chapter 2

The room he led them to wasn’t a home, not in any traditional sense. The walls were lined with steel and exposed pipes, the air thick with the scent of oil and chemicals. It was cold, uninviting—but it was safe.

Or so Mia wanted to believe.

She sat on the edge of a rickety cot, watching Powder poke around the room. Powder’s usual curiosity had returned, her grief momentarily pushed aside as she explored every nook and cranny of the strange place. Mia’s own curiosity bubbled up inside her despite the heaviness in the air. She hadn’t been in a place like this before, and there was so much to look at—the pipes twisted and turned along the walls, like something from a storybook, and the shadows seemed to whisper secrets Mia couldn’t quite catch.

The man—the stranger—stood by the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. His gaze didn’t leave them, but there was something about the way he stood there, watching, that made Mia feel like she was under a microscope. He was tall and wide, his posture commanding, like he belonged in this world. Mia didn’t know who he was, but she could feel the power he radiated. It made her uneasy but also... intrigued.

She shifted on the cot, pulling her knees to her chest, trying to make herself smaller. She didn’t know what to think of him—he was a mystery, and Mia had always loved mysteries.

"Why are you doing this?" Mia asked, her voice small but firm. She hadn’t meant to ask, but the words had slipped out. She couldn’t help it—this man, this stranger, was the one offering them a place to stay, but it didn’t feel right. Not yet.

The stranger turned to her, his eyes briefly narrowing as if he was weighing her question. "Because no one else will," he replied simply.

Mia frowned, her brow furrowing as she thought it over. "That’s not an answer," she muttered, too curious to let it go.

The man seemed to smile at that—just a little tilt of his lips, like he was amused. "It’s the truth," he said, his voice steady, almost soothing. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you? The way Piltover crushes us under its heel. The way even our own people turn their backs when things get hard.”

Mia’s mind flashed back to the day everything had fallen apart—her father’s broken face, the anger in his eyes, the feeling of helplessness she couldn’t shake. She felt a tight knot in her stomach, but she didn’t let it show.

“I offer sanctuary,” he continued, stepping closer. “A chance to belong. Isn’t that what you both want?”

Mia’s lips parted slightly, the words tugging at her heart. She didn’t know what belonging felt like anymore. Not after everything had been torn apart. And yet, the thought of finding a place, of feeling like she wasn’t alone, made her stomach twist in a way she didn’t understand.

She glanced over at Powder, who was now sitting on the floor with her doll, her fingers gently running over the fabric as she hummed a soft tune. She looked so small, so fragile, so completely lost in this world. Mia wanted to reach out to her to protect her. But she wasn’t sure she could do that here. She wasn’t even sure she could protect herself.

Powder’s eyes flickered to her for a moment, like she was looking for reassurance, but Mia didn’t know how to give it.

The stranger’s voice cut through her thoughts, low and almost soft. "You don’t have to trust me," he said. “Not yet. But actions speak louder than words.”

His words didn’t comfort Mia. She was used to trusting people who had proven themselves. And she had learned, the hard way, that promises often didn’t mean much.

He turned toward the door. “Rest. You’ll need your strength.”

As he left, the room felt heavier. Mia felt the absence of his presence more than the weight of it. It was like he had left a part of himself behind in the room, something she couldn’t quite place but felt all the same.

Mia stared at the door for a long while after he left, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to ask him more—who was he really? Why was he doing this? What did he really want?—but she didn’t know if it was safe to ask. Not yet.

Her gaze drifted to Powder again, still clutching her doll, humming that same song. It sounded almost like a lullaby, but it didn’t soothe Mia the way it seemed to comfort Powder. For a moment, Mia thought of her old life—the way it had been before all of this had happened—and wished she could go back.

But she couldn’t.

And so, she stayed.

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