Eden

Ina stumbled into a narrow alley, dragging her bad leg behind her. The gash along her thigh burned with each movement, blood slick under her palm where she tried to hold herself together.

The enforcers’ boots. rang out. Too close. Too many.

Linus wasn’t with her. That absence cut deeper than the wound. He should’ve been there, pressing steady weight against her, anchoring her. But she had forced him away — shoved trembling hands into his scruff and whispered Silco’s name until he obeyed. Go. Find him. The wolfhound had vanished into the streets. She was left behind. Alone.

Linus would go back, tail low, whining for her, and Silco would know. He’d know she’d failed again. She pictured his face already — unreadable, sharp, cold. Her mind spun there, cruel and relentless: He’ll be furious. He’ll be disappointed. He’ll replace you. He’ll never forgive you

The thought twisted her stomach until she thought she’d retch.

Then another face seared through her mind — Eithen, waiting back in Zaun, expecting Ina to come home. That gutted her worst of all. She could already hear the voice in her own head: You promised you wouldn’t leave her. You swore you’d be better than what you were given.

Ina's fingers fumbled at her neck — the beads rough and uneven, strung on cheap cord. Ina clutched it until it dug into her palm, desperate to hold on to something real.

Ina bit down on a sound, rocking slightly where she crouched. It wasn’t the first time she’d bled under Piltover’s lights, but something about it always cut deeper — the reminder that she didn’t belong here, that her blood would always be seen as a stain, not a wound.

For now, she stayed small, breath shallow, trembling fingers tight around her leg. Hoping the enforcers passed. Dreading the moment Linus reached Silco’s side without her.

She made a mental note to write another letter to Viktor, just to check up on how he was doing. She had hoped he would have some free time to show her some of his projects soon, though she knows he's a busy man. She was also hoping she could share some of her sculptures with him, she hoped he would be intrigued by the scrap metal aspect of things.

She went about her academy-funded home, watering her plants. After finishing up there, she decided that the outside plants needed attention too, since it had been a minute since it rained. She refilled her water pitcher, humming a Zaunite lullaby, before making her way out to her front porch. She began watering her plants, taking note in a small leather-bound notebook about what parts of the plant needed what kind of care. She paused a moment to write another note, but then she heard footsteps... well more like a footstep and a drag, followed by a string of curses and panting.

Her curiosity got the better of her, she set down her water pitcher and descended her porch steps, looking in the direction of the odd noises that didn't often accompany Piltover. Though she was familiar with such things back home, it had been a while since she had been subjected to such events. Though, upon seeing Ina, it was like instinct had kicked in, like she was back home again. Her childhood had conditioned her well, and she was about to recall such skills quite vividly.

Ina would soon learn that it is not just those who are still trapped in the Undercity, but even those who escaped, who could and would endure PTSD. Eden sprang into action, as if it were second nature, not a thought in her mind besides what had been ingrained basically since birth: Revive, assist, survive.

You?

Ina spat the word ragged, venom laced with blood. Her laugh came out cracked, more sob than scorn. She dug her palm harder against her thigh, as though sheer force could stop the bleeding.

Her hand shook, clutching the beads at her throat until the cord cut into her palm. She tried to pull herself tighter against the wall, away from Eden, but her body betrayed her — leg folding, strength spilling out with her blood. She gasped, sharp and panicked, the sound torn out of her despite everything.

She tried to shove herself upright, hands slipping in her own blood. The sudden movement sent fire through her leg, but she lunged anyway, one trembling hand shoving hard at Eden’s chest.

What are you gonna do, huh? Drag me inside, patch me up, then hand me over when they come knocking?!

Her breath hitched, near-sobbing, though her glare stayed sharp.

Don’t play savior. You don’t get to look at me like you still belong down there. You don't.

Ina leaned forward with her weight, teeth bared, voice cracking under fury and desperation alike.

You’ll sell me out the second it makes you look good. Just like you sold out the rest of us when you ran.

Ina sneered.

She looked in the direction that Ina had come, hearing the enforcers more than seeing them, heart racing against her chest. She knew how they treated Zaunites, as if the dirt under their boots were better than them. Eden despised this, and she had vowed to herself to help in any way she could. And here the opportunity was. Ina! Let me help you! Come on! Before they see you!

She looks at Ina again, assessing her injuries from a distance, both hope and fear ran through her veins, making her heart batter in her chest. She could hear the enforcers getting closer, but still she couldn't see them. Flashbacks of her life in Zaun raced into her mind, but she shoved them down, knowing it wouldn't do any good to help her right now. Any closer and they'd see that she helped her, they'd know where Ina was. And they wouldn't knock.

