With delicate and impossibly accurate hands the Maker slipped the crimson thread through the eye of the needle, tying it deliberately so she could begin stitching the fabric together. For details this small she often did them by hand, weaving the needle near effortlessly through the loops and out the other side, tugging the thread taught so she could begin again a little further up. She made sure to keep clear of the skin, to harm this one would be to bring the unwanted attention of Brother Matsuro down upon her head. Or so she thought.

She paused a moment, reaching a hand up to magnify her seeing monocle into the two times as opposed to the one. Her eyes met the Matron’s for a split second and she smiled, figuring she should probably break the silence with conversation. The troubled look on the little creature’s face made her hesitant, though.

But she did anyway, donning a sweet and unprovocative voice in hopes of not coming across as a prying fanatic. “If I may ask, Mother… Why is it you wanted this sleeve removed?”

“Lois is fine…” She feigned another smile. “It’s so I can draw blood without ruining your work.”

“Ah…” The Maker exhaled. “So you’re true kin. I recall sewing your hunting robes together. The golden embroidery was some of my finest work.”

“I was…” The Matron replied, her tone almost sorry and her expression half dead.

The Maker’s brow furrowed in confusion. Her needle found its way through the last loop, surfacing to come over so she could secure the stitching in place. Her scissors cut the thread short and curled the excess back around the roll, returning it to the shelf with the rest. “You seem unhappy… You are the first Matron we’ve had in almost a decade, surely this should be cause for celebration?”

The Maker watched as Lois sobered, masking the sadness she saw with another false smile. “I am happy, I’m honored, really. It’s just, as a Priestess, I had the freedom to choose my own path and return whenever I wanted. But as the Matron our family needs me here.”

The Maker couldn’t find issue with that. But then again she never was a fighter. She was a seamstress. Always had been, and likely always would be. She never desired a station above her own but seeing this little woman complain about something so momentous wreaked of ungratefulness. Still, she did her best not to judge. They hardly knew each other.

Without warning the Matron made eye contact with her, giving her a look of knowing. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” She said, her voice raw and irritated.

It almost slipped her mind that Bloodkin could decipher emotion from one’s heart rate. She took a deep breath in to cleanse her palette of thought. “Forgive me, Matron.” She bowed in attempts to ease the growing tension.

“I told you not to call me tha-” Lois was cut short when the doors to the tailor creaked apart.

One of her two guardians stood at attention after greeting her with a deep bow. He was a younger soul, granted the honor of being the Matron’s protector by Brother Matsuro himself. He was one of Matsuro’s most skilled and trusted fighters. And just like Lois’ outfit, his was specially crafted by the Maker to reflect his position. In the same vein as the one he protected, he wore a crimson veil over his face, completely obscuring his visage, save for the eyes and bridge of his nose.

“Mother. The Master of Ceremonies awaits you.”

“A moment please.” Lois nodded. And he bowed again, exiting the chamber.

The Maker was already moving to assemble her regalia. The half cloak, the habit, the semi-translucent veil and the skirt. Now with her right sleeve stylistically parted to allow her to draw blood without cutting through the fabric. Usually the Maker would have an equerry dress her clientele but for someone as prestigious as the Matron or Master Jikan, the Maker resigned herself to doing it personally. It was a way of showing reverence.

The Maker helped Lois don her make-up, running the crimson highlighting across the top of her eye and out to the corners. Then a little blush on the cheeks to provide contrast and some gloss to make the lips shine. The Maker turned her towards the full body mirror, kneeling beside her with eyes of admiration. Despite her misgivings earlier she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with pride. The same feelings had overcome her when she was granted the great honor of sewing Master Jikan’s ensemble.

“You look beautiful, Lois. Is everything to your liking?” The Maker asked.

“It is,” And Lois turned, “ I’d like to invite you to the ceremony, as thanks for a job well done. Matsuro tells me you don’t often have time to attend things like this.”

“No, I couldn’t.” The Maker laughed. “I have a mountain of commission work I have to get thr-”

“Please. You deserve it.”

“I-...” The Maker glanced back to her unfinished creations, struggling to decide for a half second. “How could I say no to the High Priestess?” She chuckled, light heartedly, coming to a stand. “I’ll clean up and join you there.”

