cooler? How tiny the defects are." He pointed out the imperfection. "Here. A resonance rune with a deviated stroke. It's almost artistic in its malice."

Jinx shrugged, letting out another low laugh. Then he picked up another weapon, aiming it, and observing Jinx again.

"A microscopic fissure in a gem. An almost imperceptible jam in a mechanism. A slightly imprecise alignment in runes. Subtle. Small. Brilliant." Ekko turned, moving a little closer to Jinx, close enough for his breath to brush her ear. "Your captain may fool everyone, but not me. I know you, Pow."

She felt a shiver run down her spine as she heard Ekko's murmur in her ear. When he pulled away, a satisfied, smug smile formed on his face as he saw her reaction.

"As I said. Brilliant."

"So you're finally admitting I'm a better engineer than you?" Jinx laughed, trying to quell the tremor in her body.

"Saying you're brilliant and saying you're better than me are two completely different things."

"I'm a better weapon maker than you."

"True," Ekko admitted. "But you're more used to working in a workshop with proper parts and tools. Maybe I'm not as good with weapons as you, but I know enough to understand that this is a surprisingly simple problem to fix. A little heat, a bone awl, and stretched silk as a ruler. And done. Runes realigned."

Jinx narrowed her eyes.

"Are you crazy?"

"Perhaps," he smiled.

"And where do you plan to get a bone awl, silk, and heat?" She mumbled, restraining the urge to shout.

"Details. The point is the defects are subtle, yes. But the solutions... are just as subtle. And that, baby, is the key."

Ekko watched her with that smile and a twinkle in his eyes that Jinx knew too well. She had seen it enough to know that it was now almost impossible to stop Ekko from whatever had gotten into his head.

"What do you have in mind?" she said. "Because if—"

"Look at this," he interrupted, raising the harpoon. "The retractable claw mechanism jams and creates friction with accumulated dirt and salt fragments. With a little whale blubber and a fine wire brush, it's fixed."

"Whale blubber, you say? And a fine wire brush? Where the hell would you get that out here, in the middle of nowhere?"

He narrowed his eyes, moving closer to her.

"Is that a challenge?"

Oh no.

Jinx put a hand to her face. There was no stopping him now.

Ekko stopped listening to Jinx's protests. His mind was already immersed in the challenge.

He searched among the few supplies they had on hand. His eyes fell on a small clay pot containing oil for the deck lamps, and then on a piece of old, torn fishing net, from which some harder strands protruded. Perfect.

"What are you gonna do now, Ekko?" Jinx approached, her tone a mix of curiosity and exasperation.

He didn't answer. Focused, he tore off a couple of strands from the old net. He rubbed them between his fingers, feeling their roughness. They were hardened hemp fibers, imperfect, but sufficient. He quickly rolled them and tied them to the tip of a small fishing hook he found on deck. It wasn't a fine wire brush made of sea urchin spines, but it was enough for Ekko.

"Ekko... don't you dare. It's dangerous," She warned, noticing the glint in his eyes.

He poured a small amount of lamp oil into the palm of his hand. It wasn't whale blubber, but it was the closest thing to a lubricant they had. With the "brush," he began to meticulously clean the small gears and springs of the harpoon's retractable mechanism. His fingers swiftly removed the small salt crystals and embedded dirt. The rubbing became less pronounced.

Once the gears were clean, he applied a small amount of oil directly to each articulation point of the mechanism, working the lubricant with the tip of his fingernail. Then, he flexed and extended the harpoon's claws again and again. The slight jam lessened, and the claws extended more smoothly, though not perfectly.

"Almost..." Ekko murmured. "It needs more... looseness."

Suddenly, his eyes fell on a bottle of rum that one of the crewmen had carelessly left nearby. Yes.

Ekko poured a few drops of rum onto the newly lubricated mechanism. The alcohol, though not a lubricant, would serve as a final cleaner and, as it evaporated, would leave the gears cleaner and with less resistance.

"You're absolutely insane, Ekko!" Jinx put her hands to her head. "It's gonna blow up in your face!"

He ignored Jinx's warning, now completely absorbed in his task. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped it over the gears, drying any excess liquid. Then, he picked up the harpoon. He raised his arm, ready to use it. Jinx's eyes widened, and she began to walk towards him quickly.

"You damn lunatic, don't you dare. Don't you dare fire that—!"

Ekko pulled the trigger.

A satisfying sound resonated on the deck. The harpoon's four claws extended completely without the slightest jam. They remained fixed, perfectly open and ready to hook.

The sudden sound brought the discussion on deck to a halt. All eyes turned to Ekko and Jinx. He lowered the harpoon, his eyes shining, and a triumphant smile spread across his face.

"Were you saying something, Jinx?"

She stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape.

"You could've blown your head off!"

"But I didn't," he pointed a finger at her with a giggle.

"Well, you could've blown off a hand! Or your guts! I understand your ego won't let you see how stupid what you've done is, but maybe if you—!"

Jinx couldn't continue. In front of her, Ekko covered his mouth with a hand, while his shoulders shook in an unsuccessful attempt to contain a laugh. She wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms.

"What's so funny?"

"It's so easy to annoy you. It makes it more fun," he replied, trying to catch his breath.

She frowned even more, approaching him with a growl.

"It's not funny."

"It is."

"No. And give me that harpoon," she snatched the weapon from his hands. "You're a danger to this city, and for Bilgewater, that's saying a lot. I'll fix them."

"Is that it, Jinx?" he replied, narrowing his eyes, as she began to inspect the rest of the weapons. "Or are you scared that I can fix weapons faster and better than you?"

She straightened up and snapped her head up. Her face turned towards his, slowly beginning to approach Ekko and his big smile.

"You did not just say that."

"I did," He shrugged.

"Because you know what that means," Jinx took another step towards him, bringing her face close to his.

He chuckled, and moved close enough to her that Jinx felt his breath on her face.

"I know perfectly well," his voice came out considerably lower, and he couldn't help but let his gaze drift to her lips.

They both heard footsteps behind them, followed by a resigned sigh. They saw Captain Vargo out of the corner of their eye.

"What did I tell you about flirting in the middle of—?"

"Hey, Vargo," Ekko interrupted, without taking his eyes off Jinx's lips. "We can fix the weapons. And fast."

The captain frowned.

"What?"

"But..." Jinx's gaze didn't leave Ekko's face for a second. "To do it... we have only one condition."

••••

"Whip It" - DEVO

"Alright, pretty boy," Jinx began, her smile wider than ever. "Ready for me to kick your ass?"

"Oh, Jinx. Don't you get tired of losing? Because, from what I see, your destiny is second place."

"My hands are faster than your ideas. Don't come crying afterwards."

Behind them, the crews' murmurs grew louder.

"What the hell is going on?" Jorek mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Are they really going to do this? Now?"

Sira sighed in exasperation. "Those two are crazy. Completely unhinged."

Sarah, though trying to maintain her composure, couldn't help a small smile. "If it works, fine by me, let them fight all they want."

Vargo approached, his face a mix of confusion and resignation.

"I'll say it once more... Is this really necessary?" he asked, directing his gaze alternately at Jinx and Ekko.

"Extremely necessary!" Jinx and Ekko exclaimed simultaneously.

Lani, who had the misfortune of being chosen to oversee the... activity, finally approached with a frown. His voice was an exasperated growl. "Alright, alright... I can't believe I have to do this. Listen, you two lunatics. Rules for your... 'junk-fixing competition'? First one to functionally fix three weapons wins. Simple."

"Three weapons!" She exclaimed. "That's too few! I want five!"

"Ten!" Ekko said, with a smile.

"Deal!" Jinx licked her lips.

Lani sighed. "Alright, ten. Someone please get me out of here..."

"Stop whining, Lani. This isn't just a matter of pride. It's a matter of art," she interrupted.

"And a matter of honor," Ekko added. "And speaking of rules, Lani, add this: no shimmer-speed for Jinx."

Lani blinked, confused. "No... what?"

"She knows exactly what I'm talking about!" Ekko stared intently at Jinx.

Lani shrugged, with an air of defeat. "Alright, alright. No shimmer-speed for Jinx. Happy now?"

"I wasn't gonna use it anyway," she snorted, crossing her arms and watching Ekko. "I don't need it. I can still kick your ass."

"I don't trust you," Ekko said.

Lani looked at both of them, his patience at its limit. "Enough! On the count of three! One... two... THREE! There you go, start working or whatever, you freaks."

Jinx and Ekko lunged at the pile of weapons.

Jinx, with frantic speed, grabbed the first grenade. Her fingers flew over the surface, and a tiny chisel, made from a sharp fragment of metal from a broken barrel, appeared in her hand. With an oil torch, she slightly reheated the runes, making the metal malleable under the heat. Her pink eyes, shining with concentration, followed the engraved lines. The energy dispersion runes had a slightly imprecise alignment, creating "dead spots." Using the chisel and a strand of silk from a torn sail, she carefully traced the lines, realigning them as fast as she could. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but her smile didn't disappear.

"Ha! One down, firelight!" Jinx chirped, showing the newly repaired grenade.

But Ekko was already immersed in repairing a "Heartseeker." With a minuscule awl made from a sharpened nail and an improvised hammer from a piece of wood, he tapped delicately. He looked for the microscopic fissure in the kraken's eye gem. With a jar of resin he found on the ship (perhaps used to seal small leaks. Ekko didn't care too much) and some pulverized anchor dirt, he mixed a fine paste in the palm of his hand. With the tip of the awl, he applied the paste over the fissure, smoothing it out. His eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw so tight that he would probably have a severe headache later. He didn't care.

"Uhm, Jinx," Ekko said, without looking up. "Maybe it's time you learn the difference between a small fix and a real repair. Otherwise, you'll have to learn to be a good loser."

"Or maybe it's time you start wiping that smile off your face," she laughed, already grabbing another harpoon. With a little fish oil, she began to vigorously clean the gears of the retractable mechanism. Then, with a syringe from a medical kit, she injected a small amount of fish oil into each articulation point. The claws opened and closed with a newfound smoothness.

"Two for Jinx! If your butt's already starting to hurt, that's me kicking it!" Jinx laughed.

Ekko had already moved to a Platemail Breaker Spear. He inspected the joint between the iron tip and the handle. He had no volcanic mud, nor crab shell powder. But in the ship's kitchen, he had found some flour and a container of coarse salt. He mixed the flour with a little seawater and a generous amount of salt, creating a dense paste. He applied it generously around the joint, pressing firmly with his thumbs. The slight wobble instantly disappeared.

"Two for me," Ekko said, wiping his hands. "And thanks for worrying about my butt. My dynamic textures are intact."

"The only thing intact is your huge ego and your denial," Jinx retorted, already working on one of the explosives. With a piece of coral from a broken necklace she found on deck and some fresh water from the reserves, she mixed a paste to correct the rune's imperfection. Using the sharp edge of a seashell, she carefully traced the defective rune, filling the gap with the coral paste. Her eyes shone with satisfaction as the new rune adapted to the rest of the mechanism.

"Three for Jinx! Eat shit!" 

Ekko barely lifted his head, his mind already on one of the many nets they had available. The key to repairing it was simple: correct the engraving of the activation runes... on each of the shadowtide pearls.

"Mine's already doing the work!" She shouted, as she finished with the explosive. "Four for Jinx! Get ready for defeat, shit-face!"

The crew members, who had initially been protesting and puffing, now watched with a mix of confusion and amazement. The weapons were starting to look genuinely repaired, and in record time.

Ekko, finishing with the net, held it up. The bioluminescent algae fibers glowed more intensely, and the runic knots seemed to pulse with renewed energy.

"Four for Ekko. And mine isn't going to blow up in anyone's face."

"Shut the fuck up."

Jinx was back at the pile, grabbing another Heartseeker. This time, instead of sea amber paste, she used a piece of old chewing gum she found in her pocket, mixing it with chalk dust to give it consistency. With her chisel, she applied the "repair" over the gem's fissure.

Ekko already had a new Platemail Breaker spear in his hands. He found some ship's tar and mixed it with charcoal powder to create an adhesive paste. With his fingers, he applied it around the tip's joint, pressing hard. "Just so you know, Jinx, my spears are going to be so solid you can bash your head against them without them breaking."

"Don't tempt fate, Ekko. I might just do it," she looked at him defiantly. "Five for Jinx! I'm crushing you!"

"We'll see about that," he growled.

Neither of them noticed how the crew members began to distribute the weapons among themselves, and even test them. Neither of them noticed the gleam in the eyes of everyone present as they saw before them proof that, perhaps, not all was lost. And that was enough for them to resign themselves to putting up with all the lunatics' antics on board.

Suddenly, almost at the same time, both raised their last repaired weapons.

"Ready! Six for Jinx!" she exclaimed, raising a runic explosive newly "patched" with a mixture of tar and scrap metal.

"And six for Ekko!" Ekko said, holding up a Heartseeker that now pulsed with a faint, constant light.

They looked at each other, breathing heavily, and their eyes wide with fury. A damn tie?

A silence fell over the deck. And Jinx was the first to break it.

"You cheated!"

"Here we go," Ekko put both hands to his face.

"You started earlier! I saw you cleaning that harpoon before Lani gave the signal!"

"I was just inspecting it!" He retorted.

"How convenient!" Jinx moved closer, her pink eyes glowing with the same intensity as Ekko's. "This is a tie, and it's your fault for being so... inefficient!"

"Technical tie, you mean," he also approached, narrowing the distance between them. "Because my work is obviously superior. And yours is a mix of luck and mess."

"A mess that works! And besides—!"

Jinx stopped herself when she felt Ekko give her a gentle nudge. They both turned, only to see the crews watching them with a mix of exasperation and disbelief. They swallowed, straightening up and completely forgetting about the fight. For now.

Vargo stepped forward with a huff.

"Are you done?"

"Yes," they replied in unison.

"Good," Vargo said, turning his head to scan everyone present. "Then, if you don't mind, let's move on to what's important: getting out of this graveyard alive."

••••

The Stygian Serpent made its way through the waters in absolute silence.

The first signs of proximity to Bilgewater began to manifest, not visually, but through an ominous sound. A ghostly, high-pitched whistle pierced the silence, followed by a dry crack, like a dozen bones breaking in unison. It was, clearly, the sound of the Depth Harpies, scavenging creatures that swarmed the fishing grounds, attracted by the blood of prey. From afar, their skeletal silhouettes could be distinguished, fluttering over the remains of smaller ships that had not fared so well, or perhaps, over unfortunate hunters who had ventured too far.

"There they are," Vargo's voice was low, but firm, breaking the tense silence. His eyes scrutinized the darkness intently. "Remember the plan, and the teams. No surprises."

Sarah nodded, turning her head slightly towards her crew.

"The 'Dead Spot' is our only hope. That steep cove, north of Butcher's Row. Sharp rocks, treacherous currents... no one in their right mind would go there on the Night of the Great Hunt. That's exactly why we're going."

Jorek, tying a Drowned's Net to a post, reviewed in the lowest tone of voice he could find.

"Don't forget the plan: stick to the shadows. We'll use the grenades to disorient, not to kill. Only if absolutely necessary, do we engage in direct combat."

"And if they attack us, we'll do it in teams," Salazar continued. "Team one: Captain Fortune, Jinx, Ivy, and Darla. Team two: Captain Vargo, Ekko, Nahlira, and Hullen. Lysander, Ronan, and Malik, on the ballistas and as support."

Ivy adjusted her grip on her short sword.

"We have the marine dispersal grenades and most of the hand weapons. Jinx, the runic explosives."

Ekko, next to Vargo, nodded.

"We have the main harpoons, the Platemail Breaker Spears, and the Heartseeker. Vargo will be at the helm, and I'll coordinate the attacks from the deck with him."

"The priority is silent navigation," Vargo declared. "Any unnecessary noise is an invitation. If a monster sees us, we immobilize it, weaken it, and move on. No prolonged battles. Our goal is the Dead Spot, not to be heroes."

As they spoke, the waters grew darker, the swell more erratic. The bioluminescence of the Great Hunt's lures began to appear. And with them, the distorted shapes of the beasts lurking in the depths. A creature with a mouth full of needle-like fangs and sunken eyes brushed against the ship's hull, its fetid breath reaching the deck.

"Damn it!" Ronan muttered, aiming a ballista. "That was close."

"Don't shoot unless it's a direct threat to the ship," Vargo ordered, his hands firm on the helm. "Stay calm. Visibility is poor. The monsters don't know if we're here to hunt or if we're just another drifting ship."

"Warriors" - Imagine Dragons

Suddenly, a massive silhouette rose from the water to starboard. It was a Goliath. A creature similar to a huge crustacean with a stone carapace and pincers that could crush a ship's hull. Its red eyes glowed with malice.

"Port side! Goliath!" Hullen shouted, the first to detect it.

"Ekko, to the harpoon! Jorek, the spear! Team one, grenades!" Vargo gave the orders in a powerful voice, but without losing his composure.

The Goliath lunged towards the ship, one of its gigantic pincers extended to grab the railing.

Ekko threw himself on one of the harpoons mounted on the ballista. He aimed at the Goliath's shell, right where the rock armor seemed weakest. A whistle, and the harpoon fired, the claws he himself had repaired extending on impact. It hooked into the Goliath's shell, and the creature bellowed in pain.

"Hooked!" Ekko shouted, the harpoon rope tightening with the beast's force.

Meanwhile, Jinx had already popped the cork of a grenade. With an agile motion, she threw it into the water, right in front of the Goliath's eyes. The grenade hit the water, and a dense cloud of runic energy expanded, disorienting the monster. The Goliath let out a piercing scream, its movements became clumsy, its pincers striking blindly at the air.

"Now, Jorek! To the shell!" Vargo ordered.

Jorek, taking advantage of the Goliath's disorientation, approached the edge, the Platemail Breaker Spear in his hands. He plunged the spear into the exposed part of the Goliath's shell, the iron piercing the hard surface. The monster writhed, its fury blinded by disorientation.

Ivy and Darla threw more grenades, keeping the Goliath stunned. Lysander and Malik fired flaming arrows, which crashed against the shell with little effect, but served as a distraction.

The beast, weakened and confused, began to retreat slowly.

"Fall back!" Vargo shouted. "Don't play its game! Secure the harpoon and prepare for the next one!"

The ship continued its slow advance. It wasn't long before new dangers emerged from the depths. A group of Water Biters, creatures similar to giant piranhas, began to pound the hull, trying to open holes.

"Starboard! Water Biters!" Hullen shouted.

"Team one, deck sweep! Team two, containment!" Miss Fortune ordered.

Jinx already had her grenades and a few chompers ready. She threw them in a perfect arc, each one exploding underwater. The Water Biters, who had grouped for the attack, scattered in confusion, bumping into each other.

"Silly fish," Jinx laughed, as Ivy fired her crossbow, embedding an arrow in one of the Biters, which floated inert.

Sira and Lani lunged with short spears, stabbing the Biters that managed to get too close to the hull, dodging the creatures' quick lunges.

But the sea gave them no respite. A Slaughter Eel lunged from the darkness, trying to encircle the mast.

"To the Eel! All who can shoot, focus!" Vargo shouted.

Ekko was already reloading the harpoon, aiming at the glowing head. The harpoon fired with a whistle, piercing the monster's bioluminescent eye. The Slaughter Eel let out a shriek of pain and writhed violently, its long body lashing the water.

Nahlira, with a Heartseeker in hand, prepared herself. The Slaughter Eel, still writhing, attempted one last attack. But Ekko's precision had immobilized it enough.

"Now, Nahl!" Ekko shouted, his eyes fixed on the beast.

Nahlira, without hesitation, approached and plunged the Heartseeker into the creature. The gem pulsed with a faint light, and the monster's body softened. A twist of the wrist, and Nahlira extracted the heart, which shone with a blinding light. The Slaughter Eel collapsed, its inert body sinking into the abyss.

"One down!" Nahlira panted, her face pale.

A few meters from her, Sarah and Jinx had launched into their own battle.

Both moved in sync, trying to take down an Abyssal Leech, a grotesque creature with multiple suction mouths, that was crawling along the side of the ship, trying to pierce the hull.

Jinx pulled out one of the Sea Dragon's Breath barrels she had repaired. The resonance rune, now "perfect" thanks to her artistry, glowed with a greenish light.

"Not so fast, Jinx!" Sarah replied with a smile, drawing her two pistols. She shot at the Leech, her bullets bouncing off the monster's leathery skin, but managing to make it recoil.

Jinx, her pink eyes gleaming, lit the fuse of the barrel. Then, she threw the barrel at the Leech. The explosive fell into the water, and a much more powerful detonation than expected resonated under the ship. The Abyssal Leech, though not destroyed, was thrown far away, its body writhing.

"Nice shot, doll," the captain said, reloading her pistols.

Vargo and Ekko crossed paths with Sarah for a few seconds, as her silhouette prepared for another attack. A prey hunter tried to flank the ship to port.

"Hunter in sight! Ekko, disorientation!" Vargo roared, adjusting the helm to keep the ship on course.

Ekko was already moving. He saw the opportunity, a moment when the hunter's largest tentacle rose above the deck. He didn't have a grenade ready, but he had something better. With a quick motion, he threw one of his own improved bombs into the water. They weren't explosive, but in theory they produced a temporary energy discharge that could disorient the sea creatures' senses. The hunter writhed, its tentacles lashing the air with less force.

"Now, Vargo! Focus on the eye!" Ekko shouted, pointing to a vulnerable spot on the creature.

Vargo, without hesitation, left the helm for an instant, grabbed one of the Platemail Breaker Spears that Ekko had sealed with tar and charcoal. He plunged the spear directly into the hunter's eye. The creature let out a horrifying shriek, its tentacles loosened, and it collapsed onto the water, its body inert.

The battle continued in a whirlwind of shouts and the constant splashing of waves. Despite the fatigue, despite the injuries that were already starting to appear on some crew members, the plan was working.

Just as the Dead Spot began to be visible on the horizon, a colossal shadow rose from the depths. The water bubbled, and the air filled with a pungent stench. A deafening roar shook the ship, making it tremble to its foundations. It was not a Goliath, nor a Slaughter Eel, or a hunter. It was the Megatusk.

Its head emerged from the water, followed by its massive body, covered in scars and hard scales. Its eyes, two pits of incandescent fury, fixed on The Stygian Serpent. The beast let out another roar, and a gigantic wave rose, hitting the ship.

"Megatusk! Everyone to your stations!" Vargo's voice resonated.

"Prepare for impact!" Sarah shouted, her pistols already raised.

The Megatusk lunged towards the ship, opening its jaws.

"Ekko, to the harpoon! Nahlira, the Heartseeker! Jinx, do your thing!" Vargo ordered, his hands firm on the helm, trying to steer to avoid a direct attack.

Ekko was already at the ballista. He aimed at the Megatusk's eye, the only discernible soft spot on its gigantic body. The Harpoon fired. It impacted the Megatusk's eye with a deafening thud. The monster bellowed in pain, its head twisted, and the initial attack was diverted, saving the ship from a direct collision.

"Good shot, Ekko!" Vargo shouted, though the ship tilted dangerously from the jolt.

Jinx had lit the fuses of two explosives. She threw them into the Megatusk's open jaws, before the monster closed them. The barrels fell inside the beast's mouth, and a double detonation, amplified and devastating, shook the Megatusk from within. The monster convulsed violently, and a stream of dark blood burst from its jaws.

"That's for sinking your tusks into me, big boy!" Jinx shouted.

But the Megatusk, though wounded, did not give up. With a roar, it struck the side of the ship with its tail, making the wood creak and several crew members fall to the deck. Ronan and Malik managed to keep the ballistas in place, firing arrows and small projectiles that bounced harmlessly off the Megatusk's tough skin, but served to keep its attention.

"To the deck! Keep your distance!" Miss Fortune ordered, firing.

Nahlira and Hullen tried to approach the monster's flanks, looking for any weak spot to stab their weapons. Sira and Lani threw nets and small harpoons, trying to immobilize the Megatusk's tentacles that tried to hit the ship.

The Megatusk charged again, its body creating a swell that threatened to capsize the ship. Vargo, with one hand on the helm and the other on the mast, struggled to maintain course.

"We won't be able to hold it off forever!" Lysander shouted.

"We need to reach the Dead Spot!" Vargo roared, his eyes scanning the waters. Suddenly, his gaze fixed on a narrow gap between two rock formations, a risky route, but direct to the cove.

"Ekko! I need a massive distraction! Now!" Vargo shouted over the Megatusk's roar. "I can take the ship through that gap, but the Megatusk will follow us! I need a minute, just a minute, to shake it off!"

Ekko nodded.

"Got it, Captain!"

Ekko dashed towards the pile of runic explosives. There was one, the largest and most volatile, that Jinx had repaired with a generous dose of her "experimental adhesive compound" and other suspicious substances. It was the one with the Kraken's Tooth embedded to concentrate the explosion. A reckless idea, but at that moment, the only one.

"Jinx! I need the big barrel!" Ekko shouted, his hands already working on the fuse.

Jinx, who was dodging a tail whip from the Megatusk, looked at him.

"Got it, Captain."

Ekko lit the fuse, the rune on the barrel pulsing with a pink light. The Megatusk approached, its furious eyes fixed on Ekko.

With all his strength, Ekko threw the barrel at the Megatusk. He didn't throw it into its mouth, or its eye. He threw it just in front of its snout, a few meters from the ship. The explosive fell into the water, and a concentrated and devastating detonation occurred. The explosion was not just noisy, but the shockwave, concentrated by the Kraken's Tooth, hit the Megatusk's head full on. The monster convulsed violently. Its eyes clouded over, and the Megatusk became disoriented, spinning blindly in the water.

"Now, Vargo!" Ekko shouted, pointing to the gap.

Vargo, without losing a second, turned the ship. The ship slid through the narrow gap between the rocks, with the Megatusk, still stunned, unable to follow its rapid movement.

But the explosion, the concentrated power of the explosive, had been more than Ekko had anticipated. The underwater shockwave hit him with brutal force. His foot slipped on the wet deck, and Ekko, unable to react in time, fell overboard.

He didn't fall into the water, but towards the sharp rocky peaks that flanked the gap. His body hit an irregular rock. A sharp pain shot through his side, and his head buzzed. He saw stars for an instant, and darkness enveloped him. He lay stunned, on the verge of consciousness, on a small rocky ledge.

The Stygian Serpent continued on its way, rapidly moving away from the Megatusk. No one noticed Ekko's fall in the confusion of the maneuver.

Except, of course, Jinx.

Her eyes, which never lost sight of Ekko, had seen the slip. She had seen Ekko fall. She had seen the impact. And she had seen the Megatusk, still stunned, beginning to recover, its gigantic silhouette turning towards the point where Ekko had disappeared.

Without a second thought, without a moment's hesitation, Jinx lunged at the pile of weapons. She didn't count them, she just grabbed them. The Heartseeker, a Platemail Breaker Spear, and two grenades were tied to her body with ropes she improvised in an instant. The crew members were focused, their gazes fixed on the nearby coast. No one saw her. No one could stop her. Not even Vargo, or Sarah.

And Jinx jumped overboard, straight into the darkness. Towards the rocky peaks. Towards Ekko. Even with her eyes full of tears. Because there was no way Jinx would leave Ekko behind. Never.

••••

Ekko woke with a throbbing pain in his side and a dizzy sensation. The world spun around him, and the taste of salt and blood filled his mouth. He opened his eyes, blinking against the darkness, and realized he was lying on a small, damp, sharp rocky ledge. The sound of water hitting the rocks was deafening. His breathing was shallow, and every movement brought sharp pain. He tried to sit up, but a groan escaped his lips.

But as he sat up, his vision caught something. An immense shadow, emerging from the nearby depths.

The Megatusk, though still somewhat stunned by the explosion, had found him. Its eyes fixed on him. The beast let out a roar that vibrated the air and the rock beneath Ekko. Then, it lunged.

The first attack was a massive tail whip that the Megatusk hurled towards the rocky ledge. Ekko, despite the pain and confusion, reacted instinctively. He rolled, the sharp edges of the rocks scraping his skin, just in time to dodge the impact that would have pulverized the ledge and him with it. Water splashed forcefully, drenching him.

The monster attacked again, this time with one of its gigantic pectoral fins, trying to crush Ekko against the rock. He, with gritted teeth, pushed himself forward, his muscles screaming in pain. His hands clung to a crack in the rock, and he climbed it, narrowly dodging the blow that shattered the part of the ledge where he had been.

The Megatusk was relentless. It opened its jaws, revealing the darkness of its throat and its tusks. It tried to bite Ekko, who was trapped between the rock and the monster's immense mouth. Ekko lunged to the side, his feet slipping on the wet moss. The Megatusk's foul breath hit his face. He was about to fall, but managed to grab onto another ledge.

The creature roared, its head rose and then lunged at him, a direct and deadly blow. Ekko saw the immense mouth approaching, the sharp teeth about to sink into his body. He knew he wouldn't be able to dodge this time. He was too slow, and too wounded.

But something else was able to avoid the blow. Something that lunged at Ekko swiftly like a protective cloak.

Jinx appeared and launched herself from the darkness, landing on the Megatusk's head at the precise moment its jaws were about to close on Ekko. She plunged the harpoon she was carrying into the Megatusk's good eye. The monster bellowed in pain, its jaws snapped open, and the deadly blow was deflected by inches.

The monster writhed violently, trying to shake Jinx off its head. But she clung to the harpoon embedded in its eye, her feet finding purchase on the monster's scales. With her other hand, she released one of the grenades she had tied to herself, and threw it directly into the open wound of the eye. The grenade exploded, releasing a concentrated cloud of energy that disoriented the Megatusk even further, causing it to convulse.

Jinx jumped off the monster's head, landing next to Ekko on the small rocky ledge. Without losing a second, she threw him the Heartseeker.

"Ekko, quick! Grab this! And this!" Jinx also passed him a Platemail Breaker Spear.

Ekko, still dizzy but reacting instantly, grabbed them. And his eyes met Jinx's, filled with tears.

"You came back for me..."

Jinx gave him a quick glance, trying to hide her own tears.

"I'll always come back for you, dummy. If you jump, I jump. Always."

He barely had time to smile before the monster roared again.

Ekko and Jinx positioned themselves back to back, weapons in hand. The sound of the Megatusk constantly threatened them, reminding them every second how close they were to meeting death. And, honestly, they both began to embrace the possibility that they might die together right there.

