The thing is called a Generator. Using the handle here, a person is able to generate lightning. Which, apparently, is called a current. The faster and longer the handle is spun, the stronger the current. It builds up in the chamber here first. Then, to release it, someone must pull the leaver here. The lightning passes through the glass tube and out, striking whatever is placed below it... Zarri. I hammer an axe kick right down into the glass chamber, smashing it to bits. Too bad it wasn't the brains of one of the morons... The audacity is limitless... I pick up the additional handle, used to extend the reach, so more people can spin it and smash the thing apart with it. Expensive? This junk? How much do they think the life of an Heir is worth!! I pour my rage into each strike. Gods, I wish it was a person!! The lack of blood and screams pisses me off even more… Primerians and their toys. Invented for “curing illness” and used for torture on a six-year-old! What a joke... The wood and glass fly to the sides. Tch. The handle broke... I toss the leftover splinter away. That wasn't enough.

  I carry out my punishment as ordered - going back and forth between the cell and my old room by the Underground Maze. I used it when training new Shadows and when I needed an escape from the Palace. Well... We used it... Wykren set up his jewelry workshop there when making the seals and the crests. I joined him to make weapons... Everything's here covered in thick layers of dust and grime now. This gives me a nice distraction from going out there to kill someone. That cell infuriates the Hell out of me... I carry out my punishment as told. I stay in the cell all day and go clean up the room at night. I catch a wink of sleep before dawn. It's enough. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself for what happened...

  Day 4. I walk back to my room in the pouring rain. Something catches my eye half way back. It's dark, but I know the place fine. I stand still and pour my Mana outwards. A hit! Someone's there! I take my daggers out and approach the corner of the building. No sound. No movement. Thunder strikes, illuminating the sky. Oh SHIT! I sheath my daggers and drop to my knees.

“Hey! HEY! YOU ALIVE? HEY!” I shake the child. No response. I look for a pulse. A beat. Good. I pick the boy up and carry him back with me. I kick the door in and set the soaked body on a bed. I crack a vial open and pour it down the boy’s throat. He coughs it up. That's a good sign. I turn his head side-ways.

“Can you hear me? Who are you? What were you doing there? What happened? Where are your parents?”

“Shut...up...” The boy hisses. Ha! He'll live. I leave him be and toss a blanket on him. I spark a few candles here and there and look for a towel and some clothes for him, though mine will be too big for him anyways. I set them down on the chair with some bread and water and a potion, just in case. That's all I have here.

“Where...”

“You're safe. I got you out of the rain. You can stay here till it passes. Change into these before you die from pneumonia or something.” I point to the towel and the clothes. The kid sits up on the bed and wriggles out of his wet rags. I gather them up and toss them in the wooden barrel for the laundry.

“What's your name?” I ask again.

“Crile...”

“Ira. Where are your parents?”

“Dead.” Shit...

“What where you doing out there?”

“Out there where? What is this place?” The kid looks around again. I sit down on the other bed.

“Do you know what area you're in?”

He shakes his head.

“This is the training grounds for the Astri Palace. The Underground Maze is close by too.”

“Ya don't say...” Brat. I smile.

“Where you come from?”

A shrug. “Here and there. Nowhere.”

“How long you've been by yourself?”

“On and off.” Not much of a talker, huh?

“How long since your parents, then?”

“Six years...seven... I was five. We were camping...”

“What happened? If you remember?” I try again.

“All I remember is red all over.” Crile glares at me. About seven years? Could that have been? Red all over... That can only mean two things: blood or Balli. Or both.

“Eat that and sleep. You're free to leave if you want. If you have no place or anyone to go to - you can stay here as much as you like. There's not a lot of food here if you're thinking of stealing. Or anything valuable much for that matter. I'll try to get something more edible for tomorrow night, the potion there should keep you alive till then. If you can manage to find your own food - go for it. But no stealing it. Or else. There are clean towels in the bathroom and other things you might find useful in the meantime. I gotta get up early tomorrow for work, so I'm packing it in.” I tell him, taking my shoes and shirt off.