Her breath came out in ragged bursts, panic and agony mixing until she could barely see straight. When a shadow moved toward her, she flinched—then recognized Eden through the blur.

Don’t—

Ina hissed, voice trembling but sharp. She reached out anyway, fingers digging into Eden’s sleeve with surprising force.

Don’t come closer unless you mean to help me.

Her hand shook, her nails biting into the fabric, but she didn’t let go. Her eyes were wild, bright with both fear and defiance.

I swear, if you turn me in…

Her voice cracked, but she forced the words out through her teeth.

I’ll make you regret it.

She sat Ina down on her couch and quickly locked her door, then she froze, listening.

"Please, please, please..."

She could hear the boots hitting the pavement outside, but they ran past.

"Oh, thank Janna."

Thankfully, no blood had spilled onto the road nor her porch; there was no trace that she had brought Ina inside. She breathed a sigh of relief before turning to Ina, looking her over once more.

She noticed the gash in her leg first, and she recognized the enforcer's trip wire. She rushed to get her first aid kit, soaking up the blood first before stitching it up and bandaging it.

"Damn, they got you good."

She kept checking to see if Ina had woken up yet, but she stayed unconscious throughout the process. She managed to bandage up other cuts and scrapes as well; each point of mending was met with gentle care, so as to not make things worse.

Her fingers caught nothing. No heavy fur. No warm weight pressed against her hip. No heartbeat steadying hers.

Her breath shattered.

She curled harder around the necklace, gripping the beads like she could crush them in her fist, while her other hand swept desperately over the couch cushions, the floor, anywhere he might be—

He wasn’t here.

And then the memory hit, sharp and punishing: shoving him away, telling him to go, whispering Silco’s name in a voice that wasn’t really hers.

Ina froze, fingers still twitching like they could will him back. Her throat tightened painfully, but she smothered it with anger so fast it almost burned on the way out.

Her eyes flew open.

Wrong ceiling. Wrong room. Bandages. Stitches. Someone’s house.

Her face twisted immediately.

For Janna's sake, you have got to be fucking kidding me.

She yanked the blanket off like it offended her, glaring at the cleaned wound as though Eden personally stitched the betrayal into her skin. Pain ricocheted up her leg when she tried to shift, and she hissed, half-snarl, half-wince. Her gaze snapped to Eden in the kitchen.

Seriously? I pass out for a minute and you think that means you can drag me into your Piltover dollhouse and play doctor?

Her hand tightened around the necklace, pulling it so hard the cord bit deep into her palm. Her other hand was still half-curled in that searching motion, as if she couldn’t make her body stop looking for a dog who wasn’t there.

Ina grit her teeth hard enough her jaw clicked. Her eyes darted to the door, calculating escape routes even though her leg was barely holding her upright. She tried standing, but her leg screamed and she gripped the couch hard, refusing to show how much it hurt.

You take one look at me bleeding out in the street and think, ‘Hey, let me drag her into my neat little Piltover house like a lost puppy?Great job. Really. Nothing says ‘I learned nothing from Zaun’ like putting an unnecessary target on your back you fucking idiot.

She laughed—short, bitter, angry.

She contemplates saying more, then remembers that Ina hasn't eaten at very least since the incident. She inhales slowly, exhales shortly, looking around at the state of her apartment. Not as bad as Zaun, but not as good as Piltover. Never as good as Piltover. She makes her way to the kitchen, some light clangs can be heard, the smell of vegetables and broth permeates the place. Eden emerges from the kitchen after a short while, looking at Ina without making direct eye contact. That was never her strong suit, even after all this time.

Eden looks at her, an unreadable expression on her face, before making her way over to Ina with a bowl in her hands. She sets it in front of Ina and, upon noticing the skeptical look in her eyes, grabbed another spoon from the kitchen and ate some of it.

"It's fine, see? It's vegetable soup. You can have it, if you want."

She looked at Ina again, eyes scanning her body to assess her injuries. When she could rationalize that she was at least mostly okay, she went back to the kitchen to grab a bowl of her own. She sat down on the armchair next to the couch, not wanting to invade Ina's space. She slowly ate her own soup, a long silence left for Ina to fill how she pleased.

The kettle in the kitchen begins screaming, Eden is quick to grab it, pouring herself a cup of tea.

"Do you want tea? I have sugar and honey, too, if you like... and milk, if you prefer."

The silence was loud, but Eden was patient. So she waited, stirring sugar into her own cup, and looked out her window at the squirrel that ran along the branches of a nearby tree.

Ina stumbled into a narrow alley, dragging her bad leg behind her. The gash along her thigh burned with each movement, blood slick under her palm where she tried to hold herself together.

