Chapter Text
The war with Noxus has ended and a weary silence has settled over Piltover. The sun, a pale winter coin, glinted off the city's golden spires, but their glow felt hollow.
The city itself was a patchwork of scars. The grand academy, where students once debated the finer points of hextech, was now a triage center. The rumble of the hex-gates, once a joyous sound of commerce, was now a constant thrum of military transport and the hurried movement of aid. The shimmer factories in the Undercity were now silent, their purple glow replaced by the cold, stark light of emergency lanterns.
Piltover was grappling with its new reality. The war had forced them to confront the existence of their neighbors, Zaun, and the peace felt fragile, built on a foundation of unspoken resentment.
The silence was the end of one story, but the beginning of another, a tale of two cities trying to find its soul again in the ashes of a war it had not believed it could lose.
– –
Caitlyn stood on her balcony as she overlooked the broken spine of Piltover and Zaun, the twin cities.
The air on the balcony was a cold, cruel knife, and Caitlyn welcomed it. It was a physical sensation to anchor her, something to distract from the hollow ache in her chest that felt a thousand times worse. The cities below were of muted golds and grays, the sounds of rebuilding nothing but a dull roar in her ears. She no longer saw the city, but only the emptiness where a person used to be.
The person;
Vi.
Violet.
Her. Violet.
The biting wind whipped strands of hair across Caitlyn’s face, stinging her remaining eye. She paid it no mind, the cold, a familiar companion after her.
A part of Caitlyn had hoped to die in battle, she had wished that Maddie had succeeded in shooting her in the head, or that Ambessa should have gone for her heart instead of leaving her with an eye. She would gladly welcome a swift, decisive blow that would have spared her this agonizing aftermath. She had embraced the possibility of falling in battle, of joining her, of joining them.
Them.
Her mother.
Jayce.
Violet.
Caitlyn took a step forward. The balcony railing, destroyed from the war, a mangled skeleton of twisted metal offered no resistance. A single step brought her to the very edge, her toes curling over the precipice. The long drop was an invitation, a final, definitive answer to a question that had haunted her ever since.
Now, with the enemy defeated and the city healing below, she was a soldier with no one left to defend. The sudden silence was deafening, the peace a betrayal. She had fought so hard, bled so much, all for a future that was now a hollow echo. The realization had hit her with a slow, creeping coldness.
She was alone.
The person she had fought for was gone, and with her, her very reason for being.
The idea of joining her, of stepping into the abyss to find the peace she had found, was a siren's call. Caitlyn closed her eyes, picturing her smile, the crinkle at the corners of her eyes, the warmth of her hand in hers. The world below fell away, replaced by the ghost of a memory.
A single tear, cold and sharp, cut a path down her cheek.
She was ready.
The ghost of her smile lingered behind Caitlyn’s closed eye. With a final, agonizing breath, she lifted her foot, taking the last step into the void. The wind howled in her ears, a roaring chaos that promised to sweep her away.
“Commander.”
– — —
Jinx wished for the press of gravel against her skin, a different kind of confinement than the cell that held her captive. She dreamed of being buried in ruins, a body folded into the aftermath of a war she wanted no part of. Not a fighter, not a martyr—just a casualty of something larger than herself. She was already imagining every possible death, and each one felt like a welcome relief.
Because she had already lost in her own war.
Jinx waited. For the stomp of a boot, for the click of a safety being switched off, for the face of an armed enforcer ready to shoot her on the spot. Or maybe a group of them, dragging her out to the public, a final spectacle before the final drop. She waited for Caitlyn Kiramman to point a rifle to her head and get it over with, get her revenge. Jinx hoped she blames her for the death of Vi as much as she blames her for the death of her mother.
But no one came.
No one came for her.
The sounds from above were her only company: the distant pop of gunfire, the wet gush of blood, and the choked-off screams of others. It was as if the world had forgotten about her, leaving her to rot in this underground cell.