“Do me a favor and kill the lights before you pass out again. Thanks.” I slip under the covers. “Night.” I turn away and listen. The kid sits there for a moment, maybe three or five, before munching down on the bread. Feint coughs reach me. Take it easy now. I watch his shadow slither around the kitchen. A single light comes back into the room. A second later it dies too. A creak and a slump. A few minutes later his breathing changes. I wait a little longer and get up. Asleep. Crile, huh? Rest well.

    I come back on the evening of Day 5 of my punishment. I picked up some food from the Palace kitchen on my way back. I find the kid where I left him. He gets off the bed as soon as I close the door. I try not to pay too much attention to him and get dinner started. I spark the stones and get the flame going. Take the pan, some oil and toss the chicken dices in. I take a pot out, pour plenty of oil in and heat it up to a crackling sound. I take the boiled potatoes out and drop them in the oil for a few minutes. Next would be...

“Why are you helping me?” Crile stands in the doorway.

“Nobody ever helped me when I needed it the most. I'm simply doing something for you that I wanted someone to do for me. If you don't want my help - door's that way.” I point for a moment and get back to making dinner. The sound of a moving chair reaches me from behind.

“Were you alone like me?”

“Not always. I had parents once too. Just. Not for too long.”

“What happened?”

“Mother died when I was a kid. I don't even remember her anymore... I don't even remember how she died or if she died at all... I just know that one day I woke up and she was gone. Father wasn't the same after that. He blamed me for it.”

“Why?”

“You'd need to ask him that. If he was alive still.”

“He died too?”

“Not after beating me to a pulp a few good times.” I lift my shirt up, tugging on the collar, exposing the back a little.

“How cruel...”

“So is losing the one you loved more than life...”

“Huh?”

I put the knife down. “Father loved mother more than anything. When she vanished, he couldn't handle it. His reason for living was no more and that clouded his mind. We Noxians are of frail hearts. Our feelings and emotions are where we get our powers from, but at the same time it can hurt us and those around us.”

“So what happened next? Did you..?”

“Did I kill my old man? No. I ran away. Bounced around from place to place trying my best to survive. I had a hard time trusting people after what happened with my father. I was more like a wild animal than a person... Lost and scared. However. Nobody really put the effort into understanding me at the time either. All I ever heard was what to do and not to do. It pissed me off more than anything.” I finish cooking and serve the dinner up.

“Why did it piss you off? Thank you for the food.” Crile nods.

“Cause. If I was able, at the time, to do or not do something I would have done those things without being told to. Sometimes it's not enough to simply tell someone to do something. It's like having a blindfold on your eyes with your hands tied behind your back too and saying "I can't see" and getting a "then take a look" in response. It doesn't work that way.” I take a bite. It's not like me to talk about these things so much... Is it because he's just a child that I have my guard down? Or am I tired carrying this inside of me for so long?

“What else did you do?”

“Worked, stole, fought, killed.”

“Killed?” The kid sets his fork down.

“Underground Arena. The name Shadowkill comes from there too. A friend of mine suggested I use it as my last name. So I do.”

“Meaning what?”

“It was the nickname the people gave me when I was fighting there. It stuck.”

“So you made it big?”

“Champion.” I catch the look in Crile's eyes. “Not something I'm proud of. I had to do what I could to survive. That's all. Got it?” The kid nods. “Good.” I take few more bites.

“Did you ever see your father again?”

“Once. Right before he died. Killed himself.”

“Why?”

I shrug my shoulders. “No clue. I saw him at the workshop I was crashing at back then. He looked beat up and starved. Tried to sell an old axe...” I remember how he stared at me... Like he saw a ghost... I put the bite down... Now I remember... He uttered my name and smiled... He was relieved... He... Was looking for me... He... He killed himself because he saw me take care of myself... He... My hand covers my face for me...

“Ira?”

