Chapter 1: Fractured Mind, Omnus

A deep silence. A silence that could even bury the beats of a heart. Absolute darkness. A gloom that could shroud over even the happiest day of a life.

And in this dark, obscured silence, Prince Gladius Zane Noxus sat with his knees clumped together, his arms encircled around them as if protecting something important. He sat shivering. Not from the cold, but from the sadness, a deep pervading sadness that shook the depths of his mind.

Just this melancholic sorrow that cut deeply into his bones. Like death’s bony finger prodding into his heart.

For a long while, hours perhaps, Zane sat still in that position, his whole body bare to the cold stone of the floor. His stomach growled from the hunger, his throat parched. How long had time passed since he sat here unmoving, Zane had not one jot of clue.

Suddenly, a noise entered his ears, sharp from the long stays inside this perpetual darkness. A noise like rusty metal grating on metal.

A small rectangular crevice appeared in front of Zane, and its agonizing golden light poured directly onto his face, onto his eyes. The light stung, but Zane merely sat there unblinking, simply uncaring of the pain in his eyes.

“Prince Galdius Zane Noxus,” the familiar voice, broad and baritone, whispered through the crevice. “Do you know why I put you inside this dungeon for a year and a half, starving you like a pitiful dog, like a gutter rat that only knows of darkness and hunger?”

Zane didn’t reply to this familiar voice, a voice he had heard infrequently during the months he had spent in this dungeon with its perpetual darkness. Or was it years? Sometime after three weeks had passed, Zane had simply lost track of the time. He no longer bothered to count the days from the trays of food that were sent through that crevice for him.

The voice continued, not paying any heed to his silence. “The reason is simple, my son. It is to make you stronger. It is to forge you anew.” At that, the creak of the iron hinges of the dungeon door resounded throughout the silence.

“You see,” his father’s voice continued without any heed. “The darkness, the silence, and the hunger becomes nothing after a given duration in this hellhole. You learn to overcome them. And as the oldest son to the Noxus bloodline, they are requirements.”

A hand gripped his shoulder. Strong and forceful. But even at the pain, Zane gave out no cries. “Now that you know of darkness and silence,” his father said, “we shall move on to the next step.”

Somehow, within himself, Zane found the will to stand up at that. “No,” he whispered in a voice so soft the silence devoured it instantly. “No,” he repeated. This time a notch louder, but still not enough to break the silence. “NO!” Zane roared as a wall within his mind broke.

He struggled to break free from the vice-like grip on his shoulder. But no matter how much he struggled, no matter how much he forced himself, the hand remained there, unmoving, unflinching.

Then Zane cried out in pain as he felt his arm almost tear off. Tears welled up from the depths of a well which he had never been aware off inside his mind. The tears fell down unwillingly from his eyes. “Why?” the choked question never made itself known as it became stuck in his throat.

Pulled further and further along, the light outside the dungeon cellar finally entered his vision. Agonizing to his eyes which had never seen the light of the day for a year and half—no, not even the strong light that was given off by the torches. His eyes closed. Spots of red on black.

After a brief moment when the spots lessened, Zane opened his eyes. But still nothing. For a long moment, Zane figured he had gone blind, and could only feel that he deserved it, blaming himself for everything that had happened to him. Another long moment, his vision no longer red spots on black.

His sight had finally returned, but Zane could feel no joy at that. He simply continued to allow his father to lead him. Like a half-dead horse trudging along, Zane followed. A dim realization. The air outside was far cleaner than it had been inside his cell. There was no longer the stink of his own piss and shit, which was cleaned only once every three weeks.

Finally, his father stopped in front of a cell. Black iron bars acted as a cage for the small figure chained inside. The sharp realization soon turned into horror for Zane as he recognized the petite figure slumping down, but held up by the manacles whose chains sprouted from the ceiling. He felt as if a blade had gutted him from behind.

The door to the cell was wide opened and his father shoved him inside. A cool, leathery feel passed into his hand. Zane stared unblinking at the cold glint of the dagger in his hand before he finally realized that it was truly indeed a dagger. Dread washed over him.

“What is this for?” The words came hard to Zane, for he had not spoken in such a long, long time.

“Killing. I want you to kill it.”

“It?” Zane swallowed, but only a small trace of spittle came to wet his throat. He was too thirsty and his throat too dry.

“You know what I mean,” his father said, voice colder than the leather grip of the dagger Zane held in his hands. “Kill your damn sister.”

“Why?” This time, the choked question that had been stuck in his throat managed to force itself out.

“It is a matter of choices. You either kill your sister now, or both her and your brother will die. One life or two lives. It is your choice, Zane.”

Not daring to meet his father’s eyes, Zane continued staring unblinkingly at the cold glint of the steel dagger. “You promise that you will spare my brother?” he finally spoke.

