It had been four days since Viego's all-out attack on Demacia, and despite the lingering feelings of despair, sorrow, and fear that still edged the periphery of the citizens' minds, things were beginning to look better.
The statistics alone were outstanding. Across the entire nation, only a few dozen casualties had been recorded, including the refugees who had flooded in from Nockmirch during the chaos.
The Black Mist had been driven back.
Demacia had been protected.
And all of it had been accomplished almost singlehandedly by one man.
Asta of the Black Bulls.
The foreign mage had once again proven his otherworldly power. This time, however, instead of inspiring fear within Demacia's people, he had given them something far rarer.
Hope.
They spoke of his Anti-Magic barrier as though it were an extension of the man himself, his generosity made manifest, his kindness given form. A shield born not only of power, but of intent.
He had protected them in their moment of greatest need.
And that was something Demacia would not soon forget.
---
Tianna once again found herself seated in another conference.
Unlike the recent times she had occupied this room, however, she did not feel the familiar weight of exhaustion settling over her shoulders. There was no dull ache behind her eyes, no creeping irritation at the thought of another long discussion.
Instead, she felt… oddly satisfied.
Across from her sat Asta.
Tianna studied him quietly, unable to help but reflect on how strange it was that, despite the number of times his name had dominated these chambers, the man himself had actually been present so few times.
He was holding the document in his hand, scanning its contents. With each passing moment, his expression shifted, first confusion, then disbelief, and finally something close to horror, as though his mind had tripped.
Tianna allowed herself a small, satisfied smirk at the sight. It was rare to see him rendered this thoroughly speechless. Even rarer to be the one responsible for it. Most of the time, it was the other way around.
"Before you say anything," she said evenly, cutting off whatever protest was forming, "I want it on record that what occurred would have resulted in catastrophic loss had you not intervened."
"I would have done it regardless," Asta replied immediately. "Not for any rewards. Certainly not for… this." He lifted the document slightly, holding it at arm's length as if it might bite him.
"Demacia owes you a great debt," Tianna said, her tone firm but not unkind, "and we do not allow deeds of this magnitude to go unrewarded. Especially not one of the caliber you've accomplished."
She leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying his discomfort just a little too much.
"First," she continued, "official recognition. You will be named a Protector of the Realm, a title rarely granted, and never lightly. It carries no command authority, but it grants you legal standing equal to a high-ranking Sentinel while within Demacian borders."
Asta's eyes narrowed slightly. "How is that any different from before? I don't think anyone's gone against me even once, except, you know, the MageSeekers. Those guys are jerks."
Tianna inclined her head, fingers folding together atop the table. "You are not entirely wrong," she said calmly. "You acted under the protection of royal decree, yes. That alone stayed many hands." Her gaze sharpened, thoughtful rather than accusatory. "But you were still a foreigner within Demacia's walls. And not merely foreign, powerful. Dangerous, in the eyes of tradition."
She paused, choosing her words with deliberate care.
"In such times, most would rather keep the peace than invite scrutiny. No one wished to be the first to test the edge of the blade, as it were."
Her lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. "What has changed now is not the law that shields you, but the hearts of the people. You did not simply stand for Demacia, you were ready to bleed for it. And that is a loyalty even the most cautious cannot ignore."
She set the first paper aside and lifted the second, her movements unhurried, deliberate.
"Second," she said. "Land."
A murmur rippled through the chamber, low voices brushing against one another before settling again.
"A small territory on the outskirts of Demacia," Tianna continued. "Formerly ruined. Terbisia, by name if you recall. It shall be granted to you, to use as you see fit. You will hold it as baron." Her gaze sharpened slightly as she spoke the title, watching him closely.
Asta exhaled slowly, rolling the document in his hand as if testing its weight. "Yeah… that's the part that doesn't sit right with me." He gestured vaguely with the paper. "I'm not Demacian. Making me a noble is already strange enough, but this..." he paused, flipping to another section, "...what is this about me and Fiora? Marriage?"
He looked up at her, brows drawn together, disbelief plain on his face.
"Lady," he said flatly, "if you don't explain yourself right now, I'm going to assume this is some elaborate prank."
Tianna did not react immediately.
She regarded him for a long moment, fingers still folded atop the table, her expression composed enough that it might have been carved from marble.
"At ease," she said at last, her voice calm, measured. "This is neither a jest nor an attempt at trickery."
She reached forward and gently tapped the section of the document Asta was holding, right where his thumb lingered.
"Demacia does not grant land to outsiders without reason," Tianna continued. "Nor would we elevate one to nobility without ensuring that elevation cannot be used against the realm."