“Eat up.” I get up and take a quick breather... The images flash inside my head... That wasn't father... That was uncle... Mom left to find father and never came back... Uncle lashed out at me for it... Right... If mom had never had me, she wouldn't have left... He... I wasn't his... That's why... I never understood why... Every time I'd call him "dad" he'd... My gut wrings inside my body... Oh Gods... Iraela was mother's name... Ira is what uncle called mom... I feel the food come back up my throat... I cover my mouth and stand there, holding my breath. I understand now... I twisted the reality to make it easier for me to survive. If I had clung to that hope that mom and dad will come back and save me, I never would have left... But then why? Why did uncle look for me? Why did he kill himself when he did? Did he realize what he did when I left? Did he suffer because of it? Did death set him free? Or was it that he saw me alive and well? What about my parents then? I look up into the night's sky... My hand slides down my face and swings next to my body... All I could to survive, huh? I return back to the kitchen. The kid has finished his plate and cleared it already. I cover my dinner with a lid and let it be for now. I find the boy in the bed. I go wash up and kill the candles around the place, leaving one on.

“I thought you were asleep already.” I set the candle down on the nightstand at the head of my bed.

“Is it difficult? To use the shadows?”

“No. The shadows themselves are not a problem. It's the going under that you need to be aware of. People go mad from the Shadow Realm.”

“Why?”

I sit down on my bed. “To be able to enter the Shadow Realm you need to be able to let go of everything. The Shadow Realm is empty. There is no air, light, feel, scent - nothing. You're not even able to sense your own being. It's pure darkness. The only way you can move and survive in it, is if you see everything in here.” I reach out and tap the boy’s forehead.

“If you want to breath imagine air. If you want to see imagine light. If you want to move - imagine the place where you want to go. There is nothing in there. Just you. You need to be able to trust yourself and rely only on yourself. Shadow Realm is not the forgiving type. Weak do not survive there. A single mistake is your last.”

“If it's so unforgiving, then how do you manage?” He's bright. I smile briefly.

“Simple. For the longest time I have been living in the darkness, so to speak. Relying only on myself. Starving. Dirty. Freezing. Dying. Afraid. Lonely. I had to learn to stop trusting that someone or something will come and save me. I had to keep saving myself. I accepted all of the so-called “negative” things that people are scared of and realized something.”

“What?”

“It's not as bad as people think.”

“I find it hard to believe.” Crile rolls his eyes at me. I chuckle.

“I didn't say I enjoyed being all that, now did I? Here's the thing. When you draw power from another you become vulnerable.”

“How so?”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Once the person dies - so does your strength.” The look in his eye changes. “If you rely only on yourself...”

“Then you control the power fully.”

“More or less.”

“More or less?

“True power comes from within you, that's true. But its strength depends on if you have someone dear you wish to protect."

“Like who?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Anyone important enough you'd give your life for without thinking twice about it. That or you have to be dead set on surviving."

Crile takes his time. “Then do you have someone like that? And you'd better not tell me it's the land or the people. You ain't the type to care for that.” I burst into a roar. The nerve... I can't even get mad...

“A couple of people.” I answer through the laughter. “And in case you're wondering - you're one of them now too.” I reach out and ruff his hair up.

“Me? Why?” He smacks my hand away.

“You're my responsibility from the moment you stepped inside here. You stayed, so, that makes it official for me. No, it won't change anything if you leave here now.” I tell him. “I decided to take care of you and I will. It means protecting you from harm too.”

He turns away from me and murmurs something, blushing.

“Anything else you're interested?” I add.

“Why did you join the Underground Arena?" Crile's eyes glare at me intensely. I sigh. Heavily.

“Easy money. Well. Kind of. I had to fend for myself, so fighting came naturally to me. I stumbled upon it by chance and got lucky. So I stuck around.”

“You make it sound so easy, champ.” He mocks me.

“It was easy. For me.” I keep my eyes to the floor. “I was dead inside and hurting others was as easy as taking in a breath. As long as I didn't hurt, starve or freeze anymore...”

“What changed?” I lift my head back up from the question.

“I got numb. Not feeling anything inside is one thing, but when you stop feeling with your body too - time for change. So I quit.”

“Can I ask?” The kid hesitates.

I smile. “You already are.”