"Well," she broke the silence. "Looks like this is the part where the big shark eats us. Got any 'last words' speech prepared?"

Ekko chuckled, a harsh, slightly forced laugh.

"No. But I would have liked to learn to whistle better. It always came out a bit off-key."

"And I would have liked to build a roller coaster that did loops within loops," Jinx said. "But now we'll die like squashed sardines."

"Well, at least we'll die together, right?" He said, and a warmth spread between them despite the cold of the sea. "Like we almost did so many other times."

"Yeah, but I would have liked... to feel your dynamic textures one last time," Jinx murmured, her voice dropping slightly.

He smiled, his gaze soft.

"Don't think I wouldn't have loved to have you one last time too."

"You're an idiot, Ekko," Jinx said, and her fingers brushed his for an instant. "But... a too handsome idiot."

"And you," he replied, his eyes fixed on hers, "are the most beautiful thing I've ever known in my damn life."

The Megatusk moved. The water bubbled around it. The attack was imminent.

Ekko clenched his jaw. But, from one moment to the next, his eyes lit up.

"You know what, Pow? If we're gonna die, at least let's try to live until the end." His voice grew louder, his gaze more determined. "And if we're gonna try to live until the end... at least we're going to make it fun, right?"

Jinx looked at him, one eyebrow arched.

Ekko let out a chuckle. With an almost imperceptible movement, he dropped his pocket watch from his hand, swinging it like a pendulum in the air. A soft tick-tock began to resonate in the darkness.

"Dynasties & Dystopia" - Denzel Curry, Gizzle, Bren Joy

She let out a giggle. There was no way Ekko would want to bring his old game right now. And yet, there it was. Bastard.

"You're beyond help."

"Forty seconds, Jinx. Whoever lands more blows on the Megatusk... wins... or dies."

She let out a giggle, squeezing his hand that held the watch still swinging in the air.

"Deal."

••••

Ekko, with the Heartseeker in one hand and the Platemail Breaker Spear in the other, moved as soon as the watch's timer reached zero. He dodged the Megatusk's first charge, his body twisting in the air. The Spear struck the monster's side forcefully, the iron opening a wound in the Megatusk's tough skin.

Jinx, with a harpoon in one hand and a chomper in the other, launched herself onto the Megatusk's back. She ran across the monster's slippery scales, her feet finding purchase on the protrusions. She plunged the harpoon into the monster's back, the retractable claws opening, anchoring her to the beast. Then, she released the chomper, which exploded just behind the monster's eye, disorienting it even further.

"Your turn, wacko!" Jinx shouted, as the Megatusk thrashed violently.

Ekko, taking advantage of the beast's disorientation, slid down the monster's side. With the Heartseeker, he sought the wound Nahlira had previously inflicted. The core gem pulsed, weakening the Megatusk's muscle tissue. Ekko plunged the spear deeper, twisting it quickly. The monster bellowed in pain.

She, hanging from the harpoon on the Megatusk's back, began firing her cannons with small runic energy charges that bounced off the monster's skin, irritating it further.

But, suddenly, the Megatusk submerged, dragging Jinx with it. Ekko, seeing the maneuver and how the beast dragged her, threw himself into the water without hesitation. The cold enveloped him, but his eyes were fixed on the silhouettes of Jinx and the Megatusk.

The light was barely visible underwater. But they didn't care. And above all, it didn't stop them from continuing to fight.

The monster moved with surprising speed despite its size, creating whirlpools with its massive structure. Jinx, clinging to the harpoon, dodged blows by floating, her body narrowly escaping death.

Ekko, swimming with powerful strokes, approached the Megatusk. With the Platemail Breaker Spear, he tried to pierce the beast's gills, a vulnerable point. The monster dodged him, and its tentacles tried to wrap around Ekko. Jinx, seeing his situation, released one of her grenades right in the Megatusk's face. The cloud expanded, and the monster, blinded by the explosion, let out a silent roar underwater.

He took the opportunity. He approached the Megatusk's head, which was now disoriented and vulnerable. His mind worked at lightning speed. He knew he had only one chance for the final blow. And the Heartseeker was the key. He needed to reach the heart. It was the only way to kill it.

The beast, still confused, thrashed violently. Ekko saw an instant, a fraction of a second, when the Megatusk turned, exposing its chest. It was an enormous risk. If he failed, the monster would recover and tear him apart. But it was his only option.

With all the strength he had left, he propelled his body forward with the spear extended. His muscles ached, his lungs burned. He lunged towards the Megatusk's chest, the blade of the Heartseeker gleaming in the gloom.

And in a last desperate attempt, he plunged it into the monster's chest.

••••

Great Surge Bay, that coast of Bilgewater that smelled as much of saltpeter as of recent death, was more turbulent than usual. Gulls circled slowly overhead, cawing anxiously. The floating platforms and rickety docks creaked under the weight of dozens, hundreds of people: merchants, smugglers, drunkards, inveterate gamblers, curious children climbing barrels to see better. Everyone waited. Some for hope. Others for blood and gold.

Bets continued to run with hysterical enthusiasm. No one knew for sure if any crew remained alive beyond those who had already returned, but that didn't stop the frenzy. Sweaty men with black ink plumes kept jotting down names and numbers. Every so often, someone would shout: "Five to one the Black Wind bastards don't come back!" or "Fifteen to one the Fortune Sharks are all dead!" Most bet on tragedy. On carnage. It was more profitable.

The crews that had returned to the bay looked more defeated than triumphant. One of them, the Breach Backs, had brought part of an adult lurkan's spine, blackened and split as if hastily sawn. Another, the Kraken's Cards, had disembarked an amputated carapaxan claw, still oozing a greenish liquid. There was a huge, eyeless skull, supposedly from a Megatusk pup, but the Port Guard was already muttering it was a fake. In short: nothing legendary. But enough trophies to crown, for lack of better options, a mediocre winner.

It was just as most began to lose interest, when some were leaving to find rum or comfort, that a dull tension began to run along the coast. A rumor, a vibration, or perhaps a shared instinct. Eyes turned in unison towards the northern shore, where the waves broke with less violence. Something was moving there. Or someone.

Two stumbling figures emerged from the water. They staggered onto the sand, falling to their knees, and then collapsed completely.

The shout unleashed chaos. Everyone began to run, push, jump over boxes, planks, whatever was necessary to get closer to the scene. The human tide swirled around the fallen bodies. Voices rose in a chorus of exclamations, whispers, curses.

Jinx and Ekko lay on the sand, gasping. Her blue hair was soaked and plastered to her face, and her body trembled with pure exhaustion. Ekko, beside her, had his shirt torn, his chest covered in purplish bruises, his face marked with scratches and burns. Everyone around them shouted and whispered, but they didn't care.

Ekko barely turned his face towards Jinx.

"You have... no idea..." he gasped "...how much you still distract me, Jinx..."

She let out a husky giggle, too weak to move.

"And I'm a mess."

"Exactly. I don't think I can... Be in any battle... where you're present. You distract me too much."

"Then you'd be dead. Again."

"Mmmm..."

Ekko let out a light, pained laugh. Jinx let out another. They remained silent for a few seconds, gasping for air as if it were gold.

"At least..." Ekko said, raising his right arm with difficulty "...I brought a souvenir."

With superhuman effort, he lifted his weapon, the Heartseeker, which he still gripped with numb fingers. At the end, tied with improvised wires and hooks, hung a huge piece of pulsating, gleaming, almost translucent flesh, still fresh.

It was a dark red to amber color, with thick veins crossing its surface. It was a grotesque mass, but impossible to look at without being mesmerized.

Jinx tilted her head slightly. She couldn't even fully open her eyes. But she saw enough. And she started to laugh.

First a short giggle. Then a long laugh, broken by coughs.

"You...!" she gasped, "...you have the Megatusk's heart!"

Ekko looked at her, blinking.

"Is that what this is?"

"Yes!"

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Quite a souvenir, then."

She laughed louder, and so did he. They both laughed as if they hadn't had to drag themselves through the abyss, as if they hadn't lost blood, strength, and almost their souls.

The crowd, in silence, watched them. Some muttering that they were two complete lunatics. Others realizing what the white-haired boy held at the end of his weapon, completely stunned.

But then, Captain Vargo began to push his way through the crowd. He shoved aside anyone who stood in his way, frowning. When he saw Jinx and Ekko laughing on the sand, he shook his head.

He knelt, getting down to their level.

"Damn it! Are you two alright? Have you finally lost it? What the hell is so funny?"

Ekko, eyes watering from laughing, extended the Heartseeker to him.

"Don't you want a Megatusk heart, Captain? I've got too much baggage already."

Jinx burst into laughter again. And Vargo stared at the heart.

And then at them.

A quiet laugh escaped him, barely a snort.

"You two are completely insane."

The man straightened up a bit and extended both hands.

"Come on. You're exhausted. And in shock. You need rest before your brains melt."

Jinx made a vague gesture with her hand.

"Mine's already half-melted. But if you take me somewhere with a roof, I'll follow."

Vargo shook his head, carrying as best he could the two exhausted and completely unhinged figures. And, of course, disoriented enough not to understand that, just like that, they had just crowned themselves the winners of the Great Hunt.

••••

Jinx's eyelids fluttered slowly. A faint, dull light, filtering through some distant crack, tried to break through the dense darkness that still enveloped her. Every muscle in her body protested with a mute groan at the slightest hint of movement. It was a dull, deep pain, extending from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. Her neck felt heavy, her knee joints seemed to have fused, and a throbbing pain drilled into her right temple. She felt worse than after the most brutal hangover she had ever experienced, with that nauseating feeling that churns your stomach and makes you swear you'll never taste a drop of alcohol again. But, despite everything, a strange and pleasant feeling of rest pervaded her. It was as if her body, despite the torment, had hibernated in a deep, restorative sleep, replenishing energy she didn't know she had lost in the first place.

A sigh escaped her cracked lips and air filled her lungs. The scent of rust, fresh solder, and something remotely like stale oil was so familiar that a pang of relief shot through her. Little by little, the darkness began to dissipate and her eyes, still heavy, opened a little wider. Her vision gradually cleared, blurry at first, until the contours of her surroundings began to take shape. The low ceiling and walls covered with tools hanging from rusty nails. The old workbenches cluttered with scrap metal, gears, and small pieces. The unmistakable feel of the uneven plank floor beneath her body. There was no doubt. She was in the Beast's Spine. In her workshop.

Memories, like an unstoppable avalanche, began to hit her. The Great Hunt. The roar of ships making their way through the infested waters of Bilgewater. The Tenacious Blue, The Red Fortune, The Stygian Serpent. The sea monsters, their colossal shadows emerging from the depths to drag the unwary into darkness. And the Megatusk. Its skin thick as a battleship, its giant tusks, its fetid breath of the sea. Everything blended into a maelstrom of images and sounds, of screams, explosions, and the unmistakable smell of salty blood. And in the midst of that chaos, a name rose with the force of an anchor: Ekko.

The mere thought of his name brought a smile to her face, a soft curve on her normally tense lips. Ekko. The boy who flew his hoverboard through the alleys of Zaun, who fought for justice in the Fissures, who had that smile that made her feel butterflies in her stomach. But along with the smile, a new fear, cold and penetrating, settled in her chest. What if none of it was real? What if it had all been a dream, a hallucination induced by fever or extreme exhaustion? What if Ekko never came to Bilgewater, if she never really saw him again and it was all a cruel trick of her mind, a desire so deep to have him near that her brain had invented it? The mere idea tightened her heart. It was a terrifying possibility, an abyss of loneliness that threatened to swallow her whole.

Her eyes, still with a hint of distrust, began to scan every corner of her workshop. She searched, with silent desperation, for any clue, any sign that would confirm that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. And then, she found them. Small details, almost insignificant to anyone else, but unmistakable to her. On her workbench, next to her messy tools, a small, meticulously polished pocket watch gear. In a corner, a handful of books with worn covers and some strange titles that weren't hers. And most obvious of all: among the loose papers and crumpled plans, a perfectly spiraled coffee stain, dry and pale, on an old parchment. It was a pattern that Ekko, in his moments of deep concentration, used to leave with his coffee cup on any available surface. Those details. Those small, unmistakable signs. A smile, this time real and expansive, spread across her face. He had been there. It was real.

With an effort that cost her a gasp, Jinx began to move. Her muscles, still sore, protested with every flex, every stretch. She propped herself on one elbow, then the other, the pain radiating from her lower back. Her legs trembled as she tried to sit up, and she had to grab onto one of the table legs to manage it. A groan of frustration escaped her lips as she felt her left knee buckle. Limping, staggering, she finally managed to stand.

She shuffled towards the window. The natural daylight, peeking over Bilgewater's dark horizon, forced her to squint. Salty, fresh air, laden with the scent of the sea and fish, filled the workshop. And then she heard voices. Familiar. Warm. They came from outside, from the cliff, right where her workshop clung precariously to the rock.

"Look, Vargo, listen to me for a second. If we combine a gyroscopic rudder with an adapted steam jet propulsion system, we could make The Stygian Serpent turn on a dime. Imagine the advantage in a chase. No need to maneuver, just an instant turn."

The voice was so unmistakable that Jinx couldn't help but let out a giggle. Ekko.

A growl, unmistakably Vargo's, followed.

"Let's see, boy. Usually, a crew that knows what it's doing is enough. So much invention only complicates things and provides more parts to break in the middle of a storm."

"But it's not just for speed or agility. Think about stabilization. With the gyroscope, the ship would be much more stable in turbulent waters. Less seasickness, fewer accidents, and the artillery would be much more accurate," Ekko replied.

"Accurate is a good eye and a well-calibrated cannon. Not those trinkets of yours that break with the first strong wave splash." Vargo snorted, but there was a hint of curiosity in his tone.

"No, Captain, they're not trinkets. I'm talking about reinforced metal alloys, modular designs for easy maintenance. And steam propulsion is not only faster, it's cleaner, less dependent on winds, which would give us a strategic advantage in any type of weather." Ekko seemed unfazed by Vargo's skepticism.

"Cleaner... And who cares about cleanliness when the Port Guard is chasing you? I prefer brute force. The kind that gets you out of trouble at full sail, not the kind that leaves you floating like a drifting log."

"Sure, but think about fuel efficiency. And noise. A well-designed steam engine is much quieter than sails flapping in the wind or the pounding of waves against the keel. It would allow us to approach stealthily," Ekko didn't give up.

And that made Jinx let out another laugh. Of course, Ekko wasn't going to give up. He had never been one to give up.

She headed towards the workshop door. Her steps, though still a bit clumsy, were firmer. The outside air hit her, fresh and salty, with the smell of wet rock and the old wood of the docks. The sea, a deep blue that resembled black, stretched to the horizon, and the constant murmur of waves breaking against the rocks was a familiar melody on mornings at The Beast's Spine.

She walked along the rocky path that snaked along the cliff. A few meters away, at the edge of the precipice, stood Vargo, and next to him, Ekko, with his back to her, exhaling smoke from his mouth and passing the pipe to Vargo before plunging into conversation again.

"And with a sonic pulse radar, we could detect schools of fish from a much greater distance, and even map the seabed in real time. Imagine the advantage for fishing, or for avoiding hidden reefs." Ekko raised an eyebrow, observing the captain with enthusiasm.

Vargo snorted.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just cast a net and see what we catch? So much equipment to complicate such a simple thing. But... avoiding reefs without a lookout... doesn't sound bad at all. Especially if it saves you a few holes in the hull."

Jinx cleared her throat softly. And at that instant, Ekko turned his head slightly. His eyes, previously fixed on the horizon, stopped on her.

Her heart skipped a beat. He was there. It was real. His eyes, an intense brown, looked at her with a mix of surprise and that spark of recognition that only he possessed. His face, framed by his long dreadlocks, was just as she remembered it: the thick nose, the full lips, the prominent cheekbones. It was irrefutable proof that everything she had felt, everything she had lived, had not been an illusion.

Vargo, noticing the interruption in the conversation, also turned his head. Seeing Jinx, a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"Finally. You slept so long I was worried you had hibernated until the next Great Hunt."

Jinx let out a giggle, and sat down next to them on the rock, the pain in her body almost forgotten. With a quick movement, she snatched the pipe from Vargo, and lit it with a click of a match. The sweet and spicy tobacco smoke spread in the air. She took a deep puff, feeling the warmth in her lungs, and then blew out the cloud of smoke.

Ekko let out a soft chuckle, almost a sigh, and shook his head.

"Uhm... Breakfast, first? Perhaps?"

Jinx just gave him a carefree look, shrugging.

Vargo snorted. "I gave up years ago, boy. Trying to get Jinx to have human habits is a lost battle."

Ekko smiled, shaking his head once more, and let out another chuckle.

The three remained silent for long seconds, a comforting stillness broken only by the murmur of the waves and the distant chirping of some birds. The familiar scent of salt, dampness, and the rocky earth of The Beast's Spine mingled with the scent of Vargo's tobacco. From where they stood, they could see the horizon of Bilgewater, with its ships anchored in the harbor, the wooden houses crowded on the hillside, and the ship masts rising against the sky. The distant hustle and bustle of the city could be heard, the cries of vendors in the market, the clang of metal from the shipyards, and the squawking of seagulls.

At a certain point, Vargo and Ekko exchanged a knowing look. Ekko stood up, then leaned down and placed a hand on Jinx's shoulder, who observed him with big, bright eyes, a silent plea in her gaze for him not to leave.

"I'll wait for you inside," Ekko said softly.

Jinx was left alone with Vargo on the cliff. The silence between them, this time, was different. At that moment, Jinx felt strangely calm, but a pang of guilt washed over her as she remembered... everything. Especially the words still left unsaid.

She broke the silence.

"So... what happened with the Hunt? Has the city stopped being crazy? Did anyone win the grand prize?"

Vargo let out a dry chuckle, amazed at the memory. "The only grand prize was what Ekko brought, little fish. The heart wasn't complete, but it was a heart nonetheless."

"So what was the outcome?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Well, technically, you can't participate in the Great Hunt alone. You need a crew. And while Ekko brought the heart by himself, technically, he was part of my crew." Vargo had a smile on his lips, a spark of pride in his eyes that he couldn't hide.

Jinx let out a giggle.

"So the big winning title... is yours, old man?"

He laughed, a deep, raspy sound. "You could say so. Though that's not what matters. What matters is that now I have more time. To do things right. And this time, for real."

"Hey, I know it might... seem ironic, but if... you know, if you need me—"

Vargo stopped her with a wave of his hand.

"You've put yourself at risk enough, girl. This isn't your fight. This is my responsibility. And no one I love should get hurt."

Jinx stopped, her eyes widening slightly. A tender, almost imperceptible smile, formed on her lips. In the midst of that vulnerable moment, the captain broke the silence again, slightly uneasy.

"Besides, I have a lot to discuss and plan with Fortune. Perhaps everything will change from now on."

She let out a laugh. "I can't believe I've lived long enough to see Vargo and Miss Fortune work together. Is the end of the world near?"

He shrugged.

"Everything will happen in the shadows, but yes. I know it's hard for her, but Sarah... she's a brave woman. She's one of the few people I've known willing to put everything aside to do what's right. Even her pride."

"And where is she now?" Jinx asked, frowning.

"Sarah told me she'll see you at the Victorious Hunters' Party at The Blind Siren. And in the meantime, she asked me to look after you, though she doesn't even need to ask," Vargo replied, with a glint in his eyes.

"And how was she about... you know... The Red Fortune?" Jinx asked.

"She wasn't happy, of course," the man chuckled. "But she mentioned something about building a ship from scratch with... the gold from the Aghir Kraken's head."

Jinx let out a laugh, covering her face with her hand. Memories of the monster, of its head on The Red Fortune's deck, began to flood her mind.

"Yeah... about that..." she said with a giggle.

"It seems while I was away, you were... killing colossal monsters? Can't say I'm surprised."

She let out a laugh, reliving the memory of that day. After her giggles, he looked into her pink eyes before speaking again.

"She cares about you," Vargo said, his voice soft. "You have... something, little fish. A strange ability to touch people's hearts in the most unexpected ways."

She felt something warm and sudden form in her chest. Then, she gave him a sincere smile.

"Thanks, Vargo."

They both fell silent, the sound of the waves and wind enveloping them. She sighed. There was something that still tormented her, a confession she couldn't keep. She couldn't reconcile with Vargo, or truly feel well... without telling the truth.

So she took a deep breath.

"Vargo... I have to tell you something." Jinx began, her voice tinged with nervousness. "I know Sarah aboard the ship said she was the one who had—"

"Jinx, I know it was you." He interrupted her.

She looked at him, astonished, her eyes wide open.

"I know you can be a drunken mess some nights, but you never neglect your weapons enough for anyone to get into your workshop and sabotage them." Vargo continued, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I had my suspicions... but I confirmed it when I saw Sarah take the blame for you."

The captain turned his face to look at Jinx.

"That's how you get to people's hearts, Jinx. Enough for Sarah to have been willing to take the fury of the entire crew on her shoulders."

"Mt. Washington" - Local Natives

Vargo's words hit her like a wave. A pang of pain mixed with an overwhelming sense of relief. Her eyes began to moisten, a hot haze blurring her vision. A knot formed in her throat, and an uncontrollable tremor ran through her body. She tried to speak, but only a silent sob escaped her lips. Tears, hot and bitter, began to roll down her cheeks. Her chest tightened, and a ragged sigh escaped her mouth.

"I'm sorry," she stammered between sobs. "I'm so sorry. Are you... are you mad... at me?"

At that instant, she felt Vargo's strong, rough arms encircle her. He enveloped her in an unexpected embrace. Jinx clung to him, resting her head on his chest, hearing the slow, steady sound of his heart. Tears soaked his shirt, but he didn't care. He gently stroked her hair, his rough hand comforting her.

"Though I'm glad you intended to tell me... I couldn't be mad at you even if I wanted to," he whispered, his voice a low murmur.

Jinx, calmer, gradually regained her voice.

"I didn't know what to do. I was terrified that... you had lied to me, I was terrified that you had used me. No matter how much I wanted to pretend otherwise. A betrayal is only a betrayal when it hurts, Vargo. And it only hurts when it comes from someone you care about."

Vargo sighed, and his embrace tightened. "It's partly my fault too. My fault for not telling you everything you were going to find out sooner or later. My fault for... believing that the past can cease to exist just by not naming it."

He paused, his gaze lost on the distant docks.

"I always wanted to keep you safe and out of it, little fish. But if there's a bigger reason why I was never clear with you about it, it was because... I don't know, I still feel like the past will haunt me my whole life." He let out a heavy sigh. "I feel like, sometimes, when I think I can leave... everything behind, it's as if an invisible rope... drags me back, to always remind me that man was me, and that will always be me. And I... try every day to move forward. Towards something better. But a scar doesn't stop hurting just because you don't want to look at it. Much less an open scar."

Both remained silent, as Jinx's sobs faded and the captain's sighs grew slower, softer, more relieved.

"I guess, by not telling you all that, maybe it made me feel that at least with you... I was a blank slate. Even if that was an illusion. Maybe... if you didn't have to know that monster... I could believe I wasn't one."

Silence settled over them once more, this time deeper. The constant murmur of waves against the cliffs was the only sound contrasting with their breathing. Jinx remained in Vargo's arms, her head resting on his chest, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of his heart. He continued to gently stroke her hair, a gesture Jinx knew she would deeply cherish.

She sat up slightly after a long moment, her voice still a bit hoarse from crying, but with a new determination.

"No one is a blank slate, Vargo." A bitter chuckle escaped her lips. "And someday... someday I'll tell you all the stories about how I hurt the people I loved most. How I lost everything. How I started a war that almost ended it all, and how I tried to end myself along the way more than once."

The man turned to her, looking deeply into her pink eyes.

"No one is a blank slate. And there are scars that will perhaps always be there." She paused, and a small smile escaped her lips. "I know an old man like you won't listen to someone like me, but..."

Jinx looked down for a second, before looking back at the water. At the sea that had given her so much.

"I learned from someone..."

The image of Ekko's face came to her mind, and an involuntary smile grew on her face again.

"...very special..."

She sat up a little more, turning to the man beside her.

"That... no matter what happened in the past... it's never too late to build something new." She sat up a little more and gave Vargo a affectionate pat on the shoulder. "As long as you remember... you are someone worth building it for."

Vargo let out a smile. His gaze was lost in the sea, in the gentle sway of the low tide. She rested her head on his shoulder, and they both remained silent, looking at the ocean stretching before them. Without certainties, or guarantees...

But also, without doubts.

••••

After Vargo said goodbye to both of them, saying he had pending business with 'someone'—Jinx didn't miss Ekko's teasing glance at the captain. She'll ask about it later—, she re-entered her workshop and collapsed onto her bed, watching Ekko. He was sitting on her workbench, legs crossed and back slightly hunched, absorbed in inspecting her sea stones. His fingers examined each gem, turning them, observing their facets.

"Those are from the Serpent Isles," Jinx said, her voice a little hoarse. "Vargo brought them to me from an expedition, from an underwater cave. They're quite rare."

Ekko picked up a translucent, deep blue stone and held it up to the light.

"They're beautiful."

"I found those in the Serpent's Eye. They're more common, but they have impressive impact resistance. Perfect for a good detonator," she replied, a spark of pride in her voice.

As Ekko continued inspecting the stones and the workshop in general, silence settled between them. Jinx watched him, her heart beating with an unusual and quite absurd force. When he barely turned, her eyes stopped on Ekko's back.

And that was when her heart skipped a beat.

A tattoo. Peeking out from beneath the collar of his shirt, a tiny portion of tattooed skin. At first, Jinx thought she had seen wrong, a play of shadows or a fold in the fabric. But when she looked again, her heart skipped another beat, this time stronger. It was unmistakable. The soft curves and delicate lines of what looked like bird feathers, the detail of a wing... knowing Ekko, probably an owl. And next to them... blue clouds. Identical to the ones Jinx had tattooed on her own skin.

She swallowed. There was so much she needed to tell Ekko, so many apologies to offer, though none would be enough for all that had happened. There was so much to talk about, so many moments they had hurt each other, where words had gotten stuck in her throat. It was no coincidence that everything felt slightly tense between them, despite the comfort of his presence. There were still open wounds that needed to be repaired with patience, with time, and with truth.

But now... now Jinx had no strength for any of that. Now, seeing Ekko, real, in front of her, his dreadlocks, his nose, his eyes, his lips, she could only think about how cold the workshop still was... and how Ekko's arms had always, somehow, felt like the right ones.

"Hey, firelight..." she said, her voice a little unsure. "Do we need to go through the whole sequence where I offer you the bed, then you say you don't need it, I force you by saying your back sounds like a badly nailed wooden plank, and then we both pretend we've never shared a bed before when we did for months? Or are we gonna skip all that and you'll come rest with me for a bit?"

"Obstacles" - Syd Matters

Ekko opened his mouth to say something, though nothing came out.

But finally he let out a giggle, one that resonated in the workshop and that Jinx felt deep within her being. He stood up, and walked towards the bed with slow, deliberate steps. His eyes never left hers for a second.

With a soft sigh, he lay down on the bed next to her. Truth be told, both were somewhat stiff, nervous, unsure if it was truly the right time for a hug or if it was too soon. Their bodies remained separated by a few inches... but it was enough for their skin to begin to prickle.

Their longing gazes met. Jinx felt Ekko's closeness, the warmth emanating from his body, the familiarity of his presence. Her muscles tensed, the desire to cuddle in his arms growing with each passing second. Ekko's hands were restless, fighting the urge to reach out and simply embrace her, but he still made a minimal effort to restrain himself.

Until, finally, he couldn't bear it anymore.

"Oh, fuck it."

At that very instant, Jinx and Ekko snuggled into each other's arms at the same time. She rested her head on Ekko's chest, feeling the soft murmur of his breathing against her skin. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, their bodies intertwining like puzzle pieces. Their legs crossed naturally, tangling as close as possible to each other.

Jinx felt the soft brush of Ekko's shirt fabric against her cheek, the scent of his skin, of metal and something fresh that was so characteristic of him and that she had longed for so much. Her fingers slid down Ekko's back, tracing the muscular lines, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric. Ekko buried his face in Jinx's hair, inhaling that peculiar scent that only she possessed, now mixed with a hint of sea salt. His hands slid down her back, gently caressing her, tracing the curve of her spine, then moving up to her neck, where his fingers tangled in her loose, long hair.

Their bodies moved naturally, adjusting to each other, seeking maximum closeness, mutual warmth. Even if it wasn't physically possible. They tried anyway.

Running one of her hands over Ekko's chest, she cleared her throat before speaking.

"So... what do you think of Bilgewater?"

He let out a giggle.

"It's... noisy. And it smells like corpses. And the people are a bit... peculiar. Much less code of honor and more... well, every man for himself."

She let out a giggle, her fingers tracing caresses on Ekko's skin.

"Yeah, that sums it up pretty well. A bit like Zaun, but with more water and fewer laws."

"At least it's better than the Shadow Isles," he replied.

Jinx lifted her head, her gaze curious.

"By the way... what were you doing in the Shadow Isles, buster? How the hell does someone end up there by accident?"

He sighed, his arm tightening around Jinx. "Don't remind me. My ship's route from Ixtal must have gone off course, and spending so much time without sleep was a bad idea."

"Yeah, well, but what were you doing in Ixtal? I didn't think you were a jungle fanatic."

"I'm not. But it was the closest destination from Shurima."

Jinx looked at him surprised, her eyes wide as she sat up even more.

"And what the hell were you doing in Shurima?"

Ekko was silent for a moment, until a heavy sigh escaped his lips.

"I had to stop there to get to Targon by land."

And now, she was in shock. Literally. Silence hung between them, broken only by Jinx's wild, confused heartbeat. After a long moment, her voice came out in a whisper.

"What's going on, Ekko? Don't tell me you traveled around the world just for fun."

He remained silent, his body tense under Jinx's arms. Of course they had to talk about this. They didn't have all the time in the world. It was time.

Ekko sighed deeply, the air leaving his lungs almost violently. He adjusted his embrace around her, holding her tighter.

"I hope you had good rest, Pow. Because this is gonna be a long story."

