Chapter Text
The day Jayce’s apartment exploded, the weather had only just started to clear up. Soft rays of sun brushed against snowy streets, the picturesque streets of Piltover probably full of bustling citizens. In all likelihood, the whole thing looked like a scene out of a postcard. Jayce wouldn’t know.
He was in the lab again, searching frantically for another pencil–he broke his newest one in the most recent fit of feverish sketching. He didn’t know exactly what he was drawing, the vague images seeming to claw their way out of his addled mind onto fingerprint-smudged paper.
A new pencil was acquired, found somewhere under mounds of crumpled paper and other supplies.
Charcoal, paints, inks, and blood. No mediums could quite capture the restless visions that haunted Jayce Talis, slipping through his fingers like smoke. The lines never seemed sharp enough, the colors never quite right. He pressed harder, the graphite snapping again under his grip.
Frustration burned in his chest. He exhaled sharply, shaking his hand as if to rid himself of the tremor that had started to plague him more often. The fever wasn’t helping. Nor was the exhaustion. But the images wouldn’t leave him alone, wouldn’t grant him peace until he gave them form.
Crystals glowing in blue. Machines gilded in brass, their intricate gears turning with a purpose he couldn’t quite decipher. The lines blurred together in his vision, an impossible fusion of mechanical and magical, something both familiar and utterly alien.
Smearing ink across his palm, he reached for another sheet. If he could just—if he could just get it right—
I sound insane.
The thought occurred quite abruptly, causing his head to slowly rise from his hand. Jayce blinked a few times, seeming to wake up from a particularly violent dream. Or death.
It was the third time this week. The third time he seemed to lose himself in the visions. The drawings.
He glanced at the window, finally noticing the pleasant weather. It was nice to see the blue sky every once in a while. Oh, how he hated the winter.
At least the constant work took away chills he got whenever he looked up long enough to see the heavy blankets of snow outside. It could be replaced by a different type of pressure.
The weight on his mind that never eased—the experiment. Sometimes, it consumed him entirely, pulling him under until hours slipped by unnoticed. His thoughts fixated on the next step, the next breakthrough, the tantalizing possibilities. The promise that Hextech could change everything.
A safer Piltover, a brighter future, a world where magic and science worked together in harmony—all of it within his grasp if only he could solve the next puzzle.
Jayce had the crystals. He had the equipment. The money. Everything except the answer.
… And maybe the permission. Though, who was really going to stop him?
He lived alone, his apartment empty save for the machines and the papers that cluttered every surface. And, of course, the crystals. But that didn’t bother him. In truth, the solitude gave him the space to think, to tinker, and to chase this muddled dream seared into his mind.
Yet, even as he relished the quiet, a constant buzz of restlessness lingered. There was always more to do, another test to run, another calculation to refine.
Guiltiness and fatigue clawed at him. He was most definitely not sanctioned for the type of work he was doing.
All would be forgiven once they saw the bearings of his work. This would change everything.
Everything.
- - -
Jayce stood alone in an empty hallway, the sound of his thoughts drowning out all else, his mind scrambling to keep up with the ideas that seemed to swirl around him like a storm.
“Jayce, my boy!”
The voice of Professor Heimerdinger cut through the fog of his thoughts like a lifeline.
Jayce whirled around, grateful to hear the familiar voice. “Professor Heimerdinger!” he called, quickly moving toward the small, bearded figure. “I was just looking for you. This is where you said to meet, right?”
Despite the countless times Jayce had walked through Piltover Academy, the building remained a labyrinth of identical hallways and featureless rooms. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be in the basement—a place he rarely ventured—for something as mundane as meeting Heimerdinger before they made their way up to his office.
The dim lighting and faint hum of machinery only added to the oppressive atmosphere. Still, Jayce trudged forward with the professor at his side, boots echoing against the stone floor.
Heimerdinger had invited him to catch up, something they did occasionally to discuss things like recent experiments, unruly students, and any other happenings of their day-to-day lives. Jayce wasn’t one for idle conversation these days, but he had to admit he was grateful for the excuse to escape his recent grind of endless work from sunrise to well past sunset.
