The smuggling tunnels smelled like centuries of secrets.
TF descended the ladder into darkness, one hand on rungs worn smooth by countless hands before his. Above, Noxus searched. Below, the underworld waited—neutral territory where empire law meant less than smuggler code.
His feet hit stone. He stepped aside, letting Ekko descend next. The tunnel stretched in both directions, lit by bioluminescent fungi that cast green-blue light. Water dripped somewhere. Rats skittered in shadows.
"We're looking for the Crow's marker," Ekko said, activating a small light. "Three scratches in an X pattern. That's the safe route east."
They found it twenty meters down the left passage. Three scratches, precisely made. Ekko traced them with his fingers. "This way. Should connect to Zaun smuggling networks after about two kilometers."
"Two kilometers underground," Graves muttered, shotgun ready. "In tunnels criminals use. What could go wrong?"
"Everything," Samira said. "That's why we stay alert."
They moved single file. Ekko led, following smuggler signs only he could read. TF came second, cards ready, the Chronolith a constant weight against his chest. Samira third, pistols drawn. Graves fourth, covering their rear. Seraphine brought up the back, quieter than usual, still processing what the Chronolith had shown her.
The tunnel branched. Ekko chose left without hesitation. They descended deeper, the air growing colder, damper. The architecture changed—from Noxian engineering to older construction, possibly pre-empire. Who'd built these passages originally? Smugglers, refugees, ancient civilizations? All three probably.
"Stop," Ekko whispered.
Everyone froze.
Ahead, light. Not bioluminescence—hextech lanterns. Voices. Multiple people.
"Smugglers or soldiers?" TF asked quietly.
"Don't know. But we need this route. Only one that connects east without surfacing in checkpoint zones." Ekko studied the passage ahead. "We could wait them out."
"Or negotiate," Seraphine suggested. "If they're smugglers, they work for profit. We have gold."
"If they're soldiers, we fight," Graves said simply.
They crept forward. The passage opened into a larger chamber—probably a waystation. Half a dozen figures stood around a makeshift table, examining maps and goods. Smugglers then. TF recognized the type: hard-faced, well-armed, loyal only to coin.
One looked up as they approached. Hand went to weapon. "Stop there. Who sent you?"
"No one sent us," TF said, keeping his hands visible. "We're buying passage east. Paying rates."
"East is expensive tonight. Noxians are tearing apart every tunnel looking for Archive thieves." The smuggler's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"We know the same thing everyone knows. Something got stolen. City's locked down. We need to leave before we get caught in the mess." TF pulled a coinpurse—heavy with gold he'd saved for exactly this situation. "Five hundred hex to use your route. No questions."
"Five hundred?" The smuggler laughed. "Friend, that's regular price. Tonight, with this heat? Try two thousand."
"That's robbery."
"That's supply and demand." The smuggler gestured at his crew. They'd positioned themselves strategically, covering approaches, hands near weapons. "You pay, or you go back up to face Noxian hospitality."
TF calculated odds. They could fight—probably win, these were smugglers not soldiers—but it would cost time and make noise. Either could be fatal.
"One thousand," he countered. "And you forget you saw us."
"Fifteen hundred. And we weren't here tonight at all."
"Deal." TF produced more gold. The smuggler took it, counted carefully, then gestured at the eastern passage.
"Straight for a kilometer. Branch right at the double marker. That takes you outside city limits, connects to Zaun networks from there." The smuggler pocketed the gold. "And friend? Whatever you stole—hope it was worth it. Noxus doesn't forgive thieves."
"Neither do I," TF said. "That's why we don't plan on getting caught."
They moved past the smugglers, into the eastern passage. Behind them, the waystation crew returned to their business, already forgetting faces as professional courtesy dictated.
"Fifteen hundred hex," Graves muttered. "Could've bought a boat for that."
"Could've, but didn't need to," TF said. "Money's useful till it's not. Right now, freedom's worth more."
They traveled in silence after that. The passage narrowed, forcing them closer together. TF felt the Chronolith pulse against his chest—regular rhythm now, almost like a heartbeat. Was it reacting to something? Or just existing, radiating temporal energy because that's what it did?
"TF," Seraphine said quietly. "Can I ask you something?"
"Depends on the question."
"What will you do if everyone wants to use the Chronolith? If we all have regrets worth changing?" She'd moved closer, voice barely audible. "How do we decide?"
"I don't know," TF admitted. "Been trying not to think about it."
"But you will have to think about it. Soon." Her empathic perception brushed against him—not invasive, just present. "You're carrying something heavy. Not just the artifact. Something else."
TF wanted to deflect. But maybe honesty was worth trying.
"I owe a debt," he said. "The Chronolith pays it. That's why I need this job. Not want—need."
"To who?"
"Someone you don't want to meet. Someone who collects debts one way or another." TF kept his voice low, making sure others couldn't hear. "I borrowed power I shouldn't have. Used it for a score that went bad. Now payment's due, and the currency is the Chronolith or my life."
Seraphine absorbed that. "So you can't share it. You have to deliver it or die."
"That's the situation."
"Does the crew know?"
"They know I need it badly. They don't know how badly." TF glanced at Graves walking ahead, at Ekko checking his damaged Z-Drive, at Samira scanning for threats. "And if they did know, they'd probably leave me to die. Which I'd deserve."
"You're not a bad person," Seraphine said softly. "I can feel that. Flawed, yes. Selfish sometimes, yes. But not bad. You care about these people, even if you pretend not to."