He throws me a quick look of his own. “What's it like? The arena? The fights...”

I take a moment now. “Bloody.” His eyes widen. “You don't really have to kill your opponent, it's enough to maim them. If they can't fight - you win. There is only one rule - no rules. Anything and everything goes. You can give up if you like, they usually stop the fight if that happens...”

“But?”

“But that rarely ever happens.”

“Why?”

“When you have people betting on you it won't really matter if you leave the ring alive after giving up - they won't let you get anywhere far.”

“Here's what I don't get. None of this sound like Noxians...” The kid's right.

“The thing is - life is cruel sometimes. Not everyone is fortunate enough to live happily forever after. Sometimes people like me - sometimes all we have is death. Killing is our only skill and there's only so much you can do with that. Anger. Pain. Despair. Love. All of those get mixed up and you become a raging beast. With no outlet - you end up self-destructing. Those fights are a way for Noxians who lost their way to continue living.”

“You call death matches “living?”

“I did.” I keep my eyes locked with his. Crile's expression changes a little again. He's thinking...

“Then, what is living to you now?”

“You sure know how to ask the difficult stuff, huh?” I twitch my shoulders again. “Do you know what irony is?” The boy shakes his head. How to explain it... “It's like when life gives you something that you wanted for so long, but then decided to throw it away, and once you did - life throws it back at you. Just when you thought you let go of it...” He thinks it over.

“I had decided that I would be the one to save me, and I did. Then one day someone came along and saved me from myself when I didn't even know I needed saving.”

“Who's that?”

“A very dear friend of mine. My best friend.” My only friend…

“That's cool, right?” Crile hesitates.

“He died. I failed to return the favor and save him from himself...”

“Oh... Sorry...”

“Not as much as I am.” I clench my fists together. “Living to me now is looking after the Treasure he left behind.”

“Treasure?”

“A child. I live to protect his child now.”

“Sooo you're telling me your job is to babysit a brat?” Crile stares at me confused. I burst into another wave and grab his neck, ruffing his hair up again.

“Look who's talking.”

“Let go, old man! Let go!” I let go. He fixes himself up.

“Satisfied?”

“No.” He pouts. “Have any tips on how to survive the arena long enough to become the Champion?”

“Yes. Stay away.” I glare at Crile.

“What about fighting then?”

“What about it?” I keep the glare on.

He shrugs his shoulders. “I don't know, like weapons? Skills? Something?”

“Anything can be a weapon if you want it to be. A feather, a splinter, a rope, a belt.”

“A feather?”

“Apply enough force and you can pop an eyeball easy.”

Crile gulps air. “What about a belt?”

“It can turn your fingers into dust. You wanted advice, right?” He nods. I take my belt out and wrap it around my hand. “Here. If you clip the buckle on your knuckles it'll make for a nasty punch. Depending on the buckle - it may not be the comfiest option to work with. So.” I redo the wrap.

“Wrapping the belt around and holding onto the cross;” I flip the palm upwards; “will make it easier for you and still be enough to get some damage in. Or.” I wrap the belt from the wrist down. “It can make a turn into a guard for you, makes good for when dealing with faster or stronger opponents. If you use it as a whip, make sure to strike with the buckle.”

“Is that how you got your fingers crushed?”

“You catch on quick. That's a good sign. Yes. Last option - suffocation or neck breaking.”

“With enough force, you mean?”

“Exactly. I think that'll do for the night.” I put the belt down and kill the candle. Crile follows my lead and squirms under the blankets too, in his bed. The moonlight hits the room nicely. The color of it resembles her, or rather them…

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Can you... teach me?”

“Teach what?”

“How to fight?”

“Why?”

“I don't want to be weak... It hurts...”

I stare into the creeping clouds. “If that's what you want. Just don't expect me to go easy on you.”

“I don't.” I hear some rustling. “Night.”

“Night.”

“And thanks...” A whisper. Such a brat. I smile.

