"Okay, we should get going too," Raviel said as she guided Jill and Excella to land on an island near Bilgewater.
"Where are we going, by the way?" Excella asked.
"Oh, we're heading to Bilgewater," Raviel replied.
"Bilgewater? That's such a unique name. What kind of place is it?" Jill asked.
"Well, Bilgewater is an unmatched port city—home to monster hunters, harbor gangs, indigenous tribes who are mostly pirates, and merchants from all over the known world. You can pretty much buy anything here, which is why I brought you two here first."
"So basically, you're taking us to a black market," Excella said with a smile.
"Yup. Besides, we're looking for good gifts for Allen, and if you want top-quality items, the first stop is always the black market," Raviel replied casually as she floated toward the shore, followed by Jill and Excella.
But on their way, Jill noticed something happening on a small nearby island.
"What's going on over there?" Jill said as she saw a house—maybe a shop—on fire.
"Can we take a quick look?" Jill asked.
"Hmm, of course," Raviel said, not refusing Jill's request.
When they arrived and looked more closely at what was happening on the island, Jill saw a red-haired girl covered in the blood of her parents. She looked around fifteen years old, crying as she held her dying mother.
"Mom—no, please hold on," the girl begged as she tried to cover the gaping gunshot wound in her mother's chest.
A short while earlier—before Raviel, Jill, and Excella arrived—Sarah Fortune had been happily playing in the yard of her home on the remote island where she lived with her parents. Their life was peaceful, and since she only lived with her mother and father on this island, she remained a completely innocent girl unaware of the cruelty of the outside world.
For their daily life, her parents worked as merchants on the island. Her mother was known as a skilled weapons craftsman who could create top-quality weaponry recognized all across Bilgewater, while her father helped by finding customers for their small shop.
A year ago, her father had brought a group of people to the island, and the leader of that group requested that her mother forge a pair of weapons—promising to pay a large sum once the weapons were completed. Naturally, her mother accepted the offer, and even let Sarah help with the crafting process, wanting her to learn the trade.
That afternoon, the weather seemed to be turning rainy, so her mother told her to come inside.
"Sarah, come in. It's going to rain soon—you should wait inside the house," said Sarah Fortune's mother.
Her mother's name was Abigail Fortune, a very beautiful woman who looked remarkably like her.
"Okay, Mom. By the way, is Dad coming home tonight?" Sarah asked. She couldn't help but wonder how her father managed to marry someone as beautiful as her mother. Honestly, she didn't like him much—he rarely came home and spent most of his time drinking with sailors in the city. She always felt he kept company with the wrong kind of people.
"Yep. Your father said he's bringing some guests with him later," Abigail answered while preparing a box that contained two beautiful pistols—her finest masterpiece.
After that, Abigail walked over to Sarah. "Sit here, let me brush your hair," she said, inviting her daughter to sit on her lap.
"Mom, I'm already grown up, you know. I can brush my own hair," Sarah protested a little, feeling like her mother always treated her like a child.
"I know, sweetheart… but can you really refuse such a simple request from your old mother?" Abigail said dramatically, pretending to be sad.
"Mom, you're not old. You're still young and beautiful," Sarah replied, eventually giving in and sitting on her mother's lap.
Abigail smiled warmly when she saw her daughter finally sit on her lap, allowing her to brush Sarah's beautiful blonde hair once again.
"Hmmm, hmmm…" Abigail hummed softly, letting the gentle melody flow into her daughter's ears as she brushed Sarah's beautiful hair.
"Dear friend across the river,
My hands are cold and bare.
Dear friend across the river,
I'll take what you can spare.
I ask of you a penny,
My fortune it will be.
I ask you without envy…
We raise no mighty towers,
Our homes are built of stone.
So come across the river,
And find the world below."
In the middle of her song, heavy rain began pouring down over the island. But their simple, warm home remained sturdy enough to withstand the storm outside.
