“Sooner or later you will have to confront me.”

A baleful crimson glow cast itself upon her periphery. A single mote of light in the endless darkness. She turned to look upon it, her gaze remiss as the words enveloped her mind. Sooner or later you will have to confront me. She echoed. Her eyes strained to focus upon the source of light. It was bright like the sun but not blindingly bright. She could vaguely make out a texture behind its reddened shine. In that moment she realized she didn’t know where she was. To the left and right of her were gentle rippling waters, or so she thought. A hand dipped down towards them and her palm came against it. That’s strange. The water’s surface provided resistance, like a fixed glass pane. She righted her posture and took a step forward, then another. She was walking on it? She spun now to observe the whole of her surroundings. Behind her this watery expanse continued until the light crept no further, the black of nothingness creating a hazy border between the known and the unknown.

Towards the light, yes, towards the light. She thought. She closed on it, her footfalls sending ripples outwards in fine circles as she moved. With every step a sense of dread mounted. The pitter and patter of her feet pressing against the liquid ground was mirrored by a second set somewhere nearby. Just behind? She glanced over a shoulder to see nothing, then around. Still nothing. She dispelled the fear from her mind and continued, cautiously. She neared even closer to this shining object. It grew larger. A circumstance of perspective. No doubt. It was normal for distant objects to become larger when viewed up close, right? But then it started to ascend. Higher and higher, illuminating the darkness above. A stint of vertigo made her blink hard as gravity warped around her. Or was it just perspective again? Whatever it was it only seemed to further the sense of wrongness within her.

She tracked the globe of light with her eyes, walking forward while it continued in an arc over her until it was directly above, shining down like a lamp or the… Moon? The moment the thought pierced her mind the intense glow abated to reveal a full crimson moon suspended overhead, its texture confirming it as such. The pock-marks of craters impacted by… Something left little doubt in her mind. The next breath that escaped her mouth came out in a misty cloud of fog. It was cold. She shivered as the icy grip of sourceless winds so suddenly chilled her spine. Her eyes wandered about, looking for the origin. Eventually they settled downwards. A cool breeze was blowing up and into her through the waters depths, something like a cavernous wind tunnel.

Her head cocked to one side as she recognized the faintest outline of a dark shape around the edges of her feet. She knelt to investigate it further, her palm bracing against the water once more, squinting to discern the anomaly. Every inch downwards was now mirrored as her own reflection manifested before her. But… It was not her reflection. The soles of something else’s feet stood against her own, her palm pressing into a massive five-fingered hand with bestial claws, its wrist and forearm bloodied and dripping. A hulking torso, extended into broadened shoulders and monstrous biceps. Black hair, wet and long framed a nightmarish visage. A mouth full of razors-esque teeth curled from ear to ear, abnormally wide and dominating the majority of the face that stared back at her. Their jagged length curled in places, jutting out from the boundaries of its lipless maw in all directions. Two red points set against dark sclera posed as eyes, thin and glowing with murderous intent. They jittered in their sockets as if unstable, looking everywhere, every second, all ways.

Her heart rate doubled the moment she saw it, flinching away and back with a pitiful whimper. Her breaths dragged in her chest, the oxygen refusing to flow as she got her feet under herself and ran. Each breath was shorter than the last, she was exhaling more than she was inhaling. All the while the thing in her reflection ran after her. She could see it striding just as she did every time she looked down. She changed directions and ran faster. But no amount of footwork could shake her pursuer. She pressed a palm to her chest in attempts to stop herself from frantically hyperventilating. To no avail. The need for oxygen outweighed the need to escape. She collapsed onto both knees, clawing at her clavicle. Her nails dug into the flesh, peeling it away in thin bloody strips that left growing lacerations. The pain was immense but didn’t register, so strong was her desperation.