    Images flash inside my mind. I can't breathe. I hear voices. I feel... Pain... I snap awake and pant. I cover my face. Wet. Sweat. I try to calm down. Can it be that last night’s walk down the memory lane has stirred me up more than I figured? I get my breathing back to normal and notice Crile in the doorway.

“What?”

“Are you...”

“Peachy.” I drop my legs to the floor. It's bright. “What time is it?”

“Past noon. Why?”

“Damn it. I'm late! Why didn't you wake me?” I quickly get dressed.

“I tried.” Crile steps away from me as I approach the doorway. I reach out and he steps back again. I hold my hand up in defense.

“Let me see.” I turn his chin up and to the right. Marks. Those weren't there before. “Did I?” He nods.

“My bad. Sorry. I'll get the other room ready for you when I get back tonight. Do what you want in the meantime.” I put my shoes on and run out. What is this strange feeling? Has it always been there? I don't believe that it was only because of last night that those memories came back. I've been repressing them all my life. A single chat shouldn't have been able to unlock them... Then what? Her? Is it because of her then? Of course... I know this feeling... I know what it is... My body remembers for me. The warm embrace of mom, when she held me. I felt the same way when I held Zarri... She's the reason why... I feel a sudden urge to hold her again… Now I understand... The rage. The pleasure. The satisfaction of smashing something... It was because of the pain that someone precious to me got hurt... The disappointment that it wasn't a live human... That's why uncle kept smacking me around... I wasn't the target... I was just there... He needed to vent his anger, his sadness, his weakness... I was simply there... That's all... It was never about me... I find a crowd gathered by Zarri's room. They open a gap for me. I walk inside and freeze. Emerald. Devona and a kitten? Sit in the middle of the room... The kitten sees me, jumps off Devona and runs over to me. It paws at me, meowing...

“Zarri?” I mutter silently. The kitten meows louder. I look back at Devona. She smiles.

“We found her this way.”

“Uh-huh..." I look down again. Those eyes... "BLAIN!! GET OVER TO THE HEIR'S ROOM NOW!!”

“GEEZ YOU'RE LOUD!! Almost blew my mind out. What is it?”

“Get. Over. Here. Now.” I repeat.

“... Coming.” I turn around to the spectators.

“Scatter.” They bow lightly and disperse. I close the door behind them. “How long she's been this way?”

“No clue. Probably shifted sometimes during the night.”

“She won't shift back?”

“It appears she's not aware how to.” Devona comforts the confused kitten. I sit down next to them. The fur is two shades darker than Zarri's hair, but the eyes are the same. I reach out. She nudges the hand and licks the fingertips. She stares at me with a clear question mark in her eyes.

“Don't worry, Blain's coming over here now. You'll be fine.” The door opens.

“What's the fuss... Oh.” Blain closes the door again. “Well now, what a pretty kitty we have here. Hello.” He sits down next to me. Zarri comes over and sits down in front of him.

“Well?” I urge. “Where do we start?”

“The blanket.” He points to the bed. “Everything that's not Druid Gear rips apart each shift.”

“Oh.” Devona gets the blanket and wraps the kitten in it.

“Can you hear me alright?” Blain asks. Zarri meows. Cute.

“Good. Now then, close your eyes and listen to my voice only, can you do that?” Another meow. “Good girl. Now. Imagine yourself, as if standing in front of a mirror. Recreate the image of you inside your mind. Take your time." Blain looks to us "This might take a bit. How long she's been this way?”

“No clue.”

“Ah. Any idea how's her Mana?”

“She was quite energetic when I got here, so I'd say fine.” Devona answers.

“Good. Then perhaps we'll manage.” Blain looks back at Zarri. “Do you have the image?” She nods. “Good. Now, I need you to imagine the cat. I need you to see the shape of the cat inside your mind. It's ok if it's a dark figure only. Just make sure the image is solid.” Zarri shuts her eyes harder. I notice a light smile on Devona's face.