Jinx also waited for a chance to escape, a forgotten key or a weakened lock, so she could do it herself. That chance never came either. Her last hope was to simply waste away, a slow fade in the cold, dark cell. To starve, to freeze, to catch some nameless disease from the filth. She didn't care anymore how it happened, only that it would.
The days had bled into each other, each one a borrowed sentence she didn’t want to serve. The noise of war had dulled. The loss of Isha had been the first crack, a fissure in her will to live. But the news of her sister’s death was the final, splintering blow.
And she had collected a lifetime of final straws, and now there were none left to hold on to.
Mom.
Dad.
Vander.
Mylo.
Claggor.
Silco.
Isha.
Vi.
Violet.
She kept replaying their names in her head, a silent, desperate prayer. She had to believe that even in death, they wouldn't forget her. She had to believe they would find her, if only in her own delusion, and visit her. But they didn't. There was only silence.
Jinx had yearned to see them, to hear their voices again. Not just to hear them, but to have them blame her, to tell her how she failed them. To give her a reason for this emptiness. But there was nothing. No words, no faces, no ghosts to haunt her.
Not this time.
That's when she realized she was truly alone. The silence wasn’t just in the cell; it was in her mind. Her family wasn't just gone, they were gone from her completely, leaving her with the cold, hard truth that she was the last one left, utterly and hopelessly alone.
— — —
“Commander?”
A voice suddenly cut through the deafening noise. The sound had pulled Caitlyn out, snapping her back to a world she'd already left.
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Her hand shot out, her fingers scrabbling for purchase. They found the broken, creaking railing, the mangled metal biting into her skin. She grabbed on with a desperate, white-knuckled grip, her weight a terrible burden on the weakened frame. The railing groaned in protest, a metallic shriek that echoed her own internal agony. She hung there for a moment.
Then slowly, painfully, she pulled herself back, her feet scraping against the concrete of the balcony floor. Her shoulders burned with the effort, her muscles screaming in protest. She turned, her heart hammering against her ribs, her single eye locking on the young soldier standing in the doorway.
He was completely oblivious, his eyes scanning the wrecked balcony, then her face.
"Some…Some Zaunites are here to see you." he said, his voice hesitant. He didn't see the terror in her face, the desperation in her grip on the railing, or the single tear track on her cheek.
Caitlyn took a step toward him. Her voice, when it came, was soft but laced with an icy coldness that made the young man flinch. "Do not call me that," she said. "I am not the commander anymore."
She had already shed the title, along with the uniform and the last vestiges of her identity as a soldier. The day the war had ended, she had resigned, re-establishing the council and giving her mother's position to a Zaunite, a voice, she believed would bring more good to the neighboring city.
The boy’s brow furrowed in confusion, the words clearly not computing. He started to stammer out an apology, but Caitlyn cut him off with a gesture. Her gaze, cold and hollow, flickered to the doorway behind him.
"Let them in," she commanded.
The young soldier nodded, a flash of recognition in his eyes as he stepped aside. The door opened wider, revealing two figures silhouetted against the lamplit hallway.
Caitlyn’s eye widened in recognition as they walked closer,
Sevika and Ekko.
They entered, their faces stern. Their gazes fell on the wrecked balcony, then on Caitlyn.
Sevika subtly scoffed, her arms crossing over her chest. "Looks like we just got here on time."
Caitlyn's brow furrowed. "What are you two doing here?" she asked, the question sharp with bewilderment.
Sevika and Ekko exchanged a knowing look, then turned their attention back to her.
“We want you to give us Jinx.”
Caitlyn's body went rigid. The cold she had been feeling since the end of the war was instantly replaced by a flash of white-hot anger. The grief that had consumed her was now a burning fury, directed at the two people who stood before her.
She closed her eyes, firm, then took a breath. “I can’t allow that.” Her voice was barely a whisper. She took another step toward them, closing the distance between them.
