Luxanna walked down the street, casually greeting the passing pedestrians with a warm smile.
Everyone recognized her from the last parade—the Crownguard girl who had proudly held the Demacian flag at the front of the procession.
She had learned much from her teacher over the years.
One lesson stood out: every reform, no matter how noble, inevitably came with consequences.
She remembered a story told by an ancient Shuriman historian.
The last emperor of Shurima had tried to abolish slavery—only to be betrayed by his closest friend.
Her teacher believed that the emperor's friend was simply too ambitious.
But Luxanna could understand there was more to it than that.
That friend had once been a slave himself.
Perhaps the hatred had taken root in his heart long before the betrayal…
Shurima wasn't the only place with such stories.
Similar turning points had happened in Noxus too.
When the first emperor of Noxus rose to power, it was through bloodshed—and behind him walked the shadow of the Black Rose.
Unlike Demacia, Noxus didn't shy away from its history.
Generations of historians had faithfully recorded their accounts, and merchants carried these tales across the continent.
Luxanna had read many of those histories, including one recent account: the "Trifarix Reformation."
Noxus had once been in decay, weakened from within.
But a new wave of leaders emerged to reshape the empire.
At the center was Parliament President Ryan Meredith, a powerful figure who symbolized sheer strength and uncompromising resolve.
Alongside him stood Darius, the legendary general, and Jericho Swain, a man known for his strategic brilliance.
Together, they led a group of patriots who overthrew a weak emperor and exposed the schemes of the Black Rose.
Every time Luxanna read that chapter, she felt something stir within her—a fire, bold and defiant.
Old Noxus was not so different from the Demacia of today.
Back then, Noxus hadn't won a major battle since the siege of Placidium.
They pressed forward in smaller skirmishes, but were slowly losing ground in larger conflicts.
They were fighting on four fronts, nearly against all of Runeterra, yet they showed no dominance.
And now, Demacia stood in a similar position—not beset by enemies from all directions, but facing a reformed Noxus ready to challenge the old order.
Luxanna understood the truth: if Demacia didn't change, it wouldn't just lose—it would be erased from history.
She wanted to become what Ryan Meredith had been to Noxus—a spark of renewal.
A lifeline for her nation.
The smiles of the townspeople around her, their genuine respect, only deepened her resolve.
Soon, she arrived at her second destination for the day:
The estate of House Bouvier.
"Lady Crownguard!"
The guards at the gate recognized her instantly and gave respectful bows.
Luxanna smiled, motioning for them to rise. Her voice was kind and composed.
"Hello. Is Marquis Barrett at home today?"
"He is, my lady. Please, come in!"
One guard opened the manor gate, while another maid inside signaled toward her companions.
One quickly ran inside to announce Luxanna's arrival, while the other gestured politely.
"This way, Lady Crownguard."
As she followed, Luxanna noticed the subtle change.
A few weeks ago, the staff called her "Miss Crownguard."
Now, it was Lady.
The difference wasn't lost on her.
Her efforts—her presence—were starting to matter.
But after the parade, Luxanna could feel the change in how people treated her.
Being addressed formally as "my lady" or "milady" wasn't a sign of distance—it was recognition.
Recognition of her actions, her commitment.
Even her older brother, Garen, was only given that level of respect after he became Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard.
Thinking of him, Luxanna clenched her fist and pressed it gently against her chest, tapping twice in a gesture of affirmation—her quiet way of expressing pride in herself.
Then, realizing she was still in public, she glanced around.
No one seemed to notice. With relief, she followed the maid into the manor, taking in the surroundings.
The Bouvier family was one of the eight great houses of Demacia.
Their status was unquestioned, and their estate reflected that in size, though not extravagance.
The gardens were simple. The lawn was neatly trimmed, but lacked rare flora or ornate arrangements.
No elaborate fountains or towering marble statues stood as symbols of wealth.
Instead, children played freely on the grass, their laughter echoing through the air.
Luxanna watched them for a moment, a soft smile forming on her lips.
Unlike many nobles, the Bouviers had always upheld the virtue of compassion.