“Yes, you have my promise.” Soft and smooth with assurance, his voice sounded to Zane.

But Zane didn’t trust it. Not after that same voice had promised to spare his sister after he had killed his mother. Zane released the dagger in his hand, letting it fall to the floor. It clanged on the cold stones only twice before settling down. “You lie, father. Just like last time.”

A smile formed on his clean shaven face. “At least you remember that previous lesson well. But do not worry, I swear on our Noxus bloodline that I will not harm your brother with my own hands after you kill your sister. Now pick up the dagger.”

Bending a knee, Zane picked up the dagger once more, his hand feeling the coolness of the stone floor in the process. He moved closer toward his bound sister in a brightly white dress. Her eyes were closed, and her silvery white hair framed her drooping head. Unconscious from the looks of it.

Zane moved closer to her bound form, so close that he could now hear her faint breaths, the slight heave of her chest. He closed his eyes. “I am sorry, sister,” he whispered, his voice begging forgiveness from her unconscious form. Then he stuck the dagger into her chest, leaving it there as a red flower bloomed outward. Red on white, it bloomed.

“You missed her heart, Zane. Do better. Or else.”

“Yes, father.” Zane said, choking down his horror. His hands shaking, he freed the dagger and stabbed once more. Another sickening resistance, as he forced the dagger through sternum and muscles. At the results, Zane quickly turned his head away, tears falling from his eyes. He knew there were now two scarlet flowers that had now bloomed on that too white dress.

But then something urged him to take the steel dagger stuck inside his sister’s heart. He couldn’t just leave it in there. The least he could do was take the cruel weapon away from her.  

“Good. You did not miss this time.” His father turned to leave. “Now follow along, son.”

Not even replying, Zane followed along behind his father, begging and whispering forgiveness in his mind. But none came, for there was only that pervading silence, the darkness of the dungeon only dimly lit by torches.

The thing that had hurt the most was the silence of his sister. Zane didn’t know if it was better to have killed her while she was alive or while she was unconscious. He didn’t know. He could only silently beg for forgiveness.

His father stopped once more after a turn in the corridor. He stopped before another cell.  

When Zane saw what was inside, he heaved a loud sob, the tears now falling freely from his eyes despite the thirst in him, despite the dryness. “Why, father? You promised!” The words came chokingly, like gibberish. But somehow, his father understood.

“I only said I would not harm your brother by my own hands. I said nothing about the hands of others. Now you have learned another important lesson. Do not trust anyone’s words. Not even your own father.”

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Zane fell down onto the cold floor, his two arms wrapping around himself, his legs curled up into a fetus position. For a long while, he laid in that position, crying to himself.

Then. The anger. The sizzling fury that seemed as if his flesh was being branded by a red hot poker. Right, didn’t he still have that steel dagger which he used to kill his sister just minutes ago? That cruel blade in his right hand?

Zane stood up, yelling incoherently at his father. He ran toward him, trying to stick the dagger into his chest.

A blinding flash. Then darkness as the ground rushed toward Zane. The thud of his body against the cold hard stones.

Why?

============

Darkness. That perpetual darkness. Silence. That perpetual silence.

Zane opened his eyes. He realized that he was once more inside the dungeon cell where no light penetrated, where not a single sound resounded except for his slow breaths that came faintly.  

He went back into his usual position, arms encircled around his knees, as if protecting something. As if he had lost something.

Why?

Hours. Days. The trays of food came, but Zane did not touch them most of the times. He only sat in that unmoving position, only eating and drinking when it became unbearable. Weeks passed by, soon months, and each month father came to visit Zane. But Zane never responded.

But even though Zane did not respond and always sat in that unmoving position, a change had already come over him. Not in his position, but in his mind.

As Zane sat there unmoving, inside his mind was something entirely different. In a white-washed orbicular room, seven Zanes, entirely similar to each other, stood facing one another, forming a small circle. They were all in different positions, most standing up and some sitting down.

“Why did you two have to kill mother? Secondus! Quartus!” asked Primus as the tears dripped down his cheeks. “Even Sister too!”  

“Because you are too weak, Primus,” Secondus said, his voice as cold as blade-edge. “And I am Determination, Will, and Survival, the things which you do not have.”

“And because I am Fury, Vengeance, and Wrath,” Quartus added, his face always scrunched into an angry scowl. It looked as if he would lash out at the whole world, burn HavenFall itself.

“Now, now. Let us all calm down,” Tertius said, all smiles. He was Disposition, Poise, and Conduct. Even standing in relaxation, Tertius held himself with immaculate grace, each and every of his breath steadily taken, his shoulders and back straight as a steel sword forged by a master smith.

“Your conversation is pointless,” Quintus said. “We have more important things to do. For example, how to escape from this shit of a cell.” Sitting lazily on the orbicular floor, a hand ruffling his white hair, Quintus was the fifth Zane. He was Practicality, Cunning, and Knowledge.