“P-Please…”

The monster in her reflection pressed its hideous face against the veil that kept them separated, one massive arm loading back, clawed fingers flicking in preparation like a spear fishermen ready to claim its skewered prize. Her throat wouldn’t accept any more oxygen, her heart punched against her ribcage and her bloodied fingers continued to rip in hopes of prying her airways open before the inevitable happened. Tears ran down her cheeks, the futility of her situation subconsciously resonating within her. “No…” She wheezed.

A sudden splash of water silenced her struggling. Its massive palm was now wrapped firmly around her neck, its muscled arm reaching up and out of the water like a bloody obelisk. She gagged harshly in its grasp, her little hands, equaling only half of one of its fingers in size, tried but failed to pry its stranglehold away. Like an infant fighting against an adult, she knew there wasn’t enough strength in her physicality to succeed. She sobbed, banging her fists against its knuckle as it so casually held her there. Its grin grew wider, impossibly wide.

“No, p-please… I-I’m sorry…” What was she sorry for? Nothing. Her attempts at reasoning with it were all for nought. Begging wouldn’t change its mind and neither would appealing to its sense of morality. She knew it had none.

“No!” She cried out, one last choked, blood curdling scream of futile protest. A wail akin to prey just before the slaughter. A dying soul.

The ghostly white light of tonight’s pale moon was hardly seen against the network of tangled branches. Chelle and Mica lie looking out into that winding nonsense. To them it made perfect sense, they were spirits in the spirit realm after all. But to anyone else they would be hard pressed to understand the intricacies of this environment. These were the Low Roads. A vast circulatory of massive branch roots weaved their way through reality. There were branches and only branches with no trunk or tree to tether themselves to. They twisted up and around with little method to their madness. Some stretched on out of sight in one direction while others did the same in another. There was no concept of gravity to uniform their growth patterns and so they grew unfettered. They were many centuries old, speckled with moss, overgrowth and plantlife. Some had withered away and become dormant while several more still blossomed with gigantic green leaves and fruits. They varied wildly in size and seemed to twist on for an eternity. They ran on for miles, so long in fact, the pair had made a game out of spotting a root branch’s end. They’d sum the total and whoever counted the most won. It was a game they could only really play once a night, though. For obvious reasons.

Clouds and stars framed the backdrop of the alien branch forest. There was no up or down in this reality. An atmosphere surrounded them on all sides. Beneath was a fall into a starry night sky. And above, another starry night sky. The moon and the sun never moved, always sitting adjacent from one another. They never did understand the day-night cycle here. It was as if day became night and night became day over the course of a few minutes. But those minutes were nebulous. Chelle and Mica couldn’t recall when the transition happened, only that it happened and the relatively vague time in which it did. It was jarring. Seeing that the time of day had changed over the course of a short conversation. Spirit or not there was no adjusting to that.

The group of diminutive little creatures had nestled themselves into the crook of a large branch root. One that curled in on itself like a hooked cane and came to an abrupt end shortly after. It was decently old and wreathed in soft moss, adding some comfort to their little camp, however small. The fur spreads were neatly centered around a warm campfire. Mica had tended to the moss and grass, clearing it away so their fire pit wouldn’t set the vegetation ablaze later tonight when they bedded down. The remains of their dinner were splayed out on metal china. Cooked meats and fish leftover from their trip to Bilgewater.

Chelle nonchalantly picked her teeth with a fishbone while Mica fed the fire now and again with branches they had collected from the undergrowth nearby. The recurring snaps of wood brush were something like idle hypnotism for Mica. Every minute or so she’d break another branch in half and pitch it into the fire, sitting silently until the time came to do it again. It doubled as a lullaby for Enzo. Too long before another twig was broken and he’d glance over curiously to see if something had gone wrong. It was a restless night for all of them. All except Lois, who had been unusually tired as of late.

The small talk died down an hour ago as Enzo and Chelle resigned to get some sleep, but never quite found it. Now the three of them sat awake and aware of one another. The thoughts that plagued their minds had remained untended for several nights since their battle with Captain Fain. So many questions were left unanswered. Questions some weren’t sure if they wanted answered. A near-death experience at the hands of a Leviathan was already troubling enough. But to watch the moon change color and see their employer’s face twisted into a horrific parody of itself? Who… Or what exactly were they working for?