Whether it was Earl Adair, the current Minister of Foreign Affairs, or the family patriarch, Marquis Barrett, they believed in caring for the vulnerable.
Luxanna had heard the stories: how the Bouviers took in orphans and homeless children, raising them in this home as their own.
Some whispered that the family's fortune had dwindled for this very reason.
Soon, guided by the maid, Luxanna entered the main hall.
"Luxanna, I'm glad you came."
A warm voice greeted her. A middle-aged man descended from the second floor, dressed modestly yet radiating dignity.
The wooden staircase creaked beneath his step, but his smile was steady and genuine.
"Your Excellency, the Marquis, I apologize for the sudden visit."
Luxanna stood and offered a respectful salute.
She had always admired Marquis Barrett, both for his values and strength of character.
"Please, sit. Lestara took Sona to the Illuminators today. They should be back shortly," Barrett said with a chuckle as he motioned for her to sit.
Lestara was his wife, and Sona—his adopted daughter—had played music during the recent parade.
Luxanna smiled and responded softly, "I hope I haven't caused trouble. I didn't intend for Sona to suffer from any unwanted gossip."
Barrett waved her concern away with a gentle laugh.
"This was Sona's choice, and Lestara and I support her wholeheartedly."
Then, with a knowing smile, he added, "Besides, your brother's often been with Sona. We can sense the sincerity in the Crownguard's presence."
Luxanna's smile deepened.
At the suggestion of their cousin, whom they affectionately called "Clan Sister," Garen had taken on the role of Sona's protector.
She knew it suited him. It was in his nature to defend the innocent, especially fellow citizens of Demacia.
And Sona, gentle and gifted, was exactly the person he wanted to keep safe.
Of course, Luxanna couldn't help but hope that something more might spark between them.
Her brother was brilliant and steadfast but terribly slow regarding feelings—the kind of man who made others worry about his heart more than his blade.
"Marquis," Luxanna said, shifting to a more serious tone, "I came today because I heard that the Lightshield family paid you a visit."
She had heard through her aunt Tiana that Lady Eleanor, one of the royal advisors, had come to the estate the day before—and not alone.
Prince Jarvan had accompanied her. Rumor had it that his expression had been grim when the prince left.
Tiana hadn't said much—only that Luxanna might want to look into it herself.
Barrett blinked in mild surprise.
"Ah, so that's what brings you here."
He didn't attempt to conceal the truth.
"Lady Eleanor proposed a marriage arrangement—Sona, joining the Lightshield family."
"As a royal consort?" Luxanna's brows lifted in shock, her voice caught between disbelief and concern.
The proposal felt rushed—out of character for House Lightshield.
Since the scandal involving Lord Sylas shook the kingdom, mages had grown wary of royal promises.
Luxanna found it hard to believe they thought this was a way to restore that trust.
If a mage could become Jarvan's wife, it would be a powerful symbol—a step toward stabilizing the fragile peace and perhaps even restoring the Lightshield family's fractured reputation.
But for the mage girl... it was a sacrifice.
"His Royal Highness does seem to hold that intention," Barrett admitted.
"I didn't refuse outright. I only said I'd speak with Sona first, to hear her thoughts."
Luxanna could see the hesitation on Marquis Barrett's face.
He truly loved the children he had taken in.
He didn't want to see them become pawns in a political game.
But as much as he cared, Sona was still legally just his adopted daughter.
From a pragmatic perspective, a royal marriage was a match far above her station. He had no real reason to reject it—except personal affection.
Luxanna hesitated, then finally asked, her voice quiet:
"Does Sona know?"
Barrett shook his head. "Not yet. She's kind—too kind. Even if she felt wronged, she would agree without protest."
He sighed, his voice heavy with self-reproach.
"Demacia is beset on all sides—uncertainty within, threats without. And I… I find myself torn. I don't want to act out of selfishness. But…"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
Luxanna understood.
Even if Barrett didn't want it, he likely wouldn't stand in the way when the time came.
And Luxanna herself… she had conflicted feelings about House Lightshield.