Ekko didn't flinch. "We're not here to fight you," he said, his voice calm, but with an underlying steel. "We just want Pow–Jinx back."
"She is responsible for countless deaths. You know this." Caitlyn snapped, her voice rising. She looked at Ekko who only frowned then looked away.
Sevika scoffed again, a wry, humorless sound. "As far as I know she saved your life."
“She surrendered willingly.” Caitlyn responded, her words cutting and precise.
“That doesn’t mean she gets to rot in there forever.” Sevika shot back, her composure finally starting to crack. The three of them stood in a tense triangle.
Caitlyn's gaze flickered between Sevika and Ekko, and a cold dread settled in her stomach. She was torn between her duty as a former commander and her rage as a grieving survivor. Jinx was the person who had killed her mother and yet, she’s the sister of the woman she had loved more than life itself.
She didn't know what to do with her. She didn't know if she could trust herself to not do something unforgivable if she ever saw her. The cold dread was quickly replaced by a profound and overwhelming sense of exhaustion.
She was so, so tired.
Ekko sighed, mirroring Caitlyn's exhaustion. "Look, Caitlyn…Vi wouldn't want this."
The name rang in Caitlyn's ears, a fresh wave of agony washing over her. She flinched, turning her head away as if the sound itself could wound her.
"We'll be responsible for Jinx," Ekko continued, his voice softening, pleading now. "Let us take care of her, please."
Caitlyn said nothing. She couldn't. The words were a physical weight in her throat. Every moment since Violet’s been gone has been a struggle to survive without her. Now, Ekko was holding her up like a shield, using her name to force her hand.
Caitlyn's mind reeled. She had not let herself think of Jinx, the girl held in the deep, dark cells beneath the city. Not once since the war ended. Not since Vi died. The thought of seeing her, of walking into that sterile, cold room and coming face-to-face with her, filled Caitlyn with a terror far greater than any battlefield she had ever known.
She was afraid of what she would see. Would it be the monster who killed her mother, the face she had sworn to avenge? Or would it be the face of the person she loved? The two images clashed in her mind, a dizzying, painful mix of love and hate. She was torn, a commander without a cause, a survivor without a purpose, and a woman without a heart.
And then, a deep, dark part of her, a part she hadn't known existed until this very moment, reared its head. A feeling of deep loss and pain, not for Vi,
but for the idea of losing Jinx.
Because she knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the bone, that Jinx was the last piece she had of Vi. The last tangible link to the love she had lost. The last part of her that was still alive, still breathing, still in her world.
Releasing Jinx would be like losing Vi all over again.
She looked from Sevika to Ekko, their expectant faces a contrast to her internal turmoil. The wind whipped past them, cold and relentless, a mirror of the emptiness in her heart.
A deep sigh escaped her lips, a sound that held all the weariness of the past months. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. The cold, dark part of her that clung to Jinx as the last piece of Vi ached, but it was drowned out by the louder, more persistent voice of her conscience. The war was over.
Vi was gone.
Jinx deserved to be more than a symbol of her pain.
Her voice, when she finally spoke, was hoarse and thin, but it carried the finality of a decree.
"I’ll have a guard escort you to her." She didn't look at them as she spoke, her gaze fixed on the floor, the tiles a blur of muted color.
It was done.
Jinx was gone.
Vi was gone.
And Caitlyn was finally, truly, alone.
– –
Hours, or maybe days—Jinx couldn't tell anymore. The blur of time was a merciful haze, numbing the edges of her reality. She was sprawled on the cold concrete floor, a limp figure with no blanket or mattress to soften the unyielding surface. Her nails were raw and bleeding from where she’d picked at them, a small, mindless act of self-destruction. Her mouth was a parched wasteland, and her long, powder-blue hair was a tangled mess around her face.
Every inch of her body was a symphony of aches and pains, evidence to her slow decay.
But Jinx didn't care.