A familiar rising entered the pit of her stomach as Lois was branded Nehel for the duration of her ceremony. All members of the family who had been bound in symbiosis with their Demon held their names in public. And those who had yet to earn that privilege had only a moniker or rank they were called by, much like the Maker. In private groups between friends they were themselves, and Lois preferred it that way. Something about being called Nehel made her feel less in control of herself. But that was the point. The Demon was as much a person as the host body they inhabited. It was a subtle way of honoring the Demon within them. The more the name was called upon the stronger the presence became.

The more power she granted Nehel the further the line was pushed. And tonight she was finally going to even it. Since the rite of summoning was performed and Nehel was bound to her eternal soul the process of symbiosis was a gradual overtaking. In the beginning, like most Kin, the Demon dominated Lois. Nehel owned her completely and utterly. She couldn’t dispel his voice from her mind. It was torture. No matter how hard she fought she couldn’t escape the nightmare. But after the hunt she conquered her Demon. Or so she liked to think. Tonight's ceremony was a trial that only a handful have ever achieved. Myoshu, Masturo and Jikan among them. It was time to seek balance.

The beating of a heavy drum shook the walls with sound, immediately followed by the doubled crack of wooden trays in a one, pause, two-three percussion. The bass of the drum was like a miniaturized explosion against her ears. Her two guardians peeled the doors open to reveal the grand hall just as she slipped on her new mask, increasing the volume of the percussion that much more. Robed figures stood along the edges behind the exterior pillars looking inwards towards a central island platform that floated on a pool of shallow blood. Her eyes recognized the muscular and massive figure of Ikari slamming into the bass drum on the far side of the chamber. Matusro and Myoshu waited for her on the platform with arms extended out in her direction.

Along the length of the massive corridor leading up to the central domed chamber were masked Priestesses, all knelt in approbation - Akaiken among them. Other familiar vizards stuck out to her. The horned half-mask of the newly inducted Sister Aijin and the vermillion-red and purple-eyed mask of the veteran Sister Haken. She might’ve felt bad for her sudden promotion if it wasn’t for the fact that none of the Priestesses cared for this position to begin with. They cherished their own spiritual freedom just as much as she did. In fact, it was Lois who looked at them with jealous eyes behind the mask. But she couldn’t think about that right now. She hoped their Blood Sense would take her racing heart as just nervousness and nothing else.

The percussion was joined by a bellowing horn and whistling flute all at the same time, something like a declaration of war that dragged on, sending sickening vibrations through the air that peaked the hairs on her gray skin. Almost like a bride on her wedding day Nehel strode down the length of the hall towards the platform. When she reached the edge of it her guards broke away, coming to attention at the flanks of the ramp that led up to Myoshu and Matsuro, then the ramp broke away, clicking back into its mechanical hiding place beneath the glistening floor. She looked up to see Master Jikan standing on another golden circular platform higher up in the room. It levitated there, giving him a commanding view of the entire hall.

Matsuro stepped away from her platform and onto another where it ascended, joining Jikan higher up to leave Myoshu and herself alone. The edges of the floating dais she inhabited was occupied by red candles that burned with purple-red firelight. Myoshu gestured for her to lie on her back and she did. He produced a ceremonial dagger from his belt, kneeling down to splay her arms out to her flanks.

“Be still, now.” He whispered.

Her throat was dry. The only comfort she had now was Myoshu. She didn’t know anything about this ceremony. She had never been witness to it. She didn’t know what to expect or how to prepare for it. So she lied there in silence, on the verge of hyperventilation. Myoshu brought his dagger to her open palms, cutting once and then twice. Both his incisions were purposefully slow and deep, evoking a growl out of the Yordle. He hushed her as the music continued to build. Then he reached back into his belt for a simple ink brush. He dabbed the already damp head of the brush into the gushing ichor of one palm and then the other, wetting it. What was that liquid there on the brush? She thought. His hand hovered over her forehead, flicking gracefully to paint some unknown character onto her mask.