Blain continues. “Do you have it?” Zarri nods again. “Perfect. Now's the hard part. You need to transfer your Spirit from the cat back to your body. Imagine as if you're standing in front of the same mirror, but the reflection in it is the cat now. You need to step inside the mirror to change back. Think of it as a doorway between your Spirit and the cat's.” Zarri opens her eyes suddenly. “Don't worry if it takes a few tries. It's ok. Try.” She closes her eyes again, really shuts them closed. “Now - we wait. I can't do anything more. It's up to her.” Blain whispers.

“So no pressure. Great.” I roll my eye at him.

“Oh.” Devona gasps.

“Oh.”

“Ha! Look at that. She's doing it!” Blain smiles. The fur slowly retracts. The tail. The ears. The whiskers... Well now... The paws turn back into hands and she loses the fangs. Zarri opens her eyes to us.

“I did it! I came back! That was scary... I thought I'd stay like that... For... Ever...” She sways to the side and passes out. I catch her and fix her blanket for her.

“Her instincts are strong.” Blain says getting up.

“How can you tell?” Devona comes with me to put Zarri back in bed.

“She just went through a shift for the first time, well, second, but shifting in dreams comes naturally. The waken shift is difficult. She managed to speak a full sentence before passing out. My guess - she burned through her entire Mana just now, she should have been passed out before she even finished the shift, yet she managed to speak for a moment. That's a sign she's above average already.” Blain explains.

“Really? But she's so young.” Devona strokes the sleeping Zarri.

“Exactly. No Beast has merged with a Spirit at such an early age." Blain states. "She seemed to have been in control, so the Spirit must've been weak enough. I think, what happened here, is that she bonded with the Spirit of a Cub. Poor thing. That's why she was able to change back rather easily. If she had merged with a full-grown-adult Spirit, the animal Spirit would have taken over her consciousness, it would have been like weighing you;” Blain points to me; “against her. The stronger one wins. If that had happen – this room would be in shambles. Animals age differently. A one-year-old lion cub is older than a one-year-old person. That's why Beasts don't merge with their Spirits till later in life." Blain looks the three of us over and continues.

“This is to her advantage. Both, she and the Spirit will grow and learn together. You'd be surprised to know how many Beasts struggle with their powers.”

“How so?” I'm curious now.

“Beast types merge with animal Spirits. When the person tries to use logic and reason too much it gets in the way of instinct. Instinct is crucial for a living creature. The more the Druid gives into instinct, the better they are. Of course, total surrender is risky too.”

“Why?” Devona beats me to it.

“The Druid risks forgetting their true identity. It has happened before. The animal takes over and the Spirit of the Druid is lost. In a way they die.” Blain notices the concerned look on the mother. “Of course, there is a plus side to it all too.”

“Like?” I join in.

“A person's mind inside the body of an animal open new opportunities. Creativity and such.” Blain smiles.

“Oh. There it is.” Devona picks up Emerald's Stone. “The chain broke.”

“That's easy to fix.” Blain offers his palm. “I'll have it replaced with something more shift-friendly.”

“Thank you, that would help. We should get her fitted for some gear and clothes. If her instincts are as good as you claim, then she might be shifting in and out without realizing it. She'll rip everything apart at this rate...” Devona makes a good point. “I'll go see what I can find for you to use for references for her gear.”

“Appreciate the trouble, Priestess.” Blain nods. She waves him off and goes into the other room.

“You still use the damn thing?” I point to the leg.

“I learned how to make them and I can get parts fairly easy. I just... Can't bring myself to not use it.” Blain says. “Besides. Beats walking with a cane.” He chuckles clumsily. I smile.

“Guess so.” I wait a moment. “I'm glad she's a Beast.”

“Oh? Why?”

“It puts my mind at ease, knowing that the two of you;” I nod to Emerald, she whips her tail; “will be able to look over her training.”

“Well, I'm honored, but, why do I catch a hint of distance there?”

I don't answer.

“This isn't about what happened, is it?” Blain stares at me. He sighs. “Ira. What happened with the four stooges is not your fault. Anyone can go mad after a taste of power. They let it get to their heads. You're not responsible for what the weak-minded do.”

“Yet I can't help, but feel responsible.”

“Idiot.” Blain mumbles.

“Bite me.” I answer.