Asta's grip tightened slightly.
"And Fiora?" he pressed. "Because that part reads less like a suggestion and more like a… political ambush."
A flicker of amusement crossed Tianna's eyes, brief but genuine. "You are sharper than you let on," she said. "Yes. It is political. I will not insult you by pretending otherwise."
She straightened in her chair, posture impeccable.
"Terbisia sits on Demacia's edge," Tianna explained. "A scar left behind by old catastrophies. It has value, strategic and symbolic, even personal."
Asta nodded slowly. "I'm guessing that's why you had me raise one of my barriers over Terbisia," he said. "Even though, according to the maps, it wasn't supposed to be inhabited."
Tianna returned the nod. "Correct. We have since uncovered a growing community of mages within its borders, led by Luxanna Crownguard." Her tone remained composed, but there was a faint weight behind the name. "Before the Harrowing, there was a very real possibility that the MageSeekers would have moved against them. Detainment at best. Although execution was more likely."
She let that truth settle before continuing.
"That was… unacceptable," Tianna said evenly. "Even by Demacia's more rigid standards."
Her gaze shifted back to Asta, assessing, thoughtful.
"At the same time," she went on, "you and the black bulls have become the face of magic within Demacia, an uncomfortable truth for some, but an undeniable one."
She folded her hands atop the table.
"For generations, we have taught our people that magic was the root of all calamity. You stood before them and disproved that belief with your actions." A faint, wry note entered her voice. "That carries more weight than any decree I could issue."
Asta exhaled quietly.
"The mages of Terbisia," Tianna concluded, "would be far safer under your direct protection. It would be a start."
She paused, letting that sink in.
"But a foreign baron, no matter how revered, is not enough. There will still be dissent among the minority." Her gaze held his steadily. "A foreign mage now governing a group of mages officially branded as criminals."
Asta's jaw tightened. "So you need a stabilizing piece on a board. Again with the games."
"In essence," Tianna said smoothly, "yes. And that is Fiora Laurent. Though I would remind you that like you, she is no pawn. House Laurent has long stood as one of Demacia's pillars, particularly in matters of martial honor and border defense."
She tilted her head slightly. "A union between you would silence dissent before it has the chance to form. A foreign protector bound to one of Demacia's oldest houses is no longer merely tolerated. He is family. And "
Asta let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his hair. "You could have just said that you were trying to chain me politely."
Tianna's lips curved faintly. "Chains imply coercion. This is truly an offer."
She leaned forward just enough for her presence to press against the table between them.
"You are not required to accept," she said. "You may refuse the land. You may refuse the title. You may refuse the proposed union." Her eyes hardened, just a touch. "But understand that Demacia is attempting to meet you halfway. This is a better outcome for mages in Demacia. The best we can do right now. We can solidify your presence here and reintegrate the mages."
The chamber was quiet now. Even the guards at the doors stood unnaturally still.
"And Fiora?" Asta asked more quietly. "Does she even know about this?"
Tianna's gaze did not waver. "She was informed before this document was drafted."
That gave him pause.
"She did not object," Tianna added. "Nor did she consent blindly. She asked questions. Many of them." A faint smirk touched her lips. "You would get along."
Asta looked back down at the document, the weight of it suddenly feeling far heavier than paper had any right to be. "I'm already betrothed."
"Yes, I'm aware. You mentioned this in our first meeting." Tianna sighed. "Fiora is already aware of this as well, her consent remains."
"This isn't something I can decide in one meeting," he said at last.
"Of course not," Tianna replied without hesitation. "You will be given time. Speak with Fiora. Walk the land if you wish. Consider what it means."
She folded her hands once more.
"But understand this, Asta of the Black Bulls," she said, her voice lowering, gaining a quiet gravity. "You stood between Demacia and annihilation. Whether you desire it or not, you have already altered the course of this kingdom."
Her eyes met his. "This is simply Demacia deciding how to walk forward with you… instead of around you. I for one would love to work with you."
---
Senna cocked her head back as she downed her fourth glass, the heat going down her throat before cooling and just like that it was over.
She sighed at the fact that she couldn't get into enjoying a good drink anymore. Her new biology made her mostly immune to most poisons including alcohol.
That didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the party though, and she did.
The great hall had been opened fully for the evening, long tables pushed together beneath Demacia's vaulted stone ceiling. Lanternlight washed the banners in warm gold, shadows dancing lazily across white marble pillars as laughter filled the air. It wasn't raucous, not quite, but it was the closest Demacia came to celebration without a battlefield involved.
Senna leaned back against one of the columns, glass dangling loosely between her fingers as her eyes tracked the room.