Ideally, it would be like what happened in Noxus.
When the tyrant Darkwill was overthrown, all the blame went with him, and the nation began anew.
If Demacia could do the same—cast off its old, oppressive skin—perhaps the future could be different.
But Jarvan… he wasn't a tyrant. He was her childhood friend.
Her playmate in better days.
She didn't want to see him dragged through the mud—or worse, remembered only with hatred.
Not long ago, she and Garen had confronted Jarvan.
Even without her teacher's guidance, Luxanna sensed a strange, pulsing magical aura inside him.
Something foreign. Something wrong.
When he'd faced Garen in sparring, that dark energy had revealed itself in flickers—flashes beneath his skin, in his eyes, in the unnatural rhythm of his strikes.
That wasn't the Jarvan she had grown up with.
And if Sona were to marry into that darkness, it would send a lamb to the slaughter.
Luxanna's thoughts churned violently, like a storm held back behind her calm expression.
Then her gaze steadied, and she spoke with quiet resolve:
"Marquis… I have something to tell you."
An hour later, Luxanna exited the Bouvier manor.
Her expression was solemn, her steps heavy.
She flexed her fingers slowly, feeling the tension in her joints.
She wasn't sure if what she had done was right, but she had done it.
And as a Crownguard of Demacia, she could not allow herself to regret it.
Responsibility wasn't something she'd chosen. It was something she was born into.
But now, she has accepted it.
----------
Academy of War, Department of Magic — Classroom 3C
On the raised platform, Seraphine stood before her class, explaining the complex dynamics of rune magic.
But her gaze kept drifting.
On the edge of her desk, curled up like a bored pet, lay a small, translucent blue spirit—Allie.
The little being lazily rolled back and forth, humming faintly in a way only Seraphine could hear.
For days, Allie had been trailing her more closely again, after having gone strangely quiet not long ago.
Seraphine frowned slightly. She didn't know what had changed.
"That's all for today," she said, closing her book.
"If anyone has questions or needs help, feel free to stay behind."
Despite the dismissal, few students moved.
That was typical in the magic department. Lessons rarely ended when the bell rang.
The magically gifted students—children and young adults both—remained in their seats, scribbling notes, cross-referencing runes, or quietly channeling mana into their parchments.
Seraphine stepped back, observing them.
Watching as these new mages tried to shape their future, one word and symbol at a time.
Listening to the subtle song of souls drifting up from below, Seraphine's expression softened.
Watching her students—so diligent, so full of potential—filled her with a quiet pride.
Being a teacher, guiding these bright young minds through the mysteries of magic... it was a joy she hadn't anticipated.
Perhaps this is how Mr. Ryan felt, she thought—that quiet fulfillment in watching others grow.
"Sister Seraphine!"
A voice called out, crisp and bright.
Annie bounded over, a notebook in one hand, and her ever-present teddy bear, Tibbers, tucked under the other arm.
Her eyes sparkled with childlike clarity and a hunger for knowledge.
Reaching the podium, she stood on tiptoe, her curiosity instantly diverted.
There, lazily sprawled on the edge of the desk, was Allie—translucent blue and shimmering faintly.
Drawn by instinct, Annie reached out—
"Wait!"
Before Seraphine could react, a rune ignited at Annie's fingertips.
It was a fire rune—drawn unconsciously, pure flame magic in a simple, elegant sigil.
With a small pop, the rune flew forward.
Allie blinked, opened her mouth, and gulped—swallowed the rune whole.
Her squinted in satisfaction, gave a delicate burp, and then nuzzled Annie's hand with her round head, clearly pleased.
Annie giggled in delight.
"What a cute little guy!" she beamed, stroking him gently.
Then, glancing up, "Sister Seraphine, did you just say something?"
Seraphine rubbed her forehead, half exasperated.
"I was just... worried you might get hurt."
She shot Allie a mildly annoyed look.
'If you wanted a snack, you could've said so!'
Her runes were still recovering after the last practice. The little spirit was getting greedy.
"Hee hee, it feels a lot like Tibbers. Familiar, warm."