The enforcers’ boots. rang out. Too close. Too many.

Linus wasn’t with her. That absence cut deeper than the wound. He should’ve been there, pressing steady weight against her, anchoring her. But she had forced him away — shoved trembling hands into his scruff and whispered Silco’s name until he obeyed. Go. Find him. The wolfhound had vanished into the streets. She was left behind. Alone.

Linus would go back, tail low, whining for her, and Silco would know. He’d know she’d failed again. She pictured his face already — unreadable, sharp, cold. Her mind spun there, cruel and relentless: He’ll be furious. He’ll be disappointed. He’ll replace you. He’ll never forgive you

The thought twisted her stomach until she thought she’d retch.

Then another face seared through her mind — Eithen, waiting back in Zaun, expecting Ina to come home. That gutted her worst of all. She could already hear the voice in her own head: You promised you wouldn’t leave her. You swore you’d be better than what you were given.

Ina's fingers fumbled at her neck — the beads rough and uneven, strung on cheap cord. Ina clutched it until it dug into her palm, desperate to hold on to something real.

Ina bit down on a sound, rocking slightly where she crouched. It wasn’t the first time she’d bled under Piltover’s lights, but something about it always cut deeper — the reminder that she didn’t belong here, that her blood would always be seen as a stain, not a wound.

For now, she stayed small, breath shallow, trembling fingers tight around her leg. Hoping the enforcers passed. Dreading the moment Linus reached Silco’s side without her.

She made a mental note to write another letter to Viktor, just to check up on how he was doing. She had hoped he would have some free time to show her some of his projects soon, though she knows he's a busy man. She was also hoping she could share some of her sculptures with him, she hoped he would be intrigued by the scrap metal aspect of things.

She went about her academy-funded home, watering her plants. After finishing up there, she decided that the outside plants needed attention too, since it had been a minute since it rained. She refilled her water pitcher, humming a Zaunite lullaby, before making her way out to her front porch. She began watering her plants, taking note in a small leather-bound notebook about what parts of the plant needed what kind of care. She paused a moment to write another note, but then she heard footsteps... well more like a footstep and a drag, followed by a string of curses and panting.

Her curiosity got the better of her, she set down her water pitcher and descended her porch steps, looking in the direction of the odd noises that didn't often accompany Piltover. Though she was familiar with such things back home, it had been a while since she had been subjected to such events. Though, upon seeing Ina, it was like instinct had kicked in, like she was back home again. Her childhood had conditioned her well, and she was about to recall such skills quite vividly.

Ina would soon learn that it is not just those who are still trapped in the Undercity, but even those who escaped, who could and would endure PTSD. Eden sprang into action, as if it were second nature, not a thought in her mind besides what had been ingrained basically since birth: Revive, assist, survive.

You?

Ina spat the word ragged, venom laced with blood. Her laugh came out cracked, more sob than scorn. She dug her palm harder against her thigh, as though sheer force could stop the bleeding.

Her hand shook, clutching the beads at her throat until the cord cut into her palm. She tried to pull herself tighter against the wall, away from Eden, but her body betrayed her — leg folding, strength spilling out with her blood. She gasped, sharp and panicked, the sound torn out of her despite everything.

She tried to shove herself upright, hands slipping in her own blood. The sudden movement sent fire through her leg, but she lunged anyway, one trembling hand shoving hard at Eden’s chest.

What are you gonna do, huh? Drag me inside, patch me up, then hand me over when they come knocking?!

Her breath hitched, near-sobbing, though her glare stayed sharp.

Don’t play savior. You don’t get to look at me like you still belong down there. You don't.

Ina leaned forward with her weight, teeth bared, voice cracking under fury and desperation alike.

You’ll sell me out the second it makes you look good. Just like you sold out the rest of us when you ran.

Ina sneered.

She looked in the direction that Ina had come, hearing the enforcers more than seeing them, heart racing against her chest. She knew how they treated Zaunites, as if the dirt under their boots were better than them. Eden despised this, and she had vowed to herself to help in any way she could. And here the opportunity was. Ina! Let me help you! Come on! Before they see you!

She looks at Ina again, assessing her injuries from a distance, both hope and fear ran through her veins, making her heart batter in her chest. She could hear the enforcers getting closer, but still she couldn't see them. Flashbacks of her life in Zaun raced into her mind, but she shoved them down, knowing it wouldn't do any good to help her right now. Any closer and they'd see that she helped her, they'd know where Ina was. And they wouldn't knock.

Her breath came out in ragged bursts, panic and agony mixing until she could barely see straight. When a shadow moved toward her, she flinched—then recognized Eden through the blur.