The pain was just another part of the process, another step toward oblivion. With a final, weary sigh, she closed her eyes. A small, crooked smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She could feel herself withering away, and it felt like coming home.
"Jinx!"
The voice sliced through the haze of her fading consciousness, a sound both sharp and achingly familiar. Jinx kept her eyes shut, convinced it was a trick of her mind, a final, merciful hallucination meant to ease her departure. Maybe her mind had conjured a ghost to keep her company in these last moments.
Then, the unmistakable sound of a steel door being rattled, the turning of a key, the scrape of metal on metal. The sound was too real, too harsh to be a dream. She forced her heavy eyelids open, the simple act a struggle against her body's will to give up. The world swam into a blurry focus, and through the dim light, she saw a silhouette.
Ekko.
Is this part of her hallucination? Has she already died, and Ekko is waiting for her on the other side? Has Ekko died too, and this is where they meet?
Ekko’s face was a map of worry, his features etched with a panicked desperation she hadn’t seen in a long time. Behind him stood Sevika, who tried to mask her own fear with a veil of nonchalance. But Jinx could see the twitch of her lips, the tight line of her jaw.
Was all that for her?
As soon as the steel door swung open with a groan, they both rushed in. Ekko knelt beside her, his hands gentle as he guided her limp body into a sitting position, leaning her against the cold, rough wall.
The touch was a shock to her system, a reminder that she was not yet a ghost. She felt the warmth of his hands, the solid presence of him beside her, and the reality of their faces blurred into a single, overwhelming thought.
They were real.
They were here.
Suddenly, the worry on Sevika's face was replaced by a surge of pure anger. She whipped around, her eyes locking onto the enforcer standing guard behind them. "Haven't you idiots been feeding her?!" she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Are ya' just leaving her here to die!?"
The enforcers visibly startled, fumbling for an excuse. "Well, with the war and everything—" one of them began, but Sevika cut him off. She grabbed the man by the collar of his uniform, pushing him hard against the wall with a furious shove.
"Go get her some fucking food and water!" she spat, her face just inches from his. The enforcers, trembling under her command, nodded in terrified unison before scurrying away to do her bidding.
The weak, raspy sound that escaped Jinx's lips was a laugh, “you do care," she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper. The crooked smile returned to her face, this time with a hint of genuine, bitter humor.
"You missed all the fun," Sevika grumbled, a small smirk playing on her lips, though the worry never quite left her eyes. She turned to watch the enforcers' retreating forms before settling her gaze back on Jinx.
Beside her, Ekko gently held Jinx's face in his hands, his thumbs tracing the hollows of her cheeks. He scanned her features, his eyes searching for some sign of the person she used to be. His expression was a silent plea, a desperate hope that he hadn't arrived too late.
Jinx tried to turn her head away from Ekko's touch, but her body was too weak. She couldn't escape the gentle grasp of his hands. Her voice, a dry rasp, barely carried across the small cell. "What are you doing here?" she asked, the question laced with exhaustion.
"We're getting you out of here," Ekko answered, his voice firm but tender. It was a simple statement, a promise she hadn't dared to hope for. Sevika nodded in agreement, her eyes never leaving Jinx's face.
Jinx looked at them, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, a fragile thought flickered in her mind. Maybe, just maybe, with everything that had happened, she still had a chance at life. Maybe she could undo all the mistakes she'd made.
What a thought, huh?
But Jinx was tired. She had been for a long, long time. The weight of her mistakes was a crushing force, far too heavy to ever be undone. She didn't deserve a second chance. She didn't deserve Ekko. She didn't deserve Sevika. She didn't deserve anything at all.
She doesn’t even want redemption,
She just wanted to be with her sister.
With her family.
With a surge of newfound strength, she managed to pull away from Ekko, moving a painful inch to create some space between them. She lowered her gaze, unable to look into their faces.
"No," she whispered, the word a soft exhalation of her resignation.