Heimerdinger chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “Ah, indeed. Navigating the halls of the Academy proves an exceedingly difficult endeavor for a man of my… stature, so I do apologize for my tardiness, Mr Talis.” he said, his voice full of warmth.
Jayce laughed from deep within his chest, appreciating the professor’s humor. After weeks of isolation in his cramped apartment, he was glad to hear a familiar voice.
The two of them chatted as they made their way toward the higher floors. But through it all, Jayce’s thoughts continued to drift back to the glowing blue light he knew awaited him, the pulse of magic and energy calling him home.
- - -
Jayce smiled to himself as he returned from his meeting with Heimerdinger. Despite his wandering mind, their chat had gone well, leaving him in relatively good spirits. It was always a pleasure to catch up with old friends, of which he didn’t have many.
However nice the conversation had been, however, it was time for Jayce to return to his tasks. He needed to take a small trip down to the Undercity. The project required more supplies.
It was an exhausting endeavor, however. Crossing the bridge to reach the undercity was no small task, with guards and checkpoints every 10 feet.
“Identification?”
“Destination?”
“Purpose of your trip?”
The suspicious eyes of enforcers dug into his face and back, eliciting a cold sweat. No normal Piltover citizen went to the undercity for a reason that wasn’t absolutely necessary. They were suspicious. Jayce’s grip tightened around the strap of his bag, but he stood tall, careful not to give away any sign of unease. His breathing was steady, controlled, despite the pressure mounting from all sides.
“I’m conducting research,” Jayce replied with as much confidence as he could muster. His eyes met those of the enforcer, locking in an intense stare. “I’m with the Academy.”
The enforcer didn’t flinch but raised an eyebrow. "Research, huh?" His gaze moved down to Jayce’s bag and then back to his face, trying to pick out any inconsistency.
"Yes," Jayce said firmly, taking a step forward. "I’ll be in and out. This work is important. Important enough to risk a quick visit. You’ll see my face in the paper by the end of the year."
He almost flinched at his own words. The whole egotistical-scientist act was an unpleasant shield, no matter how necessary—one that kept people from looking too closely. The moment someone wanted to know him, really know him, was the moment everything fell apart. Friends could not be afforded.
The guard didn’t move right away. He studied Jayce for a long moment, expression unreadable, before finally stepping aside. “We’ll see about that.” The words carried weight, but not as much as the lingering look that followed Jayce through the gate.
He exhaled as he stepped forward, the air shifting around him. The scent of rust and oil clung thick to the back of his throat, settling heavy in his lungs. Here, the streets were uneven, patched together with whatever scraps could be salvaged. Neon signs flickered weakly overhead, barely holding back the encroaching dark.
Every step felt like a calculation. Every alley, a question of risk.
I need the supplies. He tugged his hood lower, willing himself smaller, less noticeable. The last thing he needed was to be recognized.
The crowd ebbed and flowed around him—workers hauling crates, vendors calling out hoarse sales pitches, children darting through gaps with the ease of practiced escape. Some people sat slumped in the doorways, the sharp scent of alcohol curling in the damp air.
Jayce kept moving. He had no choice. But when a frail man doubled over in front of him, retching violently onto the pavement, he faltered. The sound was wet, ragged. Too much coming up, too little of him left to lose.
Jayce’s stomach turned, but not just from the stench.
He had graduated from Piltover academy as a double major. Medical research and mechanical engineering. This man suffered from alcohol poisoning and no doubt a failing liver.
Only him and half the people on the block. He reminded himself sternly, he needed to get away from the mess.
It wasn’t his first time in the Undercity. It wouldn’t be his last. And yet, the same unease clawed at him, restless, unshakable. The Undercity was a beast slowly eating itself alive, and its people were left to rot alongside it. Proof was right in front of him, laying in a pool of vomit.
In and out. Emphasis on out. Get away from this man.
But his feet didn’t move right away. They never did.
- - -
He hadn’t lingered long in Zaun—just enough to pick up supplies for his latest project, items that were either too specialized to acquire openly in Piltover proper or just plain illegal. Once his business was concluded, he quickly crossed the bridge back to the city, items in hand. He was glad to leave the oppressive air of the Undercity behind.