Abigail hugged Sarah tightly; she didn't really know why, but lately she found herself wanting to do this more and more.
"Hmmm… my beautiful daughter, I hope you'll never leave your mother," Abigail whispered.
"Don't worry, Mom. I definitely won't leave you," Sarah replied.
Not long after, a ship docked at the small island pier. Several crew members stepped off and headed toward their home—and of course, the one who brought them here was Sarah's father.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Someone knocked at their door.
"Looks like your father's back," Abigail said before walking over to open it. And sure enough, her husband stood there, with several clients behind him.
"Welcome home, dear," Abigail greeted warmly. Her husband grinned happily at her welcome.
"Thanks, sweetheart," he said, kissing her.
"Are you drunk again, Garrick?" Abigail asked, a bit irritated.
"Hehe, just a little. I had to this time—gotta keep them happy, right?" Garrick replied.
Abigail could only let out a long sigh. She wasn't exactly angry that her husband liked to drink outside—it wasn't the first time—but their finances were getting tight, and they desperately needed money to get by. The real problem was Garrick's habit of going out constantly under the excuse of "finding noble merchants." He was the one who spent the most money, after all. And this reasoning of drinking "to please clients" was something she found harder and harder to accept.
"Please, come inside," Garrick Fortune said, as Abigail stepped aside, already used to welcoming customers into their home.
But the men outside remained silent. After a moment, one of them, wearing a mask, finally stepped inside. His boots made heavy, deliberate thuds across the wooden floor.
"Is my order finished?" the masked man asked.
"Yes, it's done. Did you bring the money?" Abigail asked the masked man. Nobles from outside the Bilgewater region often wore masks to hide their identities, so she was used to it. After all, their area was known as one of the biggest black-market hubs in all of Runeterra.
"I want to see the item first. After that, I'll hand over the money," the man said, sounding distrustful of the transaction.
Meanwhile, Sarah—who overheard the conversation—felt that something wasn't right. The men waiting outside stayed silent, weapons in hand, just standing there. Slowly, Sarah moved toward a wooden lever built into the wall of their home, ready to activate their trap if anything went wrong.
It was a defensive lesson her mother had drilled into her. Her mother always taught her to stay alert around sailors in this region, since many of them doubled as pirates out at sea.
"Sweetheart, we should just show him the goods first. I don't think it'll be a problem," her husband said, trying to reassure her. He knew how proud his wife was of the high-quality weapons she crafted—pieces she always considered her masterpieces. He also often argued with her about the prices she set, which were sometimes so high that it was difficult for him to find customers willing to buy her work.
Hearing her husband trying to persuade her, Abigail could only let out a slow breath. She then picked up a box that contained two beautifully crafted weapons.
"Here," she said, opening the box. "And don't even think about touching them before you hand over the payment."
"Tsk… here's your money." The masked man tossed a pouch of coins toward her, then immediately reached for the weapons as if he intended to leave right away.
But just as he went to grab them, Abigail snapped the box shut. "I need to count this first."
She opened the pouch—and inside were only a few gold coins and several coppers.
"You must be joking. This is not the deal we agreed on," Abigail said, dumping the coins onto the table: four gold pieces stamped with the squid emblem, and seven copper coins.
"Do you think my work is some cheap trinket you can buy for pocket change? Let me remind you—my creations are top-quality. Not just anyone gets to own them, especially people who can't afford them." Her tone sharpened.
"Sweetheart…" Garrick murmured, trying to calm her down.
"Be quiet, Garrick. I'm conducting business here," Abigail snapped back.
And upon hearing his wife's stern voice, Garrick immediately obeyed—after all, he knew better than to argue when she was angry.
And of course, the masked man grew irritated—especially after being called someone who couldn't afford her work.
"Do you have any idea who I am? How dare you say that to my face," he snapped. Her words had clearly struck a nerve, wounding his pride.