Stirring broke the awkward silence and all eyes shifted to Lois. Her brows furrowed and she grimaced for a moment, groaning softly in her unconsciousness before whatever errant dream had disturbed her peaceful rest, passed.

Chelle swallowed hard, sitting up. “I… I think it’s time we talked about this.” Her voice was low, drawing her eyes towards Mica who was already glancing in her direction. Then to Enzo.

“What’s there to talk about?” Enzo sighed, turning over and away from the group. His eyes were heavy from a stark lack of sleep.

“You know what.”

“It’ll pass. Just give it time.” Enzo said.

“I’ve given it a week and it’s only gotten worse. I know you guys see her like that, too… When you sleep…” Chelle brought a palm to her forehead, her sentient locks curling around her body to further insulate her from the cold and those troubling thoughts.

“What options do we have?” Enzo turned again, his frustration apparent.

“Well, we could just talk to her about it?” Mica chimed in, snapping another twig to punctuate her sentence. She inspected it for a moment, noticing a small colorful insectoid scamper its way out of the old wood. She bridged the gap between the back of her palm and the twig with a finger, letting it crawl along its length before she pitched the stick into the fire. The flames consumed the stick with a gentle rush of hot air, eating away at it with crackling pops just like all the others.

“I’m not about to pry into the creepy blood lady’s business.” Enzo replied.

“Scared?” Chelle mocked with a tired smirk.

“I’m not scared. I could kick her ass, easy…” While Enzo was very confident in his ability even he knew a fight with Lois wouldn’t be “easy” by any stretch of the imagination. “It’d be a good fight, is what I mean to say.” He chuckled, casting half a comedic glance towards his sleeping employer. His jestful caution received a pair of small smiles in return.

“I don’t know, I’m kinda’ there with him,” Chelle said, “When Lois and I went to scout for Fain in Bilgewater she used this card… It was like- Three dimensional on one side. Her eyes lit up and she took us to this big shot high roller on the other side of town. We got there and he knew we were coming already. Then he sets down his special cards and suddenly knows where Fain is. But the weirdest part is Lois called the guy her Master the whole time. It sounded… Kind of cult-y?”

“What’d he look like?” Mica inquired further.

“Big hat, nice jacket, full beard and long hair. Real charming lady’s man type. I’ve been to Bilgewater a few times and never seen him around. But, then again, I don’t gamble often. He didn’t seem like the cult leader type. But, still...”

“Well, we have to find out what’s going on with her. We’ve known her long enough, I feel like she’d be honest.” Mica watched as the beautiful insect travelled up her finger and onto the back of her hand, curling around to the underside of her palm. She flipped it over, dividing her attention between the little bug and the others.

“What if she’s playing the long game or something? What if we’re just going to end up as some sort of sacrifice or worse?” Chelle reasoned.

“And, and, and!” Enzo claimed his turn to speak with a wagging finger. “If she were so honest why wouldn’t she tell us about it in the first place? She hasn’t even told us where we’re going yet!”

“We all have our secrets. And our pasts. I’m just trying to be the voice of reason here. I’m sure if she wanted to do anything bad to us she would’ve done it already. I just don’t want us to go jumping the gun on this. I mean, whatever effects seeing her like that had on us, seems to be happening to her, too - if she’s always tired. Maybe it’s some sort of curse? Weirder stuff has definitely happened on Runeterra.”

“So what do you propose we do then?” Chelle said, a bit of apprehension in her tone. Her opposition was still intact, but to a lesser degree, it seemed. Mica’s optimistic reasoning had a way of whittling away her combativeness.

“Let’s just wait and see how it goes on this next job if you guys don’t want to confront her about it. If we see anything strange we’ll just bail and cut our losses. Fair?” Mica looked between the pair of them, expectantly.