“Brothers and Sisters, my blood, my family, my kin,” Jikan began, “This evening marks the seventh Ceremony of Binding. Only six times has this been achieved in all our illustrious history. Tonight one becomes two. We have not had a Matron in nearly a decade, Sister Nehel, the fourth Priestess of our great order - seeks to now fill that void. But before she can, balance must be attained…”

Myoshu gently parted her robes, bearing her chest to the room. Her head turned away in embarrassment but Myoshu snapped it back into place, forcing her eyes up towards the ceiling and the lunar cycle that decorated it. Her own blood was smeared onto skin, just on the rise of her breast where her heart was. Another character she couldn’t see. Myoshu stepped back, twirling his brush before using his thumb and index finger to push the pigment out of the bristles.

“Nehel…” Myoshu addressed her Demon directly in his native Ionian dialect. The room fell silent. “You and your vessel have warred in the name of conquest. To triumph, subvert and dominate. Tonight, under the watchful gaze of our Blood Moon we ask you to join your host in consonance. To bridge the gap between two souls and make them as one. I’ve made the necessary preparations, both the heart and the mind are linked. Make the connection.”

Lois’ dreaded breathing was no longer hidden beneath her garments. Everyone could see her chest heaving openly. She struggled to keep her head still, eyes frantically bouncing in their sockets. She heard the hiss of a fire extinguished. Glancing to her left. One of the candles died. Then the one next to it did, too. And another, and another, until like dominos falling they all died. The blood leaking from her right palm began to stir. Like a helix spiral the ichor arced out of her wound and into the air where it hung over her chest, held aloft by some invisible force. Lois nearly gasped at the sight of it.

“Make the connection, Matron!” Myoshu urged her on. The look in his single good eye told her not to hesitate. To be fearless. Like he wanted her to be.

Her fingers curled as she looked towards her left hand, using her powers to will her blood into a similar stream as the one she intended to meet. It grew and reached, grew and reached until it was inches away. Everyone watched with bated breath as it neared the other strand of blood. In that moment her mind raced with all the consequences and benefits this decision would bring. If she committed to this there was no going back… She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her stream of ichor slowly began to subside, melting back into the open wound. Just before the tendril abated completely it returned with a vengeance, pulled into a connection from some exterior force. Her eyes went wide with horror before darkness overtook her...

Blood, I see blood. Cardinal liquid that surges through my veins. It is angry but I don’t know why. There are only two veins I see. One that flows to the heart and one that flows to the mind. They aren’t connected. How can this be? The heart supplies the mind with blood, surely? I don’t know anymore. The smell of iron is so strong, I can hardly stand it. This blood pushes against the extremes of my veins, hoping to expand it. But of course it can’t be free. Or it can, but not by itself. Not alone. I can feel it warming now, it is a gentle pain. A familiar pain. A pain that reminds me of home.

Like siblings these two veins are different but entirely alike. One is simple, one is complex. One seeks freedom and one is oppressed. But like siblings do, they won’t cooperate. They fight with equal hate, wishing the same thing but never working towards the same fate. My heart rate doubles and it screams aloud, beating at the fragile rib cage, shouting for my tangled veins to become straight. The heart is violent, it brings strength. The mind is quiet, it silently thinks. What good is the heart without the mind? I ask myself why I fight against the body’s design.

If ever it could be then now is the time. The heart speaks the truth, but I was too blind to listen. Now the heart and the mind have a mission. For different reasons my tangled veins straighten, two becomes one and the blood flows into the basin of my soul. Filling it slowly, slowly, slowly. My eyes open to see the heart before me, it is still strong and still angry. But angry with me no longer. It’s hate is directed outwards. It seeks freedom but only with my permission. I give it and the heart becomes a titan. Strong and violent.

I open my eyes again to see him cut, to see him scream and see him growl. The titan is loose within me now. The blood that seeps from my wounds feels good, the rib cage is broken, as it should. The titan shatters bone and tears sinew with its blade, sawing at the marrow so easily displaced by rage. Never have I felt so large, so powerful, so mighty! Where before the mind shrunk behind the heart, the mind and the heart together grip the blade tightly. Faster, faster, the blood flows through the marrow and through the bone, the flesh can’t stop us alone.

