Top of the Mage Tower
Facing the six-eyed crow perched on the windowsill, Ryan smiled and said,
"This little matter isn't worth your trouble."
"The girl has ties to Demacia, but I can't spare the time," the crow replied flatly.
"Just deal with Demacia. There's still time before Ezreal heads to the mausoleum—I'll handle it before then." Ryan smiled again.
"Live," Syndra suddenly said from across the room, not looking up from her book.
"Of course," Ryan replied without hesitation.
"We've never really studied dragons, have we?"
"The dragon clans are complicated, but the girl's mother belongs to an abandoned line," the crow replied, calm and unreadable.
Ryan nodded slightly, understanding this was intel from Swain.
Since Swain merged with the demon Raum, he had gained access to its memories and many secrets with them.
"The promise Darius made is your responsibility. I'll take care of the rest."
"The man with black roses... my life will be easier if he's removed."
The crow responded with a caw, spread its wings, and flew off from the tower once the matters were settled.
After it left, Syndra closed her book slowly and asked, almost casually,
"Need my help?"
"No," Ryan said, hands clasped behind his back, his robe fluttering in the wind.
"Your magic is powerful, but it's your first time splitting your soul. You should rest."
As he spoke, a runic magic circle appeared beneath him.
In an instant, he vanished into its glow.
Watching the scene, the corner of Syndra's mouth twitched slightly.
Then she returned to her book without another word.
-------------
The Temple of Justice
The temple was quiet now, solemn and imposing beneath the gaze of the winged colossus at its heart—a statue hundreds of feet high, honoring the Winged Protector.
Once teeming with crowds, the temple now felt subdued.
Even though the god's name was whispered with reverence and doubt, people still came to pray, seek the Judicator Order, or stand beneath the statue's gaze.
At the temple gates, two noble girls stepped inside.
One wore a sword at her hip—graceful and composed, the bearing of a noble duelist.
The other carried a book in her arms, her delicate features framed by a radiant and innocent smile like the girl next door.
"Lux—" Fiora began, catching the look in her companion's eyes, and corrected herself quickly,
"Miss Luxanna, you didn't need to come all this way."
"I only came to visit the Winged Protector's statue. My aunt is one of her believers," Luxanna replied calmly, the picture of a scholarly young noblewoman.
She gave Fiora a gentle nudge, her voice sincere.
"Go on. I hope it goes well for you."
"...Thanks," Fiora murmured, hesitating for a moment before lifting her head and stepping into the temple.
Today was the day she would be inducted into the Judicator Order.
Even with Luxanna's help, unease gnawed at her.
The Temple of Justice was divided into two halls—the front for public worship, the rear reserved for Judgment and, supposedly, divine presence.
Two expressionless nuns emerged from where the halls met.
Fiora tensed. Their faces were serene, their manner calm—but as a swordswoman trained to read danger, she sensed the quiet hostility behind their stillness.
These were not harmless clergy; their hands were stained with blood.
"I am," Fiora answered as one of them asked for her name.
"Come with us. All are welcome to the Judicator Order, but you must prove the purity of your heart."
The nun turned and led the way.
As they walked, Fiora asked, "How does one prove a righteous heart?"
"In the presence of the Winged Protector, nothing can be hidden," the nun replied reverently.
"She's not—"
Fiora stopped as the nun turned to glance back at her.
In that moment, a chill passed through her, as if she'd just brushed past death.
The nun's eyes lingered on her for a moment, then turned away.
Before Fiora could catch her breath, the nun gave a final warning:
"Where there is justice, she is watching."
"Understood."
Fiora steadied herself and followed them deeper into the temple.
Still, a part of her worried—if the Winged Protector truly returned, would someone like her, with doubts in her heart, survive judgment?
After they disappeared into the temple's interior, another nun approached Luxanna.
"Miss Crownguard," she said without expression.
"My Lady wishes to see you."
Luxanna's eyes widened, but she quickly regained her composure.
Hugging the book tightly to her chest, she replied in a steady voice:
"Of course. Please, lead the way."
She had come—the reason she gave her aunt—because the soul within the magic book had urged her to go without fear.
If not for that voice, even Lux's innocence wouldn't have brought her here willingly.
The Winged Protector was known for centuries of absolute justice.
And Luxanna did not doubt its purity—or its wrath.
But if the Winged Protector had changed... then anything was possible.
Even so, Luxanna trusted the magic book's judgment, just as her aunt had once chosen to believe in her.
Her expression was calm, and she followed the nun down a path different from the one Fiora had taken.
They didn't walk through the main corridor, but instead passed into a quiet side passage leading toward the apse of the temple.
The white-stone hallway was filled with soft light, each step echoing faintly.
At the end, Luxanna saw a towering stone door, carved from the same pale stone.
On it, a grand relief of the Winged Protector loomed, wings outstretched, frozen in the act of delivering justice.