Ekko’s breath hitched, a look of confusion clouding his features. "What do you mean, 'No'?" he asked, his voice strained.
Sevika shifted closer, her stern voice cutting through the thick silence. "The Kiramman girl doesn’t have a problem with it. You're getting out of here," she said, her words a statement, not a request.
The name rang in her ears, Kiramman, Caitlyn Kiramman—the reason for all of this, for all her pain, for her sister’s death. That person, her sister's love, the one she had hated with every fiber of her being.
But now, in the depths of her exhaustion, even that hatred felt distant and worn thin. She didn't know how she felt anymore.
“Pow—Jinx. You don’t need to stay here.” Ekko’s hand moved slowly towards her, a silent offer of help, but she weakly waved him away.
"I don't want to get out. Don't you two get it?" Her voice was louder now, a ragged sound of protest.
She didn't know why she was refusing this chance. Why she wanted to die alone in this cold cell.
But she does know.
A deeper part of her, the part that hadn't completely given up, knew the real reason. She wanted to see someone. She wanted to look at the very thing that had kept her and her sister apart and funny enough, together .
The source of all her suffering.
She wanted to look at Caitlyn Kiramman before her final breath.
“Please.”
“Go away, Ekko.”
Sevika sighed, a sound of frustration. She stepped out of the cell, turning her back on Jinx. "I'll get a guard to get her out of here," she said, her voice laced with finality.
Jinx's eyes snapped open. Her pink pupils glimmered with a sudden, pulsing energy she didn't know she had left. She grabbed Ekko, who let out a surprised grunt, and dragged him out of the cell. The steel door slammed shut with a final, echoing thud, the sound of the lock clicking into place.
Everything happened so fast. Before Sevika could even turn around to register what had happened, Jinx had locked herself back inside. The keys, still in her trembling hand, were now on her side of the bars. Sevika's metal fist clanged against the steel, the loud metallic crash echoed through.
A heavy silence descended, broken only by Sevika's frustrated breathing and the lingering echo of her fist against the door. Ekko, still stunned, was leaning against the bars, staring at Jinx in disbelief.
"Jinx, what are you doing?" Ekko’s voice was a soft plea, his expression a mix of confusion and anguish.
Inside, Jinx simply sat down on the cold floor again, her back to the wall. She wrapped her arms around her knees, a small, weary smile on her face.
"I'm staying," she said. She finally felt a sense of control, of purpose. She had made a decision, her own decision, in a life that had been stripped of all choices.
The two enforcers, carrying a tray of steaming food and a jug of water, stopped short at the sight of Ekko and Sevika outside the locked cell. They exchanged a confused glance.
"What's going on here?" one of them asked, his eyes darting from the frantic Sevika to the stunned Ekko, then finally to the figure sitting on the floor inside the cell. He fumbled with the keys on his belt. "Do you want me to open the door again?"
Ekko’s head snapped up, a desperate "Yes!" on the tip of his tongue, but before he could speak, Sevika put a hand on his shoulder. She gave him a look that was part warning, part silent command. He fell silent, his answer unspoken. Sevika simply shook her head at the enforcers. "No," she said, her voice low and steady.
"Just let her be," Sevika said to Ekko, her voice firm. Ekko opened his mouth to protest, but Sevika's unwavering gaze stopped him. He let out a heavy sigh of defeat, the fight draining from him as he finally nodded in understanding.
They were letting Jinx make her own choice.
Ekko took the tray of food and water from the enforcer, his movements slow and deliberate. He knelt down and gently slid it through the bars, pushing it to where it was just within Jinx's reach. He looked at her, his eyes still a swirl of confusion and concern, tinged with a deep, weary sense of defeat.
Jinx's eyes flickered to the tray, then back to Ekko. He was still kneeling there, watching her, his hands resting on the cold bars. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air was heavy with all the things they couldn't say.
Finally, Ekko broke the silence, his voice a low, steady murmur. "When you're ready," he said. "We'll be here."