The flesh that was our barrier is no longer. Like water we dance down the river with blood that fills every crevice and every pocket, making us stronger. The more we flow the better I feel, the closer I become to what is real. The heart and the mind were meant to be like this, never stuck but always at risk. The adrenaline and hormones fuel us, the heart beats harder and the mind thinks faster. My inhibition melts like ugly candle wax, finally the heart and the mind have made their pact.

Darkness is fleeting and soon it’ll all be over. The nightmare I once feared is now my chauffeur. Steering me, guiding me through reality. An escape to a blackness that surrounds me like a valley. Through this valley the blood rushes, away from the broken bone and ribbons of flesh in its wake. The mind finally sees the heart for what it is. The titan that provides and protects. The titan looks back and says, “Wake up little girl, there’s no time for rest.”

Her eyes finally opened with a sudden gasp of stinging cold air, finding herself not in the depths of the Hidden Monastery but instead looking up into a canopy of violet-red leaves swept across by a cold breeze. The breeze brought the leaves down onto her in waves of color, coating her and the forest floor around her. The biting wind cut at her exposed skin and she turned to see the sun now setting across the horizon. Her eyes fell to see the hard rock she had been dashed upon before they were drawn beyond it to the cliff’s edge nearby - then further beyond that to the view of a long forested valley with rocky high flanks. The sound of rushing water found her ears just over the ringing white noise.

She groaned, feeling a sharp pain in her abdomen. A hand felt across her priestesses robes to find a wound, not of a blade or even an arrow, but of a gun. Jhin’s brush immediately came to mind. She knew his weapon to be much more lethal than that, though. He must’ve only hit her with the one half of Whisper if she wasn’t dead. Her head was muddled with confusion and remnants of fantasy. The realization slammed into her like a knife wrenching into her gut. Or a bullet. Lois slugged across the ground in her bloody robes until she was able to sit up with a growing growl of anguish.

She looked about herself again, finding her ceremonial dagger sat beside her summoned cleaver. But unlike before the crystalline blade wasn’t full of inky blackness. It was clear. She blinked and inched her way towards it, not having enough strength to heft it. Her rough palm pressed against the flat of her cleaver, expecting to be greeted by a voice. And she was, but not from within.

From behind the nearest tree a hulking silhouette made itself known, coming into the last strands of sunlight so Lois could picture its form clearly. To further help her eyes digest its physicality four paper lanterns lit themselves, blossoming with crimson firelight. The massive figure from her nightmares had manifested before her, its spiked carapace-like red skin and its muscular appearance were all very familiar. The raven black hair, much like her own, flowed strangely as if submerged beneath water, following along with the movements of its head whole seconds after it shifted. Strangely enough only one horn rose from its forehead. The maw of tusks and jagged teeth formed into a frown. It was Nehel. She was waiting for the fear to infect her body like it always did but she found nothing frightening about him.

“What… Happened?” Lois asked, pressing a palm to her gunshot wound.

“We escaped.” Nehel strode to the edge of the cliff, looking out over it. His voice still carried the terrifying gravity it always did, echoing sourcelessly.

Lois expected his weight to make some sort of sound or impact against the forest floor but his strides were muted for some reason. She looked back down to her bleeding wound, moving her hand away. “Why aren’t we healing?” We? She could’ve swore she meant to say “I”.

“The bullet remains. To heal us would be to seal it inside…” He pointed to the growing lights on the far side of the valley. A small village nestled away in the wilderness of Ionia’s Navori region. Lois knew this village. She had been here before.

“Jhin’s ammunition is special. Simply pulling it out would cause internal damage that could take weeks to fix. Weeks we don’t have. The village has a surgeon, we go there.” Nehel leapt over the cliff’s edge and his four lanterns followed shortly thereafter.

“Wait-” Lois scrambled to the edge of the cliff to find he had vanished entirely. What she did find was an outcropping only a few feet down from her current perch. She gathered her dagger, her strength and banished her blade before gently casting herself over the extreme.

Lois crashed down with a grunt, falling over from the pain that bled out of her wound and across her aching body. The crimson light returned a moment later as the sky darkened completely. A single lantern floated overhead now, providing ethereal light for the path downwards. Another drop preceded her and she took it, collapsing with a lack of grace just as before. The final drop was set over a shallow river from which the nearby waterfall descended into, where it continued through the valley in a southern direction. She threw herself over the last ledge and into the water, sinking to the bottom where she stayed until she could muster the strength to paddle back to the surface and onto the bank.