Knights mingled with civilians. Refugees sat beside officers who, only days ago, would have barely spared them a glance. The tension that had gripped the city since the Harrowing still lingered, but it was softer now, dulled by food, music, and the simple relief of being alive.
Asta stood near the center of the room, unmistakable even without his swords. He looked… uncomfortable. Not in the way of someone surrounded by enemies, but like a man who had somehow wandered into a situation he could not punch his way out of.
Several nobles had formed a loose semicircle around him, expressions ranging from wary curiosity to outright awe. One older man gestured animatedly as he spoke, clearly retelling some exaggerated version of the battle, hands slicing through the air in grand arcs. Asta nodded along, smiling politely, though Senna could tell by the stiffness in his shoulders that he was already regretting staying.
She snorted quietly and took another drink out of habit, even though she knew it wouldn't do anything.
"Yeah," she muttered under her breath, "good luck with that."
A flicker of pale blue light brushed the edge of her senses, subtle but familiar. Senna shifted her weight and glanced to her right just as a blonde haired woman stepped into view, hands clasped behind her back, eyes wide as she took in the hall.
Luxanna Crownguard.
She wore a simple white-and-gold dress, no armor, no staff, just a young woman standing in a hall that, until recently, would have condemned her existence.
Lux noticed Senna staring and brightened instantly, making her way over.
"Are you hiding?" Lux asked softly, a conspiratorial note in her voice. "Lady Senna." She added as an afterthought.
"I'm no lady." Senna shrugged. "Observing. Also avoiding awkward conversations with people who keep thanking me like I personally tucked them into bed during the Harrowing."
Lux giggled, then hesitated. "They've been thanking me too."
Senna raised a brow. "You?"
"Well… yes?" Lux shifted, clearly unsure how to feel about it. "Some of the families of the mages that I took under my protection. With everything that happened and the laws of stone lifted, the mages can visit their families again and vice versa."
Senna studied her for a moment, then nodded once. "Good."
Lux glanced back toward the hall, her gaze lingering, inevitably, on Asta. "They're talking about him a lot."
"They would," Senna said dryly. "Man drops a city-wide Anti-Magic barrier on a kingdom that hates magic. Kinda hard to ignore."
"You have no idea how terrified I was when the barrier fell over Terbisia. I thought we'd been caught." Lux whispered. "Now, seeing the person responsible and knowing what I know now, It feels so unreal."
"Everything about him feels unreal." Senna chuckled. "If I didn't already have Lucian then I wouldn't mind. He's pretty easy on the eyes."
The older woman laughed at the younger woman's blush.
Lux bit her lip. "I haven't spoken to him yet. He's the reason that things are suddenly better. And apparently they're giving him Terbisia. As a noble."
Senna laughed, sharp and sudden. "Oh, that's rich."
"You knew?" Lux asked, surprised.
"I suspected," Senna replied. "Although even for them, this is… ambitious."
Lux looked conflicted. "Do you think he'll accept?"
Senna followed her gaze back to Asta.
He was laughing now, something genuine pulling at the corners of his mouth as one of the knights clapped him on the shoulder.
Senna exhaled slowly. "I think," she said carefully, "that Asta is a ticking time bomb. One far more destructive than Viego ever was."
Lux nodded, thoughtful. "But he cares."
"Too much," Senna agreed. "That's the problem."
A ripple of applause spread through the hall then, drawing their attention. At the far end of the room, Jarvan IV stood, one hand raised just enough to command silence. Conversation died down in waves until only the soft crackle of torches remained.
"People of Demacia," Jarvan began, his voice carrying effortlessly, "tonight is not merely a celebration of survival."
Senna straightened slightly. Lux did the same.
"It is a celebration of change," Jarvan continued. "Of unity forged in crisis. Of truths long denied, now standing openly before us."
His gaze swept the room, then settled, inevitably, on Asta.
"Demacia endured the Black Mist," Jarvan said. "Not through isolation, but through cooperation. Not through fear, but through trust."
A pause.
"And it is my hope," He concluded, "that we remember this night not as an exception… but as a beginning."
Applause filled the hall, louder this time. Asta looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.
Senna smirked into her glass. "Oh yeah," she murmured. "Definitely easy on the eyes."
A few hours later, Senna found herself invited to yet another celebration, this one hosted by the Black Bulls themselves.
All of the Sentinels had been invited, along with a select few others. The atmosphere was far less formal than the one at the palace, louder, warmer, and unmistakably more chaotic.
Asta and Lucian had taken it upon themselves to teach Darryl how to work a grill, both of them talking at once while Darryl tried, and failed, to keep up. The scent of roasting meat hung thick in the air. Nearby, Gwen was deep in conversation with the female members of the Black Bulls, her bright smile making it clear she was enjoying herself.