…And then return to the even more oppressive air of his rooms.
To his surprise, Caitlyn was there to greet him with a smile outside his apartment building, her posture relaxed as she shifted on her feet. “You’re looking better than the last time we met,” she said kindly. “Heimerdinger must’ve had some uplifting words for you.”
Jayce chuckled. “He always does.”
They exchanged pleasantries before Caitlyn asked to accompany him to his apartment in exchange for carrying the newly bought supplies. He couldn’t very well say no even if he wanted to. Caitlyn was the daughter of his patrons–the Kirammans–who funded his research. A young man from a family of hammer-makers couldn’t afford to fund the technology of the future all on his own, after all. The two walked together, their conversation light but engaging enough.
“You really went to the Undercity to get all these?” she asked, and Jayce almost laughed at the awe in her voice. “Weren’t you afraid?” He knew the real answer was yes. He was many things, but brave wasn’t one of them, and he would be lying if he said the Undercity didn’t unnerve him.
That wasn’t going to stop him from bragging just a bit, though. “A little danger is worth the risk, don’t you think?”
Before she could reply, Jayce watched an item–a small, brass gear–roll out of the box and noisily clank down the stairs they had just climbed. He chuckled.
“You’ve got to be careful with this sort of stuff, Cait. That’s your parents' money you're dropping.” He said, dropping his keys onto the top of the box she was holding.
“Go ahead without me - unlock the door and set the stuff down on any open table space you can find. I’ll go get our little lost friend.”
She sheepishly nodded while he pivoted on his feet.
He trotted lightly down the stairwell to retrieve the fallen part, eager to begin his work once again. Caitlyn walked up ahead without him, turning a corner. His door was directly on the left.
As he chased the rolling gear, though, Jayce felt something… off. He could’ve sworn he heard voices from up ahead. From his apartment? He shook off the feeling before finally picking up the little cog at the bottom of the stairwell.
“Who’s in there?” Cait’s voice sounded from up at the top, muffled. She was alarmed. “What are you doing in this apartment?”
Jayce’s head shot up. What was going on? He cautiously straightened his spine, hairs on the back of his neck rising.
Banging noises started to sound from way above him. What was she doing?
Was Cait… trying to break in the door? Were his keys not working?
Move, you idiot!
Internal scolding spurred his heavy feet into action as he sprinted up the steps and around the corner, taking in the view.
The box of machine parts was discarded and spilled all over the ground. Caitlyn had her foot up in the air, ready to strike at the heavy door. Voices came from within his apartment, alarmed and hushed.
Someone had broken in.
Jayce’s mind raced, a whirlwind of panic and calculation. The apartment was full of delicate, volatile, and undeniably illegal instruments—things that couldn’t be found, things that couldn’t be lost.
He lurched forward, ready to help Caitlyn.
Then, a sound like shattering glass.
A brilliant blue light seeped through the cracks of the door, outlining it like an otherworldly portal. There was no time to react before the explosion ripped through the air.
A force like a tidal wave slammed into him, hurling him backward. His skull cracked against the wall. Stars burst in his vision, then smoke, fire, screaming—everything at once, a chaotic symphony of destruction.
Caitlyn.
She had been closest to the blast.
Pain gnawed at every inch of him as he forced himself upright. His head swam, darkness creeping in at the edges, but he had to see—he had to know.
The door and surrounding wall were gone, obliterated into a pile of smoking splinters. His gaze darted through the wreckage, searching frantically. Then he found her.
He had seen it all—the impact, the way the force had lifted her, sent her small body crashing against the wall like a discarded rag doll. Now, he saw something even worse.
Her limbs were bent in ways that weren’t natural, joints twisted beyond what a body should endure. But it was what he didn’t see that stole the breath from his lungs.
There was no movement. No rise and fall of her chest. No flicker of breath.
Jayce moved without thinking, sinking to his knees beside her, fingers trembling as he reached for her shoulder. He gave it a gentle shake, as if waking her from a deep sleep.
“Caitlyn?” His voice barely carried over the distant ringing in his ears.
Slowly, so slowly, he turned her over.