Notes:

I'm way too excited for the upcoming chapters. From now on, the story will be almost entirely focused on Timebomb 😭 Let's see how our babies make up for lost time and try to fix a time paradox. There are so many scenes I want to share with you that I'm literally pulling my hair out.

If you liked the chapter, kudos are very appreciated, and remember I love reading your comments, thoughts, critiques, etc ♥️

As always, you can find me on Twitter as @jinxedbypow

With love, Juli 💙

Chapter 12: "You Make Everything Feel Like The First Time"

Summary:

Jinx and Ekko work tirelessly against a time paradox that threatens to consume them, but the Victorious Hunters' Party in Bilgewater might give them the break and closeness they've long craved.

Notes:

Hi!! I’m back with a new chapter <3 Without a doubt, this is my favorite one so far, and I think it might become yours too… maybe. In a way, it’s my self-gift for my birthday.

This chapter includes a song I wrote (“Beware the Eyes of Scylla”), which I almost posted on my socials so you could hear it, but in the end, I chickened out. Maybe someday I’ll gather the courage to share it. Still, the lyrics are included in the chapter!

Without further ado, enjoy the read!

Ekko had lost track of how long Jinx had been silent.

With her, silence wasn’t something that happened very often. The only time he’d seen her quiet for days had been a situation of constant alert for Ekko. But now, the only sound filling that workshop was Jinx’s footsteps, pacing back and forth, over and over again. As he watched her, he felt his patience starting to wear thin, though he made a monumental effort to hold onto it—simply because it was her.

"Jinx..." He sighed.

Her brow was furrowed, a tangle of lines that deepened with every step. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her shoulders tense, and her jaw clenched and relaxed with a nervous tic. Her long, now wavy hair—the one Ekko had found himself staring at like a fool more than once—swayed with each turn she made. Her eyes were fixed on some invisible point on the floor, occasionally drifting to the wall, the window, or any place that could help her keep her focus. Every so often, she bit her lower lip, a habit Ekko knew well: it was her way of processing information.

He brought a hand to his face, exhaling again.

"Jinx, are you gonna...?"

He stopped mid-sentence, inhaling and trying to find a little more patience. Ekko was standing, leaning against the nearest wall, his hands shoved into his pockets. His gaze never left her, following her every movement and getting distracted by small details of her face in the process. His right leg, despite his efforts to keep it still, bounced against the wooden floor with a steady rhythm. A vein throbbed softly at his temple, and his lower lip was trapped between his teeth. His impatience mixed with a hint of nervousness. They had spent more time like this than he would’ve liked—Jinx processing, and him waiting—and the silence was starting to become unbearable for him.

"Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna keep drilling a hole in the floor with your—"

"So let me get this straight," Jinx interrupted, now pacing more slowly.

Ekko sighed and rubbed his face. She stopped abruptly, turned to look at him, her pink eyes finally meeting his.

"Perfect Powder turned out to be a mad brainiac. And she made something that can manipulate events within certain points of a timeline?"

"Something like that," he said, straightening up a bit. "Something she called ‘ The Anchor. ’"

Jinx resumed her pacing, this time at a slower rhythm.

"Uh-huh... And Powder figured out that time isn’t a straight line, but more like a bunch of knots? Like a fishing net, but of events?"

"Temporal stability nodes," Ekko nodded. "They’re points where a person’s fate or their impact on reality remains unchanged… No matter the minor shifts around them. According to her, the universe tends to correct itself."

Jinx let out a little laugh.

"So the universe is a bit obsessive, huh? If something gets a little out of place, it fixes it to keep everything the same."

"Something like that. And Powder’s Anchor was designed to work within those nodes, without screwing up the present with a chain reaction."

"And how the hell did you say she did that?" she stopped again, turning to look at him, this time with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, my theory is that she used crystals, but in a… Different way. She created a kind of ‘bubble’ where modifications were tested and only merged into the main timeline if they didn’t interfere with the causal nodes."

Jinx brought a hand to her chin, thoughtful.

"A reality bubble... That’s… Fucking awesome. Like a simulator. And to keep that thing from exploding in Powder’s face, she needed two ‘anchors’? An origin point and a reference point?"

"Exactly," he said. "If a single person tried to stabilize the temporal flow, the fluctuations were unpredictable. But with two intertwined presences, the device could distribute the temporal load and prevent collapse."

"And this is where I come in, huh?" She gave him a sideways glance, a teasing smile curling on her lips. "So, my super genius version programmed her DNA and her ‘ emotional signature ’ into the device. But she needed another signature with a ‘ compatible resonance .’ And that’s where you, my dear boyfriend, come in, right?"

The moment those words slipped from Jinx’s lips, he let out a small laugh as a soft blush rose to his cheeks. Jinx, noticing the smug smile painted on Ekko’s face, blushed furiously as she realized what she had just said.

"I mean..." she swallowed, trying to sound as normal as possible. "I’m saying it because you said we were a couple in that timeline, right?"

Ekko chuckled, though he felt the blush creeping up his neck.

"Yeah. Right," he let out a half-smile. "Anyway. According to what I managed to jot down from the conversations I heard, Powder and I… and her Ekko… were… quantumly entangled. She used a method that captured the essence of past interactions in a persistent quantum state. That’s why, without both present, the artifact couldn’t be stable."

"So if I’m not there, everything goes to shit, huh?" Jinx resumed walking.

Ekko nodded.

"And where exactly does… Your paradox come into this equation?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Heimerdinger warned Powder that unpredictable paradoxes could be created, but I still don’t know—"

Suddenly, a sharp sting shot through Ekko’s head, like a nail had been driven right behind his eye. He brought a hand to his temple, his brow furrowed.

"Ekko? Are you okay?" Jinx asked, stopping. She started walking toward him with unsteady steps and wide eyes.

The migraine throbbed in his head for several seconds, a constant hammering that blurred his vision, before starting to fade, dropping to a dull, manageable ache until Ekko lowered his hand.

"Yeah, yeah. Just… stress. And lack of sleep. Happens to me all the time." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "As I was saying… the paradox started with Klem finding the artifact. He found it in Zaun and brought it to me. And that artifact, it turns out, was the core of Powder’s Anchor. But in this timeline, you were…” he weighed his words for a few seconds. Jinx swallowed hard.

“…out of reach. Which left it without its origin point for stabilization."

She nodded.

"So..." she pursed her lips, thinking again. "The merchant gave it to you, you went to Targon, it dragged you to the other reality, you detached it and brought it back to this reality, so the same merchant could give it to you again and the cycle would restart?"

Ekko frowned. 

"Well, when you put it like that—"

"You do realize you basically jinxed it?"

He blinked and let out a low groan.

"I did not," he frowned even more. "I was just—"

"You did. Trying to fix what’s out of your hands," she let out a little laugh.

"Shut up."

Jinx couldn’t hold it in anymore. She brought a hand to her head with a genuine, astonished laugh.

"Powder’s a damn genius. And you’re an idiot with a savior complex."

He let out a sarcastic, indignant laugh.

"Well, maybe if you hadn’t been ‘ dead ’—" he made mocking air quotes with his fingers, "this thing wouldn’t have destabilized in the first place."

She opened her mouth to respond but then closed it, resigned. Ekko let out a triumphant smile.

"That’s what I thought. And for the record, I was trying to fix a mess."

"That you caused," Jinx turned her head with a grin. "For not getting over your need to stick your nose where you shouldn’t. And now you need me to fix it. How convenient."

"This is serious, Jinx," he said, glaring at her.

"Of course it is. But it’s hilarious! It’s like the universe punched you in the face for trying to be the hero and said ' Now, go find your genius girl to save your ass! '"

Ekko huffed. "Whatever. The point is that the core is stuck in a loop of existing and disappearing. That’s why it oscillates between states—it appears and disappears."

She straightened up, her laughter fading into a mischievous smile.

"So, the gadget’s like a ghost with attachment issues, huh? It comes and goes from one timeline to another whenever it feels like it."

Ekko rubbed his temples.

"More or less. Still... there are things that don’t add up. When I was on the Mount, the core saved my ass from dying a bunch of times. Probably some kind of self-preservation mechanism that Powder programmed. But with you on the ship... it didn’t happen the same way."

Jinx thought for a few seconds, tilting her head.

"Hmm. Didn’t you think that maybe the core recognized my presence, but not my temporal quantum signature? I mean, you haven’t even let me get my hands on it yet. That thing probably likes you more than it likes me."

Ekko fell silent for a moment. Then he let out a resigned sigh.

"Honestly, I hadn’t thought of that."

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Seriously, Ekko, where would you be without me?" She stepped closer, holding out her hand. "You gonna show me the trinket or what?"

He nodded, his hand reaching into his bag. Slowly and carefully, he pulled out the core. He held it delicately in the palm of his open hand. The blue light reflected off its spherical surface, making it shimmer.

Jinx’s eyes widened, her gaze locked on the object. She leaned in, her body tense, curiosity burning in her pupils. Her fingers approached slowly, afraid that any sudden touch might ruin what she had in front of her. She could see exactly what Ekko had described: a spherical core, about the size of a fist, with several plates and metallic layers that spun almost imperceptibly. It pulsed with an irregular blue light, like a disordered, beating heart, and it vibrated with a frequency that seemed to resonate in her very bones. Tiny gears peeked through the gaps, and fine filaments resembling glowing veins stretched across its surface, connecting the various plates. It was a work of complex, beautiful engineering—one that, theoretically, she herself had built. Fascination wrapped around her, a kind of disbelief mixed with a strange, distant pride.

Her trembling hand inched closer to the core. Ekko watched her, holding his breath, his thumb brushing the metallic edge. The tips of Jinx’s fingers brushed the cold, smooth surface. When her hand finally touched the artifact, he was still covering it with his own, his fingers grazing hers.

In that instant, the moment both hands enclosed the core, the irregular pulsing stopped. The light, which had previously flickered and fluctuated with an erratic rhythm, suddenly turned into a steady, static blue glow—a soft but firm pulse. The gears and metallic plates inside seemed to click into place, like a lock being opened—a series of tiny sounds coming together in a mechanical whisper.

Ekko watched, fascinated.

"It’s never done that before," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "Every time I tried to open it or take it apart, it would reset itself."

Jinx let out a satisfied, low chuckle.

"Because it needed both of us."

Her eyes slowly drifted to meet Ekko’s. Their hands, still covering the core, brushed gently against each other. A barely perceptible touch, a faint caress with the tips of their fingers. Ekko’s skin instantly prickled at the contact, a current of electricity running up his arm with a ridiculous intensity for such a light touch. Their gazes locked. Jinx’s pink eyes softened, and Ekko’s eyes sparkled as they found hers—those same eyes that had always been there with him, in one way or another. Time seemed to stop, suspended in that tiny space between their bodies, between their eyes, between their hands.

She blinked several times, snapping out of her trance and clearing her throat lightly.

"Well, I guess now we can inspect it, right?"

Ekko gave a small shake of his head, snapping back to reality.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

They both moved to the nearest worktable, a wide, cluttered surface where Jinx usually dismantled her weapons, ran runic tests, and worked on commissions. In a perfectly synchronized motion, Ekko placed the core at the center of the table. Jinx leaned over it, pulling from a drawer a set of small tools, ideal for precision work: fine tweezers, miniature screwdrivers, a couple of magnifying lenses. Ekko’s fingers began working, lifting one of the plates just enough for Jinx to work on one of the layered circuits.

"Do you think it’s Hextech?" she asked without looking up, carefully removing a tiny gear with the fine tweezers.

Ekko leaned in a little closer, examining the exposed interior of the core.

"Well, that’s my theory, but I’m not sure. I haven’t seen it working off the energy of any gemstone or crystal. Besides, I don’t know where Powder would’ve gotten more crystals, if that’s the case. The ones we had, we used in the Z-Drive."

Jinx let out a chuckle. "Oh, Ekko. Have you ever thought that maybe… Powder hid more crystals on purpose?"

He frowned.

"Why would she do that?"

"For the same reason I would," she replied, still working. "For some future invention, for an emergency. Or even just to spend a little more time with you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted to stretch out her time with the cool Ekko as much as possible."

Ekko grinned mockingly. "Did you just admit I’m cool?"

"Don’t get too excited," Jinx shot back, giving him a light kick under the table with her foot. "I’m just saying my other self was smart. You know, she had good taste."

Finally, with a soft click, Jinx managed to fully open the core. At first glance, there was no gemstone or crystal that would immediately reveal Hextech. But quickly, she grabbed several of her magnifying lenses, inspecting it more closely. And when she did, a smile escaped her lips. Inside, there were indeed fragments of Hextech crystals. Tiny, almost microscopic—not like a stable gemstone—but they were there, embedded in a complex matrix of circuits and filaments.

"Ha!" Jinx exclaimed triumphantly, raising an eyebrow at Ekko. "Told you. Perfect Powder had more crystals."

He leaned in to get a better look, fascination gleaming in his eyes.

"They’re so… small. They’re not like normal crystals."

"They’re fragments. Like she pulverized them and then recombined them with the central circuit patterns. Way harder to detect, way more efficient for a mechanism like this. Fucking genius," she said, bringing a hand to her forehead, shaking her head with a soft laugh.

Ekko nodded, thoughtful.

"So, we have the power source. If we can stabilize the core, create a medium..."

"And if we can send it back to its reality," she added, already immersed in the problem. "Because if it’s stuck in a loop, that means it’s always gonna come back here, right? We have to break that loop."

“The only way to break it is by returning it to its original place at the original moment in the other timeline," he said, his mind already working at full speed. "And somehow, we have to make sure it stays there."

Jinx bit her lip. "But if we send it back, won’t the cycle just start again? You detached it. What guarantees it won’t happen again?"

"We need extreme precision," Ekko said. "The theory... it talked about a Causality Inversion. If we rebuild the complete Anchor, and stabilize it with our bond, we could try using it to reverse the exact moment when I detached the core in the alternate reality—but this time, with the intention of leaving it there."

She leaned on the table, crossing her arms, her eyes fixed on the open core.

"So, if the gadget brought you back to your reality once, in theory, it could do another time jump, but in reverse? From here to there, at the exact moment."

Ekko nodded. "That’s the theory."

They both looked at each other, letting out a shared huff. It wasn’t easy. None of this had been, nor was going to be, easy. But at least they were in this together.

"Well," Jinx said, a spark returning to her eyes. "Luckily, we’re already in a workshop, right?"

Ekko smiled at her, full of relief. Nothing felt quite as terrible when she was around.

"Yeah."

They both got moving. Jinx walked to a corner of the workshop, pushing a pile of metal boxes with her foot. Ekko dragged the worktable to the center, clearing the space and starting to line up tools on it. Jinx picked up a tangle of wires and hung them on a hook on the wall, while Ekko piled a heap of scrap in a corner, freeing up a large part of the floor. Tools flew from their hands, instinctively organized into piles only they could understand.

Ekko smiled to himself for a moment. In a strange, crazy way, it all felt like déjà vu. If he focused just a bit, he could even smell the incense from Powder’s hideout and hear the soft footsteps of Heimerdinger.

"You don’t happen to have a blackboard, do you?" he joked.

Jinx paused. She thought for a few seconds, and then a smile spread across her face

"I’ve got something better."

He gave her a curious smile in return. She walked over to a wall covered by an old curtain. With a sharp tug, the curtain came loose from its hooks and fell to the floor, revealing a smooth white wall, surprisingly clean in the middle of the workshop’s chaos of scribbles and drawings.

Ekko looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "The wall? You don’t mind?"

"Nah," Jinx said, shrugging. "It’s the only wall the kids haven’t covered in drawings yet. But they will sooner or later, so we might as well cover it ourselves first."

He laughed, shaking his head softly.

"Then I suppose you’ve got markers, right?"

She stared at him deeply for a few long seconds and let out a playful laugh that made Ekko’s heart beat a little faster. She began moving toward one of her drawers, but not before throwing another glance at Ekko over her shoulder.

"I don’t have markers," she said, pulling out jars of paint in several colors. "But… will paint do?"

He looked at her with a smug smile and a raised eyebrow, stepping a little closer to her face and snatching a jar of paint from her hands.

"Paint is perfect."

 

                                                                               ──────────

 

It was a morning like any other in that workshop at the Beast’s Spine. At least, according to the standards of the past seven days.

Jinx was sleeping with one leg hanging off the edge of the bed and the other wrapped around Ekko’s waist. Her left arm was stretched over her head, while her other arm was wedged between Ekko’s back and the mattress, pressing him against her. Her mouth was slightly open, letting out a deafening snore to which Ekko had already grown used to. Again.

Ekko’s back, lying next to her, was twisted at an angle he’d probably achieved while trying to find a more comfortable position without waking Jinx. Of course, he’d clearly failed in the attempt. One of his hands rested on Jinx’s knee, while the other was lost among the strands of her blue hair. His lips barely moved, mumbling unintelligible words, and from time to time, he furrowed his brow as if arguing with someone in his dreams. In one of those small sleeping movements, Ekko would slowly slide his hand from Jinx’s knee to her hip, while she, half-conscious, would respond to that touch with a slight squeeze of her legs around him, seeking to keep him close without fully waking.

Between each snore and heavy sigh, their hands kept searching for each other, caressing with sweet clumsiness. This was routine. There wasn’t a single nap where they didn’t sleep entangled in each other’s bodies.

"RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!"

Jinx jolted awake, her eyes wide and her heart racing, fumbling to untangle her legs from Ekko, but ended up rolling over and falling off the bed, dragging the sheet with her.

Ekko flinched, his hair completely tousled and his gaze lost.

“FUCK!” 

"Shit!"

"The alarm!" he mumbled.

"The Reverox!" Jinx shouted as she crawled across the floor, still tangled in the sheet, propelling herself on her knees toward the device.

Toward the device that, in recent days, had been responsible for their sleepless nights and headaches.

The sound came from the old Reverox, a crude reader that Jinx and Ekko had assembled in three nights with parts salvaged from ship radios, pressure gauges, and a couple of rusty compressors. The Reverox was rough, with exposed wires hanging and a manual dial that vibrated with each new reading from the core. It had a small oscilloscope on top that displayed unstable peaks and waves, accompanied by a mechanical arm that traced graphs on continuous paper, and two flashing lights that blinked at random, more for aesthetic than necessity. Courtesy of Jinx.

The device served to measure the vibration frequency of the core, allowing them to calculate how stable the artifact was in each cycle. Ekko had designed a calibration system with gears that manually adjusted the sensitivity, while Jinx had connected an old speaker that would scream an alarm in their faces every two hours to ensure they didn’t fall asleep without monitoring the fluctuations.

Ekko stumbled to his feet, rubbing his right eye with one hand and grabbing a paint jar they had left against the wall with the other. While Jinx adjusted the dial and read the numbers, he was already positioned in front of the wall.

"Readings?" he asked, half asleep, with a paint-covered finger hovering mid-air.

"Stable," she replied, slamming the side of the Reverox hard enough to finally silence the alarm.

Ekko began writing the readings on the wall, his handwriting sliding between past notes, doodles, calculations, arrows, and small caricatures that Jinx had drawn to "decorate" their records.

Once finished, they both collapsed, exhausted, into separate chairs. He let himself fall backward, stretching his legs and releasing a long, dramatic sigh. She fell forward, resting her elbows on her knees and letting her head hang.

"A megatusk couldn’t kill us," she grumbled, dragging her words, "but this shitty core is gonna kill us with insomnia. Remind me to slap Perfect Powder if I ever meet her."

"Do you realize how ridiculous this is?" He added, without moving a muscle. "We hunt monsters, we jump between burning ships, we even fought the metal fortune cookie… and now? Now we’re losing a war against an alarm every two hours."

"The worst part," she said, raising a finger without lifting her head, "is that I was the one who picked that sound. And now I want to destroy it."

"We need to change the alarm."

"The next one should be a whisper saying, ‘everything’s fine, keep sleeping .’"

"Perfect," he laughed softly. "Let it wake us up every two hours just to tell us there’s no need to wake up."

They both let out dry, feeble laughs, too tired to laugh with strength.

"I Hear The Bells" - Mike Doughty

In the center of the workshop, resting on an incomplete structure of twisted metal and hand-assembled pipes, stood the Anchor. They had barely completed less than half of the construction process, but the structure was beginning to take shape. Its base was an octagon of welded steel with partially polished bronze plates, with columns supporting an upper ring that was still unfinished. Thick cables, adjustable tensioners, and a series of pulleys surrounded the structure, connected to generators and cylinders that stored kinetic energy.

The core, suspended in the center by a system of electromagnetic claws, was the most delicate centerpiece. They had built a rotating frame around it that allowed alignment as the Anchor took shape. To avoid misalignments, Ekko had designed a system of calibrated bearings and manual stabilizers that allowed real-time correction of torsion angles.

The process had been arduous. First, they built the base, then the supports, then the suspension system for the core, and finally they began working on the upper ring, where the energy condensers would be concentrated. At least three more levels of structure were still missing, along with a complete network of stabilizers and the modules for opening the temporal bubbles.

Which was, in theory… the hardest part. The Anchor had to be capable of creating jumps between those nodes, altering temporal trajectories without collapsing the structure of the main timeline. The key was the core: it had to be perfectly aligned with the rest of the mechanisms to stabilize the reality bubble and allow the jump to occur without causing an irreversible paradox. Another one.

Near the Anchor stood the wall they used as a blackboard, covered with hasty strokes, formulas, diagrams, and countless notes that only the two of them could understand… sometimes. The surface, covered in colorful paint, had taken shape in a strange combination of all kinds of notes:

“f(c) = Σ (Δt * E_n) / α

(Causal frequency function summed by the time variation of nuclear energy divided by the stability factor α. Don't forget, or we might wake up dead.)”

“Core stability 85% for 7 consecutive minutes—adjust power flow.”

“If it exceeds 120 Hz: run. Literally, run.”

“Don't forget to recalibrate the stabilizers. We're not immune to more paradoxes. (Damn it, Ekko, remember it.)”

“CURRENT CAUSAL PATH: ANCHOR-Timeline B —> ANCHOR-Timeline A”

“Don't pull random strings. I know you, Jinx.”

Amidst all those "serious" notes, there were countless additions they had scribbled between jokes and races against sleep. There were drawings made by Jinx in which she had sketched Ekko with an enormous head, holding a wrench while an anvil labeled "Consequences of your calculations" was falling on him.

Elsewhere, Ekko had drawn Jinx sleeping on top of a pile of tools, snoring loudly, with the caption: "Loading process: 2% completed. Immediate nap and surgical intervention recommended to remove the drill from that throat."

There were cross-outs that seemed to be the result of midnight arguments, circles around mistakes, arrows connecting ideas, and, of course, absolutely useless annotations like:

"Jinx says this number is ugly. Ekko has bad taste."

"Important note: never leave Jinx without her eel with spicy sauce. She gets violent."

But among the formulas and jokes, there were also tiny phrases, almost hidden, that could only be read if you looked very closely:

"Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re here."

"You are ridiculously beautiful when you sleep. That should be illegal."

"Ekko looks stupidly handsome when he's focused."

A small heart next to a formula, drawn by Ekko, had been encircled by Jinx with a huge circle and the note: "Undeniable proof that you’re crazy about me."

The past seven days had been a mix of madness, frantic work, and… small personal wars. Jinx and Ekko had gotten caught up in absurd competitions while building, like who could assemble more screws in a minute, or who could balance longer on a beam without falling. Once, Jinx challenged Ekko to weld using his non-dominant hand. Ekko accepted… and the weld ended up crooked, but he defended it as " an artistic twist ." She’d laughed, telling him it looked more like a banana than a structural weld, while he argued that " not everyone understands art ."

Lack of sleep pushed them into delirious situations: once, Ekko fell asleep holding a jar of paint while writing, and when he woke up, he continued writing on his own arm without noticing. Jinx fell asleep standing more than once, leaning against the Reverox while the machine kept beeping, and Ekko had to turn it off, laughing at how she mumbled in her sleep: "Stable, stable, stable…"

Of course, that also included brushing her hair out of her face while carrying her to bed. Then, wrapping his arms around her and planting a kiss on her forehead while she smiled in her dreams.

Flirting, usually shameless and utterly lacking subtlety, was part of the routine too. Jinx often walked behind Ekko and purposely left grease stains on his stomach, though they both knew it was just an excuse to touch his abs. He would get his revenge in small ways. Sometimes he would disassemble what Jinx had just put together, just to force her to work by his side again… from where he had a perfect view of her waist and hips.

The brush of their hands as they passed tools to each other became as natural as their jokes. They leaned shoulder to shoulder while reviewing calculations, they fell asleep in any corner, but always, always, they ended up in each other's arms.

Sometimes, without thinking, Jinx would rest against Ekko’s chest while they went over readings, and he would simply wrap an arm around her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. No one said anything. No one had to.

But, as always… not everything was perfect. Between laughter and welding, tensions arose, sometimes unbearable for her. Sometimes, when exhaustion outweighed patience, Ekko let slip sharp remarks that pierced the air.

"It’s funny. You were dead for five years, and now I can’t get you off me."

"If we had to vanish from the face of the earth for safety reasons, do you have any advice? I mean, you’re kind of a pro at that."

Jinx never answered. Sometimes she threw a wrench at him like a joke, but other times she just lowered her gaze and took refuge in her drawings on the wall, trying to swallow her words and the slight anger rising up her throat.

Even now, drowsy, Ekko struggled to trace the new readings on the wall.

"Core stability report —Cycle 42."

"Base frequency: 96 Hz — stable."

"Stability duration: exactly 2 h 00 min."

"Detected fluctuation: peak at 117 Hz for 0.7 seconds."

"Observation: persistence of micro-fluctuations without a clear pattern."

"Current state: stable post-peak."

He drew a small graph with shaky lines representing the frequency spike and wrote next to it: "New causality destabilizing the node?"

Jinx got up from her chair, huffing, dusting off her hands, and rubbing her face vigorously.

"Great. Sleep deprivation is gonna kill me," she grumbled, rolling her shoulders to stretch. "What a stupid way to die."

Ekko raised an eyebrow as he kept writing.

"And it would be like… the third time you die, right? How many lives do you have left, Jinx? Or did you not tell me that either?"

The low blow was soft, but the edge was there, and she felt it pierce her skin like a pin. She said nothing. She bit her tongue while watching him from behind, her jaw tight. Shit, Ekko. I get it. I get it—I fucked up. I failed you, like I failed everyone. It hurt you. I know. But listening to you whine every day, every night, in every damn space, at every fucking alarm… you’re starting to get on my fucking nerves.

What was he even expecting her to do? Go back in time and never leave Zaun? Spend the next five years on her knees begging for his forgiveness?

He didn’t understand. He didn’t even understand half of this. If she hadn’t left, if she hadn’t let them go on without her… maybe they would all be dead now. Him, Vi, everyone. Like Mylo. Like Claggor. Like Silco… like Isha.

She shook her head hard, trying to swallow the rage and the pain rising in her throat. It wasn’t the time. She turned her eyes back to the Reverox and frowned when she saw the readings.

"Ekko," she called, approaching the reader. "Look. There’s the fluctuation again."

He turned and came to her side, resting his hands on the edge of the table as they both observed the frequency vibrations.

"Again, yeah. It’s been showing up for days. But there’s no pattern—I don’t get it."

"It’s like… it’s random. But it can’t be random—none of this is," she replied, pointing to the graph the Reverox was tracing. "It could be an external interference."

"Interference from what? We’re in the workshop. There’s nothing around that could be leaking in."

"What if it’s a fault in the core?"

"We already checked it, inside and out," he said. "And if it was a fault, the readings wouldn’t stabilize on their own."

"It could be a node we’re not considering," she suggested, resting her forehead against her fist. "Or a miscalculated jump."

She shrugged, sighing.

"Or maybe the core is just messing with us."

Ekko turned to her, bumping her shoulder playfully.

"Or maybe you didn’t calibrate the Reverox properly."

"I calibrated it better than you!"

"Yeah, sure. Like when you ‘calibrated’ the coffee machine and it exploded."

"Excuse me, Mister Artist, that was abstract art," she pointed to a wall where a large coffee stain still marked the surface.

"Abstract art is waking up before you and seeing your face while you snore," he said, hugging her from behind and tickling her stomach. She began to smack at him between laughs.

"That’s because you’ve never seen yourself sleeping with your mouth open!"

The smiles slipped out without permission, easing a bit of the tension that had weighed on their shoulders.

"Look," Ekko said, checking the readings again. "They’re gone now. The frequency is back to baseline."

Jinx sighed, exhausted.

"Don’t you have anything in your notes that could help us?"

He looked up, nodding toward the desk where his notebook rested.

"Check there. That’s all I managed to write down."

While Ekko crouched over one of the manual stabilizers, adjusting the pulley system, Jinx approached the desk. The notebook pages were full of notes, drawings of parts, precision calculations, and observations about the core’s behavior. Jinx huffed as she flipped through several pages.

"Nothing new. Nothing that explains this," she murmured, frustrated. She knew something was missing. There was a lost piece, a pattern they weren’t seeing.

She turned another page, and suddenly, something caught her attention.

"Day 3: This ship hates me. I don’t even think it’s normal to feel this nauseous."

A small laugh escaped her lips. The handwriting was unmistakably Ekko’s. Of course, he’d always been obsessed with taking notes, and she couldn’t even imagine him on a ship without documenting every tiny detail.

Jinx slowly turned her head to see if he was watching her. No. He was still focused, checking the stabilizers and adjusting them with the wrench.

She knew she probably shouldn’t read this. She might find something private… something that wasn't her business. But curiosity burned inside her. The idea of Ekko at sea, writing down his thoughts while facing storms and leviathans, while searching for something, while she was… gone…

Unable to resist, she lowered her gaze to the notebook and started reading.

"Day 2: I fucking hate the sea."

Jinx stifled a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand so Ekko wouldn’t hear her. Not surprised. Of course you don’t like the sea, Ekko.

You needed a strong stomach to endure that vast immensity that left you with no control, that swallowed you, that tore you apart. He’d never been good at letting go of control. At least as an adult. He never knew how to just go with the flow. 

Though… It was curious. She’d seen him during the Great Hunt, moving over a ship with an agility that seemed innate, as if the sea were his second home. What changed in between?

Her eyes shifted to another note written on the pages.

“Day 11: Mental note in the name of preserving my future dignity: seaweeds are NOT tentacles.”