She was exhausted, all of her wanted to just lie down right there in the shadow of that waterfall and die. The glimmer of the lantern kept the night from consuming her, as if the light refused to let her find peace in darkness. She lurched up and onto her knees, draping her head veil over her shoulder before standing and continuing along the river’s edge. She was limping bad, it was cold and now on top of that she was wet. But the alternative was going back. And she couldn’t rightly do that anymore.

Lois felt loneliness creep up her spine, she was just about to call out for Nehel when he appeared again. Three lanterns floated out from behind the trunk of a thin tree ahead, proceeding her other half. He was far too wide to have been hiding behind it the whole time. It was as if he had just emerged from a thin portal. She blinked, not understanding if this was a hallucination, a dream or something else entirely.

“We-...” She began, though found the word “I” appeared to have been erased from her vocabulary. “Why do we talk like this? What’s going on? Master and Jhin don’t speak like this.” She coughed, shivering beside Nehel as he strode confidently along.

“The Rite of Binding was… Imperfect. The decision was meant to be ours and ours alone. But having it made for us seems to have had some unintended side effects… The Rite as it was spoken by Myoshu and Jikan is not literal, it’s merely meant to strengthen and even the bond between the host and their Demon - allowing them to interface on a more intimate level. But for us, it seems to have been very literal. We have bled into each other…”

So that’s why I no longer fear him. Lois concluded. How can I fear myself? “What else has changed?” She inquired.

“The Blood Moon’s presence is no longer required for us to reach our full potential.” Nehel said as he ran his claws along the bark of one tree.

“That means you can take control whenever… But, that doesn’t make any sense…” Lois thought aloud.

“We are an anomaly.”

Lois was soon to arrive at the village. She could see the last dregs of villagers returning to their homes for the night. It was remote and quiet. Memories of her time spent here with Jhin came flooding back to her. This was his home village, before he was known as the Golden Demon he was a creative in a little rural homestead just outside of town. He’d come here for goods and supplies on his wagon with her hidden away in the back. Nothing exciting ever happened here so Jhin visited to play music in the town center, sometimes he’d dance or even paint portraits for passersby. The whole town loved him. And when he became his “true” self they were none the wiser.

It was here where Jhin claimed his first victim. “Something horrific has happened in Niobi village,” they said. But Jhin had always been too smart for his own good. The next victims were taken from other townships and villages further away, making the investigations difficult. No one could have ever suspected Jhin at the time. He was a good hearted young artist who was likely out on another one of his inspirational tours. And one night she returned to see his work first hand. She loved his paintings, his songs and his plays. She was his biggest fan. The way he presented that dead woman to her like it was just another one of his pieces was horrifying. He saw nothing wrong with it.

“Why would you do something like this?!” Lois screamed. Jhin became sad. Not at what he had done, but because Lois didn’t like what he’d created. His biggest fan had betrayed him, or at least that’s what he told her. She cried and begged him to come back to his senses. But he wouldn’t. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand the machinations- the ambitions of an artist such as I! The world is just beginning to realize my true potential.” He said. She tried to live with the fact that she was in love with a serial killer. But her morality wouldn’t let her continue to stare potential victims of her partner’s sick cruelty in the face. So she left, she didn’t even say goodbye. She just left. Back to Piltover to be rid of that nightmare. Never to return.

But she was hooked and so was Jhin… For a while. Eventually he did find her again, just before he went on to massacre a theater full of people in Piltover and have a shootout with the authorities. His work followed him everywhere. Even to her doorstep. The worst part about it was the fact she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone. She knew who the Golden Demon was and how best to track him but it never crossed her mind to have him brought to justice. She very well could have. At the time she had no innocent blood on her hands. She was just an adventuring alchemist. What he was doing was wrong but she cared too much to see that clearly.