Beside Quintus was another Zane with his eyes closed and humming some nursery rhymes Mother always used to sing. He was Sextus, representing Aptitude, Talent, and Prowess. And though his eyes were closed, in his mind, he was wielding a sword, battling against the Blademaster of the castle.

As for the last Zane, he stood unmoving, as still as a mountain. His eyes were always closed. Not once in the months had he ever spoken. Not one of the single Zanes knew what or who the seventh Zane was. They didn’t dare touch him, or even dare to speak to him. They only curiously inspected this seventh Zane. Septimus, he was known as.

“Oh. It looks like another month had ended, Omnus,” said Quintus. It was a term the six Zanes had made up to call themselves, though that was mostly due to Quintus’ directing them. He was the one who had differentiated all of the seven Zanes.

Quintus smiled. “Omnus, shall we enact our plan now? Father will be coming soon.”

“Yes, we should,” Secondus said, his voice hard and sharp. Determination filled him to the brim. “I do not want to stay rotting inside this cell any longer. We have things to do.” He nodded to the Zanes. “I will start first.”

Saying that, Secondus moved toward Tertius. He kept moving until they were so close they would collide into each other with but another step. The collision never happened. Secondus and Tertius merged into each other.

“Next,” said the merged Secondus and Tertius.

Nodding at that, Quartus—Fury, Vengeace, and Wrath—merged with both Secondus and Tertius. Then came Quintus with his Practicality, Cunning, and Knowledge. Then another one. Sextus with his Aptitude, Talent, and Prowess.

Finally, there were only three Zanes left, the merged one and both Primus and Septimus.

The merged Zane turned toward the two with a cold look on his face. “I apologize, Primus. But you are not needed yet. Love, Passion, and Sentiment—we have no need of them yet. In the future, perhaps. But not now.” The merged Zane glanced at the seventh Zane. “And Septimus. He is an unknown factor and we do not trust him. At least you will have his silent company in here.”

“No,” Primus said. Despair dwelled in his heart. “Do not do this, Omnus!”    

“It is too late.” A hand raised toward Primus and an invisible force threw him backward. Primus slammed into the walls of the orbicular room. Hard. But there was not a single crack on the wall. It looked as perfect and white-washed as before.

The merged Zane was too powerful! Primus could do nothing but watch Omnus stare down at him. Another force, still invisible, slammed into Primus, crushing him into the white-washed floor of the orbicular room. A hacking cough. Blood seeped out from the corners of Prmius’ mouth. And his vision went blurry, edging closer and closer to pitch darkness. “Do not do this Omnus,” Primus whispered, a hand trying to reach out to the merged Zane.

“Farewell, Primus,” said the merged Zane as he waved another hand. The light of the orbicular room was extinguished, and the white-washed walls trembled. A few seconds passed as they continued trembling.

The trembling stopped. Darkness then.  

Those were the last words Primus heard before Omnus, the merged Zane, winked out of existence from the orbicular room.

Primus was to be locked inside this small orbicular room with Septimus. Inside this familiar perpetual darkness.

Why?

============

Zane opened his eyes, blinking them once, twice, before seeing the familiar darkness of the dungeon cell.

A grating noise. Then that familiar crevice at the metal door along with that familiar voice. Father’s voice.

“Have you come to your senses, son?” his father asked ever so softly. There was a tiredness in his voice now. A sign that he was about to be done asking with Zane. The cause was the many months Zane had stayed silent, not even responding to his father’s words.  

“I have come to my senses, Father,” Zane said, not a trace of anger or sadness in his voice. It was as if the time he had spent inside the dungeon cell no longer mattered. “A question, Father.”

“Ask.”

“How much time have I spent inside this cell?” Zane asked, his eyes focused upon that familiar crevice. Like a predator eying his prey.

“A total of two years. You are now twelve years old,” Father replied.

“Thank you, Father.” Zane stood up, still as naked as ever, but he paid it no mind. And neither did he pay the smell of shit and piss any mind. One can get used to many things living inside a dungeon cell.

Zane formed a smile on his dirty face, which was washed only once every month. “I have come to realize that you are right, Father. I apologize for not seeing the matters clearly.” The smile grew wider on his face. “It is time I do my duty as your oldest son. It is time I do my duty as Prince Gladius Zane Noxus.”

The door to the cell opened at those words and more light penetrated through the perpetual darkness. Taking his time, Zane slowly walked through the opened door, and out into the dim lights shed by the torches. His eyes in pain from the sudden light, he followed Father out of the dungeon, snaking through its twisted, dark corridors, all the while humming a small tune. A tune that his mother always used to sing when he was but a babe and a child.

But the tune no longer held any sentiment to Zane—to Omnus.