The nun bowed low to the unseen presence inside, then opened the door.
She stepped aside and gestured silently for Luxanna to enter.
"You're not coming with me?" Luxanna asked, pausing at the threshold.
"My Lady wishes to see only you," the nun replied evenly, her voice devoid of emotion.
Luxanna nodded slowly.
"Alright."
She tightened her grip on the book and stepped forward, her nerves tightening, though she kept her posture composed.
So far, everything the magic book told her had proven true.
The Winged Protector had truly returned.
As the stone doors sealed behind her, Luxanna took in the sight of the inner sanctum—the Temple of Angels—a place she had only heard whispered of in rumor.
It was said that only those with a truly just heart could enter this place.
It was where one met the Winged Protector face to face.
The decor was austere—more modest than her chambers back home—but the solemn atmosphere filled the space with unspoken weight.
Four massive stone pillars, carved with forbidden runes, supported the temple.
The surrounding walls depicted scenes of divine justice—the Winged Protector descending, wings radiant, purging evil without hesitation.
The hall was nearly empty, and yet it felt crowded with judgment.
At its center stood a raised stone platform.
Bright.
That was Luxanna's first impression.
A beam of intense light poured from the high dome directly onto the platform, illuminating it like a divine spotlight.
The radiance was so powerful, Luxanna had to shield her eyes.
And within that light, she saw a silhouette.
A figure with wings of pure light.
"Come out."
The voice echoed across the hall, calm but commanding.
It sent a shiver down Luxanna's spine, and her hands trembled around the book.
Suddenly, she felt the magic book move.
It strained against her grip, trying to escape.
Remembering what it had told her the night before, Luxanna took a shaky breath... and let go.
The book floated upward, flipping open, pages turning rapidly.
Then, white brilliance burst forth.
In the heart of the light beam, the Winged Protector's eyes snapped open.
For a fleeting moment, Luxanna thought she saw a shadow in those golden eyes—a flicker of something darker.
But she had no time to dwell on it.
The golden light of the Winged Protector clashed with the white brilliance from the magic book, and a sudden shockwave of raw energy tore through the hall.
Luxanna stumbled, barely keeping her footing in the windstorm that followed.
The two forces collided—neither yielding.
Luxanna stared, stunned. That the soul in the magic book could match the divine might of a returned god was beyond anything she'd imagined.
Even if the Winged Protector had once fallen to Noxus, she was still a god.
Yet now... they were equals.
How powerful was the soul in the book at its peak?
The magic book had always been her guide—her teacher, her protector.
It had carried her through the darkest times of her life. She trusted it completely.
Without it, she might have been consumed by fear, or worse—by her power.
She believed in it.
And now, as the Protector's power filled the hall, Luxanna felt her light magic stir within her.
It surged to life as if answering a call, as if yearning to be part of her.
If not for the magic book's teachings, she might have lost control then and there, drained by the sheer pull of divine resonance.
"Those who are recognized by the light... must be pure of heart."
At last, the clash of forces began to fade.
The magic book dimmed, its once radiant light fading as it gently floated back into Luxanna's hands.
At the same moment, a weary male voice echoed in her mind:
[She will help you.]
Her eyes lit up at the familiar voice. Relief washed over her, and she nodded instinctively, a small smile curling at her lips.
The Winged Protector, now still and silent again, returned to her former solemn posture.
Her golden, expressionless eyes cast down upon her, examining her with the weight of judgment.
The sheer intensity of his gaze made her heart pound.
But she remembered the magic book's words.
That gave her the strength to stand tall.
"Good."
The word was cold, simple, but it filled her with joy.
Even a single word of approval from a divine figure like him... would smooth her path.
It was more than she'd dared hope for.
The Winged Protector said no more. She closed his eyes again and remained motionless, bathed in the brilliant pillar of light as though asleep.
Luxanna bowed low in reverence, then quietly stepped out of the temple.
As the heavy doors closed behind her, she found the nun waiting outside, no longer stoic.
The woman knelt deeply, her eyes brimming with reverence, even fanaticism.
"Your Highness, Stina is willing to serve you."
Luxanna blinked in surprise.
"You are...?"
The change in demeanor was unmistakable.
Gone was the emotionless acolyte—this woman now radiated a devoted purpose.
It had to be connected to what the Winged Protector had said.
"My god has spoken," the nun said, her voice fervent.
"Her Highness Luxanna will lead us in the execution of justice."
Luxanna stood frozen.
She had expected permission, perhaps tolerance, not open recognition.
Help you had sounded simple.
She hadn't imagined it would grant her authority over the entire Judicator Order.
And she certainly hadn't expected to meet Stina—not just any nun, but Head of the Judicator Order herself—a living legend in Demacia, known for executing countless judgments in the name of the Protector.
"Sister Stina, please stand—I don't deserve such a greeting," Luxanna said quickly, helping her up.
Her mind raced. Could the soul in the magic book once knew the Winged Protector?