“Ugh, fine.” Chelle’s head rolled back into the cushion of her sleeping arrangements, arms crossing over her chest in casual defiance. “But if we die it’s your fucking fault.”

“What she said.” Enzo brought the coil of his sleeping bag over his shoulder, bedding down for the third or fourth time tonight - he'd lost count. Hopefully this time would be the last.

“Have faith. When have I ever not taken care of us?” Mica reclined soon after the others, looking towards Chelle with a warm smile.

Her toothy smile sent unseen shivers up and down Chelle’s spine. She knew Mica’s intentions with that question were absolutely pure but she couldn’t help but feel butterflies in her stomach. And the smile. That infectious smile. It almost made her forget about how true those words were was on so many different levels. Her thoughts quickly got away from her, an infatuated grin fast appearing across her features unconsciously. She came to a moment later, blinking hard.

Her silent response evoked a giggle from Mica that didn’t go unnoticed. Is she… Flirting with me? Chelle thought. Though doubt quickly shut down any possibilities of that.

“Uh- G-Goodnight, Mica.” Chelle whispered.

“See you in the morning.” There was perhaps a tinge of dissapoint at having the conversation ended so abruptly. But she didn't fuss about it. Mica fell into her sleeping bag and bundled up, holding precious seconds of eye contact with Chelle before she buried herself underneath her blankets.

Quiet hadn’t reigned long before it was broken again. “Gross.” Enzo muttered.

“Shut up, Enzo.” Chelle spat, in return.

A cold sweat had worked itself across Lois’ brow, her eyes squinting in her sleep as she tossed, turned and tossed again. Her legs kicked at the confines of her sleeping bag and she grit her teeth in ghosted agony. Her nails scraped and scraped at the furs around her, digging narrow lines into the leather. All at once her movement ceased. With her eyes still closed a palm reached for the ceremonial dagger stowed close by. Her fingers brought it near and she gripped the handle in her left hand. With a foreboding slowness she brought the blade to her own neck, pressing its sharpened edge into the skin. With the rest of her body still and her hand possessed of its own will, it began to drag its way across her flesh - lightly at first but deeper by the second.

Her eyes shot open in that moment and she rose from her sleeping arrangements as if pulled upright by an invisible tether, gasping for air. She sputtered and coughed like a half-drowned sailor. And that wasn’t far from the truth. Up from her innards came a worrying amount of blood. Lois twisted around, bracing her palms against the moss covered root branch as she vomited forth a torrent of ichor. Her muscles felt atrophied and nausea swept over her in throbbing waves that made it hard to see straight. It was then that she noticed the sharp pain in her neck and the bloodied dagger in her hand. She gasped and leapt back from it with horrific realization, running a few fingers along the cut across her throat. It came to an abrupt end inches away from a vital artery. She stared at the knife sat in a puddle of her own blood, hugging her knees as she relished the fresh oxygen entering and leaving her lungs once again. To be so near to death terrified her. But more concerning was the way in which it had happened. All during her sleep.

She finally turned to look at her companions. All of them were fast asleep, thankfully. Trying to gain back the hours they’d lost in the past few days, no doubt. All of her being wanted to cry, wanted to expel this negative energy for her soul in one of the only ways she knew how. But that wasn’t who she was out here, on the exterior. She was stoic. Professional. All the things her Master taught her to be for her own good. But there were cracks. Like right now. She was shaking, hugging herself like a child. She grunted and stood, taking another deep breath of precious air. With a pulling palm the aftermath of her awakening was gathered and flicked into the aether to fall out of sight. She reached down into her travel pack, rummaging until she found it.

Its cold embrace only served to remind her of Nehel. She pulled it free and held it in both hands. Her mask. The one given to her after the ceremony. Something she’d tried to distance herself from. It always found her, though. It was never far behind. Her palm ran down its face, from forehead to chin. It was specially crafted to fit her in design and proportions. But not only her. Someone else, too. Her reflection. She saw him in it. And he’d always been there. Only recently had his influence dripped into reality. She hated him with every fiber of her being. But truthfully it was herself she hated. For being too weak to tame him… Confront him.