The effort it took to hold back her laughter was monumental. Jinx pressed her lips tightly together, her shoulders trembling slightly as she imagined Ekko suffering from maritime paranoia, fighting seaweed as if it were legendary monsters. She placed her hand on her chest, biting her tongue to avoid letting out a laugh that would catch his attention. She quickly continued reading.

“Day 12: Today I was almost intercepted by a maritime patrol and escaped by a hair. I don’t know what scares me more. Being arrested, or the punch in the face Sevika would give me if she found out I almost got caught.”

“Day 13: Almost became a seafood platter. Lesson of the day: if you see a ship that looks like a pirate ship, run. Don’t look back. Don’t make eye contact. Just run.”

A giggle escaped her throat before she could stop it. She raised her eyebrows, surprised. Sevika? What was Ekko doing writing about her in his notebook? There was no way those two could get along. And if they did… well, that definitely had not been on her list of predictions. But the mere idea that it could be real made a warm, light, pleasant feeling rise in her chest. She liked imagining him surviving in his own way, by his own rules, connecting with people she would never have imagined.

“Day 17: Among all the problems I thought might haunt me throughout my life, sunburns were NOT on my list. I think my shirtless sailing days are over. I can’t feel my back or my shoulders.”

Jinx let out a sigh through silent laughter. The mere image of him sailing shirtless shook her more than she would like to admit. She felt a slight blush climbing to her cheeks and huffed, forcing herself to shut down that line of thought. It wasn’t the time for heat to rise in her belly… and elsewhere, thinking of him like that.

“Day 18: I’m scared. I can’t breathe. Please, I want this to be over.”

And with that, a pressure struck her chest. Jinx swallowed hard, her fingers trembling over the page as her gaze slowly drifted towards Ekko, who was still absorbed, tightening a support with the wrench. How much had he suffered with no one there to hold him? How much had he carried on his own?

Pain crossed her stomach like a cold thread.

“Day 10: I miss Jinx. She hasn’t shown up in days. I shouldn’t miss her, but I’m so stupid that I do. I’m scared I’ll forget her face, or her voice.

Maybe someday I’ll see her again. Maybe she’s in the wind, in the waves, or in the stars. I don’t know, it’s stupid. I just hope she’s okay, sleeping, wherever she is.”

She felt the world blur around her as a cloud of tears smeared her vision. He hadn’t seen her in days? What did that mean?

Her throat closed up, a knot impossible to swallow as her fingers tensed over the edge of the page. How much had he missed her? Almost as much as she had missed him? 

Part of her was happy. Happy to have given him the chance to rebuild himself without the weight of her presence. But another part… another part wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream, to hug him. What an irony. What an irony to realize that maybe he had looked for her just as much as she had looked for him.

“Day 8: I’m so tired. I’m tired of running, of fighting, of resisting, of the pain. I’m tired of everything. I just want to sleep.”

A tear rolled down, warm, solitary, along Jinx’s cheek. She knew how that felt. She knew what it was like to go to sleep hoping that when you wake up, it will finally all be over. That the pain will end. That the burden will dissolve. That the fight will stop.

And now… to think that Ekko might have even remotely thought… like that… that maybe he went to sleep carrying that same weight…

She wished, with a devastating force, to take that pain from him and carry it herself. Give it to me. I can handle it. I can bear it for both of us.

“Day 26: Maybe I’m getting used to the sea. Maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe.”

Jinx smiled through her tears, a small spark of relief lighting up her chest. Maybe he still had time. Maybe he could find something that completed him. Something he could love. Even if she no longer had that chance. And she would give anything for Ekko to find that peace.

With a trembling sigh, she ran her hand across her cheeks, wiping the tears away with her palm. Enough. You’ve seen enough.

She closed the notebook with a slow movement, but just as she was about to let it go, something peeked out from between the binding: a more yellowed, older page, out of place among the rest.

She frowned and hesitated. She didn’t want to keep reading. She shouldn’t.

But the handwriting… it definitely wasn’t Ekko’s. Her curiosity, as always, won.

Jinx opened the letter with trembling hands and began to read:

“My beloved Inna,

If this letter reaches you, it means some good samaritan managed to get it out of this damned factory before the smoke from the strike turned it to ashes. Don’t worry, the factory hasn’t burned down (yet), but with everything going on in here, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the guys decided to light a bonfire in the middle of the assembly floor just to heat up their rationed soup.

I’m writing to you from Ironpulse, where we’ve been locked in for several days now. As you know, this shitty strike started as a simple work stoppage, but now it feels more like a carnival with no way out. Picture this: a hundred workers trapped inside, shouting slogans, stealing food from each other, and trying to negotiate with the foremen who, of course, have no intention of budging. And even if they did, they’d have to come to an agreement with the topsiders, and it’s no secret they couldn’t care less about us.

Yesterday, some guy tried climbing onto one of the assembly lines to hang a banner of an enforcer with horns, but he slipped and landed face-first in a barrel of lubricant. I haven’t seen anything that funny since Ekko tried walking in your shoes and ended up tangled in his own feet.

Speaking of our little boy… Inna, I miss him with all my heart. It pains me to think these days away from home are days I’ll never get back with him. Does he still laugh with that bubbly sound when you blow on his arm? Does he still try to climb the kitchen furniture like a little monkey? Tell me he still makes that giant pout when he’s angry, staring straight at you (because the little devil knows damn well we can’t resist those eyes). You have no idea how much I’d give to see him running toward me, his little arms flailing.

And you, my love… there isn’t a single night I close my eyes without picturing your face. Your skin, radiant like bronze under the workshop light, those deep, lively eyes I could stare at for hours. I miss your moon-colored hair, the one that I know could never match the beauty of your locks (even though it can’t be seen from the undercity. I don’t need to see it to know that). I miss the curve of your nose, the way you furrow your brow when something annoys you, but most of all, I miss your smile. That smile that caught me from the first day.

Have you been taking care of yourself? Don’t lie to me. I know you have trouble resting, and I know after everything that’s happened… the fumes have left you weaker than you admit. Promise me you’ll drink the herbal teas I left you, that you’ll get enough rest, and that if you feel unwell, you’ll go to Felicia or Connol. And please, if they’re too busy chasing after Powder (because we both know that little girl is a whirlwind), go to Vander or even Silco. Yes, yes, I know what you’re gonna say, but admit it: Silco listens when you speak, and deep down, I think he cares about us.

Almost forgot. I found something for our little boy. While we were scavenging through Piltover’s discarded junk (because they always throw away the good stuff), I found a book. It’s called The Boy Who Built Stars. It’s about a boy who wanted to reach the sky, and instead of giving up, he built machines, invented things, and in the end, he managed to light up his world with his own creations. The moment I saw it, I knew it was meant for him. Because I know Ekko will be the smartest kid in this city. And even if he’s not, it doesn’t matter. I’ll make sure he’s happy anyway.

But above all, I wanna make sure you are happy. I can’t wait to come back and see what you’ve painted these past days. I’m sure it’ll be something beautiful, no doubt about it. I can’t wait to come home, to hold you, to kiss you. Someday, my love, we’ll find a place in this world where we can be at peace, where we can watch our son grow without fear, without hunger, without wars that aren’t ours.

I love you, Inna. I love you with every heartbeat, every breath, every thought. And I love our little boy, our sun in this city of shadows, who, no matter how much he grows and becomes a man, will always be our little man.

I’ll be back soon. I promise.

Wyeth.”

She felt her chest contract violently as she struggled to breathe. His parents... of course, he had parents, just like she did. But he never... he’d never spoken to her about them. Not when they were kids. Not even when they lived together at the Firelights’ base. Not now either.

She quickly closed the letter, hiding it again between the pages of the notebook. She remained still, staring at the desk, processing, understanding. If he kept it... if he carried it with him... it must mean something to him, right?

Jinx wiped her tears away harshly. It wasn’t the time to pry. It wasn’t the time to open wounds he might not want her to touch. It wasn’t her place.

She took a deep breath, trying to act normal and wear that carefree expression again. Her steps led her back to Ekko, who was still crouched next to one of the core stabilizers, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

He noticed her approaching and, without taking his eyes off the mechanism, asked, "Did you find anything useful?"

Jinx rubbed the back of her neck. "Nah. The usual. Nothing new, nothing that explains the fluctuations."

He let out a short huff while Jinx moved closer to the Reverox and checked the readings again. And there it was. Again. That fleeting spike in the frequency, jumping almost out of scale for a fraction of a second before stabilizing as if nothing had happened.

"Ekko, look," she said, pointing at the oscilloscope. "There it is again."

He straightened up and walked over to her side, leaning on the edge of the table while they both stared at the steady reading.

"It’s not constant," he murmured. "It doesn’t follow any pattern we can predict."

"But it always comes back," Jinx added, lightly tapping the side of the device. "As if it were... I don’t know... beating."

"Beating?" Ekko repeated, tilting his head.

"Yeah. It’s not a mechanical pulse. It’s like a spasm."

Ekko narrowed his eyes. "Could it be a residual signal from another timeline? An echo from another node?"

"A kind of rebound?" she asked. "But if it were that, there should be some correspondence with the other nodes that—"

Jinx stopped abruptly. A sound reached her ears, one that didn’t come from the Reverox, nor the Anchor, nor from Ekko.

Tap, tap, tap, tap. 

Voices. Laughter. Footsteps coming from the secret entrance that weren’t threatening… But maybe something worse.

" Oh no . Here they come."

"Who?" Ekko asked, confused.

She wasn’t listening anymore. She darted between tables, tools, and half-assembled parts until she reached a metal table where she began lining up plates. She grabbed a long knife, sliced pieces of smoked squid, and threw them onto salted toast sizzling with eel butter. On another plate, she piled crab balls coated in spicy seaweed, then served a sort of warm salad with baby kraken tentacles.

He watched her with wide eyes and mouth. Who the hell cooks that fast?

"What are you doing?" Ekko insisted.

"Getting ready."

Jinx sharpened her hearing. Tap, tap, tap. More steps. Shrill voices. Screams in the distance. She began counting mentally, frowning.

One, two, three, four, five...

Eleven.

"The whole gang’s coming," she said, not hiding her tragic expression. "Good luck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."

"About w—?"

The ventilation burst open in a cascade of child-sized figures.

Eleven kids dropped down from the secret entrance in dreadful synchronization. Sprocket landed on Luz, Gus bounced onto the table, and Nilo spun three times in the air, though he managed to land on his feet.

"MISS J!" they all shouted in unison.

"You went to the Great Hunt!? And didn’t tell us!?" Gus began marching forward, indignant.

Sprocket, who had a pen in his hair and a tiny notebook, began taking notes.

"Oral testimony to confirm number one: 'Miss J survived the Megatusk. Confirmed. '"

"There's nothing else people are talking about at the docks!" Poppy shouted.

"And they say the outsider from the market killed a Megatusk with just a spear!" Luz raised her eyebrows urgently.

"I saw it on the pier, it had three tusks and a skull tattooed on its back!"

"That wasn’t a Megatusk, that was old drunk Pete," Gus said.

Ekko blinked several times. Were those... the kids he’d seen at the market? Apparently, they hadn’t lied about knowing Jinx. Though the part about being her “assistants” was still a little questionable. He watched the scene for a few seconds until he finally spoke.

“And they are…?”

Jinx let out a sigh, picking up a box of bolts that had landed on the floor.

“Miniature explosion number five, six, and seven.”

Ekko nodded, eyes wide, observing them. Though most of the faces were new to him, there were some he still remembered from the night of the Great Hunt at the market.

And when those familiar faces saw him, their eyes widened. They didn’t take long to rush toward him and surround him.

“IT’S HIM! He’s the bounty hunter! The one with the tattoo!” Sprocket tripped over a welding torch and fell flat on his face while running after Ekko, but he didn’t care.

“I told you he’s not a bounty hunter, you blockhead!” Luz shouted.

“Is he the one who killed the Megatusk?!”

“We knew you knew Miss J!”

“They say he killed the guy with the big hat and claimed 5,000 golden krakens from the bounty board!”

Ekko let out a small laugh and frowned.

“The guy with the—?”

“SHUT UP, HE’S GONNA GET AWAY!”

The kids quickly cornered Ekko even more, who was now making a considerable effort to hold back a laugh. In the distance, Jinx was covering her face with one hand, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes as she tried to hold back a fit of laughter.

Gus tugged on Ekko’s shirt.

“Is it true you killed a Megatusk? With just a knife?”

Ekko remained thoughtful for a few seconds.

“Mmmm… No. It’s not true.”

The kids groaned in unison. But then, Ekko leaned a little closer to the circle, lowering his voice.

“I killed it with its own tusk.”

Their mouths dropped open.

“I TOLD YOU!”

This time, Jinx couldn’t hold back her laughter. Ekko simply watched her and quickly winked at her.

“Is it true you caught a murderer using only a broken mirror and a fishbone?” Luz practically jumped onto his lap, eyes shining.

“It was actually a potato. With runes.” Ekko flashed a smug smile as he tapped the girl’s nose.

“Is it true you have a scroll tattooed on your back with the secrets of the Buhru?”

“How do you know that?” Ekko replied seriously. “That’s ultra-secret. Not even the most experienced spies had ever figured that out.”

“REALLY?!”

“I knew it!”

Chaos exploded among the children. Their screams overlapped as a new argument started, one from which Ekko could barely make out words. But after a few seconds, the kids’ stomachs seemed to remember the tempting aroma that flooded the workshop, and they began to pounce on the plates Jinx had prepared.

Some had climbed onto crates, others sat with their legs dangling from tables, and Zep hung upside down from a loose rope in the ceiling with his mouth full of fried fish.

“Is it like this every day?” Ekko asked, while Nilo tried to climb onto his shoulder with a medal made of clam in his hand.

“Only when they’re hungry,” Jinx answered, fixing a crossbow that Nella had already disassembled. She paused and frowned. “Yeah, every day.”

“And do they always eat this… civilly?”

“This is civilized!” protested Mags, mouth full. “Last week, Zep used a rotten potato as a grenade.”

“AND IT WORKED!” Zep shouted from the ceiling.

“Is it true you killed a pirate with a sharpened coin?” Sprocket asked, his eyes so wide they almost popped out.

Ekko leaned closer, whispering.

“Not one. Three. Pirates like to act tough, but they’re easy to take down.”

The kids smiled and nodded.

“I knew it,” Jori said, arms crossed. “I knew you were a bounty hunter!”

“You don’t even know anything about Miss J,” Burt interrupted. “I saw her dance with two knives on the roof of The Blind Siren when she won a bet against one-eyed Tobias.”

“That was four years ago!” Nilo shouted indignantly. “And it wasn’t even at The Blind Siren! It was at The Drunken Eel before she blew it up!”

“I know Miss J can talk to dock rats!” Ricky chimed in.

Ekko chuckled and threw a playful glance at Jinx.

“ Miss J , I’m starting to think you’re a legend.”

Jinx shot him a glare, but she couldn’t help a smile from slipping out.

"More like their underpaid babysitter," she replied as she placed a box of bolts back on the shelf after it had fallen to the floor for the third time.

"But we behave!"

"Sure, sure, and I’ve got all my fingers," Jinx let out a soft giggle.

"It’s not our fault you gave one to a parrot just to shut it up," Luz said with her mouth full.

"She did that?" Ekko raised an eyebrow with a grin, turning to Jinx, who stuck her tongue out at him.

"You never told us if the parrot actually shut up in the end."

"I don’t know, why don’t we try with another finger and maybe a kid this time?"

The kids looked at each other, but to Jinx’s surprise, many raised their eyebrows and exchanged knowing glances. Then, all of them began gathering in the center of the workshop, whispering among themselves.

Jinx raised an eyebrow.

"What are you—?"

"GET HER!"

Suddenly, a wave of eleven kids lunged at Jinx, clinging to her legs, her arms, and tickling her until she lost her balance. She ended up on the floor, crying with laughter as she begged for mercy.

"I’m not giving you any more food!" Jinx warned through tears and uncontrollable giggles. "And I won’t let you in here ever again!"

The kids froze. They looked at each other and, as if they had rehearsed it, they surrounded her in a massive group hug.

"We’ll behave!"

"We promise!"

Jinx couldn’t hold back a soft laugh and wrapped her arms around all of them, staying like that for a long while.

"Where Does The Good Go" - Tegan & Sara

Ekko, leaning against the table, watched them with bright eyes and a warmth that filled his chest. She could talk all she wanted about being a mess, a curse, a mistake, but he knew this was who she really was. She was home . For those little ones… and for him too.

"Well, if you want to behave," Jinx finally said, pulling back a bit before standing up and brushing off her clothes, "I have a mission for my favorite assistants."

"Tell us! Tell us!" they shouted, jumping excitedly.

"I need you to get me something very special for an experiment I’m working on with my partner, the bounty hunter," Jinx said, walking over to Ekko and giving him a soft tap on the shoulder. He flipped her off, but then gave her a smile as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I need blue copper gears, the rarest you can find… I know you’ll know where to look."

"Of course! Great Surge Bay is always full of good stuff. And with today’s preparations, there’ll be even more."

"Preparations?" Jinx raised an eyebrow, confused.

"For the party! And we’re gonna be there!" Gus said, excited. "We’re gonna see the flame show!"

"Are you coming, Miss J?" Nella asked, hopeful.

Jinx blinked. Shit. That was today, and she had completely forgotten.

"I don’t know, maybe," she murmured. "We’re… kind of busy."

"You have to come! It’s gonna be awesome!" Luz insisted as the kids began climbing back through the ventilation entrance.

Between laughter and goodbyes, the little ones started leaving one by one. But just when almost all of them had disappeared, Gus stopped, turned on his heels, and ran back to Jinx. Without saying anything, he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her with an unexpected strength, his head barely reaching her hips.

Jinx froze, surprised, but soon hugged him back tenderly, placing one hand on his messy hair and the other on his back.

"I’m glad you’re alive," Gus murmured against her, not letting go.

She felt a small knot in her throat, but it was quickly replaced by a gentle smile as she caressed the boy’s back.

"Me too, kid. Me too."

She crouched down and gave him a kiss on the forehead, smiling at him.

"Now go, go keep that gang in check before they set something on fire."

Gus laughed and ran off, climbing through the ventilation until he disappeared from sight.

Ekko lingered a moment longer, staring at the ventilation shaft where the kids had vanished, a soft smile still warming his chest. Then he turned his gaze back to Jinx. There was something about her in that moment—disheveled, with slightly scraped knees from the fall, arms half-crossed in a last attempt to fake annoyance, and a huge smile she seemed incapable of hiding—that squeezed his heart in the best possible way.

Jinx noticed his gaze and turned to him, rolling her eyes.

"Don’t say it."

"I didn’t say anything," Ekko replied, shrugging.

"But you thought it," she shot back, pointing at him. "Someday I’ll get them to stop coming… somehow."

"Tell that to your face. You’re smiling way too much for someone who wants them to ‘stop coming.’"

This time, it was Jinx who flipped him off. Ekko chuckled, lowering his head for a second.

"Why were they so excited about Great Surge Bay?" he asked.

"Because today is the Victorious Hunters’ Party," she answered while swaying on the edge of the bench.

"The what?" Ekko turned his head toward her. "What’s that?"

She smiled and scooted a little closer. The idea of telling Ekko all the details about the place that had been her home for the past few years excited her more than she was willing to admit.

"It’s… a dance, you could say. A kind of tradition in Bilgewater. It’s always held after the Great Hunt, to celebrate those who came back alive… and the ones who won, of course."

"A dance?" He raised an eyebrow, smiling. "I thought the closest thing to a dance in Bilgewater was dodging flying bottles."

"Well, you’re not entirely wrong," Jinx laughed, dropping a screwdriver she had been toying with. "When I say ‘ dance ,’ I mean an old drunk pirate ripping off his shirt to stomp on a wet table, someone puking into an empty mug and using it as a microphone, two guys shouting the same song but in different languages… and all that while a knife fight is happening in the background. With bets involved."

"Now, that’s charming," he said with a chuckle. "I can’t imagine anyone being able to stand, let alone dance."

"Don’t underestimate sentimental, superstitious drunks," she looked at him with both eyebrows raised. "It’s not a proper party here unless two guys suddenly grab a lute and become bards while staggering over their own feet."

"So, there’s music too?"

"Oh, yeah, you have no idea. Old ballads about Bilgewater legends, sea monster myths, tales of pirates in love, sailors who disappeared into the Black Mist… I once heard a guy sing about an octopus who married a captain."

He laughed and shook his head, making Jinx release an involuntary sigh when she saw him smile like that. Maybe she needed to slap herself and stop getting distracted by every tiny fraction of his face.

A thought started to grow inside her. A strong itch in the back of her head. An idea, maybe a need, that was becoming impossible to keep swallowing down into silence. A little illusion that made her cheeks flush again. She scratched the back of her neck, nervous.

When she spoke again, she couldn’t hide the nervousness in her voice.

"We could go, if you want."

Ekko paused, his eyes locking onto hers. He stayed there, watching her for several long seconds, and Jinx couldn’t tell if his gaze still held a trace of mockery… or something else.

She cleared her throat loudly, raising her voice again.

"I mean… we should go. Unless you want eight drunk pirates knocking on our door with a barrel in one hand and an axe in the other, ready to drag you out. Winners not showing up to the party is pretty much an insult."

When Ekko didn’t answer, she rushed to speak again, stammering and blushing furiously.

"But we don’t have to go. I can blow their heads off and tell them we’re busy if they come to bother us. Well… maybe I should tell them first and then kill them," she let out a nervous laugh. "But seriously, we don’t need to go, it’s stupid, and it’s boring, and stupid… did I already say stupid? Shit, I think I did, anyway—"

"Jinx."

Ekko’s hands resting on her shoulders brought her instant calm. She let out a long, nervous sigh, which only made him smile even more tenderly.

"I never said I didn’t want to go. A little break would do us good… at least for one night," he murmured as he shortened the distance between them and slid one hand to her cheek. With the other, he brushed aside a stray lock of her hair falling over her face.

Ekko took a deep breath.

"Miss J… would you go on a date with me?"

Jinx let out a soft giggle, but her eyes lit up immediately.

"A date?" she teased, raising an eyebrow. "What’s that? Something normal people do?"

"I think it is," he laughed. "You know, eating something that’s not half-burnt, doing things that don’t involve… unstable cores, time paradoxes, or sea monsters trying to kill us."

She laughed, leaning her cheek into Ekko’s touch and covering his hand with her own. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to memorize the texture of his palm against her skin.

"I’d love to go on a date with you."

He smiled, triumphant.

"Then we’ll go together."

"No," Jinx interrupted, shaking her head. "You’ll go first, and I…"

She shot him a playful look, and he rolled his eyes with a low chuckle.

"You’ll make your entrance," Ekko finished.

"I’m glad you know me so well."

Ekko leaned in a little closer, just enough for his arms to wrap around her torso and his lips to brush against her ear.

"No one knows you better than I do, Pow."

 

                                                                               ──────────

 

The salty breeze of Great Surge Bay carried a strong scent of fish, rum, and damp seaweed, mixed with the sweet trace of tobacco, forming the characteristic blend that flooded every corner of Bilgewater. That port, known as one of the busiest, was boiling that day like a cauldron about to overflow. The streets were packed with makeshift stalls, patched tarps hanging from wooden posts and frayed ropes, all brimming with merchants shouting their offers while displaying trays of spiced mussels, grilled squid, and drinks so strong they could set unsuspecting throats on fire.

It was no surprise. The night of the Victorious Hunters’ Party called for it.

Off-beat drums, sea horns, and hoarse shouts echoed in the chaos. It all paid absurd tribute to the annual celebration that glorified the brave—or the foolish—who returned alive from the Great Hunt and raised a toast to those who didn’t make it back. It was the perfect excuse for all of Bilgewater to flood the streets, to drink, fight, laugh, cry, and, above all, get lost in the chaos.

And Ekko was there, leaning against one of the many stalls offering spiced rum served in poorly welded tin cups. He held one of those cups in his hand, letting the liquid slowly burn his throat. His dark green, long-sleeved, lightweight shirt was rolled up to his elbows, just enough to reveal the light brown leather gloves covering his wrists and part of his hands. The gloves were not mere accessories; they were decorated with charms that jingled softly when he moved. One was shaped like a tiny bronze kraken, another mimicked the shell of a turquoise conch, and a third had an opaque stone embedded in it that, according to the merchant who sold it, came from the depths of the Shadow Isles waters.

Hanging from his hips, secured by a leather belt matching his gloves, were more trinkets: a rusted coin pierced by a string, a small bone carved with Buhru inscriptions, and a pendant in the shape of a miniature trident. His light brown linen pants fit comfortably to his movements but were tight enough for him to hang his essential weapons at his sides. Because in Bilgewater, one quickly learned that walking around unarmed was an invitation to disaster. From his belt hung a pair of sharp daggers and, of course, his cannon—always within reach if anyone tried to get too smart.

Crossing his chest, Ekko wore a sea-leather harness, dyed deep blue, with irregular rivets and reinforced straps that held a small pocket where he kept small hidden weapons and a few surprises… for Jinx. Around his neck hung several sea stones he had picked up at the market: a cracked, grayish pearl, an amethyst with an almost violet hue said to ward off storms, and a piece of red coral whose former owner claimed was a talisman against treacherous sirens. Ekko didn’t believe half of it, but he liked the pendant anyway.

His long hair, loose over his shoulders, tumbled over his face, with some strands tied back in a half-ponytail that left his forehead clear, though a few locks still slipped free.

From where he stood, calmly drinking, he watched the madness unfolding around him. The "party" was a show in itself. Large fishing nets covered the streets like improvised canopies, decorated with glass bottles filled with sea fireflies and faded pennants fluttering in the wind. The drums followed no coherent rhythm, but that didn’t seem to matter. Groups of drunk musicians blew into conch shells while others strummed lutes that had no more than four working strings.

The clamor was relentless. Some shouted the names of fallen comrades between gulps of rum; others argued loudly about who had caught the biggest creature that year. Not far off, Ekko saw two men fighting over a bottle of rum that one had apparently stolen from the other hours earlier. The fight ended with one man dead-head first in a barrel—and the other losing his balance and collapsing onto a pile of crabs that angrily climbed up his legs.

In another corner, a woman was trying to sell a group of sailors "an authentic dried scale from an abyssal ray," which was nothing more than a roughly carved piece of wood. The sailors, completely drunk, believed every word and started parading her around as if she were a trophy.

Further ahead, a group of children had climbed onto a canopy and were betting rusted bronze krakens while throwing pieces of bread to the seagulls. The game, it seemed, was to see who could get the birds to fight in the air over the same morsel. The shouts of joy when one seagull violently dove at another rang out between the barking of dogs and the out-of-tune tavern songs of the sailors.

A man completely covered in tattoos was trying to convince those around him that he had fought a three-headed Scylla. While he told his tale, another man behind him shook his head, holding a rope tied to an eel barely bigger than his forearm, ready to drop it on the poor storyteller.

Suddenly, Ekko felt someone slap his back with such brutal force that he almost spat out his rum.

"There’s our damn hero!" Jorek roared, staggering with a huge mug of beer spilling over his hand.

Before Ekko could even turn around, he found himself surrounded by the entire crew of The Stygian Serpent.

"Hell yeah, we found him!" Lani shouted, throwing an arm around his neck. "The man who killed the megatusk!"

"And I helped!" Hullen blurted, already so drunk he could barely take two steps without tripping over his own feet.

"Liar!" Nahlira interrupted, shoving him so clumsily she ended up headbutting Ekko’s shoulder. "The only thing you did was stab yourself in the cheek."

"That was strategy!" he protested.

"Yeah, almost died with that strategy, you idiot!" Sira mocked, while Lani kept hanging off Ekko’s neck.

"Ekko!" Nahlira shouted, raising her cup. "You! The guy who threw himself off the ship like a crazy bastard, who blasted that megatusk’s heart, and still had the nerve to smile while falling! What the hell’s in that thick skull of yours?"

"I’m pretty sure I wasn’t smiling," Ekko murmured, trying to free himself from Lani’s grip with a laugh.

"I saw you smile!" Jorek insisted. "You winked at the beast!"

"It was convulsing, Jorek," Hullen chimed in, crying with laughter. "The megatusk was dying!"

"Who cares? Let’s drink! We’re the damn winners!" Lani shouted, smashing his mug against Sira’s, then against Nahlira’s, and then accidentally against Jorek’s head.

Between laughter, shoves, and more hugs than Ekko was willing to tolerate, the crew gradually dispersed back into the crowd, singing tavern songs at the top of their lungs and spilling alcohol everywhere they went. The only one who stayed behind was Captain Vargo, leaning against a post, with an almost imperceptible smile lifting just one of his eyebrows.

"You know you’re completely insane, do you?" he said to Ekko.

"Of course," Ekko replied, taking a sip of his rum. "Insane enough to save your ass with my tactics."

"Insane tactics," Vargo chuckled, suppressing a grin.

"But effective," Ekko shot him a teasing smirk. "Admit it."

They stared at each other, defiant, until they both let out a dry, shared laugh. Finally, the captain looked at Ekko with an expression that was the closest he’d ever seen to vulnerability on his face.

"Thank you, Ekko," he said, lowering his voice. "Without you, we wouldn't have made it."

Ekko raised his glass in response, brushing it off with a slight shrug. The captain let out a brief chuckle, taking a sip from his own glass.

"By the way, your ship is ready," the captain said, breaking the silence. "I left it anchored at Slaughter Bay, just east of the Beast’s Spine. They fixed the engine, reinforced the hull, adjusted the gyro stabilizers, and I got them to install new valves. They even improved the condenser."

"The condenser? I thought it couldn’t be fixed."

"It could, if you knew who to bribe and how much to pay."

"Shit, that thing’s gonna blow up in my face from working so well," Ekko teased.

"I hope so." Vargo took another sip from his glass. Then, he turned to him once more. "Also… I got you the battery. The weird one you mentioned the other day."

Ekko blinked, surprised.

"The battery? The EX-77 Chemtec?"

"That one."

Ekko raised his eyebrows even higher.

"You do know I was joking when I mentioned it, right?"

"Well, I got it anyway. Though it wasn’t easy."

"And how the hell did you get it?"

"I had to cut deals with smugglers, traffickers, and an idiot I ended up gouging an eye out of. Apparently, those batteries can only be found in some black hole of a city across the sea. Zaun, I think it’s called."