Was that strange clash between them not a battle... but a form of recognition?
While she tried to make sense of it, Stina spoke in quiet awe, listing the powers and groups now at her disposal.
-----------------
Judicator Order. Illuminati. The Temple Guard.
Names she had only heard whispered in noble halls and secret meetings—now offered freely.
All because of a single word from the Winged Protector.
It felt unreal—a dream she hadn't dared to dream.
With this authority, she could finally act on her hidden goals for so long.
Luxanna clutched the magic book tightly, a surge of emotion rising in her chest.
Everything she had—her resolve, her light, her will to stand tall—was all because of the soul in this book.
"Your Highness," Stina said, breaking her thoughts, "all divisions are on standby. Awaiting your orders."
Luxanna hesitated, then answered calmly, suppressing the excitement welling within her.
"Not yet. I need to visit the headquarters of the Mageseeker Legion first."
Stina inclined her head.
"Shall we send support? You may now enter under the name of Judgement Director. We also have agents there."
Luxanna shook her head, her expression faintly conflicted.
"No. No one will stop me there."
What Stina didn't know—what even she hadn't realized until today—was that every member of the Illuminati was secretly a mage.
And she had once been among them—a trainee, barely more than a shadow.
But today, she was recognized as Director—the highest authority within their ranks.
The Illuminati, though officially aligned with the Temple of Justice, functioned in secrecy.
They claimed to uphold the Protector's values, but their true purpose was far murkier.
They were charged with "handling" rogue mages—sometimes through purification, sometimes through control.
Testing magical strength. Nullifying or even eliminating it.
Mages regulating mages... under the banner of justice.
The irony was bitter.
In truth, the Illuminati had long been a shelter for noble families to hide their gifted children.
To shape their magic behind closed doors.
To direct the threat inward, rather than let it burn through the open world.
And now, she was its leader.
Luxanna laughed quietly at herself.
The truth was, her family had known about her magic for a long time.
It was she who had been afraid to accept it.
The deeper she came to understand Demacia, the more absurd everything seemed.
The Demacia she saw now was not the glorious ideal she had held in her heart.
The real one was filled with contradictions.
Laws, meant to protect and elevate, had become weapons used to condemn people for something they were born with.
And even then, those laws served only the nobles.
Commoners bore the weight of judgment; nobles wielded it like a shield.
It was… filthy.
As someone born into privilege, Luxanna couldn't help but sigh.
She was complicit, even if unknowingly.
Her recent studies and experiences had hardened her.
She understood now that changing Demacia meant making hard, even ugly, decisions.
But just because something had to be done didn't mean it was right.
She slowed her steps and whispered to Stina beside her:
"Stina, don't change Fiona's review because of me. She earned her place in the Mission with her strength."
There was a flicker of surprise on Stina's otherwise impassive face.
She bowed lower, her voice reverent:
"Your Highness, I obey your will."
"Thank you," Luxanna smiled warmly.
"For everything you've told me today."
With that, she turned and left the temple.
Her heart was lighter now. One burden lifted, but another waited.
As she walked through the streets of Demacia, people greeted her warmly.
She returned their waves and smiles. Her recent presence in the capital had made her known—a girl who wanted to improve Demacia.
But then a familiar voice echoed gently in her mind, full of weary warmth:
[I can feel the guilt in your heart.]
The smile on her face faltered for a moment.
She responded through the mental link the soul had taught her to use:
"Teacher... you taught me to hold onto that guilt. I can't ignore it just because it's necessary. A wrong choice is still wrong, even when it's required."
She had always called him "Teacher" in her heart, but never aloud.
This soul- this presence within the magic book—was more than a companion.
He had taught her how to control her power, see and survive the world.
He was as dear to her as her brother.
[I admire that about you,] he answered gently.
[You've always carried light in your heart.]
Hearing his affirmation, Luxanna smiled again, genuinely this time.
But she shook her head softly.
"My magic is light, and I'll use it to bring hope to others. But I'll walk in darkness myself. That's the burden I choose."
She knew exactly what she was doing.
Demacia faced enemies on all sides, but its greatest weakness lay within—its pride, hypocrisy, and unwillingness to change.
What she was doing might seem like rebellion. It might hasten the crumbling of the kingdom.
But she believed in the ideals real Demacians held dear:
Glory. Justice. Compassion. Brotherhood. Equality.
What was the point of protecting a false ideal of Demacia if that ideal had never truly existed?
She would build the Demacia they dreamed of—even if it meant breaking the one that stood now.
And if in the end, Demacia was still defeated by Noxus—if the nation fell—then at least, she would fall having fought for its soul.
She would not die because of rot from within.
She would not die as a hypocrite.
She would die, proudly, as the best of Demacia.
At that thought, a radiant smile lit her face.
Her steps grew steadier. Her eyes clearer.
She would be the deepest shadow of Demacia… and its brightest light.