"Oh? And who exactly do you think you are?" Abigail shot back.
The man straightened up and said, "I am the pirate king of Bilgewater. Every pirate in these waters bows to me. So you should hand over those weapons and take your payment."
But Abigail spat right onto his mask.
"I don't care who you are. If you're too poor to afford my masterpieces, don't even dream of owning them. My weapons are far too good to be wasted on a broke man like you," she said, her tone cold and arrogant.
Her husband, seeing things escalate, tried to step in—but it was already too late.
The masked man was furious.
"You've got some nerve!" he roared, flipping the table and hurling it straight into Garrick. The crash sent him sprawling onto the floor.
"Gahhh!"
Seeing this, Abigail rushed to grab the weapons, intending to shoot the man where he stood. But she was a second too slow—he seized her wrist and tore both guns from her grasp.
"Mom!" Sarah cried out and sprinted toward her mother, completely forgetting the trap lever she had been ready to pull moments ago.
Then—
Bang…!
The first gunshot rang out.
"NOOO! Sarah!" Abigail shouted as she saw Sarah collapse weakly, a bullet having pierced through her chest, blood spilling from her daughter's body. Abigail immediately tried to break free so she could reach her child.
"SARAH—ABIGAIL, NO… AHHHHH!" Garrick cried as he got back up and rushed toward the man, desperate to save his family. "Let go of my wife, you bastard!" Garrick yelled, lifting a piece of wood from a broken chair.
But BANG…! The second gunshot echoed inside the house.
"NOOO, GARRICK!" Abigail screamed when she saw her husband die after being shot right in the head.
Meanwhile, the masked man removed his mask while gripping Abigail's two hands tightly with ease, lifting her body up. Abigail was slightly shocked because she seemed to recognize this man who claimed to be the new pirate king. He was Gangplank, the leader of the pirate crew known as The Saltwater Scourge.
"You—let me go! Ahhh!" Abigail yelled, still struggling and trying to kick the man in front of her. But of course, Gangplank only laughed, because her resistance was useless.
"From now on, there will be no such thing as a Fortune shop in my territory." Then—BANG! Abigail was shot by Gangplank right in the chest and her body was thrown aside.
"Hmph… this is the price for daring to step on my pride," he added.
Then he looked at the two beautiful weapons he had just used to kill this family, and he felt disgusted by them. He immediately threw them away and stomped on them. This was because he felt his pride had been trampled by a mere weapon, something completely unacceptable.
"Burn this place," Gangplank ordered his crew before finally boarding his ship and leaving the area.
Meanwhile, Abigail, lying helpless on the floor, could only see her daughter collapsed beside her. "Ahh… no… my… baby…" she whispered, struggling to speak as the bullet lodged in her chest made every breath painful. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at her daughter's lifeless state.
With whatever strength she had left, Abigail forced herself to crawl toward Sarah, even as blood continued to spill from her mouth and nose. When she finally reached her daughter, she gripped the locket around her neck and opened it. Inside was a tiny vial filled with water she had bought from a traveling merchant—water he claimed could bring back the dead, said to be from a land once known as the Blessed Isles.
"Please… please work…" Abigail begged, her voice trembling as her hands shook violently from blood loss. She held on, clinging to the last sliver of hope that her daughter might live. A single drop of the water finally fell, landing on Sarah's lips.
Abigail watched as the wound on her daughter's chest slowly began to heal. Relief washed over her—just a little, just enough. But this wasn't the time to rest. The house around them was burning, collapsing, and Sarah was still unconscious.
Summoning the very last of her strength, Abigail lifted Sarah in her arms and carried her out through the back door. Once outside, she noticed her daughter's beautiful hair—once vibrant—was now drenched in blood, stained a deep crimson.
"Oh, sweetheart… I'm sorry… it looks like I've ruined your beautiful hair…" Those were the final words Abigail whispered as a mother to her child… before she drew her last breath.
******
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