Ekko let out a low laugh. This couldn’t be real. Now he could get his hoverboard working again, after the device had been drained during the long stretches in Shurima. He almost wanted to hug the captain.

"Yeah, I know. I was born and raised there."

Vargo turned to him, eyes wide, somewhat surprised. Ekko chuckled, taking another sip of rum.

"And by the way, I invented those batteries," he added with a smug smile.

The man was about to say something, but in the end, he simply shook his head with soft chuckles. Honestly, he wasn’t surprised at all that this lunatic had invented the most ingenious—and expensive—batteries he’d ever seen in Runeterra.

"And why did you make them? What’s wrong with regular batteries?"

"Remember those boards I told you about? Don’t think they hover with just any tech."

Vargo let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. They both remained standing in silence for several long seconds, until the captain, without looking at him, softly cleared his throat.

"I left you… something else in the main cabin compartment."

"What is it?"

The man averted his gaze even more, taking another sip from his glass.

"We’re not having that conversation. I refuse. But use it."

"Hum… okay?"

For a moment, Vargo looked out toward the crowd, then locked his eyes on Ekko again, his expression hardening. He straightened, his shadow looming over him.

"Just so you know, if I ever see Jinx cry because of you," he said in a low, deadly tone, "I swear over the Great Mother I’ll find you, wherever you’re hiding. And I’ll kill you."

Ekko let out a small laugh as Vargo walked away into the crowd, rejoining his noisy crew.

But the silence didn’t last long. When Ekko shifted his gaze toward the party, his heart stopped for a second. Because amidst the sea of bodies, wild laughter, and off-key chants, he saw her .

“Ma Meilleure Ennemie” - Stromae, Pomme

The first thing he recognized were her boots.

Unmistakable. Worn out, full of scars from other days, with uneven laces and small marine trinkets hanging from the sides, jingling as her legs slid through the crowd. It was impossible not to notice her. Her uneven, carefree stride, that unique way of moving as if she owed nothing to anyone. As if the entire city couldn’t touch her.

Ekko stood still, his glass of rum frozen halfway to his lips. His heart slammed hard against his chest. It was completely stupid. Being completely melted by her just because of the way she walked.

He set the glass down on the edge of the stall without taking his eyes off her. The people crowded, danced, shoved, but Ekko only saw her. Only her.

When he finally had her fully in his line of sight, when he truly saw her, all the air left his lungs. There was Jinx. Radiant. Chaotic. Perfect.

The dress she wore seemed to have been made by her own hands from scraps of denim, leather strips, and patches of a blue that recalled the waters of Bilgewater. Chains and harnesses intertwined around her waist and hips, drawing patterns that only accentuated her curves, the ones Ekko could stare at like an idiot for hours.

The skirt, with several layers of blue tulle that danced with each step, barely reached above her knees, leaving her long legs visible, filled with small scars he knew like routes engraved in his own memory. Her arms, one of them decorated with the blue clouds whose every detail he knew by heart, were bare, and from her wrist hung the tidelight stones she never took off.

The corset on the top of her outfit clung to her waist and chest in a way that sent heat rushing through Ekko’s entire body. It was adorned with fine chains intertwined with charms, shining under the lantern light of the bay.

Her hair, long down to her hips, was loose, with those messy waves he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off in recent days. Several metal clips, all different, pinned it away from her face. One shaped like an anchor, another in the silhouette of a small kraken, one shaped like a starfish carved in copper, and another of a tiny fish with blue glass eyes. Yet still, her bang fell to one side.

Her makeup was bold, like everything about her. Intense shadows in purple and blue tones blended hypnotically on her eyelids. Her lips, slightly parted, had him utterly entranced.

Ekko couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t breathe normally. Every part of her seemed crafted from a masterpiece. Her legs, her arms, her waist, her lips, her eyes, even the way her fingers played with the chains on her skirt as she walked. Every detail seemed designed to stop his heart. As if he had been waiting for her in every corner of his life, to find her, again and again.

From afar, she saw him. And she smiled. One of those smiles that always left him defenseless. Their steps quickened, and the distance between them dissolved.

When they were face to face, Ekko placed one hand on her waist and looked her up and down with a crooked smile.

"Do you always look this gorgeous, or is it a special service for the party?"

Jinx let out a soft laugh.

"Do you always look this stupid, or only when you miss me?"

"I always miss you. So it’s kinda the same thing."

She bit her lip slightly, holding back another laugh.

"I heard your crew causing a disaster moments ago."

"That wasn’t my crew. I was just there trying not to get crushed."

"Sure. And I also saw you already started drinking without me," she accused, pointing at the glass Ekko had left on the stall with a raised eyebrow.

"Me? Never. That glass was left by a ghost. I swear I didn’t touch it."

"A ghost? Of rum?"

"The worst kind. They always take the good liquor."

They both laughed as Ekko offered her his hand, and her eyes sparkled even more.

"Shall we go find something real?"

"Of course," she replied, linking her arm with his.

They walked together through the crowd, dodging drunks, jumping over puddles, and quietly laughing when a man fell on his back trying to catch a flying bottle. They headed toward one of the coastal stalls, and Jinx's eyes lit up when she saw it was The Blind Siren's stall.

"Come on, I’m taking you to the best stall in this hole," she said with a spark in her eyes, dragging him carelessly through drunks and toppled barrels.

Behind the bar, a robust, young man with an eye patch was serving drinks. When he saw Jinx, his lips curled into a wide smile.

"Well, if it isn’t the calamity of Bilgewater herself!" Tobias, the bartender, turned to her. "After the Great Hunt, Miss J, you’re even more of a legend than you already were. How long are you gonna keep feeding these impossible stories, huh?"

"Legends don’t feed themselves, Jorah. Someone has to do the dirty work," she shot back.

"You’ve been doing the dirty work for years, every night," the bartender laughed and winked at her. "I suppose tonight you’ll be giving me extra work too, right?"

"Nah. I got bored of blowing things up in your face."

Tobias leaned a bit more over the bar, his smile tilted.

"Well, J, you know if you keep smiling like that, one day I’ll gladly let you blow me to pieces."

And that was the exact moment when Ekko felt something rise from his neck straight to his face. Like a furious heat that didn’t ask for permission. Who the fuck was this guy, and why was he talking so brazenly to his Jinx? Did he want to die?

Before thinking too much about it, his steps brought him closer to her, and he firmly wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Then, he looked at the bartender with a smile.

"Hey! Jorah, right?"

“Actually, it’s—"

"Yeah, I don’t care. Answer me one question… Do you like having all your fingers?"

Tobias blinked several times, staring at him.

"And who are you to—?" He was about to answer Ekko but, after taking a better look at him, he froze. "Oh, shit . You’re… the guy from Captain Vargo’s crew… who killed the…?"

"That’s me, in the flesh," Ekko smiled even more, pulling Jinx a little closer to him, while she had her face buried in his neck, trying to contain her laughter. "And you still haven’t answered my question."

"What—?"

"Do you like having all your fingers, yes or no?"

The man swallowed hard.

"Hum… yeah, I guess?"

"Good. Then I’d advise you to stop flirting with her. Because at any moment you might mysteriously wake up with three missing fingers."

Tobias was paralyzed for a few seconds, but then he let out a nervous laugh, trying to maintain his composure.

"Alright, alright, no need to get jealous, buddy."

"Jealous? Nah," Ekko said, shaking his head. "Jealousy is when you want to have something you don’t. Like you right now. I’m territorial. I protect what’s already mine."

The bartender swallowed even harder, and his hands began polishing a glass that clearly didn’t need any more cleaning.

“So… are you gonna order something?"

"Two rums. One for me and one for my girl ," Ekko emphasized, tightening his grip on Jinx’s waist, who by then was already crying from laughing so hard.

While Tobias was pouring the drinks, Ekko noticed the crew of the Stygian Serpent a few meters away. Vargo was watching him with a mocking laugh, having clearly overheard the conversation. When their eyes met, the captain raised his glass toward Ekko, who responded by flipping him off. Then he picked up the two glasses and walked away with Jinx, never letting go of her.

"Dramatic," she said as they made their way through the crowd again. "Are you gonna threaten every person who flirts with me in Bilgewater?"

Ekko brought his lips to her ear, close enough for Jinx to feel the vibration of his words against her in a way that made all her heat rush to all the wrong places.

"What I’ll do to anyone who stares at you too much will make the stories of the Great Hunt look like children’s tales."

She bit her lip, unable to control the gasp that slipped from her lips.

"Not gonna lie, you look really hot when you make death threats. I might start flirting with everyone just to see you do that."

"Don’t test me, Jinx," he laughed, bringing his glass to his lips.

Ekko had barely finished taking the last sip of his rum when his crew appeared again like a poorly organized storm.

"Don’t let him escape!" Sira shouted as she nearly fell over a barrel.

"Come on, come on! The endurance contest starts in five minutes!"

"It’s tradition, kid," Jorek said, giving Ekko a few pats on the back that almost knocked him off balance. "You can’t say no."

"I’m not interested in becoming the champion of holding barrels over my head while people throw coconut shells at me," Ekko grumbled, still keeping one arm around Jinx.

"Oh, but this year they added knives!" Hullen added.

"And fire!" Nahlira joined, raising her drink.

Ekko sighed in resignation and looked at Jinx.

"I don’t wanna leave you."

"Come on, go," she told him with a smile. "The knives and fire won’t wait for you forever. I’ll catch up with you later."

"You sure?"

"Go before Jorek carries you off himself."

Ekko gave her waist a quick squeeze, pulling her close before reluctantly walking away, dragged off by the crew that cheered him on loudly.

Jinx watched them disappear into the crowd and, while adjusting the chains hanging from her corset, her gaze drifted to another corner of the party. There were the Fortune Sharks.

Salazar was half perched on a toppled table, juggling three bottles while Lysander tossed more to him from below, not very accurately. Ronan was lying on his back on a barrel, laughing to himself while clumsily spinning a knife on his finger. Ivy was dancing on a table while firing her cannon into the sky, and Darla kept pace while trying to convince a stranger to give her his hat in exchange for a drink.

Jinx couldn’t help but laugh as she approached them.

"Look what we have here," Salazar said when he saw her. "The girl who doesn’t die. At this point, I think you’re immune."

"Nah, I think death is just afraid of me," she replied, leaning on the table.

"Or maybe death likes you," Lysander added, tossing her a bottle that Jinx caught in midair.

"I didn’t think you’d survive the Great Hunt," Ronan chimed in from the ground without opening his eyes. "Honestly, I bet a hundred golden krakens that you’d blow yourself up before anyone could kill you."

"Aww, how sweet. And who won?"

"No one," Ivy answered between laughs. "You’re still alive, girl."

"Come on," Salazar said. "Let’s toast to your immunity."

They served her a glass (though most of the rum ended on the floor) and shared drinks amid laughter. Lysander leaned his arm on the table and smiled at her.

"When we start singing, I want you there to dance, okay?"

"You’re gonna sing again?" Jinx said, covering her face with her hand. "Last time even the rats at the port ran away."

"Tonight’s a night for romantic ballads," he added, winking at her. "And maybe… this time I’ll sing just for you."

Salazar let out a laugh and patted his shoulder.

"Careful, Lys. The white-haired guy looks like he’d hang you upside down if he sees you trying to hit on his girl."

"Bah, I’ve been hung upside down before," Lysander shrugged, raising his cup.

Soon after, the group staggered off toward another bonfire. Jinx watched them go with an amused smile, but something else caught her attention.

A few steps away, near one of the largest bonfires, stood Sarah. It was impossible not to see her: she wore a dark red leather corset that perfectly hugged her figure, with a belt from which her two pistols hung. The long skirt, matching the corset, parted at the sides revealing tall, worn boots. Her hair fell over one shoulder in loose waves, and her painted lips matched the dark tone of her outfit.

Jinx approached with a light step, swirling her glass of rum between her fingers while watching Sarah with a smile. The captain quickly returned it.

"Nice corset," she said. "Though not as nice as mine, of course."

Sarah burst out laughing.

"Oh please, darling. Say that the day you’re not dying to have one like mine."

Jinx rolled her eyes, and they both laughed, relaxed. She stood beside the captain, both with their eyes fixed on the crowd.

"Still," Sarah added, glancing at her. "It suits you. And… he must think the same."

"Who?"

"Don’t play dumb, you know perfectly well who I’m talking about."

Jinx looked down, a slight blush rising to her cheeks.

"Shut up."

They laughed again, and when they fell silent, a sudden impulse grew in Jinx’s chest. One she didn’t bother to hide or suppress. In the blink of an eye, she stepped toward the captain and hugged her tightly.

"Thanks, Red. For saving my life."

Sarah didn’t hesitate for a second to return the hug with the same intensity.

"Thank you. For making me see how stupid I was being."

They slowly pulled apart, and Jinx looked at her with a more genuine smile.

"How was your week? I got used to seeing you every day. It feels weird not knowing anything about you."

Sarah huffed, taking a sip from her bottle.

"I’ve been supervising the construction of the new ship. Apparently, I’m a carpenter now. And I had… some meetings with Vargo."

Jinx pressed her lips together immediately, turning her head toward her. It wasn’t hard to guess that it must not have been easy for her.

"Are you okay?"

"It’s not my favorite scenario," she answered, giving her a gentle bump on her shoulder. "But I always pull through. You know that. Besides, Vargo and I agreed that you’re out of this mess. I don’t want you involved, you hear me?"

"You know you can still count on me."

"I’m not putting you in danger again, Jinx," Sarah replied firmly.

"What’s the point of danger if not for the sake of the people you care about?"

"Don’t get dramatic."

" You are saying that?" Jinx laughed, sticking her tongue out, and they both laughed again.

Sarah looked at her, amused.

"Well, I’ve talked enough. Now tell me, how was your week?"

Jinx spun the glass in her hand.

"Well… work, work, insomnia, more work. Did I mention insomnia?"

"Mhm," the woman looked at her mischievously. "And… apparently, a lot of time with him."

Color rushed from Jinx’s neck to her ears.

"We weren’t… We are not…"

"Oh, please. It’s obvious. You’re… happier, more alive." She watched her with a sincere smile, narrowing her eyes. "Everything makes sense now. This whole time your heart already had a name."

Jinx crossed her arms, looking away.

"Things are still complicated."

"You’ll figure it out," Sarah said confidently.

"I’m not so sure…"

The captain raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you should be. He literally confessed to you on the ship."

Jinx turned sharply, her eyes wide open.

"What? When did that happen?"

"How much do you remember?" Sarah smiled mischievously, tilting her head.

She thought for a moment.

"I remember being dead… then alive… and repairing weapons."

The captain burst into a loud laugh.

"Perfect. Well, I’ll just tell you this: that man is down bad for you."

Jinx lowered her gaze, trying to hide the silly smile that escaped her. They chatted for a while longer, between jokes and sips of rum, until Sarah suddenly nodded toward the crowd.

"Look over there," she said, almost amused. "Looks like someone’s trying to get their hands on him."

All of Jinx’s internal alarms went off immediately. She straightened abruptly, following the direction of her gaze, and her eyes sharpened.

"Is that the gunner from his crew?"

Indeed, Nahlira was there, and apparently, the conversation she was having with Ekko was hilarious, as she was laughing exaggeratedly. Jinx watched, her eyes burning with fury, as Nahlira rested a hand on Ekko’s arm, leaning far too close as she spoke animatedly. The rage rose in her throat like an instant fire.

"Who does she think she is? I’m gonna cut that hand off right now. And then I’ll cut off Ekko’s arm."

Jinx immediately stormed toward them without hesitation, but the captain abruptly stopped her.

"Easy, pirate," she said, holding back a laugh. "You don’t want to cause a scene. That would only make things worse."

"Why not? I can climb right onto her face right now."

"There are better ways to mark your territory, girl. Let her see it. Let her feel it."

Jinx growled for a few seconds, but eventually, she managed to take a deep breath and calm down. With a huge smirk, Sarah spoke again. 

"You don’t need to raise your fists to defend something that’s already yours. You just have to remind them."

Jinx’s teeth ground once more, but finally, she nodded.

"You’re right."

With determined steps, she began walking through the crowd, never losing sight of her target: Ekko and Nahlira. Her fists seemed to clench involuntarily, fury boiling in her veins as she closed the distance even more. When she arrived, without wasting time, she latched onto Ekko’s arm.

"Oh, look who’s here! Just who I was looking for…" she said, raising her eyebrows as she pressed her body even closer against him. "My dance partner."

Nahlira tilted her head and held her gaze shamelessly. Then, she turned to Ekko.

"Dance partner? I didn’t think you were the dancing type."

Ekko opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Jinx spoke again.

"Yeah, well, we’re partners in many things. In dancing, in engineering, in sea monster hunting, in wars… in long sleepless nights."

In front of her, Nahlira blinked several times. Jinx could feel Ekko’s shoulders trembling slightly as he covered his face, trying to hide his laughter.

"Damn, girl. Relax. I wasn’t planning on touching your man," Nahlira laughed, rolling her eyes.

Jinx narrowed her eyes, clinging even tighter to Ekko’s arm.

"Well, that’s not what it looked like a few minutes ago. I’d rather make sure, you know?"

"Oh yeah? And how are you gonna do that?"

Jinx let go of his arm and stepped a little closer to her, her sparkling pink eyes blazing with fury.

"You wanna test me, you fucking b—?"

"Alright, alright, easy," Ekko finally intervened. He gently took her arm, pulling her back toward him. "Why don’t you come with me to get more rum?"

Grumbling, Jinx finally walked away with Ekko, still holding onto his arm so tightly that he was sure he could feel her nails sinking into his skin even through his shirt. As they moved through the crowd, he tilted his head toward her with a mocking smile.

"You were jealous."

"Jealous? Please," Jinx huffed, though she was still clenching her teeth and hadn’t let go of his arm. "I was just… making sure the rules were clear."

"Oh yeah, sure," Ekko laughed, wrapping an arm around her. "You know there are more fun ways to mark your territory, right?"

"Like what?" she asked, still in a bad mood.

At that moment, a lute began to play from an improvised stage. Salazar and Lysander were there, tuning their voices to start their ballad, just as they had promised. The melody, soft and enveloping, began to float over the party.

Jinx turned her head toward Ekko and found him looking at her with those bright eyes, full of mischief and affection. He took her hand firmly, and with the other, wrapped around her waist, gently pulling her to guide her toward the center.

"Like this," he whispered in her ear. 

The lit torches trembled with the salty wind blowing from the coast, and the music rumbled in both their chests. Among the lute chords and the murmur of the waves, Salazar’s raspy voice rose alongside Lysander’s, singing the ballad that wove legend and longing into a single melody.

"Oh Glaucus, bold with ocean’s breath,
A sailor cursed to chase his death,
You saw her there by reef and stone,
A siren’s shade, a heart alone."

Jinx felt her chest tighten. Her fingers, cold from waiting so long, intertwined with Ekko’s as their bodies began to move, clumsy at first, as if they feared touching too much. She still wasn’t sure if any sudden movement on her part might shatter this fairytale.

The ground beneath them vibrated with every stomp of the crowd. Ekko gently pulled her closer, resting his other hand carefully on her waist, as if she might break. But Jinx never broke. Not when she could hold on to him.

"The tide it whispered,
Turn away, no love survives that cruel bay,
But still you dove through foam and gloom,
To find her eyes, your shining doom."

Their feet slid, spun, finding the rhythm between the blinking lights. Jinx looked at him and saw those same eyes she had known when they were kids, more mature now, more tired, but still so alive, still so full of that spark she had always remembered. It was impossible not to think about how much he'd changed and yet, how much he was still her Ekko.

"Are you… are you sure this isn’t a dream, firelight?" Jinx asked with bright eyes as they spun, their bodies brushing against each other with a current that set their skin ablaze.

Ekko leaned in, his forehead brushing hers.

"If this is a dream, Pow… I don’t want to wake up."

The music carried on, dragging them into a world where only the two of them existed.

"Beware the eyes of Scylla, lad,
They’ll haunt you more than storms gone mad.
A maiden born of moonlit brine,
No soul who loved her left the brine."

Jinx rested her cheek against Ekko’s shoulder, feeling his heart pounding furiously against his chest. She thought about how many times she had longed to lose herself in that heartbeat, to let that sound wrap around her forever, a refuge where the voices that haunted her would fade, and where she could finally live in peace by his side.

"Your heart… it’s beating so fast," she whispered.

"So is yours."

She smiled against his neck, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Yet love you did,
through wreck and flame,
And called her wild and sweet by name."

Ekko’s fingers slid along Jinx’s back, tracing the chains that adorned her corset, memorizing every ridge, every curve hidden beneath the denim and tulle. He spun her gently, and their eyes met again, their breaths heavy, their smiles so close they could feel them on each other’s skin.

She thought about his freckles, about how they had multiplied since the last time she had seen him this close. She thought about every scar on his cracked lips, about how she wanted to brush against them with every inch of her own.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, playful, though her voice trembled.

He smiled against her forehead.

"You know why."

"Do I?"

"The sea-witch laughed with teeth of bone,
She heard your plea, she cast her stone.
For Scylla fair would never see
A heart that bled so endlessly."

They spun through the crowd, but to them, no one else was there. The music painted a world apart for them, one where they could stay suspended, where there were no chases, no hunts, no broken pasts. Only them. Only this dance.

Ekko chuckled softly, his lips barely brushing Jinx’s ear as he whispered:

"You know it because you feel it too."

"You begged the stars,
you begged the wind,
You swore to trade the sins you sinned.
But Scylla, cold as winter rain,
Would never kiss away your pain."

Jinx’s hands reached for Ekko’s cheeks when they paused for a moment in the center of the makeshift dance circle. Her thumbs caressed his skin, trying to memorize every inch of that surface before the dream ended.

"But you’re still looking at me as if… as if I’m the only thing that makes sense."

"Because you are."

She laughed, but the laugh caught in her throat, and her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Beware the eyes of Scylla, boy,
They shine with neither grief nor joy.
A heart untouched by mortal plea,
As distant as the deepest sea."

They moved again, slower now. Ekko couldn’t stop looking at her lips, and Jinx couldn’t stop looking at his. Each movement brought them closer, and each brush of their bodies ignited a fire beneath their skin.

"Well, if you keep looking at me like that…"

"Then what, Jinx?"

"Yet still you swam with breathless grace,
Just for a glimpse of her pale face."

Jinx spun again, the blue skirt of her dress rising with the motion, and Ekko caught her as she came back, making sure she didn’t slip away. She lowered her gaze to his hands, how they held her, how they trembled just a little. She remembered those small hands from when they were children, the races through Zaun’s alleys, the afternoons fixing rusty gadgets. Those hands had grown, were stronger, bigger now, but they still trembled when they touched her.

"Oh Glaucus, mad with love’s cruel art,
What beast has nested in your heart?
She’ll never weep, nor mourn, nor bend—
But fools like you love till the end."

The warmth of their bodies defied the sea breeze. The lights of Bilgewater seemed to blur around them.

"You know? I wanna stay… in this moment… forever," Jinx whispered, her fingers playing with Ekko’s dreadlocks.

"Me too."

"Beware the eyes of Scylla still…
But damn me, lad, I feel that thrill.
For when she walks where tides run red,
The waves themselves forget their dread."

The notes of the song began to fade, and their bodies, which had been moving in a language all their own, stopped as well. But their hands didn’t let go, nor did their eyes stop searching for each other. They remained still, staring into those familiar eyes, knowing—without any doubt—that no one knew them better.

"And if I saw her gaze tonight— I too would sink without a fight."

 

                                                                                ──────────

 

After sharing several dances, Jinx and Ekko didn’t completely drift away from the party. For a long while, they got lost among the stalls, laughing, joking, immersed in the chaotic euphoria of Bilgewater. Between races and shoves, they found the most ridiculously effective ways to steal not one, but three bottles of rum. Jinx managed to slide a bottle under her skirt while Ekko distracted the merchant with a shameless comment about the inflated price of the mussels. Then, like two mischievous children, they ran through the alleys, bumping into barrels, dodging drunken sailors, laughing uncontrollably as the merchant’s shouts faded behind them.

Later on, when they believed they had shaken everyone off, they stole another bottle from a group of pirates who were arguing about poorly settled bets. This time, Jinx climbed onto a crate, stretching to reach the bottle from an impossible angle while Ekko kept the group’s attention by throwing fake dice. Before they knew it, they were running again, hair disheveled, hearts pounding in their temples, laughing uncontrollably as the rum trembled in their hands.

With the bottles secured and their faces still lit by knowing smiles, they began searching for a better place to watch the flare show. Without words, only with glances and gestures, they understood each other instantly. They didn’t want to watch it from the street, nor from the crowded bay. They wanted a place where they could be alone, above the commotion.

Their steps led them to the wooden structures that rose over the bay, precariously built yet firm in their own way, connected by planks, thick ropes, and improvised ladders. They chose the roof of an old abandoned warehouse, from where they could see the entire coast.

Both climbed skillfully. Jinx went first, her boots softly tapping against the wood as Ekko followed close behind, making sure she wouldn’t slip—though they both knew Jinx moved like lightning through those structures. Their laughter erupted every time a plank creaked under their feet or when they had to duck to avoid hanging ropes that threatened to catch them.

She paused for a second, looking down just to laugh at the height. Ekko offered his hand to help her reach the highest part of the roof, and she took it without hesitation, letting her fingers linger in his a moment longer than necessary before continuing the climb.

When they finally sat atop the warehouse, their legs dangling over the empty space and the bottles of rum settled between them, Jinx leaned without thinking against Ekko’s chest. He wrapped an arm around her so naturally it was as if they had been doing it their whole life. Perhaps, they weren’t so wrong about that.

The night, warmer than ever before, still overflowed in a sea of improvised lights, offbeat drums, and shouts that mingled with the laughter of drunken sailors and pirates. The taverns burst with activity, corsairs clashing their mugs, crew members chanting old ballads and many others improvised, and merchants trying to sell their trinkets amidst shoving and veiled threats. Some were betting on who would be the first to vomit after gulping down a barrel of rum, others challenged fate by throwing knives at boards marked with the names of sea beasts that had been taken down in the Great Hunt.

Different crews began to line up along the coast, each with their hand-held flares ready for the show that was seconds away from starting. There were all kinds: thick flares that crackled with crimson red, thinner ones that promised golden flames, some improvised with gunpowder from cannons, and others adapted from the ships' emergency systems, with flames rising in blue spirals. The most extravagant carried flares with multiple detonators that exploded in a sequence of purple and green flashes, while the more traditional ones held slow-sparking flares that would burn with a steady amber glow.

The murmur of the crowd grew louder by the second, expectant. Bodies pressed together on the docks, faces lifted to the sky, hands ready to ignite the spark. Some children climbed elevated structures to get a better view, while the most daring scaled the sails of anchored ships to gain more height. Bets ran wild: who would launch the highest flare, which would explode first, who would make the sky burn the longest.

Far from the commotion but close enough to feel the vibration of the celebration, Jinx and Ekko still sat, swinging their legs from the edge of the rooftop. She shifted slightly, adjusting her head to rest it against Ekko’s chest. Her small arms wrapped around his torso as he held her with one arm, hugging her gently. His other hand played absentmindedly with the tips of Jinx’s blue hair, intertwining some strands, then releasing them with a slow caress. To Ekko, it all still felt unreal, like a fantasy torn from a fairy tale. And though he still carried the feeling that it could all vanish in seconds, now he didn’t want to think about that. Not when he had his best friend, the woman he loved, finally in his arms, becoming one with his heartbeat. Not when he had dreamed of this very moment for over five years, not when having her there, next to him, had cost more waters sailed, more hells crossed, and more sea monsters slain than he could count.

"It Came Upon A Midnight Clear" - Sixpence None the Richer

Jinx let out a soft giggle, warm against his chest.

"It’s about to start," she murmured, pressing herself a little closer to him.

Ekko rested his cheek on her head, closing his eyes for a moment, breathing in her closeness, the way her body fit perfectly within his arms. If there’s any deity listening to me, please, just let me stay in this moment. Here. With her.

The crowd’s countdown reached zero, and the flares were ignited almost in unison.

The crews began launching flames into the sky in a chaotic frenzy. Some shot straight up, others spun in spirals, some slowly ascended to explode in violet flashes, while others burst with a dry boom, scattering red and gold sparks that rained down over the ships.

The sky lit up in beautiful chaos. Green flashes fading into blue, golden flares exploding in helix shapes, pink flames leaving zigzagging trails, orange lights dissolving like stardust. The sparks rained down over the sails, the masts, and the heads of the attendees, who laughed and shouted without worrying about the danger.

Ekko and Jinx watched in silence, the lights reflecting in their pupils, the explosions resonating in their chests. She barely turned her face, her cheek brushing against Ekko’s neck, while her fingers lazily traced caresses along his back.

"It’s beautiful," he whispered, his voice barely above the roar.

"It is," she replied, without taking her eyes off the spectacle. "The crews... usually launch those into the sky when they’re completely screwed in open waters and need a rescue. From whoever."

Ekko lowered his gaze to her, caressing her ribs with his fingertips. From there, he could see her fluttering eyelashes, the curve of her nose, and the colors adorning her eyelids. How was it even possible that the universe allowed him to have that beauty right before his eyes? How was it possible that, less than a week ago, death had almost claimed him so many times, and now he was the luckiest man in the world?

"Ironic, isn’t it?" Jinx continued. "Seeing those things in the sky usually means a bad omen... But today, they’re something beautiful to people."

A purple flare exploded in a crown of sparks above them, and she smiled. He felt her hand slide from the back of his waist to wrap around him.

"Nobody remembers the danger today. They just... see . See how fucking beautiful they are."

Ekko tightened his embrace, resting his chin on her head. His gaze turned toward the sky, toward the blazing colors.

"I saw flare flames before. Though I didn’t remember they did this," he said, staring wide-eyed upward. "Or, I don’t know, maybe I’d never seen them like this before."

He lowered his gaze toward the coast, letting his eyes wander over the orange torch lights until, amidst the chaos of the crews and the swaying bodies, he recognized three small figures that stood out from the crowd: Gus, Sprocket, and Nilo.

A brief laugh escaped him when he saw what they were doing.