Her face—oh god. He couldn’t look, couldn’t look—but he did. Blood seeped from every wound, skin marred by gashes, her nose smashed beyond recognition. Her eyes, wide and unseeing, stared past him, past the world, past everything.
Just moments ago, her blue eyes had burned with determination, with life. Now, they were frozen, locked on something he would never see.He didn’t know what to do.
What could he do?
Hands shaking, he reached forward, gently pressing her eyelids shut. It wasn’t enough. Nothing could be enough. But at least this—at least this made it look like she was only sleeping.
Distantly, he registered the chaos around him—screams, the frantic shuffle of feet as people fled the destruction. But he couldn’t move.
Could barely breathe.
Jayce gathered her into his arms. She was so light.
Too light.
His hands were wet—slippery, stinging. Blood. His, maybe. Hers, definitely. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the sight in front of him.
A weight heavier than stone settled in his chest, crushing, suffocating. The smoke, the blood, the ruin—it blurred together, melting into the edges of his grief.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
This couldn’t be happening.
Yet, here she was, limp and broken in his arms. And there was nothing—nothing—he could do to change it.
A sharp, metallic scent filled his nostrils. The crackle of flames gnawed at the edges of his senses. The world moved around him, but for Jayce, time had stopped.
Something wet dripped onto Caitlyn’s ruined face. It took him a moment to realize it was his own tears.
Grief overtook him like drowning. A darkness seemed to settle in his bones. In his soul.
This girl. This child. Was dead. And it was entirely his fault.
Blame could be placed on no one else’s shoulders. But still… what had caused the blast? His materials were unstable, but not enough to simply combust. Something had happened. There had been voices.
He tore his eyes away from the body in his arms long enough to peer through the smoking hole that was formerly his apartment entrance.
There were people in there. Small people. Children.
He could barely make out their bodies through the smoke but what he heard was the wailing and screaming. There were three–maybe four–of them huddled around
a figure on the ground. Red hair.
“VI!”
- - -
“Jayce Talis was found unconscious shortly after an explosion from within his academy apartment. He had been found with the body of Caitlyn Kiramman. One of two casualties.”
Jayce stirred awake to the faint sound of voices and the sharp sting of antiseptic in his nose. His eyelids felt like lead, his head pounding as though it had been split open.
He was lying down. Where?
Caitlyn.
His eyes shot open like a man returned from the dead as he tried to bolt upright. Two pairs of firm hands pressed him back down.
Bright fluorescent lights assaulted his eyes, amplifying a dull ringing from behind his ears.
As his vision adjusted to the incessantly bright environment, he took in his surroundings as quickly as his groggy mind would allow.
White tiles stretched across a sterile room. He was covered in a thin, wool blanket. Medical personnel surrounded him and multiple figures could be seen sitting in benches around the room.
Jayce tried to open his mouth–to ask about what happened. To say anything to break the deafening silence pressing on the room.
All he could manage was a quiet croak.
A man whose face could barely be seen behind a mask quickly signaled for something. Before Jayce could react, a cold glass of water was shoved to his lips. He drank greedily, the water dribbling down his chin as his throat eased.
“Where–”
“Don’t strain yourself.” The man’s voice was almost as cold as the air.
“Caitlyn.” It wasn’t a question. Jayce already knew the answer to this.
“Deceased. Found on scene.” The words hit like a physical blow. An unfamiliar voice this time. Jayce’s eyes swam in and out of focus as a new figure approached his bedside. The team of doctors split like water as a stern looking woman, probably in her late fifties, dressed in official enforcer gear approached Jayce.
“Commander Grayson.” She introduced herself curtly, nothing but business allowed in her tone. “You have some explaining to do, Mr. Talis.”
The grief weighing down on him was the only thing that kept him grounded in this situation. It was too much. Everything had gone wrong.
His eyes quickly turned downcast. This was it.
Explaining to do - he knew what that meant. What came next.
An arrest. A trial. Prison.
And why shouldn’t it?
Jayce knew what he was doing had been illegal. Had known it all along. Hextech was not sanctioned. Not by his sponsors, the enforcers, the academy, and most
certainly not by the council. He had just never thought that something like… this could happen.
