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"Ugh..."
Jarvan IV, perched atop the tower, let out a long, weary sigh.
He had hoped Kayle's final blow would bring devastation to Noxus—at the very least, delay their relentless advance toward Demacia.
Instead, despair settled deeper in his heart than ever before.
As heir to the Lightshield family and the next king of Demacia, he found himself utterly powerless to halt Noxus's march.
The unyielding defense of the floating fortress, the overwhelming might of two mages—those alone were enough to threaten Demacia's very survival.
He couldn't begin to grasp the scale of the ancient Shuriman Empire or the true horrors of the Rune Wars.
But in this bitter moment of defeat, the crushing weight of his own helplessness was all too clear.
What could they possibly do against an empire this vast and powerful?
Was dying for their homeland truly the only fate left?
Jarvan's thoughts churned as he cast a troubled gaze toward the figures atop the fortress wall: Darius, Swain, and LeBlanc.
The two mages were terrifying on their own, but even the three Noxian leaders before him felt like an insurmountable wall for what remained of Demacia's forces.
Still, before he met his end, he had one resolve—Demacia had to know what happened here.
Their kingdom couldn't afford to be caught unprepared.
Desperately, he scanned the battlefield, seeking any chance, however slim, to escape.
Ryan and Syndra hovered side by side, their eyes locked on Kayle—bound and weakened, suspended in the grip of Syndra's dark spheres.
The black orbs surrounding Kayle pulsed, draining her energy and feeding the seal that imprisoned her.
She couldn't break free without help.
Ryan and Syndra exchanged a glance. Then, with a faint smirk, Ryan turned toward the shattered gates.
His voice rang out, clear and sharp:
"She's your sister, isn't she? Won't you come out to meet her?"
Jarvan stiffened at Ryan's words.
Could it be...?
He'd heard whispers from his aunt—that Kayle had a sister.
Morgana, once a guardian of justice in her own right.
Though estranged and bitterly opposed, the two were still bound by blood.
Hope sparked in Jarvan's chest.
If Morgana appeared—if she could take both Garen and the imprisoned Kayle away—then maybe... just maybe... his sacrifice wouldn't be in vain.
From the broken gates, a figure emerged—tall, slender, cloaked in darkness.
"Since the Head of the Council has extended such a gracious invitation," she said coolly, "how could I refuse?"
Chains coiled around her black wings, and a chilling aura of shadow radiated from her form.
"Kayle, my dear sister. We meet again."
"Morgana!"
Still trapped within Syndra's dark spheres, Kayle glared at the approaching figure.
Of all people, Morgana was the last she wanted to face.
She had lost—completely and utterly.
To be humiliated like this, helpless, and now to be confronted by her sister?
How could she still stand for her ideals of justice?
Kayle clenched her fists, her expression twisted in frustration and fierce denial.
"Morgana..."
Morgana's voice was calm, tinged with a hint of mockery.
"Sister, your justice has failed you this time."
Morgana's tone was mocking, laced with a subtle hint of satisfaction.
"But even if I die, I will die for justice," Kayle said coldly.
"Unlike some, who survive by abandoning their principles."
"You think you'll die?"
Morgana's voice remained calm, though the venom in her words was unmistakable.
"Death is the kindest punishment Noxus offers. In their hands, you won't die—you'll become just another experiment in their grand theater. And after that... it only gets worse."
Her words were cruel, but Kayle showed no reaction.
Slowly, she unclenched her fists and met Morgana's gaze with unnerving serenity, as if it were Morgana who was imprisoned, not her.
For a brief moment, Morgana faltered. The confidence in her eyes dimmed, just slightly.
Then, she turned away, shifting her focus to Ryan, still hovering beside Syndra.
Her dark gaze swept over the two of them, lingering on Ryan with a strange mix of familiarity and amusement.
A faint smile played at her lips as she spoke, her tone unexpectedly personal:
"It's been a long time, hasn't it? Should I call you 'Your Majesty, Head of Trifarix'... or simply Mr. Meredith?"
"Ryan will do," he replied with a nod.
"You once saved my life in Demacia. When my magic was exposed, you helped me escape before the Mageseekers could drag me away."
His voice carried quiet gratitude. His journey across Runeterra had been harsh, his immense magical talent both a gift and a curse.
Morgana, standing here now, was one of the few who had extended him mercy when the world offered only fear and chains.
"You've been to Demacia before?" Jarvan's voice rang out from atop the tower, breaking the momentary stillness.
"Over a decade ago," Ryan answered evenly.
"Back then, I was unaffiliated with Noxus. Demacia left a strong impression—though not always a favorable one. For all its order and pride, the kingdom lacks one thing: tolerance."
His words were measured, yet they carried a sharp undertone of bitterness.
Demacia's harsh policies had exiled countless mages.
Ironically, those very policies had become Noxus's greatest recruitment tool.
Every outcast mage turned away by Demacia had found refuge with its enemies.
"You eventually escaped Demacia without my help," Morgana interjected, her voice softening, touched by a distant nostalgia.
"But I never imagined I'd see the day you'd stand here, with Noxians, against Kayle."
Ryan's expression didn't waver. "I am not alone in Noxus. We are united—one purpose, one will."
His gaze shifted deliberately—first to Syndra beside him, then to the looming figures on the fortress wall, and the city stretching beyond.
Morgana's smile deepened, her tone both playful and probing.
"Kayle and I may differ, but let me ask you this, Ryan—and the rest of you: What is justice to you? And how should it be upheld?"
Her question lingered in the air, heavy with meaning, as her gaze rose to the Noxians standing above.
LeBlanc was gone. Her illusory projection had faded with the battle's end.
"Justice? Hah. High-minded nonsense," Darius scoffed, his deep voice echoing from the heights.
"Is that the Noxian answer?" Morgana replied, her smile tinged with something like approval.
Swain's voice followed, steady and resolute.
"The empire is justice. To serve its will is to serve justice itself."
"A fitting answer," Morgana said, almost teasing, before turning back to Ryan and Syndra.
"And you? What do you believe, Mr. Ryan? Ms. Syndra?"
"Justice?" Syndra's voice was cold, dismissive.
"Meaningless. Power is truth. Magic is everything."
Her response was sharp, but her eyes lingered on Morgana with interest.
There was something about the woman—an enigmatic presence—that intrigued her more than the debate.
To Ryan, Morgana had always been a paradox: a divine being burdened with mortal flaws.
Much of the floating fortress's knowledge of the Targonian Aspects came from his own encounters and accounts of Morgana.
Her insights had been pivotal—without her knowledge of Kayle's strengths and weaknesses, this victory would have been far harder won.
"You owe much of today's victory to Morgana," Ryan said quietly, his voice carrying respect.
Morgana's lips curled in a knowing smile.
"Indeed," she said softly.
"But remember this, Ryan—Kayle and I are two sides of the same coin. One cannot exist without the other."