The children, as clever as ever, had dragged a couple of old barrels and dangerously stacked them on top of each other to gain some height, while Nilo, the smallest, stood trembling at the top with his arms spread wide to keep his balance. Gus, with his jacket three sizes too big, firmly held the base barrel to keep it from collapsing. Sprocket had built himself some makeshift goggles using bottle lenses and fishing line, watching the sky with overflowing excitement as he shouted what were probably ridiculous names for each flare that exploded.

Nilo squealed every time a spark fell nearby, his little hands pressed against his cheeks, and Gus, laughing, yelled at him to stop moving if he didn’t want to fall into the water. But neither the risk nor the scolding dimmed the excitement in their eyes. They screamed, they hugged each other amid the bursts of colors, as if they were seeing magic for the first time. Perhaps, in fact, they were.

Ekko let out a soft chuckle, lowering his head just slightly, brushing his face against Jinx’s hair.

"Everything is amazing to them, isn’t it? Like they’ve never seen fire, or the sky, or stars."

She rested her cheek against his chest, slowly caressing Ekko’s sides, while she let out a giggle as she followed his gaze and saw the little devils. Her fingers gently clung to his shirt.

"Because they haven’t seen it," she whispered with a barely perceptible smile. "Not like this. I think this is the first time they’re seeing it."

He felt something tighten in his chest. His gaze returned to the children. So small. So euphoric. And he wondered when he had stopped seeing the world like that. Because he had felt that once too, hadn’t he? The thrill of first times. The fascination of new things. He remembered laughing like that. He remembered his heart beating fast at a simple spectacle, like a spark in the dark. But now... he didn’t know when was the last time he had truly felt that.

When did he lose it? Was it when Zaun started sinking deeper into its misery? When responsibilities crushed him? When all those he had loved began to disappear one by one?

He didn’t know. And not knowing hurt more than he expected.

His fingers kept tracing small circles on Jinx’s waist, softly caressing her side.

"Do you remember the first time you saw a firework? Or a flame, or... a star?" he asked, his voice soft as he held her tighter.

She sighed before turning her head to place a light kiss on his chest.

"Honestly, I don’t. I guess it should be important, right? We should remember it."

Ekko closed his eyes and searched his memory. He dug through the cracks of his childhood, through blurry images and broken sounds. But he didn’t find anything clear. The happy moments he could count on the fingers of one hand, and the mere suspicion that the passing of time could make him forget them made him swallow hard.

"I don’t remember either," he confessed, lowering his face to bury his nose in Jinx’s hair. "But I wish I could."

His fingers slid through the long waves of Jinx’s hair, getting tangled with the small metal rings and trinkets that hung from it. He played with one of the star-shaped clips, caressing it with the pad of his thumb.

"It probably felt good. You know... seeing all those things for the first time."

"I bet it did," she said, smiling against his chest. "But when you grow up... I guess you start taking everything for granted. Flavors. Smells. People . Even the stars in the sky."

Ekko let out a sigh, hugging her a little tighter.

"It’s fucked up, isn’t it?" he murmured. "No one tells you when it’s the last time something will feel like the first time. The last time... a star feels like a miracle. Or your heart races just from seeing fire in the sky."

He lifted his gaze to the flares that were still bursting. His eyes scanned the sky, searching among the shapes and patterns. He saw perfect circles opening like flowers, golden spirals spinning until they disintegrated, sparks gliding like rain over the bay.

And amidst that chaos of colors, he noticed his chest starting to beat faster. Not from the adrenaline of a fight, not from the risk of a free fall on his hoverboard, not from the fear of losing someone or because his world could fall apart in seconds. This was something simpler. Something that grew in his chest while his fingers remained tangled in Jinx’s hair, while she stayed pressed against him, while the lights kept exploding above their heads.

Maybe this is what it felt like to see flares, stars, and fireworks for the first time.

He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember. But he liked the idea of pretending it was like that. That this racing heartbeat, this sweet knot in his throat, this warm feeling in his chest... were like the first time.

Jinx moved a little closer to Ekko, settling into his embrace, perhaps trying to melt into him. Her legs were still gently swinging at the edge, but her movements became slower, more

intentional. With the hand that wasn’t wrapped around him, she delicately slid her fingers over Ekko’s hand, brushing his skin with the tip of each finger. Her fingers traced every line, every scar she found, until she intertwined her fingers with his and fully held his hand, squeezing it firmly.

"I think there are things..." she whispered, as her fingers kept caressing his, "that can still feel like the first time."

Ekko’s heart beat faster, thundering loudly, his whole body trying to remind him that he was alive, that he was here, with her, and that at least for now, nothing else mattered.

Without letting go of her hand, Ekko gently pressed Jinx’s hand against his own, covering it, not wanting to let it slip away. He slid his thumb over the back of her hand, tracing small caresses as he felt her warmth seeping into his skin. At the same time, he pulled her closer to him, tightening the arm that wrapped around her waist, his lips moving closer to her ear in a low whisper.

"Like what?"

She lifted her head from his chest with a slow movement. Her pink eyes searched for his with a tenderness hard to describe. And for a moment, Ekko was caught in the contemplation of her face. Her tiny freckles scattered like small constellations, probably from sun exposure out at sea, the soft curve of her lips, the faint glow of her skin touched by the light of the flares, the charming mess of her blue hair. And those eyes that always seemed on the verge of chaos but now glowed with calm, with certainty.

Jinx brought the hand that had been on his back to his neck, caressing it with her fingertips, slowly moving up to tangle in the base of his hair. Their intertwined hands squeezed a little more. Both of them breathed deeper, trying to sync their bodies, though they needed no effort at all for that to happen.

She let out a small smile and took one of Ekko’s dreadlocks, gently moving it away from his face.

"Like the touch of a hand you hadn’t felt in years," she whispered as she squeezed his hand tighter and leaned in a little more. "Hearing a heartbeat when there’s no other noise around... even though the whole world is screaming."

Jinx’s eyes studied every detail of Ekko’s face. Every scar, every shadow, every curve of his lips.

"Like looking at you now and noticing you’ve changed... but you’re still... you ."

Ekko’s chest expanded as he pulled her closer with his free hand, wrapping his arm around her waist more firmly. And in that instant, a thought crossed his mind. What would happen if either of them changed more? Could they stop being them ? Could they lose each other? Could they stop loving each other? The answer was simpler than he expected, so simple it made Ekko smile. They had seen years of change in each other... and though they had stumbled along the way, that had never stopped them from always finding each other back. Always .

Jinx glanced away for a second, looking at the sky still ablaze in impossible colors, where flares exploded in mesmerizing patterns. Then she looked back at him, this time closer, so close that Ekko could feel her breath brushing against his lips.

"I think there are things that aren’t new, but still make you tremble as if they were. Because it’s not what you see... it’s who you see it with."

His heart pounded hard, racing, as he felt Jinx’s breath against his mouth. He lowered his gaze to her lips, so close he could almost feel their softness, and let out a low chuckle.

"Didn’t think you were someone with lines," he whispered, tightening his grip on her waist, pulling her even closer, erasing any space that could exist between them.

"Who knows? Maybe you’re getting to know me for the first time all over again," she said, pressing her forehead against his, her hand sliding from his neck to his cheek in a slow caress.

Ekko closed his eyes for a moment, focusing only on what he felt. His furious heartbeat, his uneven breathing, the warmth of Jinx’s hands, the sweet weight of her closeness, the flares exploding high above like a distant symphony. Maybe Jinx was right. Maybe that was the magic of being with her. The magic she had always had, one way or another. Making the simple feel extraordinary.

"Pow..." 

Ekko leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing hers, feeling Jinx’s hurried breath against his mouth. 

"Jinx..."

Without letting go of her hand, he lifted his, guiding hers in the same motion, as if he couldn’t—didn’t want to—separate from her even for a second. He moved a loose strand of her hair, carefully tucking it behind her ear.

"Somehow..." he murmured, his lips so close he could feel the words vibrating between them, "you make everything feel like the first time."

He couldn’t wait any longer. He leaned into her, and their lips met.

At first, it was a tentative touch, a slow exploration. His lips moved over hers with a degree of hesitation, unsure how to handle a moment that, for so many years, had only existed in his dreams. He felt the wetness of Jinx's lips against his, moving with as much or more hesitation than his own, but then, he felt a gasp escape her mouth. A soft moan that traveled from her throat to his. And that was all it took for him to lose himself in that instant that still seemed like something out of a fairy tale.

The kiss deepened, and Ekko sought her mouth with a hunger he no longer had the strength to hide. His lips opened wide, burying his tongue inside her mouth and kissing her desperately. His hands encircled her waist more tightly, moving to her lower back, where he gave her a firm grip just hard enough to press her against him. She moaned in surprise against his mouth the moment the kiss deepened, but she made no effort to push him away. Instead, she grabbed Ekko by the back of his neck and pulled him closer, turning her head to an angle that allowed her to slide her tongue inside him.

Ekko still didn't understand how this could be real. But he didn't dwell on it for long. Even if this was all a dream, he never wanted to wake up from that tale.

He continued to move his lips against hers, trapping her lower lip between his teeth and sucking gently. He could hear Jinx's stifled moan at the movement, and he let out a short, smug chuckle before attacking her lips again. She, still moaning against his mouth, pulled Ekko even closer to her, pressing her body and face against his as her tongue slid desperately along Ekko's. One of Jinx's hands moved to his hair, gently squeezing a handful of his dreadlocks. Though there was no way he was going anywhere. Not when everything he'd ever dreamed of was coming true right before his eyes.

The flares kept bursting above them, painting the sky with brilliant violets, deep greens, and fleeting golds. The sound was a constant popping, but for Ekko, the only noise he heard was her heartbeat, the whisper of breath between her lips, the wet sound of their mouths meeting.

Jinx leaned in a little further, gently pushing him back until their bodies aligned better, until their hearts seemed to beat in the same rhythm, uneven… and perfect. Ekko lost himself in her, in the pressure of their mouths, in the warmth of her lips, in the way the taste of her seemed to dissolve all other thoughts.

And for the first time in a long time, the sky, the lights, the stars, everything felt new. Everything felt like the first time.

 

                                                                                  ──────────

 

The foul air of Bilgewater, already thick with the stench of salt, rum, and corpses, grew even heavier with the revelry of the party. Flares occasionally lit up the shadows of the docks, exposing drunken pirates who had already drunk too much to understand half of what they were doing, even by their standards.

At the epicenter of the celebration, Ekko was struggling to keep his balance as a couple of burly pirates slapped him on the back with a force that threatened to dislocate his shoulder. Beside him, Jinx was laughing, tears in her eyes and her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. Their glasses—or what was left of them—had been emptied and refilled so many times that any notion of time and quantity had dissolved into an alcoholic haze. They were both gloriously, wonderfully, undeniably, completely drunk.

The night had advanced at a galloping pace. Their crews had dispersed throughout the bay, each in their own bubble of euphoria. Ekko had lost count of how many times Jinx had tried to steal Miss Fortune's hat, only to end up wearing it sideways and proclaiming herself the true queen of Bilgewater. At one point, they had found her trying to teach a rather unfriendly-looking corsair how to throw a knife between his toes, with predictably disastrous results for both the knife and the corsair. Meanwhile, Ekko had thrown himself into an arm-wrestling contest with Salazar, which he had ended up winning amidst more backslaps… And more rounds of rum.

Between toasts with liquor of questionable origin and shouts of "To the fallen and those who remain!", Jinx and Ekko had not stopped finding each other in darker corners, hidden from prying eyes. There, with the scent of rum and seaweed as their perfume, their mouths had sought each other with an urgency neither of them bothered to hide. More than once they had kissed desperately in the shadows, letting their hands shamelessly roam over each other's bodies. Jinx had straddled Ekko's hips, her legs wrapped around him as her hands tangled in his dreadlocks.

"You're still a cheater, firelight," she'd whispered, grinding her hips firmly against his. "You only won because I let you."

He'd smiled, pulling Jinx even closer to his body. "This is the only thing I care about winning."

His words were lost in another kiss, deeper and sweeter than any rum.

The music had eventually dragged them back to the 'dance floor'. Their dance steps no longer made any sense, but they didn't care. Ekko was trying to guide Jinx in an improvised waltz while she pulled him in a completely different direction. More than once, they had ended up on the ground, though that only served as an opportunity to kiss each other fiercely once more.

As a new ballad began to play, people moved more slowly, some swaying from side to side. Ekko and Jinx, wrapped in each other's arms, swayed to the rhythm of the music, the outside world fading into a soft murmur. Her head rested on Ekko's shoulder, and he could feel the beat of her heart against his chest.

Just then, a shadow darker than the others loomed over them. A tall, burly man—quite similar to Ekko, in fact—stopped in front of Jinx.

"Well, well, what do we have here," the man's voice was rough. "Cormac, at your service, gorgeous. Seems like my nose still remembers the last time we met. And my kisses? Did you lose them somewhere too?"

Jinx's eyes, glowing with a bright pink light, narrowed. A spark ignited in her gaze. Her clenched fist tensed at her side. She immediately recognized the idiot trying to ruin her night with Ekko. She looked ready to lunge at the man, her temper on the verge of exploding. Cormac, wearing a lecherous smile, extended a large hand toward Jinx, aiming directly for her hips.

But before his fingers could brush against her skin, a blur moved with lightning speed. Ekko, with overwhelming force, stepped in. A clean, sharp right punch flew through the air, connecting with Cormac's jaw with a crack that likely signaled broken bones. The man staggered backward, his smile vanishing, replaced by a grimace of pain. His hand lifted to feel his jaw.

Ekko didn’t wait. A left hook, followed by a quick uppercut, sent Cormac stumbling back again, his balance precarious. The man roared, throwing a wild, disorganized punch that Ekko dodged with ease. A sidestep, a twist of his waist, and Ekko's fist crashed into Cormac’s stomach, forcing the air from his lungs with a wheeze. The man doubled over, gasping. Ekko, taking advantage of his imbalance, delivered a low kick that sent him to his knees. With a final shove, Cormac rolled across the ground, groaning, before struggling to his feet and fleeing limping through the crowd.

Ekko straightened, his chest heaving, but the fury in his eyes still burned. The crowd, which had held a tense silence, began to murmur, and some stepped aside. He wrapped an arm around Jinx’s waist, pulling her close, his eyes scanning the curious faces.

"Anyone else want to try their luck, or have you had enough for tonight? Because you’re starting to get on my nerves."

Seeing the fearful silence of the crowd, Jinx leaned toward him with a soft giggle.

"Don't waste your time, firelight. Why don’t we get out of here and do something more… fun?"

He nodded, his gaze softening slightly at the sight of her, though the rage still painted his face. And with that, Ekko and Jinx made their way through the crowd, leaving the noisy party behind.

The night air of Bilgewater, which had once been a tangle of shouts and music, now only carried the distant cry of a seagull. Ekko and Jinx moved through the narrow alleys, their footsteps echoing on the wet cobblestones. His arm was wrapped around Jinx’s waist, and every few steps and incoherent comments, their mouths found each other in stolen kisses and brazen touches. The laughter still hung in the air, but a new warmth had settled between them.

With a sudden jump, Jinx climbed onto Ekko’s back, her legs wrapping around his waist, and he held her effortlessly, laughing as he carried her like she weighed nothing.

Jinx’s workshop was starting to rise at the end of the path, and she had a very clear idea of what she wanted to do once they got there. She let out a soft giggle against Ekko’s ear.

"You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that?"

Ekko felt a delicious shiver, tightening Jinx's legs even more against him.

"I suspected as much. Though you’re not very original. Because you’re also the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

Jinx shifted on his back, rubbing her cheek against his.

"And what if I give you a very, very long kiss? One that makes you forget your own name."

"I already forgot it like two hours ago, to be honest. But please, go ahead and try."

Their lips found each other again, a tender kiss that stretched out as their tongues gently slid into each other’s mouths. Jinx slid off his back, but didn’t pull away. Her hands moved to his neck.

"You know, tuff-tuff, you really do look like an owl. Quiet, observant, and with big round eyes."

He smiled, his thumbs brushing her cheeks.

"Well, then I chose my mask well."

"And what do you think mine would be?"

"Mhmm… maybe a monkey, like your signature. Or a cat," he laughed. "You move with grace, you’re curious, and you always land on your feet."

Jinx tilted her head, a mischievous smile appearing.

"I like that! A cat, then. A very special one, you know? With lots of tricks up her sleeve. And I’m adorable, you can’t deny it."

Ekko let out a chuckle.

"Yeah, a cat. One of those with many lives. And you’ve already used up at least two, right?"

The comment hit her like a slap. Jinx’s smile vanished, and her body tensed. She tried. She really tried, her mind screaming at her to let the comment go, to not ruin the moment. But the drunkenness and the accumulated tension of the night played a dirty trick on her. With a sharp hit to Ekko’s chest, Jinx stepped back, her brow furrowed, fury bubbling in her eyes.

Ekko turned to her when he felt the push and saw how she had moved away, raising a questioning eyebrow. Jinx glared at him, her pink eyes blazing.

"Seriously, Ekko?"

"What?"

"Was it really necessary for you to go into idiot mode on what was supposed to be a night for just the two of us?"

He watched her for several long seconds, then let out a humorless laugh.

"You can’t be serious."

"Oh, I’m dead serious." She stepped even closer to him.

"Right, because according to you, I’m the idiot here."

"Damn it, Ekko! I get it!" Jinx shouted, her voice cracking. "I fucked up! You’re angry! But we haven’t seen each other in years and you still have to keep acting like a moron, reminding me every two minutes about what happened as if—!"

"As if what?" Ekko cut in, glaring at her. "As if it’s no big deal, or not a problem at all? You’re right, Jinx. It’s no big deal that everyone thought you were dead for five fucking years."

"See? That’s exactly what I mean! That attitude! After not seeing each other for so long!"

"Then answer me, Jinx, why have we been apart for years?" his voice rose. "Answer me, and see how that works out for you."

"You think I don’t know? You think I don’t know that I’m the one who screwed things up between us?"

"If you know, then why are you making accusations now?"

"Because it’s fucking annoying that you keep whining about it all day even when it’s completely out of place!" Jinx almost spat the words. "How long are you going to punish me for it?"

"You expect me to just forget the tiny detail that you faked your death?"

"I don’t expect you to forget!" she screamed, her voice torn. "But I do expect you to tell me to my face what’s bothering you, not spit it out like a coward!"

The expression on Ekko’s face changed. The anger dissolved, leaving only a deep, aching pain. His eyes filled with tears as he looked at Jinx. His jaw trembled.

"You want me to tell you everything to your face, Jinx?" His voice was a broken whisper. "Fine, I’ll tell you. You want me to tell you how Vi couldn’t even speak for weeks after the War when she found out you were dead? I’ll tell you. You want me to tell you how she still can’t fully give up alcohol, even years later, because she can’t forget how much she misses you? I’ll tell you. You want me to tell you how I’ve even seen Sevika going to the sanctuary every week to talk to the air and shed tears? I’ll tell you."

Ekko’s words hit Jinx harder than any blow she had ever taken in her life.

Her breathing turned shallow and ragged. Her vision blurred and her hands began to tremble uncontrollably. A cold shiver ran through her as the sobs started to overtake her. Don’t say it, please. Stop.

A barely audible whisper escaped her lips.

"Sanctuary?"

Ekko looked at her through his tears, infinite sadness in his eyes, though he still managed to let out a bitter smile.

"You don’t know what the Valley of Lights is, do you?" He looked at her, his eyes bloodshot, his breath shaky. "It’s Zaun’s fucking cemetery, Jinx. Where I proposed building a sanctuary for you. It was funded by Sevika. A sanctuary whose walls were decorated inch by inch by Vi. We go there every month, at least to feel like you’re close, somehow. And it’s ironic that all this time you’ve been across the sea while we’ve all been mourning you like idiots."

Ekko turned slightly, his back trembling. His shoulders shook with every sob he tried to stifle. He brought a hand to his mouth, trying to muffle the sounds, but the silent tears kept running down his cheeks, soaking his neck and the fabric of his shirt. Jinx’s chest tightened like it was caught in a vice, air escaping her. Tears spilled from her own eyes, hot and bitter. Her mind was a whirlwind, an avalanche of desperation. No one understands how complicated this is.

"You really think I wanted to leave?" Jinx whispered, her voice barely a thread, her own tears falling uncontrollably. "That it was easy for me to leave all of you? Sevika, Vi… you?."

"THEN WHY DID YOU LEAVE?!" Ekko shouted, his voice a thunderclap of pain, unable to bear it anymore. He brought his hands to his face, his fingers covering his eyes as sobs wracked him. His shoulders hunched, his body folding in on itself, completely broken.

Jinx’s heart clenched so tightly she felt physical pain. The urge to either hug him or run away overwhelmed her.

"It wasn’t easy for me, Jinx." Ekko’s voice came out choked behind his hands. "It’s not easy to wake up every fucking morning and wonder if that day will finally be the last. It’s not easy having all of Zaun in the middle of reconstruction, it’s not easy tending to the wounded or managing an entire community, or making sure no more threats infiltrate zaunites. And in the middle of all that... I’m supposed to be fine. I’m supposed to get my shit together, to sleep well, eat well, not cry, not get angry, and be available for everyone when I barely understand what the fuck I’m doing with my life."

Jinx watched him, her chest tight, her eyes overflowing with tears that wouldn’t stop falling. Her face was pale, and her lower lip trembled.

"I needed you, Jinx." His voice lowered. "I needed you by my side. I needed my best friend."

She looked at him, her eyes glistening even more. She'd never seen Ekko cry like this. Between sobs, he spoke again.

"You could’ve at least told me you were alive. You could’ve told me you wanted to leave, and even though it would’ve hurt, I would’ve tried to understand. Even if I had missed you. And I could’ve gone to sleep every night knowing… that you could look at the stars whenever the fuck you wanted, even if it wasn’t with me."

Silence fell between them, broken only by their sobs. Silent tears ran down Jinx’s face, and her hands trembled as she tried to wipe them away, but it was useless. The knot in her throat grew bigger with every second.

How could she explain to Ekko, how could she tell him that everything she had done over the past years for Vi, for Sevika, for him, was out of love? How could she explain to him that they didn’t understand that her being close would eventually only make things worse? How could she explain to Ekko that the only reason she left them was because she loved them too much, more than she loved herself? How could she explain the long nights she spent completely alone in her workshop, hugging herself, imagining and pretending it was one of them doing it? How could she explain that even if they suffered in the meantime, they would always be better off, they would be able to build a better life far away from her… because she was too much of a lost disaster, and she had already taken enough lives with her.

And if there was one thing she couldn’t bear, it was taking them with her.

Ekko raised his head, his face swollen and reddened from crying.

"I need to get some air."

"Ekko, wait…"

Jinx, with an outstretched hand, tried to stop him. A strangled sound escaped her throat. But he was already walking away, heading toward the outskirts of the Beast’s Spine.

"Don’t follow me."

Jinx watched him disappear into the darkness. With her heart in pieces, she turned around and entered her workshop, the door creaking shut behind her. She collapsed into a nearby chair, her face in her hands, and a gut-wrenching sob tore from her chest. Stupid. You ruin everything, absolutely everything, even when you’re trying to fix it.

The sobs shook her, her shoulders curling with each one. Her nose ran, her eyes burned, and a sharp pain pulsed in her chest.

In the midst of her desperation, a rhythmic sound made her lift her head. It was coming from the Reverox. With swollen eyes and a furrowed brow, she approached the device. The lights were flickering, showing unstable fluctuations again—this time, more unstable than ever. The main dial was wildly oscillating, the secondary needles on the quantum oscilloscope moving erratically, tracing unpredictable peaks and valleys on the screen. The entangled resonance detector emitted a sharp buzzing sound, and the temporal entropy counter displayed exponentially increasing values. The readings were pure chaos.

Jinx wiped her tears away with force, her sharp gaze landing on the readings. This couldn’t be a coincidence. There was no way.

With the speed the shimmer in her blood allowed her, she began collecting all the logs the Reverox had traced in relation to the core’s readings. She frantically swiped through the holographic screens, her eyes scanning dozens of lines of data, unable to find a specific pattern...

Until she found something all the unstable readings had in common.

It wasn’t the core’s frequency patterns that held the key—it was the time and the moment they had occurred. Jinx stared at the different timestamps when the core’s instability had happened.

7:35 PM: First fluctuation.

The exact moment when Ekko had made his first joke about her "being dead."

8:10 PM: Second fluctuation.

They had been silent for hours, neither daring to say what was really on their minds.

She continued scanning readings from other days.

4:44 PM: Third fluctuation.

The moment when Ekko had teasingly asked her how they could disappear from the face of the earth.

5:30 PM: Fourth fluctuation.

She had read Ekko’s notebook… and didn’t have the guts to talk to him about it.

And then… there were the recent readings.

1:37 AM: New fluctuation

They had argued, causing him to walk away from the workshop.

She swallowed hard. Every sharp comment Ekko had made. Every time she had stayed silent about her feelings, or even when she swallowed her words about his notebook. Without exception, each fluctuation had happened when she and Ekko, in some way… drifted apart.

She thought about Powder’s theory. She thought about how the artifact used synchronized entangled quantum frequencies. She thought about how she had programmed her own DNA and emotional signature into the Anchor, but to ensure stability, it needed another signature with a compatible resonance. Ekko.

She thought about how the anchoring process had been carried out through temporal fluctuation spectrum encoding, where she entangled her frequency with her Ekko’s, capturing the essence of their past interactions in a persistent quantum state.

And she thought even further.

Every interaction she had with her Ekko instantly became a past interaction the second it happened. And that… could… somehow…

Affect the synchronized quantum frequency between them.

Jinx looked at the Reverox once more. How had she not seen it before? When the connection between them and their interactions fluctuated, the core fluctuated too.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead and the tears from her eyes, and her eyes widened. There was only one way to figure out how to fix this mess.

And the first step… was to go find Ekko. And do things right this time.

Notes:

That’s all. Please don’t hate me… there are many conversations my babies still need to have, and so far, they haven’t been handling it very well :')

If you enjoyed the chapter, remember I really appreciate kudos and any comments you might have! You can leave them here or on my twitter account, @jinxedbypow

With love, Juli <3

Chapter 13: "Broken Pieces In The Dark"

Summary:

Pushed by the core's instability, Jinx and Ekko are forced to stop hiding their demons. As an old, dark shadow threatens the future of Bilgewater, someone from another timeline attempts to make contact.

Notes:

HELLO EVERYONE!! I'm back with another chapter of this madness. I hope you don't hate me too much, and I promise to make up for it with faster updates 😭​

Regarding this chapter, I hope you enjoy this long-awaited moment! As a trigger warning, there will be explicit conversations about suicidal thoughts.

Also, I wanted to leave a quick note before this begins. Maybe it's stupid, but there might be someone out there who might benefit from reading these words. Writing this chapter was anything but easy; I literally had to step away from the keyboard several times, breathe, count to ten, and then continue. If there's one thing I know like the back of my hand, it's that emptiness in your chest when being alive becomes too much of an effort, an effort you can only bear by seeking the strength to do so in dark corners. I know more than one person can relate to this emptiness, to this feeling that you're a walking ghost, that you're living in limbo, that your head has become your worst enemy. Just as the characters in this story don't have an answer to these dilemmas, neither do I. But what I do have is the ability to offer anyone out there who believes their demons are too much, an ear and a shoulder. Even though the darkness in our heads may never completely go away, it's not something we have to face alone. So if anyone out there feels like it's all too much, feel free to reach out. If we don't help each other, who else will? (Shit, you guys let me get carried away for two seconds and I'm already in tears)

Without further ado, enjoy the chapter!

EDIT: new playlist is up! all songs from all chapters here<3 https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1eb66lwtTHE7xoSM2QS5vu

"Ekko! What are you doing? You're not supposed to—!"

Powder’s voice cracked in the air before she could finish the sentence. The desperation in her cry merged with the roar of a blue explosion of light that tore through the hideout. Ekko’s body seemed to vanish in that light, dissolving completely, as if ripped out of the very fabric of time. A low hum seeped through the walls, the hanging lights flickered erratically. In the blink of an eye, everything was plunged into brutal silence.

Powder stood there, frozen. Her breathing was ragged, cold sweat beading on her forehead and sliding down her neck. Her lips trembled. Her eyes, dilated, searched for something—anything—that could explain what had just happened. She had felt the pressure in her bones, as if reality itself had been stretched for a second… and then… What had gone wrong? What had she missed? What the hell had just happened?

But she didn’t have time to think too much. A body, familiar and painfully dear, lay on the ground. There was Ekko, unconscious, unmoving, sprawled across the cold cement.

"No, no, no!" she muttered, and began to run toward him as fast as her body allowed.

The movement was clumsy. Her belly, already heavy from eight months of pregnancy, gave her no respite. Every step was an effort. But her mind screamed louder than her body: she had to reach him. Her throat tightened. A knot twisted in her stomach that had nothing to do with her pregnancy. It was fear. Pure and sharp.

She fell to her knees beside him. Her hands trembled as she took him by the shoulders.

"Ekko... Ekko, please, wake up..."

She shook him hard, with a desperate urgency she couldn’t hide. Tears began to well in her eyes, while her heart pounded violently in her chest.

"You can’t do this to me now... Not when we’re so close. Not when it’s all about to end... We still have to do it... for Violet..."

She shook him again. Harder.

"Ekko!"

Then his body reacted. Ekko’s eyes snapped open, and his hoarse voice escaped barely as a whisper.

"...Powder...?"

She let out a strangled breath, a sob mixed with relief. She closed her eyes tightly, and a tear slid down her cheek.

"Dammit Ekko, are you okay?" she asked, caressing his face with trembling hands.

He frowned, bringing a hand to his head as he sat up with effort.

"My head hurts like hell... What happened—?"

"What the fuck was that, Ekko?! Why did you throw yourself like that?! We were so close!"

He blinked, confused, rubbing his temples.

"What are you talking about? What... what happened?"

Powder froze. Something in her expression shifted. Her gaze emptied, lost in the air, as if a blurry image had just slammed back into her memory. She had seen him like this before. That confused look. That exact tone she had heard minutes ago. That gesture, the way he touched his head. Who she had seen was Ekko… but not exactly her Ekko.

Five years ago. The amnesia. The lost months. The persistent migraines. The same expression... the same bewilderment...

"Powder..." his voice interrupted her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She hadn’t even realized she was pacing back and forth, agitated.

