Muj Milacek | Viktor Arcane x Reader | Revised

"You were born to rend galaxies from the sky so curl your hands into fists, and sharpen your nails. The next time a man tells you to smile show him bloodstained teeth." - the female of the species // I.s.

A/N: Warnings - Description of serious injuries
Song that inspired this chapter: The Night We Met by Lord Huron

The haze of sleep lifted, and you stirred, reaching out for Sky's urn and notebook, but they were nowhere in sight. Your bed was empty and your body felt heavy and sluggish after hours of tossing and turning.

The events of the night before replayed in your mind. If you had been quicker or stronger, you could have saved your friend, couldn't you? Her death must have been agonizing, and you could still hear her cries echoing in your ears. If only you could turn back time, you would have destroyed the Hexcore before it consumed her, even if it meant sacrificing your own well-being.

It still didn't feel real, that Sky was gone. You half-expected to hear her bright smile or her bubbly laugh, but all that greeted you was a stark and eerie silence.

You slowly rose from the bed and stretched your arms above your head. The clothes lying haphazardly on your nightstand caught your attention, and you pulled them over your tired body. As you dressed, thoughts of Sky flooded your mind, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

What do you do the day after your friend has died? Do you wallow in your grief in bed, or do you get up and distract yourself by attempting to go about your day? You chose the former, your magic already thrumming irritably in your veins and begging for release. You had to give it something to do, and while your hand still throbbed, the painkillers provided by the hospital had done their job well enough that it didn't warrant any numbing via magic.

And if you went about your day, maybe you could pretend like Sky's death never happened.

You made your way through the familiar halls of the Academy, past the workshops and testing chambers you had visited so many times before. But today, a gloomy pall hung over it all. The usual chatter of students was absent. Your footsteps echoed down the empty corridors as you searched for any signs of life.

The lab was no better, just as empty as the rest of the building.

Where was everyone? Had Viktor and Jayce locked themselves away to grapple with the implications of the Hexcore's devastating power? You pictured Viktor immersed in his work, tinkering obsessively to distract himself from the guilt and grief. Jayce was likely doing the same, or arguing with Viktor over the ethics of pushing their research further. Had he told Jayce about Sky? You both hadn't spoken about how you wanted to address her death, but then there hadn't been much talking at all last night. You didn't know which possibility unsettled you more.

You paused warily as you eyed the Hexcore. The swirling arcane energies within glowed, and your own magic stirred restlessly, responding to the orb's agitated thrumming. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your power before it could lash out unconsciously. It spit and crackled at you, warning you to keep your distance. You decided to listen this time.

Why had you been the one chosen to leave your home world and come here? It seemed that your efforts thus far had yielded little good. The ethereal voice from the strange blue void had promised that you held the key to saving them, but you were still unsure of how to unlock it.

It appeared that when you gained more magic you had more visions, though they hadn't exactly been useful so far. You glanced toward a spare gemstone, wondering how many more it would take to unlock visions that could truly aid you, maybe ones you could even use.

Frustration boiled in your stomach. Why couldn't you just do something, anything, useful for once in your cursed existence? Why did you have to stand by and watch the people you care about die? Was there truly nothing you could do to save them without putting the entire city of Piltover in danger?