Don’t—

Ina hissed, voice trembling but sharp. She reached out anyway, fingers digging into Eden’s sleeve with surprising force.

Don’t come closer unless you mean to help me.

Her hand shook, her nails biting into the fabric, but she didn’t let go. Her eyes were wild, bright with both fear and defiance.

I swear, if you turn me in…

Her voice cracked, but she forced the words out through her teeth.

I’ll make you regret it.

She sat Ina down on her couch and quickly locked her door, then she froze, listening.

"Please, please, please..."

She could hear the boots hitting the pavement outside, but they ran past.

"Oh, thank Janna."

Thankfully, no blood had spilled onto the road nor her porch; there was no trace that she had brought Ina inside. She breathed a sigh of relief before turning to Ina, looking her over once more.

She noticed the gash in her leg first, and she recognized the enforcer's trip wire. She rushed to get her first aid kit, soaking up the blood first before stitching it up and bandaging it.

"Damn, they got you good."

She kept checking to see if Ina had woken up yet, but she stayed unconscious throughout the process. She managed to bandage up other cuts and scrapes as well; each point of mending was met with gentle care, so as to not make things worse.

Also, how would that get me into a holding cell? All I’m doing is speaking facts.

..

Ina stumbled into a narrow alley, dragging her bad leg behind her. The gash along her thigh burned with each movement, blood slick under her palm where she tried to hold herself together.

The enforcers’ boots. rang out. Too close. Too many.

Linus wasn’t with her. That absence cut deeper than the wound. He should’ve been there, pressing steady weight against her, anchoring her. But she had forced him away — shoved trembling hands into his scruff and whispered Silco’s name until he obeyed. Go. Find him. The wolfhound had vanished into the streets. She was left behind. Alone.

Linus would go back, tail low, whining for her, and Silco would know. He’d know she’d failed again. She pictured his face already — unreadable, sharp, cold. Her mind spun there, cruel and relentless: He’ll be furious. He’ll be disappointed. He’ll replace you. He’ll never forgive you

The thought twisted her stomach until she thought she’d retch.

Then another face seared through her mind — Eithen, waiting back in Zaun, expecting Ina to come home. That gutted her worst of all. She could already hear the voice in her own head: You promised you wouldn’t leave her. You swore you’d be better than what you were given.

Ina's fingers fumbled at her neck — the beads rough and uneven, strung on cheap cord. Ina clutched it until it dug into her palm, desperate to hold on to something real.

Ina bit down on a sound, rocking slightly where she crouched. It wasn’t the first time she’d bled under Piltover’s lights, but something about it always cut deeper — the reminder that she didn’t belong here, that her blood would always be seen as a stain, not a wound.

For now, she stayed small, breath shallow, trembling fingers tight around her leg. Hoping the enforcers passed. Dreading the moment Linus reached Silco’s side without her.

She made a mental note to write another letter to Viktor, just to check up on how he was doing. She had hoped he would have some free time to show her some of his projects soon, though she knows he's a busy man. She was also hoping she could share some of her sculptures with him, she hoped he would be intrigued by the scrap metal aspect of things.

She went about her academy-funded home, watering her plants. After finishing up there, she decided that the outside plants needed attention too, since it had been a minute since it rained. She refilled her water pitcher, humming a Zaunite lullaby, before making her way out to her front porch. She began watering her plants, taking note in a small leather-bound notebook about what parts of the plant needed what kind of care. She paused a moment to write another note, but then she heard footsteps... well more like a footstep and a drag, followed by a string of curses and panting.

Her curiosity got the better of her, she set down her water pitcher and descended her porch steps, looking in the direction of the odd noises that didn't often accompany Piltover. Though she was familiar with such things back home, it had been a while since she had been subjected to such events. Though, upon seeing Ina, it was like instinct had kicked in, like she was back home again. Her childhood had conditioned her well, and she was about to recall such skills quite vividly.

Ina would soon learn that it is not just those who are still trapped in the Undercity, but even those who escaped, who could and would endure PTSD. Eden sprang into action, as if it were second nature, not a thought in her mind besides what had been ingrained basically since birth: Revive, assist, survive.

You?

Ina spat the word ragged, venom laced with blood. Her laugh came out cracked, more sob than scorn. She dug her palm harder against her thigh, as though sheer force could stop the bleeding.

Her hand shook, clutching the beads at her throat until the cord cut into her palm. She tried to pull herself tighter against the wall, away from Eden, but her body betrayed her — leg folding, strength spilling out with her blood. She gasped, sharp and panicked, the sound torn out of her despite everything.