"What’s wrong? When did I pass out? You... you were supposed to bring the keys."

She tried to answer, but her voice came out shaky.

"Yes, I... I brought them..."

Ekko stepped closer gently, placing a hand on her back.

"You shouldn’t be walking around so much. Come on, sit down."

He helped her into a metal chair with soft movements, careful of her back. She adjusted with difficulty, trying to find a comfortable position for her belly. It wasn’t easy, and the tension didn’t help. After a few seconds of deep breathing, just as Vander had taught her, she finally spoke.

"I did bring the keys. And yes... we inserted them."

Ekko raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"We inserted them?"

"You really don’t remember anything?"

"I was waiting for you to come back. Then... nothing. I opened my eyes and I was on the floor, and then you—"

As he spoke, his eyes began scanning the hideout nervously, until they stopped at the Anchor. His gaze fixed on the center, where the core should have been.

"Powder?" his voice tightened. "Where’s the core?"

She spun around toward the Anchor. The absence of the core seemed more obvious now, and even the air felt lighter, but also more dangerous. A tangible void. A terrifying silence.

"I don’t know." Powder’s voice trembled, her desperation spilling out in every syllable. "It all happened so fast, Ekko… you unlatched it. You had it in your hands. You were about to turn your key. And then… you vanished. That light..."

Ekko shook his head hard, stepping back.

"What are you saying? I didn’t do that. I don’t remember any of that."

"Then..." she murmured, more to herself than to him, "maybe it wasn’t exactly... you."

"What? What do you mean?"

They both fell silent for a few seconds. It was a suspended moment, and an invisible current seemed to crackle through the air between them. The entire puzzle, fragmented for years, began to piece itself together in their minds without anyone touching it.

Powder felt it first. She spoke before she fully thought it.

"Do you remember when you had that mental blackout five years ago? Those missing months?"

He swallowed. His eyes darkened with the memory. He nodded slowly.

"Yes. I remember... Well, what you told me. That was the reason we started all of this in the first place."

"And what if…?" she hesitated. "What if it was him?"

"You think it was... him? The one you just saw?"

She looked at him firmly, and without hesitation, answered:

"I’m pretty sure. The expression. The way he passed out. The way you touched your head. It was the same. Exactly the same."

Ekko clenched his jaw, not knowing if he should feel fear, anger, or resignation.

"Then... where’s the core now?"

"It’s gone." Powder lowered her gaze. "And apparently… he took it with him."

"But why would he? Why steal it, if he... if it was me...?"

She hesitated, then turned to him with a tense, almost pale face.

"I’m not sure. But… Ekko, do you remember what we saw years ago? What that thing showed us, what those crystals could cause..."

"Yeah... What we tried to prevent."

"It looked exactly like that. The way that light burst open. The trembling in the structures. The magical dissonance. Everything."

Ekko took a deep breath, stepping toward the center of the hideout. He stared at the Anchor, now inert.

"We already know the magic of those crystals isn’t like the others..." he said quietly. "It’s conscious. It adapts, it protects itself. It shifts the temporal fabric as it pleases. If all this time we’ve been trying to prevent what we saw..."

"...then we’ve always been walking straight toward the point that thing wanted to take us." Powder finished, almost breathless.

He looked at her, and for the first time in a long while, his eyes were full of panic.

"Everything we saw that was going to happen... we caused it ourselves. By trying to stop it..."

"We already know that thing self-preserves. We learned that from its very first manifestation." She was speaking quickly now, once again on her feet. "And if the keys were designed to destroy it... then what stops it from tearing the fabric between timelines to keep them from activating? What stops it from avoiding it and at the same time... finding new anchor points?"

Ekko shook his head, stepping back.

"No. That doesn’t make sense. The only possible anchor points are the two of us. No one else is compatible."

"The two of us..." Powder said, her voice lower, "and every version of the two of us."

Silence. Long silence.

Ekko let his shoulders drop, and she hid her face in her hands, sinking back into the chair.

"We fucked up..."

He crouched gently in front of her and took her hands in his.

"No. Not completely. Listen. You already worked with the runic patterns of that timeline years ago. You told me, remember? With that other Ekko. Variant 7-A. With the divergent echo. You figured out how to anchor one line to another."

Powder looked at him, her wide eyes shining with tension and the faintest spark of hope.

"Yes... yes, I did. That could work... But that's assuming they’re together. We don’t even know if they’re in the same range."

"Then we need to confirm that," Ekko said, his voice regaining firmness. "We can create... a way to intercommunicate between timelines."

"To warn them," Powder added, almost at the same time.

He nodded.

"Because if that thing took a version of me to rip out the core… they’re going to need all the help we can give them."

Powder took a deep breath. Her mind was already racing, making calculations.

"We could use the residual energy remnant from the core. The dimensional trace is still hot. If we locate the dispersion pattern, we could triangulate its entry point."

"And you can anchor it," Ekko said.

"It won’t be stable. But maybe... maybe long enough to send a message."

"That’s all we need. A warning. A chance."

 

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In the middle of that dark dawn in Bilgewater, a silhouette with blue hair stood out against the blackness. She stumbled over her own feet from the speed of her steps along the treacherous peaks of the Beast’s Spine, but she didn’t care. Not when finding the one she was looking for held, perhaps, the fate of the entire universal flow.

The dawn had dressed itself in silence, broken only by the constant murmur of the sea crashing against the cliffs and the sharp whistle of the wind threading through the peaks. The damp rock glistened under the ghostly glow of the moon, half-hidden behind torn clouds. And Jinx walked there, her body tense and her steps erratic. Her boots struck the wet stone, and the dress she still wore had snagged on more than one branch. From time to time, her sole slipped and she had to catch herself with her hands, scraping against the rough surface to keep her balance. The path was treacherous, full of cracks and outcroppings, but she knew it well enough to keep moving forward, even as her knees trembled.

The wind tangled her blue hair across her face, sticking it to her sweaty skin. Her lips moved without voice, murmuring broken phrases only she could hear. Nervousness consumed her with every step, like a swarm buzzing at the nape of her neck.

She couldn’t find Ekko. She had searched the heights, the stone passageways, and the trails that circled the Spine, but there was no sign of him. And with every passing minute, fear grew in her chest, squeezing her ribs until she could barely breathe.

He’s gone. He’s gone because he doesn’t want to see me anymore. Because I fucked up. Again.

The thought drilled into her mercilessly. Ekko leaving without a word, tired of her, fed up with her past mistakes and the weight of her mood swings. He wouldn’t be the first to leave her. The memory of those she had already lost—the ones who could never return—stabbed at her heart with invisible needles. She couldn’t allow Ekko to join that list.

She quickened her pace. She descended the hill, leaving behind the jagged blades of rock of the Beast’s Spine, and entered a path that sloped down toward the lower levels of Bilgewater, where the fog grew thicker and the air heavier with moisture. From there she could hear the roar of the sea more clearly. Desperation kept her moving. She wasn’t going to give up, not on him. Not after everything they had shared, not after surviving so much. She couldn’t lose him. Not when she had already lost too much.

At last, after skirting a steep cliff, the ground opened and the sea mist rose before her. The coast stretched in a wide strip of wet, dark sand, lit by the lanterns of the ships anchored in the distance. Far off, she could make out masts cutting against the moon, and beyond that, the flickering lights of Slaughter Bay.

That was when she saw a solitary figure, sitting on the sand, elbows resting on his knees and head bowed toward the ground. His silhouette was unmistakable. The long hair, tied into white dreadlocks falling over his shoulders. And even from a distance, Jinx could see the wet shimmer on his face: tears.

Jinx’s heart lurched. Ekko.

She stopped dead. Her throat tightened, and cold shiver ran down her back. Part of her wanted to run to him, to hold him, to apologize until she had no breath left. But another part feared his reaction, feared seeing not anger in his eyes, but indifference.

You have to do it. You can’t keep running. Not again.

With slow steps, she walked across the sand. When she was close enough, Ekko lifted his gaze. His eyes locked on her silhouette and, for an instant, they seemed empty. Then, in a hoarse voice, he said:

"Go away."

Jinx froze, biting her lip.

"Ekko…" her voice came out trembling, barely a whisper. "I want to talk to you. It’s important."

"There’s nothing to talk about."

She took another step.

"Please, just listen to me."

"Listen to you?" He let out a bitter laugh. "For what? To keep pretending everything’s fine? Like we’re two lovers out of some damn fairy tale, when nothing—nothing—is fine."

"Ekko—"

"No!" he cut her off, jumping to his feet. "Do you know what these five years were for me? Hell. A fucking hell. Me, and everyone who loves you, everyone who stayed... We all lived with your ghost. And you want to ignore the fact that it happened, like shoving your head in a hole is enough to hide the damage you caused us."

The words fell on Jinx like stones. Her hands shook, and her eyes searched his, but Ekko barely looked at her.

"And on top of all that, I’m the idiot? The coward? Go to hell, Jinx," he went on, his voice breaking with rage. "But I guess I’m sorry. Sorry for being a fool with a head all messed up. For not knowing how to deal with the fact that my best friend was alive all this time, and that she doesn’t give a fuck about what we felt. For not knowing how to—"

"It’s the Reverox," Jinx interrupted at last, mustering as much firmness in her voice as she could.

Ekko’s face tightened. For the first time in the whole fight, his anger seemed to waver.

"What about the Reverox?" he asked in a more serious tone, his voice dropping slightly.

Jinx took another step, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You have to come see it for yourself."

 

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

 

Once Ekko reluctantly returned to the workshop, he leaned over the device, his brow furrowed and his tangled white hair falling over his face. He held a tool in his hand, but let it fall onto the table with a clatter, resigned.

On the Reverox’s panel, erratic readings flickered: the frequencies shot upward in uneven spasms, dropped suddenly, then rose again with a buzz that made the workshop rumble.

"It’s the same thing again," he muttered, pointing at the monitor. "We’ve already talked about this. It doesn’t follow any pattern. It’s unpredictable."

From the other end of the workshop, Jinx let out a resigned growl.

"There’s nothing unpredictable about quantum synchronization. You just couldn’t see it before."

He lifted his head, his jaw tight.

"Oh, really?" he shot back sourly. "If you’re such an expert in quantum sync, why don’t you explain the pattern in this instability? Seems like you’ve got all the answers."

Jinx, making a monumental effort not to take the bait, grabbed a pile of crumpled papers she had left on the table.

"I already did," she said, waving the sheets mockingly in front of his nose like a fan.

Ekko snatched them from her hands, unfolding them roughly. His eyes skimmed the notes.

"This says nothing. All you’ve got is the hour and minute of each fluctuation."

She tilted her head, leaned her hands on the table, and looked at him with a mischievous spark in her eyes.

"Exactly. Now think… what was happening at each of those times?"

He shook his head, exasperated.

"Probably nothing that proves a specific pattern."

Jinx ripped the notes back from his hands and began to read aloud:

"First fluctuation. Two days ago, 7:35 p.m." She dropped her voice into a deep, mockingly solemn tone, imitating Ekko: "You should eat something, Jinx. You look pale as a corpse. I’m going to start thinking you never really faked your death."

Ekko rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"Ridiculous."

But she was already continuing.

"The next one was at 8:10 p.m. And guess what happened then?" She grinned from ear to ear. "We had a little argument, and you gave me the glorious silent treatment for almost an hour."

Ekko raised his eyebrows, unable to keep a nervous tic from tugging at his mouth. Jinx ignored him and moved on to the next entry.

"Next fluctuation, yesterday at 4:44 p.m." She mimicked his voice again, this time with an arrogant tilt: "Jinx, if we had to vanish from the face of the earth for safety reasons, do you have any advice? I mean, you’re kind of a pro at that."

"Oh! So the pattern shows up every time you don’t want to admit your mistakes. That would be hilarious."

Jinx scowled.

"If you’d let me finish, you’d see my point." She leaned over the notes again. "The next fluctuation was at 5:30 p.m., also yesterday. When I read your notebook without telling you."

"What?!" Ekko’s eyes went wide. "Why did you read my notebook?"

"Because I was stupid, okay?! And I’m sorry. We’ll talk about that later."

"Convenient. Very convenient for you."

She clicked her tongue.

"The last fluctuation was today. At 1:37 a.m." She locked eyes with him. "Thirty minutes ago. Do I need to explain what happened thirty minutes ago, or can you guess on your own?"

Ekko’s face tightened, and for a moment he looked more indignant than angry.

"That’s absurd."

"No, Ekko." Her tone shifted, firmer. "There is a pattern. And you see it too. Quantum frequency sync works on the essence of past interactions. The core is linked to you and me. To both of us. To the bond between us."

He shook his head furiously.

"That’s stupid. A thousand things could cause the fluctuations. It could all be coincidence."

"Put two and two together," Jinx cut him off, stepping closer.

Ekko raised his voice.

"So what? You want me to tell you you’re right again? Fine, Jinx, you’re right. Because here, like everywhere else, we always do what Jinx wants, don’t we? Everyone, always, following along—"

Before he could finish, Jinx raised an arm and pointed a finger at the Reverox, her smile triumphant. The device was vibrating again. The readings spiked wildly across the screen, zigzagging with savage instability. The mechanical arm trembled as if it wanted to tear itself from its base.

Ekko turned toward the device, then back to Jinx. She watched him with her lips curled into a smug smile.

"Want more proof?" she said mockingly. "Or is that enough for you?"

She lowered her arm, but her stance grew tense again.

"Do you remember what happened to us in the Great Hunt?" she continued. "What Vargo said."

He kept his eyes on the readings, but he was listening.

"He said something was clogging the universal flow. That this… deity, the Great Mother, Nagakabouros, whoever, wanted us to unstick it."

Jinx paced in circles around the table, half explaining, half thinking out loud.

"I don’t know what your trials were like, or whatever they were, but mine were trying to leave me a message. Something I could... use when it was over. And I kept wondering… what does our inaction, our head-mess, have to do with the core? With the universal flow?" She stopped in front of him, her eyes shining. "Now I get it. She was preparing us."

Ekko looked at her, incredulous.

"Preparing us?"

"She was preparing us because she knew that to fix the core mess, the Anchor, the damn paradox, we first had to fix our own shit."

She leaned toward him, defiant.

"Tell me I’m wrong."

Ekko fell silent. He looked at the floor, then at the Reverox, then at Jinx. A long sigh escaped his lips.

"That doesn’t make anything better," he finally said, still angry. "Because if the stability of this thing depends on the two of us… then we’re completely screwed."

"Or maybe we are not, if we make this work."

This time, she was the one who fell into a long silence. She took a deep breath, convincing herself that she was about to do the right thing and not something that could make things worse.

"And to make this work," Jinx said, pointing at the blueprints, the Reverox, and the core, "we're gonna sort out our shit once and for all."

Ekko leaned against the table, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"Yeah, sure, and you know exactly how to do that, right?"

Jinx didn't even bother to listen to him. She dragged two metal chairs with a deafening screech that sent a shiver down even her own spine. She dropped them heavily.

"Sit."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I don't feel like-"

"Sit," she insisted, pointing at the chair. "Or I'll make the chair chase you until you do. And I swear I'll give it wheels, teeth, and a name."

Ekko scoffed but reluctantly dropped into the chair, arms crossed and jaw tense. Jinx dropped into the chair in front of him, but she sat backwards.

"We're gonna fix this the way we know best. The way that's always kept us... together, even when we were worlds apart."

She took a deep breath, straightening her back and gathering courage.

"With a game."

Ekko let out a sigh, but something in him began to slightly ease the tension in his shoulders.

"And what game is that?"

"It's called brutal honesty. It's simple. Each of us asks a question. The other answers. And while one is answering, the other listens. No interruptions."

"That sounds suspiciously civilized," he let out a bitter chuckle. "Any rules?"

"Four," Jinx continued. "First: no yelling at each other."

"Sure, because you're such an expert at that," Ekko muttered, rolling his eyes.

She took a deep breath, trying to hold back the urge to slap him. Ekko could really be stubborn when he wanted to.

"Second: no passive-aggressive comments."

He let out a heavy huff, but this time, he stayed silent.

She took another breath before continuing.

"Third: no one leaves." Jinx pointed toward the workshop door. "We stay until this is over, even if we feel like tearing each other's heads off."

Then, she lowered her head, and her voice lost its firmness for the few seconds it took her to hold back the knot in her throat.

"And fourth," she continued, "no lying. Every question gets answered with the truth. No matter how much it hurts."

He watched her pensively for several seconds, his jaw clenched. Jinx only hoped her proposal wouldn’t spark a fight, that he might, for once, set his stubbornness aside. To her surprise—and relief—Ekko didn’t protest, though not without letting out a heavy sigh. She did the same, but in relief. A step was a step. The chairs scraped lightly against the floor as they both shifted, back to back. The silence stretched far too long for her liking—awkward, heavy—until she finally decided to break it.

“You start with the first question.” Her voice sounded steadier than she felt inside.

Ekko scoffed, letting his head fall back until his nape brushed the chair.

“Me? Of course. I always have to start, don’t I? Like it’s my fault we have to do this.”

Jinx pursed her lips, patience slipping bit by bit.

“What’s wrong, stage fright? Need me to draw you tiny pictures to get going?”

He shifted one shoulder, wanting to glare at her even if he couldn’t see her.

“Your little game sounds like a trap. With you, it’s always a trap.”

“If you’re honest, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

He gave a dry, sarcastic laugh under his breath.

“Oh, so you’re already calling me a liar. Perfect start.”

“Could you stop twisting my words!?” Jinx shot back. “Just ask the damn question and quit whining.”

Ekko pressed his fists into his thighs, knuckles tight, still irritated. Jinx bit the inside of her cheek; discomfort flushed faintly up her neck. Finally, he sighed, raising his brows in surrender.

“Why is the calibrator lever on the reverox flipped to the other side?”

Jinx blinked, startled.

“Seriously? That’s your big bomb?”

“You said I should start,” he replied, folding his arms. “You didn’t specify with what.”

“Because I reversed it to access the manual readings! Could you take this seriously for once?!”

He grumbled, rolling his eyes where she couldn’t see—but somehow she felt it anyway. What followed was an uneasy truce, but a truce all the same. After a while, Jinx decided to take the initiative this time.

“Do you get those headaches often?” she asked suddenly, fiddling with her belt buckle.

“Depends…” he said. “Counting when you show up?”

She huffed, shoving his back with hers.

“Idiot.”

He stifled a triumphant curve of his lips, though his gaze stayed fixed forward. Minutes passed that way, with irrelevant questions that did nothing to bridge their fractured worlds. Then silence came again. Long. Unbearable. Their breathing was labored, as though the air itself weighed them down. It was Ekko who broke it, his voice lower than it had been all night.

“Why did you read my notebook?”

Jinx’s body tensed instantly. Her fingers, which had been drumming against her legs, froze.

“I…” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m sorry, I really am. I shouldn’t have.”

He didn’t answer at first, and that silence forced her to go on.

“It’s just… it’s hard to reach you lately. You shut down, push me away… and I thought maybe the notebook…” Her throat tightened, she swallowed hard. “Maybe it would give me clues. It’s not as easy as it used to be, figuring out what’s going through your head.”

Ekko tapped his fingers on the edge of the chair, frowning in thought.

“And why do you want to know what’s in my head?” he asked at last.

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut. She drew a deep breath, her lungs burning strangely with it. When she opened them, a thin mist of tears blurred her vision. It wasn’t easy. None of this was.

“It’s my turn to ask a question,” she whispered, forcing herself to hold it together.

She took another breath, and in a thread of a voice, let out what had been eating her inside.

“Do I really have a sanctuary in Zaun?”

The change in Ekko was almost immediate. His shoulders eased, and the sharpness of his voice gradually softened.

“Yes…” he said, quieter now. “It’s in the Valley of Lights. Where the Firelights’ base used to be.”

He paused. When Jinx didn’t interrupt, he knew the door was open to continue.

“Many have gravestones and shrines there. But yours… Sevika made sure it was the biggest. She spent every cent.”

Jinx let out a shaky little laugh, and a tear slipped from her left eye, rolling down her cheek. The memory of Sevika hit her hard. Damn, she really missed those days with the ogre. Just the thought that Sevika had chosen to honor her in any way squeezed her chest in the sweetest way possible.

Ekko went on.

“There are only three keys to the place. One’s mine. Another Sevika's. And the third… is Vi's.”

Her heart lurched so hard she nearly gasped, but she stayed silent, her chest tight.

“Vi took care of painting the walls,” Ekko continued. “She decorated the place, and sometimes paints murals of you two together. I bring paintings too…” He let out a shaky breath, his voice tinged with embarrassment. “Truth is, I paint you more than I’d like to admit.”

Jinx buried her face in her hands for a moment, trying to contain the surge of tears. How could she have done that to them?

“Vi and I go every month. Sevika drops by often too. And not just us… honestly, all of Zaun tends to leave gifts. Offerings at your door are common.”

Her breath caught, literally. She had never imagined it. She never thought that, in Zaun, she could still be loved. That she could be something more than just a mistake in history.

Ekko hesitated a moment before adding:

“Last time… I left you a mechanical blue rose. I built it myself, and…” he cut himself short, lowering his voice. “Yeah. You do have one. And it’s beautiful.”

Tears ran silently down Jinx’s face. Her chest heaved with a stifled sob, and after a few seconds, he turned his head just enough to glance at her from the corner of his eye. His hands clenched on the chair’s armrests, fighting the impulse to hold her, to bridge the distance. After a moment, he straightened again, returning to his rigid position, back to back.

Ekko shut his eyes tight, creasing his brow. His jaw muscles tensed as he clenched it, hands gripping the chair’s edge like he needed an anchor to keep from breaking apart. There were questions one preferred not to ask—because you feared the answer, because just voicing them meant admitting to the fear. But this doubt gnawed at him, burned like a poisoned splinter digging deeper into his flesh.

The silence stretched, broken only by Jinx’s uneven, tear-stained breaths. Finally, Ekko forced himself to speak, taking his turn.

“Did something… happen between you and Sarah?”

Jinx’s body jolted slightly, the question striking her off guard. She pressed her lips together and wiped her tears with the back of her hand, taking a deep breath. Her face was still damp, the salty trace on her cheek stinging.

“There’s no point lying to you,” she murmured, weariness in her voice.

Ekko stayed rigid, heart pounding in his chest. Jinx sighed and let her hands drop into her lap.

“It was confusing, at first. She came out of nowhere, right when I was in a… bad place… and maybe I did want to believe I felt something for her. But no. I don’t. She’s my friend, and that’s all.”

Without turning, his eyes narrowed.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

She swallowed. The air caught in her throat, but she couldn’t run from the truth.

“We kissed,” she finally confessed.

The words hit Ekko like a blunt blow. He lowered his gaze to the floor, sighing, and nodded, pain pricking his chest. It wasn’t so much the act itself, but what it meant: the distance that had opened between them over all those years. Jinx drew a deep breath and rubbed her face with both hands.

“But it was nothing,” she insisted, exhaling in frustration. “I didn’t feel anything. And I screwed it up anyway… because my head’s too fucked up.”

Ekko raised a brow, though his voice sounded more concerned than doubtful.

“What do you mean?”

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Her fingers laced together, tightening, and her foot began tapping nervously against the floor.

“It’s just… I can’t…” She searched for the words, embarrassed. “I can’t get aroused with other people. I don’t know if it’s normal or if… I’m broken somehow. It’s like… I want to want it… but no matter what I do—”

“You just end up feeling nothing but this awful discomfort, like you want to hide and run away?”

Jinx lowered her head, barely nodding. He dropped his voice, now tinged with nerves.

“Me too.”

She lifted her head, surprised, though she still couldn’t see him.

“Really?”

“I’m not gonna pretend I’m a saint, Jinx. I tried with other people, I really did. But with no one… I managed to feel the same. Or… feel anything at all.”

In that silence, she found more comfort than she would have expected, given the kinds of confessions they were making. It wasn’t about jealousy, but rather… about a truth finally leaving both their chests. Jinx leaned back slightly, feeling the brush of Ekko’s back against hers.

“So I’m not the only messed-up one…”

“No.” He let out a bitter laugh. “We both are. Searching in others what… what we only ever felt with each other. Or at least me.”

Another long silence fell over them. Jinx bit her lower lip, trying to keep the tears from returning. Ekko stared into the void, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

After a while, his voice broke the calm again.

“And what about the guy at the party?” he asked suddenly. “The one who said he kissed you.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, letting out a groan of annoyance.

“Oh, please. That was stupid. I was way too drunk.”

He didn’t answer. She sighed, and almost reluctantly added:

“I was with him one night… because he looked so much like you, and my head played a dirty trick on me.”

Ekko clenched his teeth, and as she felt the weight of her words, she quickly added:

“Anyway, once I realized he wasn’t you, I broke his nose.”

He didn’t respond. Jinx stayed still, biting her thumbnail, until she noticed something odd: a faint tremor in Ekko’s back against hers. Her heart lurched painfully.

“Ekko…” she whispered, her throat tight. “Don’t cry, okay? It was stupid, really.”

But the sounds leaving his mouth weren’t sobs. She blinked, confused.

“Are you… laughing?”

Ekko couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, pressing his forehead to his hand.

“You thought he was me, and when you saw he wasn’t, you broke his nose?”

For the first time in a long while, Jinx let out a small laugh.

“Yeah.”

Ekko tilted his head slightly, still chuckling.

“And how did you hit him?”

“With the butt of my cannon. I literally told him ‘for not being Ekko.’”

His laughter exploded into a sound too contagious to resist. Their laughter filled the workshop, bouncing off the walls. For an instant, they seemed like their old selves, forgetting the weight crushing them.

“I barely even remember how it happened…” Jinx said, wiping away tears of laughter. “I was too drunk.”

Ekko’s expression shifted then. His smile faded little by little, replaced by something more serious, almost pained.

“My turn,” he said.

She blinked, traces of laughter still on her face. He inhaled deeply through his nose before asking.

“Do you always get that drunk?” he asked, eyes fixed on the ground.

The discomfort returned between them. When Jinx sighed and didn’t respond, he spoke again.

“I’ve seen all the bottles,” Ekko continued. “And there are a lot of things in you that remind me of how Vi used to act.”

Jinx froze, biting her lip, staring down at her own hands. The truth was, the topic embarrassed her more than she wanted to admit. And the worst part was when people pointed it out—Vargo, Sarah, and now Ekko. It only made her feel even more dumb. Her breath turned shaky, tears burning at the corners of her eyes before spilling out in a damp sob she couldn’t stifle. Her voice came trembling, but steady.

“When I got to Bilgewater… everything was a black hole, Ekko.” She ran her hands over her face, as if she could erase the traces of tears. “I was alone, you know? So alone it hurt to breathe. I’d lost Vander again, and Vi, and Isha… and you. Everything became too much. Going out on the street was too much. Existing… was too much.”

Her voice broke at the end, a faint whimper escaping. Ekko clenched his jaw, every word piercing his chest like a splinter driven deeper and deeper.

“And I thought about it,” she continued, eyes locked on the ground. “I thought about ending it again. But… I remembered you. The promise I made that I wouldn’t do it again. And I didn’t have the strength to go through with it. So…” She swallowed, breathing raggedly. “I just had to keep existing somehow.”

The silence that followed filled with her trembling breaths.

“And there were taverns everywhere.” Her voice came out bitter, tinged with a broken laugh. “Silco never let me drink, and with Isha I didn’t even think about it. So when I got here… I guess it exploded.”

Before speaking again, she wrapped her arms around herself. The sight only made Ekko’s heart shrink further.

“At first it was one drink.” She bit her lip, her hands shaking as they gripped her arms. “Then a bottle. Then two. And before I knew it… I couldn’t even sleep without drinking first.”

The tears flowed harder now, her chest heaving violently. A lump rose in Ekko’s throat, desperate to hold her, to promise her it would be okay.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, covering her eyes. “Sorry for being a mess. I know all this sounds ridiculous.”

Ekko closed his eyes. He couldn’t resist anymore. Slowly, without turning, he reached back, searching until he found her hand. He held it gently, pressing her fragile, hot fingers, and without a word, brought them to his lips and kissed them.

“Thank you for telling me,” he murmured, voice low and strained. “And you’re not alone, Jinx. Not anymore.”

Her sobs grew louder at that. The warmth of their joined hands felt like a lifeline.

“And it’s not ridiculous, what you said,” Ekko went on, still without looking at her. “That thing about… finding a way to make being alive hurt less. When you can’t find it anywhere… I guess you start searching in darker corners.”

Jinx swallowed, her voice breaking.

“Did you… feel that way too?”

He hesitated a moment.

“Like what?”

“Like… being alive was an exhausting, superhuman effort. Like each day drowned you more than the last. And when you finally went to sleep… the only thing you wished for was…”

“…to never wake up again.”

Jinx looked up, her eyes swollen and red.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Yeah… I get it now,” Ekko said, with a sigh that carried years of weariness. “Most of the time, I still feel that way.”

She tensed. The question burned in her chest, but she had to ask it.

“Did you…?”

Jinx drew another breath, her chest tightening, her voice cracking. Just the thought of it shattered her.

“Did you ever try?”

He went still, too still. Saying it aloud hurt more than what had actually happened. But he forced himself to be brave. This was his Jinx.

“Only once. Years ago. I was on the border bridge. I wanted to jump… but I chickened out. I didn’t do it.”

He rubbed his forehead in frustration, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Remembering those dark corners filled him with a mix of anger, shame, and sadness that was unbearable.

“From that day on, I knew I didn’t have the guts to die. But I didn’t have the strength to live either. So I stayed… in that limbo. Like a ghost. Like a corpse that still breathes.”

Tears streamed down Jinx’s cheeks again. But when she heard that word… Ghost… something lit inside her. A question still burned in her mind. Even though it was Ekko’s turn, she decided to take the chance.

“Can I ask you something?” she whispered.

“Go ahead.”

“Your notebook… I saw an entry where you wrote that you hadn’t seen me in days. What did you mean?”

Ekko stayed silent for a long time. His face flushed red, even more than before.

Finally, he lowered his gaze. There was no point in hiding it.

“After I didn’t jump… I started to… see you.”

Jinx frowned.

"See me? What do you mean?”

He rolled his eyes lightly and clicked his tongue.

“Do I really have to spell it out?”

She remained frowning for several long seconds, not fully understanding the pieces of the puzzle. Had Ekko gone through some supernatural shit that had made him—?