Rookie was off to one side, stuffing his face with grilled meat despite having contributed very little during the crisis. Senna watched him for a moment, unimpressed.
'I'll have to increase his training,' she decided.
The dragon lady was nowhere to be found. The last Senna had seen of her, she'd been in King Jarvan's company. Apparently, she was a Black Bull as well, despite also being a member of the Dragon Guards.
'I suppose it isn't that strange,' Senna thought. 'Darryl is a Sentinel now too, after all.'
Her gaze shifted as her thoughts did, settling on the newest addition to the Sentinels.
Shauna Vayne.
The monster hunter, clad in her newly issued Sentinel regalia, was seated at a table with someone Senna didn't recognize, a young girl with bright brown hair, not much older than Mira. The two spoke quietly, Vayne listening more than she talked, her posture relaxed but alert.
The final guest of note was Luxanna Crownguard.
Once again, the young woman had somehow ended up standing beside Senna.
"Haven't made up your mind yet?" Senna asked casually.
"No, it's not that," Luxanna said, shaking her head. "It's just… I'm trying to figure out what kind of person he is."
"Not sure words can do that justice," Senna replied. "I barely understand him myself—and I'm… no longer human."
Luxanna let out a quiet sigh. "He represents an aspect of Demacia that's loomed over us for generations. And yet, he stands for the complete opposite of it." She folded her arms loosely. "I don't know what that means for us."
"You heard his story, right?" Senna asked.
Luxanna nodded. "I did. Aunt Tianna allowed me to read the reports on him. He comes from a land that's almost the exact inverse of Demacia, one ruled by magic and mages."
"Sounds like an ideal place, doesn't it?" Senna said, an odd smile tugging at her lips.
"What? No." Luxanna raised an eyebrow. "That's not the world I want. A place where one side rules over the other, mages over non-mages, or the reverse. I want both to be able to live together. In harmony. With mutual respect."
Senna chuckled softly. "Yeah. Then you shouldn't have any trouble connecting with him."
Luxanna blinked, clearly thrown. "C-connecting?"
"Look alive, kid," Senna said suddenly, tapping Luxanna lightly on the shoulder as she stepped past her. "Take care of yourself. You'll do great."
Senna left the stunned Crownguard behind as she walked up to Asta and Lucian. She stopped just short of the grill, arms folding loosely as she took in the scene.
Smoke curled up into the night air, carrying with it the unmistakable smell of charred meat and mild disaster.
"...I'm telling you, you don't flip it that often," Lucian was saying, gesturing with a pair of tongs like they were firearms. "You're not dueling the steak."
"I am not dueling the steak," Asta shot back, already halfway through flipping it again. "I'm preventing it from burning."
Darryl stood between them, eyes darting from one to the other, sweat on his brow that had nothing to do with the heat. "It's… it's turning black."
"That's flavor," Asta said immediately.
"That's carbon," Lucian replied flatly.
"You're carbon!" Asta retorted.
Senna cleared her throat. All three of them froze.
Asta turned first, grin already forming. "Hey, Senna!"
Lucian glanced at the grill, then at her. "Good timing. Either save the food or put it out of its misery."
Senna leaned in, inspected the slab of meat for a moment, then reached out and took the tongs from Darryl's hands without asking. With a smooth, practiced motion, she flipped the meat once, adjusted the grill's heat, and stepped back.
"Leave it," she said. "One more minute."
Darryl blinked. "That's it?"
"That's it."
He stared at the grill like it might betray him.
Lucian raised a brow. "I didn't know you grilled."
"Then why'd you ask me to help?" Senna replied evenly. "And there's a bunch of stuff that you don't know about me."
"Good." Lucian smiled. "Just means that I get to learn more about you every day."
There was a brief lull, filled only by the crackle of the fire and the distant noise of the party, laughter, clinking mugs, someone shouting over an argument that sounded suspiciously like arm wrestling.
Senna's gaze drifted to Asta, lingering just long enough for him to notice.
"…What?" he asked.
She tilted her head slightly. "You look like you're enjoying yourself."
He paused, surprised, then glanced around as if only just realizing where he was. "Yeah," he admitted. "I think I am."
Senna's lips curved faintly. "That's good. I'm glad you feel that way."
She reached out, lifted the meat off the grill, and set it aside. "Because nights like this matter. People remember them when things start to fall apart again."
Darryl blinked and watched her for a moment, more serious now. "You think it will?"
"I know it will," she said simply. "That's just how the world works."