Annie hugged her bear tighter and looked down at Allie with affection.
"Maybe Tibbers can grow up to be like you!"
Watching the two interact, Seraphine felt a strange mix of emotions.
After a few weeks of teaching, she'd come to a conclusion she hadn't expected: Annie's talent might even surpass her own.
After just half a month of study, Annie had successfully condensed her first rune—'Fire'.
Seraphine remembered how long it had taken her to learn 'Water' under Ryan's strict guidance—nearly twenty days of meditation and trial and error.
Annie's progress was both inspiring and humbling.
"So her name is Allie? That's such a pretty name!"
Tired of standing on tiptoe, Annie briefly rested before hopping up again.
She was smitten with the little spirit.
Seraphine smiled warmly and knelt beside her.
Annie looked like a tiny mage now, dressed in student robes that were still slightly too large but already carrying the pride of someone who belonged.
Gone was the timid girl who had enrolled, looking lost.
Such a transformation.
"Ah! Right!"
Annie suddenly remembered her purpose and picked up her notebook.
"Sister Seraphine, I have a question!"
"Go ahead," Seraphine replied, smiling.
"I can already cast a big fireball," Annie said, blinking earnestly, "but I can't seem to control it using rune magic. Can I... reverse it? Use the big fireball to learn the rune version?"
Seraphine blinked, pleasantly surprised.
"You're asking if you can reverse-engineer rune magic from existing elemental spells?"
She helped rephrase the question gently, then nodded in approval.
That was no small idea.
Many elemental mages had raw power, and Annie was naturally among them.
But rune magic was another beast, requiring not just talent, but intense control, structure, and comprehension.
"Yes!" Annie said, eyes shining.
"It's hard to connect two runes... but casting a big fireball is easy!"
She waved her hand, and a fireball the size of her head formed in the air, pulsing with radiant heat.
Allie looked at it, unimpressed.
His dark-blue eyes narrowed, and with a huff, he turned away and flopped down again.
"This," Seraphine said gently, "is your natural affinity. That kind of talent gives you a strong start—but rune magic builds beyond talent. It raises your ceiling, but at the cost of a steeper climb."
She opened her palm. Two runes materialized—'Water' and 'Pierce'—and fused briefly.
A moment later, a precise water arrow formed and shot toward the fireball.
Fssst!
Steam billowed in the air, hissing as both spells canceled each other.
Annie clapped. "That's amazing!"
"Your idea isn't wrong," Seraphine encouraged.
"When my teacher created rune magic, rumor has it he started by analyzing existing spells the same way."
"Really? So what should I do next?" Annie leaned in, eyes bright.
Seraphine grinned and teased, "You should read more of Ms. Syndra's writings on rune magic."
"Ughhh..." Annie groaned, scrunching.
"Ms. Syndra's books are so hard! It's all instinct and talent, no explanation!"
"Well," Seraphine shrugged, "she is the most talented mage in the world."
If Ryan's writings were structured, methodical, and full of annotated diagrams, then Syndra's notes would have been pure force and will, a hurricane of magic bent by sheer intent—no theory, no steps—just results.
However, someone like Annie, with raw perception and magical intuition, might be able to understand them.
"Got it..." Annie muttered, grabbing her notebook and hopping down from the podium.
She walked off, muttering, "Once I learn rune magic, I'm going to beat Rael!"
Seraphine chuckled, watching the determined little girl walk away.
Annie and Rael—two shining stars among the new generation of mages.
Rael was older, more experienced, and refined.
But Annie absorbed knowledge like a sponge, her power expanding by the day.
One day, she might surpass even her.
And that prospect gave Seraphine... urgency.
She needed to keep growing, too—review more of Ryan's notebooks, maybe even revisit Syndra's cryptic volumes.
It would be too embarrassing if her students outgrew her too fast.
She didn't mind seeing them become powerful.
But for her pride, she wanted to delay that day as long as possible.
Everyone else dreams of surpassing their teacher... and I—Seraphine sighed inwardly—had the misfortune of having two once-in-a-millennium geniuses for teachers!
No pressure, right?