Oh.

Oh.

Shit.

Jinx swallowed hard. She hadn’t seen that one coming.

“Oh,” was all she could say.

“Yes.” His voice trembled with a hint of embarrassment. “They were… very vivid. Like you were really there. Sometimes you yelled at me not to be an idiot. Other times you just stared at me in silence. I even remember arguing with you hundreds of times… and you were so real that sometimes I convinced myself I wasn’t crazy.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, uneasy.

“But they haven’t come back in weeks.”

Jinx looked at him with tears still hanging from her cheeks.

“And why didn’t you tell me?”

Ekko shrugged.

“I guess I didn’t want you to think I was stupid.”

She let out a mocking little laugh through her tears. In a strange way, one that still made her feel a little guilty, hearing that confession come out of his mouth was comforting. It made her feel… less alone. Less strange.

“Seriously, Ekko? Out of everyone in the world, I’m the one who’s gonna think you’re stupid?”

He blinked for a few seconds, then chuckled softly.

“You’ve got a point.”

“Of course I do.” She let out a smug little giggle. “Besides, I’ve seen you too. But that’s nothing new in Jinx’s head.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Well…” She leaned forward. “You’ve been showing up in my head for years, even before I came to this dump. You’re like a persistent, annoying ghost.”

“Are you calling me annoying?” Ekko looked at her indignantly. “You wouldn’t survive a single day if you had to put up with your ghost.”

“That means at least I was fun!” Jinx laughed, choked by her sobs. “You were dramatic, and even in my head you wanted to flirt with me.”

“Uh-huh. And what does that say about you?”

“More like what it says about you.”

“It says I’m awesome, so I’ll take the points for that.”

“I bet I at least helped you.”

“Let’s say out of ten times you spoke in a day, two of them were to help me and eight nearly ended with me sinking the ship.”

Jinx couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.

“You’re exaggerating. I’m sure I was a sunshine.”

“A sunshine that drove me crazy. Exactly like now.”

Ekko leaned back, turning his head to brush his cheek against hers. In the middle of giggles and a long sigh, Jinx did the same, leaning in just a little more to plant a kiss on his cheek. He leaned into her touch, breathing deeply. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be like this. To feel safe, unjudged. At peace.

“You know what?” Jinx looked at him with sincerity. “I think somehow… it was comforting. You know… seeing you.”

Ekko stayed silent for a moment, then lowered his head with a tired smile.

“Yeah. For me too.”

“Let’s face it. We’re each other’s favorite ghosts.”

“What an honor,” he said.

“The greatest one!” she replied with a giggle that ended in a sob.

After stifling his own laugh, Ekko remained silent. The air between them had thickened, as if every word that had escaped their lips in the last few minutes had woven an invisible net that now pressed them against themselves instead of pulling them apart. They had laughed, yes, but little by little the laughter had died in their throats, unraveling into a fragile echo until it went out. Silence enveloped them, and then, before they could stop it, their shoulders began to tense. Ekko’s jaw tightened, and his breathing grew heavier.

He shut his eyes tight. He had fought so hard not to do it, not to let that question slip past his lips, because he feared the answer more than he feared any monster or paradox. And still, the weight on his chest was unbearable. He swallowed, the lump in his throat burning like iron.

“Jinx… why did you leave Zaun without telling me anything?”

The question hung in the air, freezing everything around it.

Jinx trembled as if she had been struck. Her chest heaved suddenly with a loud inhale, and her hands clenched on her lap. She searched for words, any words that might work, but they all seemed to rot in her mouth before coming out. Nothing was right. Nothing sounded right after what she had done to Ekko. To Vi. To Sevika.

But she thought that if that hadn’t been the right thing, maybe being honest about it was the most right thing she could do now.

Her eyes filled with tears, and a sob broke from her throat. She swallowed, breathing raggedly, trying to dive into a dark ocean in search of a sentence that didn’t exist. And finally, she opened her mouth.

“Ekko…” she said with a broken voice. “After what happened with Isha… after she… died… I… I didn’t know if I could bear losing anyone else.”

She brought a hand to her chest, wanting, perhaps, to tear open with her fingers the hole that had been eating her away for years.

“I wasn’t going to survive losing anyone else I loved that much. And I…” her voice cracked. “I felt like that black hole was… was me, you know? Like everything I touched ended up swallowed. Like everything I loved just disappeared.”

The tears flooded her eyes again. Each word burned more than the last, but she had to keep going.

“It’s easy when you don’t care about anyone. You just… walk and let the world fall apart. You don’t even notice. But then…” The tears began to fall faster, burning her skin. “…then I fell in love with you. And I saw Vi, and how much I wanted her to have a happy life. To have a life at all.”

The silence broke with a violent sob.

“And I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand it if either of you… if that black hole…”

Jinx hid her face in her hands before she could finish the sentence. The mere possibility hurt too much, so much that it only made her let out another desperate sob. Another sob that only made Ekko’s chest tighten more at the sound of it.

“I couldn’t let it destroy me, because I promised you. I promised I would try. That I would give a chance to that weird thing they call moving on… building something new.” She laughed bitterly, with no joy at all. “I always thought I was doing it for all of you. For Sevika, for Vi… for you. To give you the chance to be happy away from me. But…” She swallowed with difficulty. “I think I did it for me. Because I… I was scared.”

Ekko parted his lips, but said nothing. His throat burned, and a sob threatened to break free.

“I was so scared, Ekko…” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “Scared of feeling that emptiness in my chest again, scared of losing again… scared of everything falling apart all over again. And I thought… that if I cut you off then, if I tore you out of my life myself… then life wouldn’t be able to take you from me.”

She slumped forward, her hair falling over her face.

“It was like ripping off a bandage. I kept telling myself that everyone dies alone, so better to be alone sooner…”

This time, she couldn’t calm her violent sobbing. She couldn’t calm the weight of years away from the only thing that made her smile. She couldn’t calm the pain of those who were gone. She couldn’t calm the truth that had burned in every corner of her life for the last years.

“But I miss you guys… so much. I miss you too much,” she whispered.

Her fists clenched tightly around the fabric of her dress. So many years of suffering… that only caused more and more pain. She sobbed harder, unable to bear it anymore.

“And the truth is… I hate being alone. I hate it… so much…”

The crying finished tearing her apart. Her whole body trembled, shoulders hunched, hands pressed against her eyes. Ekko watched her back, his own cheeks wet. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t keep holding back. To hell with pride, with distance, with sorrow. He turned sharply and wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her tightly against his chest.

“We miss you too, Jinx…” he said, his voice in pieces. “All the time. And you don’t have to be alone.”

She sobbed harder, burying herself in his arms.

“You can’t control what fate takes from us or gives us,” he continued, “but you don’t have to face it alone. Even if one day life takes me, or Vi, or Sevika… you deserve every second with us. You deserve to smile, cry, live with us.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, tears falling down his cheeks.

“And who knows, Jinx…” a small, trembling smile formed on his face. “Maybe… maybe you’ll be surprised. And you’ll live a long and happy life, with people who love you. Maybe you’ll never have to rip that bandage off. And even if that day comes… you won’t live with the regret of having missed a single second with them.”

Jinx looked at him with swollen eyes, undone.

“We’re here, Jinx. We’ve always been here, and we always will be. Life gives you hundreds of beautiful moments with beautiful people, and you know what? You can’t just waste them. Because if you do… one day you’ll stop in your tracks and think: ‘Why didn’t I have a few more seconds with them? Just… a few… seconds.’”

He gripped her hands tightly, locking his gaze into hers.

“And that’s the thing I learned about time. If you don’t make the most out of every given moment… then you don’t deserve a single extra second.”

Jinx wept uncontrollably.

“I’m so stupid…” she murmured, trembling. “Ekko… do you forgive me?”

He smiled sadly and hugged her tighter.

“Of course I do. Always. But… things have to change, Jinx.”

She nodded quickly, still crying.

“I won’t force you to tell Vi anything,” he added. “That’s your decision, not mine.”

He looked into her eyes, his voice heavy with seriousness and tenderness at once.

“But think about it.”

She swallowed hard, clumsily wiping her face.

“I will,” she said in a thread of a voice.

“When you’re ready,” Ekko clarified, caressing her hand.

She nodded again, resting her forehead on his shoulder, her body still shaken by sobs, but a little lighter than before.

Jinx kept crying softly in Ekko’s arms. Her eyes were reddening, and tears slid down her cheeks with painful slowness, tracing paths until they disappeared into the hollow of his neck. Ekko was still holding her carefully. His caresses were slow, gliding over her back in a constant, warm sway. With every touch, he tried to calm her trembling, silently reminding her that she was safe, even if neither of them really was.

She pulled away gently, unraveling the embrace with a touch of shyness. She wiped her tears with her sleeve and, between a sigh still tinged with sobs, let out a broken smile.

“Hey, genius…” she said, pointing toward the device. “Look at the Reverox readings.”

Ekko turned his gaze and blinked in surprise. The screen showed a steady frequency, calmer than ever, without erratic spikes. It was as if all the chaos had decided to fall silent at the same time.

“Go on. You’re dying to say ‘I told you so,’” Ekko replied with a crooked smile, trying to sound serious but not quite managing it.

They both laughed, though their laughter still carried the weight of the storm that had just passed. In that instant, Jinx turned and hugged him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. Ekko didn’t hesitate to return the embrace, wrapping his arms around her. Their hands met on each other’s back, clumsy, slow, but real and present. That hug felt different. It wasn’t a fleeting gesture or a desperate attempt at comfort; it was more real than any they had ever shared. Because now they were broken, but in each other’s arms they found the fragments of the other, holding them like pieces that fit together even if they were cracked.

Jinx slowly pulled back.

“Hey… when you say you want to make the most of the moments we’re given…” she asked in a low, almost fearful voice. “Do you think of them?”

He tilted his head.

“Of who?”

“Inna and Wyeth…” she whispered, locking her eyes on him. “Your parents. I saw the letter in your notebook.”

Ekko froze. He stopped moving, stopped crying, even stopped breathing. The letter. He had almost forgotten, but the names written in ink were still there, like open wounds that never healed.

And just like that, his breathing began to quicken beyond his control. At first just slightly, then faster and faster, terrifyingly so. Each gulp of air came ragged, harsh, like an unstoppable current dragging him down.

Jinx looked at him, uneasy.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah…” he answered, his voice a thread that got lost in the tremor of his chest.

But speaking only made it worse: there wasn’t enough air. His throat burned as if oxygen were fire, and no amount was enough to fill his lungs. The pain spread to his ribs, and every attempt to breathe felt like taking a blow. He felt his throat closing, the whole world shrinking.

He tried to push it away. Tried to stop the torrent he knew was about to crash down, but it was useless. Fear hit him in its rawest form: fear of not being able to stop it, fear of what would come when his legs gave out, when there was no air, when he broke beneath the unbearable weight.

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper.

“Breathe, Ekko. Easy, I’m here. I’m with you.”

But his vision was already starting to blur. He could barely make out her silhouette through the dark veil spreading across his sight. Instinctively, he clutched his chest, pressing against the unbearable stab tearing through his ribs. Panic engulfed him, and the certainty of dying pierced him.

His knees trembled and soon gave out, unable to hold his weight. All he saw was black, all he felt was the frantic rise and fall of his chest, his mouth and nose fighting for air that seemed to refuse to enter.

Why? Why them? After all the effort, after such a simple wish for a normal family… why did it have to be them? Why weren’t they there anymore? What kind of cruel joke was that?

Desperation shot through him like lightning. He felt like he was going to die, and he was sure of it. That he was going to die without remembering their faces, without telling his father that he had read The Boy Who Built the Stars. Without telling him that he had actually built them, for real, and that they weren’t there to see it.

His breathing grew chaotic, uncontrollable. The burning in his chest was unbearable, his ribs felt like they were breaking, his knees gave way completely. The world became a drum of fear, darkness, and pain.

He was already broken. That table held together with glue and tape had finally split under the weight. The pieces lay scattered, and there was nothing to be done. He was in the abyss, and no one would come to gather his fragments. In that darkness that wouldn’t lift, with that drum in his chest, Ekko felt a terrifying fear. How do you see the sky again when you’re trapped at the bottom of the abyss?

"I Shall Believe" - Sheryl Crow

Maybe he didn’t see the sky. But he did hear something very close to it.

“I’m here, Ekko. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you alone.”

Ekko blinked in the darkness, bewildered, as he felt arms wrap around him. Slim arms, marked with blue tattoos that shone like the sky that always seemed out of reach. Those arms held him when his legs betrayed him and his body crumpled to the ground. They caressed him, wrapped him in unexpected warmth, kept him safe in the midst of the storm.

“I’m here. I won’t let go.”

And then, Ekko decided to hold on to those arms. He could no longer fight against the darkness, against the pain, against the memories that tore him apart. All he could do… was cry.

Cry as he never had before, let the tears break through the barrier of years of resistance. But there, among the broken pieces, he cried held by her.

And he cried, cried, cried, and cried. His weeping was harsh, uncontrolled, ripped from the deepest part of a place even he had never wanted to touch. Each sob shook his entire body, wracking him with a pain that seemed endless. Air went in and out in ragged bursts, dragging moans that cracked in his inflamed throat. He clung to Jinx as if her arms were the only solid thing left amid the collapse, burying his face in her shoulder, soaking her skin with hot tears.

They had both ended up on the floor, collapsed against the cold that thrummed faintly beneath them. Jinx cradled him in her lap, settling Ekko’s body between her thin arms. She wrapped him however she could, trying in some absurd way to form a shield around him, one that might keep the pain from tearing him apart completely.

Jinx’s caresses were constant, repetitive, almost anxious. Her fingers traced along the nape of his neck, slid through his hair damp with sweat and tears, and then moved down his back. Her hands trembled, not from fear, but because she too was crying. Thin tears fell from her eyes, mingling with his in the shattered silence of the workshop.

“Shhh…” she whispered again and again, her voice breaking. “I’m here, Ekko… I’m not going anywhere… do you hear me? Everything’s gonna be fine. We’re going to be fine.”

He answered only with sobs, but clung tighter to her waist. He dug his fingers into the fabric of her clothes, holding on like a castaway to the last piece of wood in the middle of the sea.

“I… I miss them,” he managed to say between sobs that barely formed words. “I miss them so much…”

His voice shattered like glass. A new wave of crying shook him.

Jinx leaned her head against his and held him tighter. She couldn’t stop the searing grief from reaching her too.

“So do I…” she said between sobs. “I miss them too… more than I can bear sometimes.”

Her tears fell onto Ekko’s damp skin, and for a moment they both cried together, unrestrained. They cried until their throats hurt, until their faces burned, until they had no more tears left to shed.

Ekko squeezed his eyes shut, letting another sob escape.

“I feel…” his breathing broke. “I feel like I’m losing my mind… Jinx… it’s… it’s too hard. I can’t…”

Jinx stroked his cheek, uselessly wiping away tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

“I know, I know, Ekko…” her own voice shook with sobs. “Sometimes your head becomes the worst place. I get it. But you’re not alone, do you hear me? You’re not.”

He let himself sink further against her, resting his face on her chest, listening to the irregular thumping of her heart. Jinx held him tighter, burying her own sobs in the curve of Ekko’s neck, running the palm of her hand over his back again and again. With each caress, he felt the unbearable knot in his chest loosen just a little, yielding to the warmth of her touch.

Amid her own emotional torrent, Jinx lowered her voice to a timid whisper.

“Do you want me to show you something?”

Ekko, his eyes still closed, barely nodded.

“It’s something Vi used to do for me when I was little…” she continued. “When my head became too terrifying a place. I used to say it was the monsters… but now I know it wasn’t. That your own head can be the worst monster of all. That your ghosts are the cruelest monsters that exist.”

As she spoke, she carefully took Ekko’s hand between hers. She wrapped it first with one palm, then the other, and gave it gentle squeezes. Her fingers began to rub his skin softly, creating friction, warmth.

“What Vi used to do…” she explained, her voice trembling between memory and the present, “was this. She’d take my hand and warm it until it felt alive again.”

Her movements didn’t stop. Little by little, Ekko’s palm grew warmer under Jinx’s soft and steady touch.

“Raise your other hand,” she told him tenderly.

Ekko obeyed, though his body still trembled from the remnants of his sobbing. Jinx guided him to compare both palms. One was warm, almost comforting, while the other remained cold, inert.

“See?” she said, stroking his fingers as she warmed his hand again. “There’s no monster or ghost that can do that. When you feel lost in that darkness, I’ll be here. I’ll take your hand and warm it until it feels alive. And then you’ll know it’s me. Not a ghost, not a memory. Me.”

Her words pierced him with unexpected force. He buried his face even deeper in her chest, letting the tears flow again, though now they weren’t as violent. Jinx hugged him tightly, closing her eyes too, and cried with him. Their weeping mingled, resonating in the silence, but little by little it began to calm. Their breaths, irregular at first, started to fall into rhythm, as if they were both learning how to breathe again for the first time.

Swallowing hard, Ekko let out in a ragged voice the question that was gnawing at him inside.

“Jinx… does it ever go away?… that darkness in your head…”

She stroked his nape slowly, pressing her lips to his damp hair. She truly wished she had a more comforting answer. But this wasn’t a fairytale. It was, plain and simple, reality.

“I’m still trying to figure that out. But I think… you just learn to live with it. To not let it swallow you whole.”

With a long sigh, he nodded, and she hugged him tighter. The warmth of their bodies, entwined on the cold floor, was the only thing that held them together. Ekko, still with tears sliding slowly down his face, clung even more to Jinx, while she kept caressing his back, his hair, his hands, as if with every touch she could convince him that yes, there was still some light left in the abyss. Even if it wasn’t true. Even if all they had were broken pieces. At least now they had each other to hold them.

Time dissolved for them. They didn’t know how long they had been there, on the floor, holding on to one another. They cried until there were no more tears, until their sobs turned into ragged breaths, and those breaths, little by little, fell into sync. Inevitably, exhaustion finally overtook them.

Each other’s arms became a warm refuge, a place where wakefulness no longer mattered. They didn’t even notice when their eyelids closed, when the darkness of sleep blurred with the darkness of pain, or when that same darkness grew softer, almost gentle. They simply fell asleep, held, clinging to one another, breathing the same air.

When they opened their eyes again, the dim light of dawn was beginning to seep through the cracks in the room. They didn’t even need to look closely at the Reverox; from where they lay, they could see the frequency remained serene, more stable than ever.

Ekko blinked, still drowsy, and turned his face toward Jinx. She was already watching him with half-lidded eyes, still swollen from tears, but glowing with a soft light.

“We fell asleep…” he murmured with a tired smile.

Jinx chuckled softly, snuggling closer, tightening her embrace, this time burying her head in his chest.

“Yeah…” she sighed. “Who would’ve thought all we needed was some screaming, some crying, and to watch the sunrise from the floor.”

He let out a gentle laugh, the first free of pain in a long time. He pulled her closer, leaning in to kiss her on the lips. She met him without hesitation, returning it with the same need with which she had held him all night. Their lips moved against each other’s for a few seconds, then broke into soft touches. Quickly, like everything between them, it turned into a contest, and in the blink of an eye they were playfully fighting to steal the last kiss with little pecks. The unspoken competition ended with Ekko winning, as he took her face in his hands and planted gentle kisses all over her face. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sensation.

When they pulled apart, Ekko gazed at her with a serene expression.

“Is the sunrise pretty here?” he asked.

Jinx tilted her head.

“Yeah… if you can stand the smell. The docks set up their stalls early.”

He chuckled under his breath.

“I’ve been on a ship for almost two months. Trust me, I’m used to it by now.”

There was a brief, comfortable silence, in which they simply looked at each other. Then Ekko smiled tenderly at her as a thought suddenly sparked in his mind.

“I know a better place to watch the sunrise.”

Jinx arched a brow, her smile turning suspicious.

“What are you scheming, genius?”

“I still owe you a date. At least one that doesn’t end in shouting.”

“Oh yeah? And where do you plan on taking me?”

He looked at her with a gleam in his eyes he couldn’t hide.

“To meet my favorite person after you,” he replied. “You, my beautiful girl… you’re going to meet the World Flyer.”

Jinx looked at him with a smile and hugged him even tighter. They sank into another deep kiss, long enough that neither paid attention to the Reverox. Neither of them noticed the screen of the electronic panel, where little by little something resembling letters began to take shape. Something that wasn’t a fluctuation, nor a reading, nor a code.

Something that, for a few seconds, materialized on the screen before disappearing.

"Destroy it."

 

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

 

Lysander Crane had not learned to be a spy by choice, but out of necessity. In the scorching sands of Shurima, where sandstorms could swallow entire armies and secrets were worth more than gold, Lysander had discovered that listening was an art, and that survival depended on how well one could keep what they heard to themselves. From a young age, he had developed a sharp ear, a watchful eye, and, above all, unshakable patience. He knew when to stay silent, when to nod, and when to let others believe they had the upper hand.

Over the years, that natural gift had become a craft. He learned to move among merchants and generals like a discreet shadow. No one truly remembered his face: too common to draw attention, too cautious to spark suspicion. He could disguise himself as a beggar in the squares of Nasus, a traveling merchant in the caravans of Uzeris, or a silent servant in the golden-stone mansions of Nashramae. In all these roles, he gathered information, weaving a net of rumors and secrets that guaranteed him not only work, but also influence.

But being a good spy came at a price. For every secret he sold, someone lost; for every thwarted plan, someone cursed his name in the dark. The desert raiders had marked him as a traitor for betraying their ambushes. Some Shuriman nobles hated him because his tongue had ruined their political schemes. Even among mercenaries and other spies, Lysander had cultivated enemies. His success, ironically, condemned him. And the reputation of being “the man with seven lives” began to spread, until he could no longer walk safely in his homeland.

In the end, his fate dragged him into the black hole of exiles, the place where all who had nowhere else to go ended up: Bilgewater. There, he thought, he could lose himself in the crowd, reinvent himself, perhaps even find a way to return to Shurima one day without a knife waiting for his throat.

But in Bilgewater he was never safe, not even as part of the feared crew of Miss Fortune. His nights were haunted by the same dream: returning home, embracing his family, walking through Shurima’s golden sands without always looking over his shoulder. That dream pursued him, and at the same time drove him into desperate choices and dangerous alliances. He had made too many mistakes, but none as grave as the one that had led him, at that moment, to kneel on the damp planks of that ship.

The vessel was, without doubt, imposing. Its structure was solid, built with the finest planks Runeterra’s shipyards could provide. It had deep holds, dark as caverns, reinforced with beams that seemed like giant bones. The air down there was thick, a mixture of mold, dried blood, and spilled rum. Torches burned on rusted brackets, casting terrifying shadows. This was a ship built not only to sail, but to inspire fear, to remind everyone that its owner commanded both the sea and men.

Lysander was on his knees, his arms gripped by two burly pirates. Their faces were scarred, and their fists were harder than iron. They had beaten him so many times he had lost count. One eye was swollen nearly shut; his mouth tasted of iron from the blood; his ribs ached with every breath, and a cut on his forehead left a warm trail sliding down his cheek. His body burned with every movement, and yet he kept himself upright.

Still, Lysander knew the real blows did not come from those men. Their fists were only tools. The true owner of his suffering sat in front of him, watching with cruel calm.

He was an imposing man, broad-built, his muscles defying the years. A long, thick beard fell across his chest, framing a face hardened by a thousand battles. He wore a wide black hat crowning his figure like a captain’s warning. A long coat of red, blue, and gold draped down to his boots, with metal buttons glinting in the torchlight. At his belt rested a hand-cannon and a saber. Everyone in Bilgewater knew him, and everyone feared him.

Lysander lifted his head with difficulty, spitting blood onto the floor. Another punch to the stomach bent him forward, gasping.

“Please… Captain Gangplank…” he rasped. “I can explain.”

The man leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Explain?” he repeated. “The deal was clear, Crane. The Red Fortune was supposed to burn, just like the Dead Pool.”

“I did,” Lysander shot back, spitting more blood. “The Red Fortune is at the bottom of the sea.”

Gangplank raised a hand, and the pirates stopped.

“The crew was supposed to sink with it. All of them. That was the price. You gave me that show, and I cleared your path back to Shurima. Not a single bandit left waiting for you. But tell me, why do I still see the Fortune Sharks running around?”

Lysander laughed bitterly, though the sound cost him pain in his ribs.

“Because nothing in the Great Hunt went as we planned.”

Gangplank narrowed his eyes, his fingers drumming on the hand-cannon at his belt.

“At least Captain Vargo kept his word. That’s humiliation enough for Fortune, for now. But…” he said calmly.

The captain rose slowly. His figure seemed to fill the entire hold, casting a shadow that swallowed Lysander whole.

“…If you had delivered, Crane…” he murmured, pacing in front of him, “the crew of the Red Fortune would be dead, and you would be sailing back to Shurima in a new ship, with no bandits waiting to slit your throat and cash in your head. You’d be with your family. But you didn’t. And here we are.”

Lysander clenched his teeth, feeling despair weigh heavier than the blows.

“You don’t understand… I—”

“There’s no deal. You failed. And I erase failures.”

The captain drew the hand-cannon from his belt with cruel slowness, lifting it until the cold, black mouth aimed directly at Lysander’s bloodied face. The polished metal caught the torchlight, and for an instant, Lysander saw only his own swollen eye staring back at him from that dark mouth of death.

“Wait!” His voice cracked, sharp, desperate. “Vargo didn’t keep his word either!”

Gangplank paused, his finger hovering over the trigger. His left eye narrowed with suspicion, and an expectant silence filled the hold. The men gripping Lysander looked at him with a mix of curiosity and scorn. The captain tilted his head slightly and muttered:

“Talk.”

The spy struggled for breath, knowing his life hung on each word.

“When the ship was sinking, Vargo’s people saved the crew.” Lysander’s voice trembled, but he forced it steady. “The weaponsmith, she’s the one who pulled them out. She even went back for Sarah when the hull split apart.”

A murmur rippled among the men. Gangplank frowned, but did not lower the cannon.

“Names, Crane. I want names.”

“Miss J… Jinx,” he said, spitting blood. “She’s the one who rescued them, with another boy. She brought them all to Vargo’s ship. Officially they said the Stygian Serpent won the hunt… but it wasn’t true. They’re the ones who killed the beast. And now Vargo is meeting in secret with Miss Fortune. They’re plotting to bring you down.”

The silence grew so deep the crackle of the torches roared like thunder. Gangplank said nothing for long seconds. His eyes fixed on Lysander, then on the guards, then back to him.

Then suddenly, the captain burst into laughter.

At first it was a low rumble in his throat, but soon it swelled into booming laughter that filled the hold. The men around him joined in, their guffaws echoing against the damp wood. Lysander, however, watched nervously, wondering if that mirth meant salvation or death.

Gangplank stomped his boot on the floor, bent over with laughter, then raised his head toward the ceiling.

“Oh, brother!” he roared. “You betrayed me right under my nose, Vargo! What a delight!”

The laughter carried on for a few seconds more, until the captain cut it off with a gesture of his hand. His expression hardened suddenly, sharp as a blade. His eyes returned to Lysander.

“Where are Miss Fortune and Vargo meeting?”

“I don’t know…” Lysander answered quickly, trembling. “They hide all day.”

Gangplank gestured, and one of the pirates delivered a brutal punch to his ribs, folding him forward. Lysander screamed in agony.

“I swear I don’t know!” he roared through ragged breaths. “They only come out to see the brat from time to time!”

The captain frowned.

“The brat?”

“She’s… she’s part of the Sharks,” Lysander said, coughing fresh blood, “but more than anything, she’s Vargo’s protégé. He guards her like a treasure. He’d rip the ear off anyone who dared lay a hand on her.”

Gangplank tilted his head, intrigued.

“Then why isn’t she in his crew? Did Sarah steal her on purpose?”

“At first, yes… but later Sarah grew attached to her. That girl’s the only reason she gave up the Megatusk in the middle of the hunt.”

The captain let out a low, raspy chuckle. He stood for a moment, speaking more to himself than to the man.

“Interesting… who would have thought. The two most unwanted captains, hiding in the depths like abyssal eels, yet leaping to the surface for the same piece of bait.”

He turned to his men, his grin resembling satisfaction.

“Two eels caught with one bait…” he muttered. “What a gift.”

Lysander panted, feeling for the first time a thread of hope. The captain turned sharply back to him.

“Where do I find the girl?”

The man swallowed hard. If this was his chance to fix the disaster, he would take it.

“She’s at Beast’s Spine. In Pink Twist’s workshop.”

Gangplank straightened, nodding slowly. Lysander swallowed again, praying the information would be enough.

“So… do we have a deal?” he asked in a trembling voice.

The captain slowly lowered the weapon, fixing him with an unblinking stare.

“Yes, Crane. We have a deal.”

The spy exhaled in relief, though his gaze stayed tense. Gangplank grinned, revealing teeth stained with gold and tobacco.

“An excellent deal, in fact.” He nodded calmly. “I get abyssal eels at the surface…”

Lysander lifted his head, hopeful.

“…and you get a bullet in your skull.”

"Start A War" - Klergy, Valerie Broussard

The cannon’s blast thundered through the hold, shaking the planks. Lysander’s head snapped back, and his body collapsed lifeless onto the damp wood, leaving behind a dark pool that slowly spread. Gangplank twirled the weapon, blew the smoke from the barrel, and tucked it back into his belt. Without looking back, he strode toward the stairs leading to the deck.

Each step made the ship groan beneath his weight. When he emerged above, the open night welcomed him. The salty air struck his face, and the ocean stretched in all directions like a dark tide. Waves battered the hull with fury, clouds veiled the moon, leaving only faint flickers of light across the vastness. The sailors watched him in silence, awaiting orders. Gangplank advanced to the helm, his coat whipping in the wind. He stopped beside the helmsman, lighting his pipe almost at the same moment.

“Set course to Bilgewater. It’s time to go home… and pay someone a little visit.”

 

Notes:

That's it! Oh my god, I can't believe we're getting close to the end of this story. What am I going to do when my baby is over? 😭​

If you liked the chapter, remember that kudos are welcome, and I greatly appreciate your comments with your critiques and thoughts 💙​ I'll respond to everyone as soon as I have time (don't hate me pls)

Love, Juli❤️​