Lucian clapped Darryl on the shoulder. "Cheerful company, this one."
Senna shot him a look. "You married into this."
Lucian grinned. "Fair."
Senna turned back to Asta, her expression sobering. "We'll be departing tomorrow at first light. Viego may be gone, for now, but the Shadow Isles remain. Until the land itself is purified, the Harrowing will continue to occur. In fact…" She paused, eyes darkening slightly. "Given recent events, there's a chance it may grow even worse."
"Or it could get better. Who knows?" Asta cut in lightly, shrugging. "You can't really be certain about these things. And Viego isn't coming back. I seriously don't think he even can."
"Be that as it may," Senna replied evenly, "it doesn't mean we can afford to lower our guard. Especially now that we know the Black Mist was actively seeking out the fragments of Isolde's soul on Viego's behalf." She folded her arms. "Even with him gone, there's a real possibility those fetters are still drawing the Mist toward them. If left alone, that could easily spark a new crisis. We need to recover them before that happens."
"Yeah," Asta nodded, his tone more serious now. "That does sound bad. If you end up needing help..."
"Well, we've got Darryl with you, don't we?" Lucian cut in, resting a hand on Darryl's shoulder. "Kid's got moves."
Darryl flushed at the praise, straightening slightly but saying nothing.
"Yeah," Senna said with a small shake of her head, a hint of amusement breaking through. "That."
Asta hesitated, then lifted a hand. His grimoire fluttered open, pages turning on their own before a sword slid free from between them.
Viego's blade.
Sanctity, though now it bore a different name. Demon Sanctity.
The weapon no longer shone with the cold, ruined majesty it once had. Its surface was dark, dulled, almost rusted, the aura around it subdued yet unmistakably heavy. A blade that had ended one era and chosen to remain in the next.
"You don't want this back?" Asta asked quietly.
Senna stared at the sword, conflict flickering across her face. For years, she had known it only as the sword of the Ruined King. Seeing it now, changed, claimed by another, was unsettling in a way she hadn't anticipated.
Was this proof that Viego was truly gone?
If it was, she wasn't ready to accept it.
"No," she said at last, voice steady despite the weight behind it. "It's found a new owner in you, Asta. I don't believe it's going to cause any trouble."
Asta studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright then."
The grimoire closed, the sword vanishing back into its pages as the night carried on around them.
"What about Thresh?" Lucian asked, his voice lower than before. "He's still trapped in the pumpkin lantern."
Senna shook her head slowly. "No. Thresh doesn't matter to me anymore." She glanced at Lucian, her gaze firm but not unkind. "And he shouldn't matter to you either. No matter how much you might want to make him feel the same pain he put us through."
Lucian's jaw tightened. He looked away, eyes dropping to the ground, guilt settling heavily on his shoulders.
After a moment, Senna turned back to Asta. "For now, can we leave the lantern in your care? We'll work on restoring the Sentinel bases as soon as we can. Once they're back in usable condition, we'll have a proper place to store dangerous artifacts… things like Thresh's prison."
Her tone made it clear this was a request, not an order, one made out of trust rather than necessity.
Asta nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. That won't be a problem." His expression shifted, growing more serious. "We'll keep it locked down."
"That's all I ask," Senna said. She paused, then added, "If anything changes, if the lantern reacts, moves, or even feels off, you contact us immediately."
"You'll be the first to know," Asta replied.
Lucian finally looked back up. "We'll be ready if you need us."
For a brief moment, the weight of looming threats eased. The fire crackled, laughter rose from somewhere behind them, and the smell of grilled meat cut through the heaviness of the conversation.
Darryl shifted beside Lucian, glancing between the three of them. "So… uh, tomorrow?" he asked. "First light?"
"Yes," Senna confirmed. "Get some rest while you can."
Darryl nodded, nerves and excitement mixing in his expression.
Senna took a step back, her gaze sweeping over the gathering one last time, the chaos, the warmth, the fragile sense of peace. She'd learned long ago not to trust moments like this too much. Peace never lasted. Not for people like them.
Still… it was worth acknowledging.
"Thank you," she said quietly, her eyes returning to Asta. "For everything."
Asta grinned. "Anytime."
With that, Senna turned away, letting the noise of the celebration fade behind her as she moved toward the edge of the compound.
She smiled faintly as Luxanna walked past her, steps purposeful as she headed toward Asta. There was a quiet resolve in the young woman's posture, subtle but unmistakable. It seemed she was finally ready.
Senna didn't follow. She didn't need to. Whatever words would be exchanged, whatever understanding would be reached, that was something Luxanna had to find on her own. Senna simply turned away, confident in how it would go.