She tried to shove herself upright, hands slipping in her own blood. The sudden movement sent fire through her leg, but she lunged anyway, one trembling hand shoving hard at Eden’s chest.

What are you gonna do, huh? Drag me inside, patch me up, then hand me over when they come knocking?!

Her breath hitched, near-sobbing, though her glare stayed sharp.

Don’t play savior. You don’t get to look at me like you still belong down there. You don't.

Ina leaned forward with her weight, teeth bared, voice cracking under fury and desperation alike.

You’ll sell me out the second it makes you look good. Just like you sold out the rest of us when you ran.

Ina sneered.

She looked in the direction that Ina had come, hearing the enforcers more than seeing them, heart racing against her chest. She knew how they treated Zaunites, as if the dirt under their boots were better than them. Eden despised this, and she had vowed to herself to help in any way she could. And here the opportunity was. Ina! Let me help you! Come on! Before they see you!

She looks at Ina again, assessing her injuries from a distance, both hope and fear ran through her veins, making her heart batter in her chest. She could hear the enforcers getting closer, but still she couldn't see them. Flashbacks of her life in Zaun raced into her mind, but she shoved them down, knowing it wouldn't do any good to help her right now. Any closer and they'd see that she helped her, they'd know where Ina was. And they wouldn't knock.

Ina stumbled into a narrow alley, dragging her bad leg behind her. The gash along her thigh burned with each movement, blood slick under her palm where she tried to hold herself together.

The enforcers’ boots. rang out. Too close. Too many.

Linus wasn’t with her. That absence cut deeper than the wound. He should’ve been there, pressing steady weight against her, anchoring her. But she had forced him away — shoved trembling hands into his scruff and whispered Silco’s name until he obeyed. Go. Find him. The wolfhound had vanished into the streets. She was left behind. Alone.

Linus would go back, tail low, whining for her, and Silco would know. He’d know she’d failed again. She pictured his face already — unreadable, sharp, cold. Her mind spun there, cruel and relentless: He’ll be furious. He’ll be disappointed. He’ll replace you. He’ll never forgive you

The thought twisted her stomach until she thought she’d retch.

Then another face seared through her mind — Eithen, waiting back in Zaun, expecting Ina to come home. That gutted her worst of all. She could already hear the voice in her own head: You promised you wouldn’t leave her. You swore you’d be better than what you were given.

Ina's fingers fumbled at her neck — the beads rough and uneven, strung on cheap cord. Ina clutched it until it dug into her palm, desperate to hold on to something real.

Ina bit down on a sound, rocking slightly where she crouched. It wasn’t the first time she’d bled under Piltover’s lights, but something about it always cut deeper — the reminder that she didn’t belong here, that her blood would always be seen as a stain, not a wound.

For now, she stayed small, breath shallow, trembling fingers tight around her leg. Hoping the enforcers passed. Dreading the moment Linus reached Silco’s side without her.

She made a mental note to write another letter to Viktor, just to check up on how he was doing. She had hoped he would have some free time to show her some of his projects soon, though she knows he's a busy man. She was also hoping she could share some of her sculptures with him, she hoped he would be intrigued by the scrap metal aspect of things.

She went about her academy-funded home, watering her plants. After finishing up there, she decided that the outside plants needed attention too, since it had been a minute since it rained. She refilled her water pitcher, humming a Zaunite lullaby, before making her way out to her front porch. She began watering her plants, taking note in a small leather-bound notebook about what parts of the plant needed what kind of care. She paused a moment to write another note, but then she heard footsteps... well more like a footstep and a drag, followed by a string of curses and panting.

Her curiosity got the better of her, she set down her water pitcher and descended her porch steps, looking in the direction of the odd noises that didn't often accompany Piltover. Though she was familiar with such things back home, it had been a while since she had been subjected to such events. Though, upon seeing Ina, it was like instinct had kicked in, like she was back home again. Her childhood had conditioned her well, and she was about to recall such skills quite vividly.

Ina would soon learn that it is not just those who are still trapped in the Undercity, but even those who escaped, who could and would endure PTSD. Eden sprang into action, as if it were second nature, not a thought in her mind besides what had been ingrained basically since birth: Revive, assist, survive.

Oh, hello!

Oh, and Vander's statue? I made it, from scrap metal and wiring. You should see it at night, it lights up the whole square. It's beautiful.

Oh, hello!

Oh, and Vander's statue? I made it, from scrap metal and wiring. You should see it at night, it lights up the whole square. It's beautiful.

Oh, hello!

Oh, and Vander's statue? I made it, from scrap metal and wiring. You should see it at night, it lights up the whole square. It's beautiful.