Arcane: Sovereign Of The Broken City

Act 2 – Chapter 1: Day of the Ashes

Year: 973 AN

The air reeked of fire and blood.

Smoke curled around the iron bones of the Bridge of Progress, twisting through the gears and gilded railings as the world tore itself apart. Screams echoed in the distance. Bluecoats shoved past civilians. Enforcers fired blindly into the crowd. Zaunites, masked and angry, surged forward with bottles and torches. Piltover's pristine order had cracked.

And in the middle of it all, on the edge of that chaos, stood a girl — no, something not quite a girl.

Ashryn stumbled against the stone rail, her chest heaving, hair matted to her skin from smoke and sweat. Her fingers trembled. Her knees threatened to buckle. Somewhere beneath the weight of fear and adrenaline, two minds reeled inside one skull.

"This isn't... real," she whispered, voice caught between disbelief and horror. "This... this isn't Earth."

But it was. And it wasn't. The images were too sharp, the colors too rich. Piltover loomed like a dream turned nightmare — the clockwork precision of a city collapsing in real time. Her head throbbed as fragmented memories tangled in her skull — the memories of a man, an engineer, a fan of stories and screens... and the memories of this child's body she now wore.

A ten-year-old girl.

Ashryn.

The name wasn't hers. And yet, somehow, it was.

She gritted her teeth and pressed her back against the stone railing. Her vision doubled for a moment. Somewhere behind her, people ran, trampled, screamed. She looked down at her hands. Small. Dirty. Shaking.

"I was—" Her voice broke. "I had a name. I had a job. I watched this world on a screen. League of Legends. Arcane. I..."

She clutched her head as another memory stabbed through her — a face she couldn't name, a home she couldn't recall, laughter in a language she couldn't place. All gone. Smothered beneath the weight of the girl she now was.

Ashryn.

But there was no time for breakdowns.

A thunderous roar snapped her eyes open. An explosion rocked the far end of the bridge. Screams erupted again. Ashryn turned sharply — and saw them.

Two adults. Bloodied. Coughing. Her parents. Or rather, Ashryn's parents — a burly, broad-shouldered man and a thin, fierce-eyed woman. Both wore ragged jackets, Zaunite scavenged gear stitched with pride. They were fighting their way through the enforcers, trying to reach her.

"MOM! DAD!" the cry ripped out of her throat before she could stop it.

Her father spotted her — his eyes widened in relief. He shoved aside a man with a baton and charged.

"ASH!" he roared. "RUN!"

She ran toward them — or tried to. Her limbs refused to cooperate. Every step felt like moving through molasses. She didn't notice the enforcer until it was too late.

A bluecoat leveled a baton at her father.

"No—!"

The crack of impact sounded like a snapped tree branch.

Her father's body crumpled.

Ashryn's breath caught. The world narrowed.

Her mother screamed — something guttural and animalistic — and lunged at the enforcer with a shard of glass. She managed to wound him, but two more descended. One raised a rifle. Ashryn's mother turned just in time to see her daughter's face.

Then the shot rang out.

The woman dropped.

Ashryn didn't remember screaming. But she knew she had. Her throat burned.

She stumbled back, gasping. The world swam. Everything felt slow. Distant. The smoke. The blood. The gunfire. She staggered forward, fell to her knees beside their bodies. Her fingers pressed to her mother's side.

Warm.

Too warm.

Ashryn's voice cracked as she whispered, "No... please no..."

The enforcers turned toward her. One raised his weapon.

Something snapped inside.

Before she could think, her body moved. She grabbed the shard of glass from her mother's hand and flung it upward — it struck the enforcer in the face. He screamed, staggering. She lunged forward, seized a fallen baton, and slammed it into his ribs with a force that shocked even her.

She didn't wait. She ran.

Blood. Smoke. Gunfire. She ran until the bridge blurred behind her. Until the screams were just echoes in the wind.

---

On the Other End.

Further down the bridge, the scene played out in parallel.

Vi screamed as her parents collapsed. Powder sobbed into her sister's arms. Enforcers swarmed. One raised a baton — only to be blasted backward by a steel gauntlet.

Vander roared, crushing another enforcer's skull with a second punch. His face was twisted in fury and anguish.

"STAY BACK!" he bellowed.

He turned — and saw them. Vi. Powder. Kneeling beside the bodies of Cannon and Felicia, their parents.

Vander's rage faltered. He moved to them. Slowly. Gently.

Vi looked up at him, eyes wild. "They're gone!"

He knelt. Lifted Powder into one arm. Vi clung to him.

"It's alright," Vander whispered, voice hoarse. "You're safe now."

Powder cried into his coat. Vi's eyes rolled back. She fainted.

Vander lifted them both and walked away.

---

Back to Ashryn

She didn't know how long she ran. The golden steel of the bridge gave way to darker metal, to rusted pipes and the bitter tang of Zaunite air.

She found shelter under a collapsed tramline, hidden behind stacked crates. Her breath came in short, wheezing gasps.

Her hands were still sticky with blood.

She looked down at them. At the dirt, the cuts, the shaking fingers. And finally, the tears came.

Not loud. Not sobbing. Just... wetness she hadn't realized until they hit her arms.

She buried her face in her knees.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye..." she whispered.

Everything hurt.

She didn't notice her knuckles were white from clenching her fists until the pain set in.

"I don't even remember my name. My real one. Who was I? Who am I now?"

She thought of the shows. The games. The blue-haired girl. The pink-haired fighter. The underground city.

She chuckled — just once — bitter and hollow.

"Funny... I used to watch stories like this. Now I'm in one."

The chuckle cracked. Became a sob. Then silence.

Eventually, she drifted into unconsciousness, curled beneath the broken rails, dreaming of fire and broken glass.

And so began the story of Ashryn — the girl born again in Zaun, on the Day of the Ashes.