Before Jayce could go confessing his guilt, however, something he had heard a few minutes ago came to the front of his thoughts.
“You said two casualties.” He managed to meet Grayson’s eyes. They were hard. Unforgiving. “Who was the second?”
She sighed and crossed her arms, something like remorse flashing across her face. It was gone in an instant, replaced by simple annoyance. “Undercity girl. We don’t know who she is or why she was in your apartment, but we do know she wasn’t alone.”
Jayce’s memory started to stir without warning. Images of children crowded around a figure with crimson hair. Wails of mourning. He brought a hand to his temple, trying to massage out the ringing behind his ears. Grayson was kind enough to wait until he met her eyes again before she continued.
“They managed to escape in the chaos. Efforts are underway to locate the fugitives, but they’re already back in the undercity. It’s like trying to find a needle in a damn haystack.” Irritation crept into her emotionless voice as her eyes bore into Jayce’s.
He knew what was next. The accusation. And now what were six highly dangerous and illegal crystals, along with flammable, combustible, and who knows what other types of materials doing in your apartment.
It would be a valid question, and not one Jayce could answer with the lofty, unrefined visions he had for his project.
Before the anticipated questioning could come, however, Grayson said something he wasn’t expecting.
“Little shits scrubbed the place clean. Them and the explosion that is.”
Jayce’s heart skipped a beat.
His work was… gone?
His life’s work?
Crystals and magic and technology and some brilliant mix of it all. Wizards and the arcane and blurry dreams of runes like nothing ever seen before.
Suddenly he was 14 again and his mother had that look in her eyes. Like she was losing him.
Mi hijo, you need to let this go. It’s been… it’s been so long Jayce. Come back to me.
“Talis?” A gruff voice dragged him back to an unfortunate present. “You still with us? We have some questions we need you to answer.”
A hundred things pressed down on Jayce in that moment. Grief, guilt, fury, and, strangest of all, a twisted hope.
Hextech had started it. His dreams of magic and technology had fueled him. Driven him to ends no one should ever reach. And now, they had killed someone. Not just Caitlyn, but another child as well. An undercity girl.
His mind wandered to the dirty streets under clouds so thick not even the sun could reach them. Sick people, dying people, and miserable people. People. Real people.
People like the one he had killed. A girl. Vi. He was familiar with the wails of grief now.
“The girl.” Jayce interrupted the Commander. “Where is her body?”
Grayson looked taken aback. “It… was returned to her family. The service will be held today after we question the father.”
Jayce nodded slowly, processing. “Good.”
Grayson narrowed her eyes at him like she was looking down her nose at someone losing their mind. Maybe he was. “Why? You know her?”
Jayce shook his head but before he could speak a figure shot up from their seat in the far corner.
“What does this have to do with anything?!” A hoarse voice, thick with a proper Piltover accent shattered the quiet atmosphere. Cassandra Kiramman.
“My daughter is dead. She was found with this man and I have only heard her name mentioned once. We need to be asking the real questions, not interrogating him about some undercity urchin!” Her voice was weighted by a heavy grief. Jayce saw her red rimmed eyes. She was grieving and she was furious. He would be too.
“Mrs. Kiramman, as I said, the interrogation process is a lengthy one and not something that can be rushed. We need to–” The Commander put up a pacifying hand, meant to soothe.
Jayce interrupted her again.
“Caitlyn met me outside my apartment building as a surprise. I had just picked up some supplies in the town square.” As he spoke, all heads in the room snapped towards him, eager for more.
He would tell them everything. Everything except the true nature of the stolen equipment. Hextech had brought him far enough down this path. And now, Hextech had been sacked and stolen, long out of any of their reach.
And if Jayce had any say in it, it would stay that way.
He would tell them his story, and then? Then, just maybe, he would get the chance to start a new one.
If not for himself, then for Caitlyn, with her blazing blue eyes and crinkling smile. For Vi, with all her unknowns. Unknown family, friends, and unknown future.
Not unknown. He corrected himself.
Cut short. Unrealized.
If not for himself, then for that tragedy alone.