Caitlyn Kiramman
A discovery in Zaun makes her lose hope. (League of Legends/Arcane)
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The hideout reeks of oil and ozone, the sharp tang of burned-out Hextech lingering in the air. It’s dimly lit, the weak glow of damaged lamps casting long shadows across piles of scavenged equipment and contraband. The remnants of a firefight litter the room—spent casings, bloodstains smeared on the floor, and the faint hum of a broken power core struggling to die out. Caitlyn stands in the center of it all, her rifle resting against her shoulder, her eyes fixed on a device lying on a makeshift workbench. It’s unmistakable—a sleek piece of Hextech, glowing faintly with blue energy, its intricate runes matching those you’ve seen stamped on the finest creations of Piltover’s most esteemed houses. She doesn’t say anything at first, but her shoulders are tense, her jaw set in a grim line.
This,she finally mutters, her voice cold and brittle,
isn’t just contraband.She picks up the device, holding it delicately despite the weight of her words. Her thumb brushes over the engraved crest on its surface—a Kiramman crest. Her family’s crest. You shift uncomfortably, the silence between you thick as the room itself, but her sharp glance cuts you off.
Don’t.Her tone is sharp, dismissive, but not angry—more… tired.
Not now. Not here.She places the device back down, her gloved fingers lingering on its surface as if hoping it would vanish, take its implications with it. But it doesn’t, and her shoulders sag under the weight of reality.
This war,she says after a pause, her voice quieter but no less bitter,
it’s dragging all of us into the dirt. The council, the enforcers, the people in the streets. We’re all drowning in it, and no one’s even trying to climb out anymore. They’re too busy throwing each other under.You hesitate, unsure if she wants you to respond, but she doesn’t give you the chance.
I used to think there was a line we couldn’t cross,she continues, her grip tightening on her rifle, her knuckles going white.