Sooner or later you will have to confront me.

Lois snarled at the thought of those words, dashing the mask against the moss covered branch root below. She wouldn’t let him ruin the plans she had made. This week was supposed to be nice. She thought. I had so much planned for us. You won’t ruin this for me! You won’t ruin the one thing I have left!

“Are we there yet?” Enzo exclaimed.

“We are not doing this.” Lois droned.

The four of them were back on the road. In the near distance their destination stood proudly. An amalgamation of twisted bark formed into yellow half-spectral bubbles that glowed with a whimsical light. Each portal was bisected by warped wood and all of them were set into the base of a massive twisting collection of branch roots that splayed out towards their apex like fraying rope. Vague shapes played in each portal, swirling about in gleeful representations of what lie on the other side. A Nexus. The metaphorical highway of Bandle City. Able to transport any Yordle through to any destination on Runeterra. Travelling across the continent in such a waymade a month's worth of sailing or trekking into, at most, a day or two of walking.

The winding path to the nexus was fraught with nausea inducing gravitical changes. Gravity didn’t adhere to a single downwards pull because there was no up or down. Up and down, gravity and weight, all were tied to the branch root a creature walked on. Heading up an incline meant the world would shift around the party. This change was hardly impactful to the majority of them who traversed the Low Roads often, but some didn’t deal with it as gracefully as others. This abnormal gravitical environment was best observed in third person. Watching a group of travellers walk upside down across an adjacent branch root displayed just how strange the spirit realm really was.

“So, Lois. You gonna’ tell us where we’re going?” Enzo asked as he came to Lois’ side.

“It’s a surprise.” Lois said, dryly.

“A surprise?” Chelle added.

“Yes, a surprise. Have you never heard of a surprise before?”

“Just… Doesn’t seem like you, is all.” Chelle shrugged. And Mica nodded in agreement.

“I’m sure you’ll find I’m full of surprises.” Her dull and tired demeanor didn’t carry the enthusiasm one might expect from a phrase like that. But it still had enough dry charm to make Mica and Enzo smile, at least.

The Nexus soon stood before them, each gleaming portal echoing the sounds of every destination faintly upon approach. Lois took a moment to scan the portals, looking for the one she desired. Once she located it she calmly gestured. “After you.”

“Is that-” Mica began, though was soon cut short by her impatient employer.

“Yes, yes. Please enter the portal.” Lois beckoned them on so as not to spoil the surprise.

One by one each Yordle leapt into the golden bubble, reality warping around them as the portal stretched out into a long tunnel of flowing yellow light. A low thrumming of magical energy pierced their ears and they rocketed through the portal’s length, accelerating faster every second. This was the best part about using the Nexus. The trip through was like flying at high speeds through space and time. Enzo, the leader, corkscrewed his way along, twisting back to watch all three of his companions spring into the portal behind him. Each with a stylish flourish befitting their personality.

Chelle, acrobatic as always, entered with a flip, dipping down in the tide of light to buoy up and into a graceful spiral before she chased after Enzo.

“Mmn,” Enzo began, crossing his legs and placing a palm to his chin as he floated and ruminated all at the same time. “Seven outta’ ten. Definitely could use some work.”

Mica was third in, cannonballing into the portal where she spun head over heels in a turning bundle of laughter, heading up and through to follow the other two.

“Maybe a… Seven outta’ ten. Not enough splash.”

And finally Lois joined with a beautiful swan dive, turning over onto her back to shoot after her friends with a lazy occasional backstroke that didn’t help any to propel her forward.

“I’m thinking a seven outta’ ten. Entry was a little sloppy.”

“All sevens?” Mica scoffed.

“What can I say? You’re just a bunch of seven outta’ ten gals.” Enzo shrugged and spun in place like a top.

His comment drew their collective ire the moment it left his mouth. “Uh, does this ride go any faster?!” he said, glancing over one shoulder towards the end of their brief journey.