"Caring doesn't matter if I betray them when push comes to shove."
"Then don't betray them. Choose different this time."
TF pulled a card—Two of Swords. Difficult choice, forced decision. "What if the choice is my life or theirs?"
"Then you decide what kind of person you want to be." Seraphine touched his arm briefly. "The Chronolith shows consequences, remember? Maybe you should touch it. See what happens if you take it for yourself."
Before TF could respond, Ekko called back. "Double marker. We're close to city limits."
They reached the branch point. Two passages diverged, both leading into darkness. Ekko studied smuggler marks.
"This way takes us out. Another half kilometer and we're free of Noxus proper."
They took the right passage. It sloped upward, gradually rising. TF felt pressure change, temperature shift. They were ascending, getting closer to surface—
Voices ahead. Military voices. Noxian accents giving orders.
"Down," Samira hissed.
They dropped into cover behind a curve in the passage. Light spilled from ahead—hextech lanterns, systematic search pattern. A patrol had found the smuggling tunnels.
"They're blocking the exit," Ekko whispered. "Must've figured out escape routes, positioned guards."
"Can we fight through?" Graves asked.
"Not quietly. And noise brings reinforcements." Samira assessed the situation. "We need a different route."
"There isn't one. This is the only tunnel that goes east without surfacing in checkpoint zones." Ekko's face was tight with concentration. "We're trapped."
TF's mind raced. Trapped underground. Soldiers ahead. Only one artifact they couldn't lose. Limited options, all dangerous.
The Chronolith pulsed stronger against his chest.
Wait.
What if—
"Ekko," TF said quietly. "Your Z-Drive. Can you rewind just yourself back through the patrol? Scout their positions without them knowing?"
"Rewind myself forward through space? That's..." Ekko's eyes widened. "That's not how it works. I rewind time, not space. If I rewind, I go back to where I was four seconds ago."
"But if you walk forward, then rewind, you'd learn what's ahead. Try again with that knowledge."
"That's still just rewinding. I'd see them, they'd see me, I'd rewind before they can react. But I can't walk through walls." Ekko paused. "Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless I use temporal desynchronization. Make my personal timeline out of phase with theirs. For about three seconds, I'd be walking through a moment that hasn't happened yet from their perspective." Ekko pulled his Z-Drive, studied the damage. "But the device is broken. This could fry it completely. Or worse."
"How much worse?"
"Temporal paradox worse. Me ceasing to exist worse. I don't know—I've never tried it on a damaged device."
"Don't," Seraphine said immediately. "It's too dangerous."
"It's also our only option," Graves said. "Unless someone's got explosives that teleport us—which I don't."
They looked at Ekko. The kid studied his Z-Drive, calculating risks, weighing outcomes. Nineteen years old, brilliant and terrified, holding everyone's survival in his damaged time machine.
"I'll try," he said finally. "But if this kills me, tell the Firelights I died doing something stupid. They'd appreciate the honesty."
"You're not going to die," TF said with more confidence than he felt.
Ekko activated the Z-Drive. The hum changed—stuttering, wrong, like machinery screaming. Temporal energy crackled around him, distorting light, bending space.
He stepped forward.
For one stretched moment, TF saw him in multiple states simultaneously—walking ahead, standing still, rewinding, all overlapping. Ekko's face contorted with effort. The Z-Drive sparked, burned.
Then he was back, gasping, smoke rising from the device.
"Six guards," Ekko panted. "Spread across the exit tunnel. But there's a gap—left side, between second and third guard. We could slip through if we're precise and quiet."
"Can you guide us?" Samira asked.
"Yeah. But my Z-Drive's done. That fried the last functional circuits." He pulled the device off, set it down. "No more rewinds. We get one shot."
"Then we make it count," TF said. "Ekko leads, shows us the path. Everyone follows exactly. Silent as death. Questions?"
None.
They moved forward. Ekko led them through shadows, using smuggler knowledge and temporal awareness to find the gaps in patrol patterns. TF's heart hammered. Behind him, Seraphine breathed carefully controlled. Graves moved with surprising stealth for his size.
They reached the gap Ekko had found. Six meters of space between two guards, both facing away, talking quietly about something.
Ekko gestured: Now.
They moved. One at a time. Ekko first. Then TF, cards ready if someone turned. Seraphine next, absolutely silent. Samira flowing like shadow. Graves—
His boot scraped stone.
Tiny sound. But in the quiet tunnel, loud enough.
One guard's head started turning.
TF moved on instinct. Pulled a card—the Magician—and projected. The guard saw movement in the wrong direction, jerked his attention away from them. By the time he realized the illusion, they were past the gap, into the exit passage, gone.
"Run," Samira whispered.
They ran.
Behind them, shouts. The patrol had figured it out. Boots pounding stone, following.
But ahead—light. Real light. Dawn breaking. The tunnel exit.
They burst out into morning air fifty meters outside Noxus's outer wall. Fields stretched ahead. Freedom waited.
"Don't stop," TF commanded.
They didn't stop. Ran until the city was distant. Ran until the pursuit sounds faded. Ran until exhaustion forced them to a maintenance shed, abandoned, hidden.
They collapsed inside, gasping, alive, free.
"We made it," Ekko said between breaths. "We actually made it."
"Made it out," Graves corrected. "Still got the hard part ahead."
Everyone knew what he meant. They'd escaped Noxus. They'd survived the heist.
Now they had to decide who got to change their past.
And whether they'd stay a crew or become enemies.