He waited another beat, as if hoping she would respond, then slowly stood up and walked away, leaving her alone once more.
Sevika's shadow then fell over her. "You know where to find us, kid," she said, her voice softer now, devoid of its earlier frustration.
It wasn't an order or a plea, just a simple fact. Then, she turned and walked away, leaving Jinx with the keys, the food, and the heavy weight of her own decision.
— —
An hour and a half passed. Caitlyn paced outside the building where Jinx’s holding cell was. She felt a sense of restlessness. She had given the order. The guards were instructed. Ekko and Sevika were on their way to the deep cells. It was all happening. But still, she paced, her mind is full of conflicting emotions.
Caitlyn found herself gravitating toward the door, her hand hovering over the cold, metal handle. She wanted to see her.
She wanted one last look at Jinx.
She told herself it was to make sure everything was in order, to ensure the guards followed her instructions. But a more honest part of her knew the truth.
She wanted to look at Jinx one last time before she was finally free from her grasp, from this city, from everything. She wanted a final moment, a final look, a final word.
She wanted the closure she had been denied with Vi.
The thought of Vi's absence, of the abruptness of her death, of the gaping hole she had left behind, made her heart clench with a familiar, agonizing pain. She was gone, and there was nothing she could do to change that. But Jinx was still here, and in some twisted way, she was the one who could provide the closure she so desperately needed.
But what would she say? What could she possibly say to the woman who was both the reason for her pain and the last remaining connection to her happiness?
Caitlyn didn't know.
All she knew was that she couldn't let Jinx go without seeing her one last time.
The sound of the door opening made Caitlyn jump, her restless pacing coming to a halt. Ekko stepped out, his face a mask of pure disappointment and sadness. Their gazes met. Caitlyn’s single eye was full of questions, but Ekko only offered a soft, hurt look before he kept walking, moving past her without a word. He left her standing in the hallway, confused and still full of unanswered questions.
The door opened wider, and Sevika came out with the same look of disappointment. Behind her, the hallway was empty. There was no sign of Jinx. A cold dread, sharp and sudden, clawed at Caitlyn’s insides.
Is Jinx gone?
She spun around, her voice a desperate whisper. "Wait. Where's Jinx?"
Sevika stopped, a low, humorless laugh escaping her lips. "Looks like she's your problem now," she said, her voice laced with bitterness, before walking past Caitlyn and following Ekko.
Caitlyn was left standing alone. A thousand questions screamed in her mind, but they were all drowned out by the crushing weight of one certainty:
Jinx had stayed.
…
Three days passed in a blur. Sevika and Ekko never came back. They didn't return for Jinx, didn't check on her, didn't even send a message. A part of Caitlyn seethed with anger at them.
How could they just leave her behind?
Why wouldn't they even try to force her out of the cell, to push her toward freedom?
The guards had delivered the strangest report: Jinx had the key to her own prison cell, but never once attempted to escape. Or. just leave.
It was baffling, and yet, as much as she hated to admit it, Caitlyn felt a sense of relief. Jinx wasn't gone. She had stayed. She was still here, in Piltover, just a few levels below Caitlyn's feet.
The gnawing fear of losing the last connection to Vi subsided, replaced by a new, more complicated feeling.
Still, Caitlyn couldn't bring herself to visit the cell. She couldn't face the woman. She couldn't look into those eyes and know what to feel. Instead, she relied on the guards for updates, her heart clenching with each report. Jinx was still in the cell. She was, in every way, a prisoner by choice.
The next day, a guard reported to her, his voice hushed and hesitant. "Comma–Ms, Kiramman... the prisoner–Jinx isn't eating."
Caitlyn's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "Since when?" she asked, her voice firm, authority returning in a surge.
"Four days ago," the guard whispered, his gaze dropping to the floor.
Caitlyn felt a familiar anger bubbling up inside her, a hot, tight knot in her stomach. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain composed.