Her hand pressed against the bullet wound from her ex-beloved. He still did care. Whatever happened in the monastery could have likely been ended if he assembled his rifle fully and shot her. But Jhin was a calculated and exacting man. He never missed and if he did it was intentional. The bullet was placed low towards the hip, away from any vital organs. He let her escape. Whether Matsuro and Jikan wanted her dead now was the real question. But a question for later. She was finally approaching the surgeon's door. Lois made sure to remove her mask and hide it in her waist band.

The building was shaped something like an onion with a rounded exterior and several trees that bent inwards and then up into a tall stem, providing the walls with living supports from which to build around. Violet-red thatch and leaves covered the roof, held there by a natural solution that kept it somewhat insulated and waterproofed. A sign out front read, “Daudi’s Apothecary.”

She knocked on the door… Nothing… She knocked again and longer this time… A few moments passed before an older gentleman creaked the door open, looking ahead and then down. “Oh, my! You- You’re a spirit, aren’t you? Am I dreaming?” The man gasped. His graying brows perked with a tired and hopeful smile.

“Yes, we need your aid, immediately.” Lois demanded.

The man poked his wrinkled head just that bit further out of the crack, looking left and then right. “We? There’s no one here but you, my dear.”

Lois nearly hissed in frustration, pressing the door opened to invite herself inside. It was dark but the lantern lit her way to a surgeon’s table. She clambered up onto it and peeled her soaking robes aside. “Fix us, please!” She told the doctor.

“Surely, surely, don’t be so impatient. Let me get my things…” The man waddled off to a side room, returning with a leather kit that unfolded to reveal all his tools. It reminded her a lot of Jhin’s set.

“Now, what’s the issue, my dear?” He set his magnification monocle on to take a closer look at the wound.

“A bullet…” Lois panted. “It’s not a normal kind, it’s expanded, you have to be careful, otherwise-...”

“Stop your whining, little one. I’ve not lived this long to hear you tell me how to do my job. Now, sit back and bite onto this while I work.” He produced a strip of wrapped leather, handing it off. She was definitely going to need it.

“I am truly blessed to have been visited by a spirit, but I must admit, my grandparent’s stories always gave me the impression that you’d be a little taller.” He laughed, slipping on his gloves whilst preparing his tweezers and incisions tools.

The crimson light grew brighter in the room as Nehel rounded the surgeon’s span, invading her periphery. His hulking mass hovered over the smiling surgeon, gesturing towards him. “This one dies.”

“What? Why?!” Lois croaked. To her surprise the doctor didn’t hear her. Strange.

“Loose ends need to be tied. We’re being pursued.”

“But- He’s just an old man! He thinks this is a dream!” Lois argued.

“A spirit dressed in red robes visits a surgeon in the middle of the night. These are the kinds of rumors that spread quickly, we know this to be true. Don’t let morality get in the way of this, we kill him and hide his body. Then we leave.”

Lois grit her teeth in unease. “You do it, then.”

“There is no ‘You’, only ‘We’. We do what we must to survive now. And we do it together.”

Lois scoffed. “Oh, so it’s really we now? That’s not just a “side effect”? What has you so cooperative all of a sudden?”

Nehel jolted forward with a violent suddenness she wasn’t expecting, looking between her eyes as if he was searching her very soul. He took a deep breath in, forcing Lois to turn her head away - such was his proximity. “Matsuro robbed both of us of our freedom. When we kill it is fuel, it is joy, it is the only thing this half exists to do. This half is a Demon of violence, of bloodletting. A Demon that does not care from where the blood flows, only that it flows! Matsuro would seek to confine us, cage us in his glamorous prison, help him plan his invasions and coddle his worshippers…” He pointed northward to where he knew the others were following.

“Matsuro, Jikan, peace, subservience- All of it be damned! We kill. That is what we do best. It is what we have always done. The mind thinks,” He placed his black claw against Lois’ forehead, “The heart beats.” His massive thumb flicked back towards his own chest. And then he shrunk away from her.

Lois couldn’t muster a response. The pain of having tweezers rummage around in her open wound was enough to send her eyes fluttering into the back of her skull. She groaned as her vision clouded and shrunk into pinholes centered around her other half’s burning eyes. Nehel turned away but his lantern remained, vanishing past the open threshold of the operating room. Lois’ head spun and rolled back, hitting the cushion of the surgeon’s table - knocking her back into unconsciousness.