"And you bring this up only now?" The firmness in her voice was a razor's edge. The guard looked apologetic, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Caitlyn turned around, taking another deep breath to calm her frayed nerves. "How is she?" she asked, her back to the guard.
"She's mostly just been lying on the floor," he reported, his voice barely audible. "The food we bring her just keeps getting spoiled. She hasn't touched any of it."
Caitlyn shut her eyes. Is she trying to kill herself?
Caitlyn’s composure shattered. The tight knot of anger in her stomach unraveled into a cold, hard dread.
"Get me the key," Caitlyn said, her voice trembling with an urgency she hadn't felt since..."Now."
The guard, startled, saluted and hurried off. Caitlyn stood there, her heart hammering against her ribs. A few minutes later, the guard returned, placing a cold, heavy key in her hand. It felt like a stone, a physical weight representing all the grief and guilt she had been carrying.
She didn't hesitate. Without a word, she strode out, the key clutched in her hand, and headed down the winding staircase toward the deep cells. The fear of what she might see, of what she might feel, was still there, but it was overshadowed by a more powerful fear.
As Caitlyn neared the deep cells, her footsteps grew heavier, each one a leaden weight against the concrete floor. The air grew colder, thick with the smell of damp stone and stale despair.
Then she saw her. A shock of powder-blue hair, long and matted, was spread across the floor, half-covering a frail, motionless body. The sight was a punch to the gut.
Caitlyn stopped in front of the cold steel door, her heart hammering against her ribs. She called out her name, her voice a thin, shaky whisper.
"Jinx."
There was no response.
With trembling hands, she fumbled with the key, the cold metal feeling foreign in her grip. The lock turned with a grinding protest, and the cell door creaked open.
Caitlyn stood rooted to the spot, unable to force her legs to move.
"Check her," Caitlyn commanded.
The enforcer, a young woman with a face ashen with concern, moved with urgency. She knelt beside Jinx, her fingers pressing against her neck.
"She's unconscious."
– –
Caitlyn was back at the Kiramman manor, back in her unnecessarily large bedroom. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a gilded cage. She sat on a chair near the foot of the bed, a dark island in a sea of opulent linens. And in the bed, where Vi had lain in her final moments, lay her unconscious prisoner.
Jinx.
She could have brought her somewhere, anywhere but here. Instead, she commanded–insisted her guards to carry her back in the confines of her bedroom.
The absurdity of it all made a dry chuckle escape her lips. She had avoided Jinx like the plague, and now Jinx was here, in her bed, in the place where Vi had taken her last breath.
Caitlyn’s throat went dry at the memory, a sudden and painful constriction. Now Jinx, her sister, lay in the same bed, pale and motionless.
Caitlyn stood, the chair scraping against the polished floor as she pushed it back. She moved to the bed, her single eye taking in Jinx’s frail form. The girl's breathing was shallow, barely a flutter of the covers. Caityn reached out a hand, her fingers hovering inches from Jinx's pale face, but she didn’t touch her. The chasm between them was too wide, filled with months of war, death, and a love that was now just a painful memory.
The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the soft, rhythmic hum of the air. Caitlyn’s thought of the irony. She had fought a war to save her city, only to find herself a prisoner in her own home, trapped by grief and a silent, motionless girl in her bed.
She had wanted to die. She had been ready. But now, she had a new burden.
Jinx.
The living embodiment of everything she had lost and everything she couldn't let go of.
She turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking softly shut behind her. Her mind was already racing, planning. She would call the best doctors, get the best medicine. She would force Jinx back to life, whether she wanted it or not.
The war was over, but Caitlyn's fight had just begun. This time, it wasn't to save a city, but to save a ghost of a person she both hated and desperately needed.
She would not let Jinx share the same fate as her sister. She would not let her slip away into the peaceful oblivion Vi had found. No.
Caitlyn would keep Jinx alive.
She would keep her miserable. With her.