"I think so."
Elise's lush red lips curled into a quiet smile, her expression one of contentment.
"So, the poor wife killed her husband and got the antidote. It was hidden on him—and now, it's become the fire of her soul."
"Oh, so… wait—what?"
Just as Ezreal was about to nod and raise his glass to the bulky figure beside him, something about Elise's twist in the story made him pause, stunned.
"You mean... the husband died?"
"That's right. The husband was tricked by his wife's pleas and, in the end, she stabbed him in the heart. Poor fool. She knew all along he'd carry the antidote on him."
Elise's voice was soft, almost too gentle for the story she told.
"The wife understood the husband—but the husband never understood the wife," Ezreal muttered, unsure if it was a joke or a grim observation.
He'd never heard this story before. Who knew if the couple had even been real?
What mattered was that the wife had won. And Ezreal wasn't going to be that naïve.
"Yes... if the husband had understood her—who knows how it might've ended..."
Elise's eyes briefly clouded with emotion, but the moment passed quickly.
"Professor Elise," Ezreal said suddenly, "do you know anything about curses?"
"Curses?"
Elise's beautiful eyes narrowed, and she looked up sharply.
Startled by her sudden reaction, Ezreal waved his hands in defense.
"I just heard there's some mysterious curse in a Shuriman tomb. Thought I'd ask if you knew anything about it."
"The curse of Shurima… no, I don't know about that one," Elise murmured, gaze dropping again.
She wanted to help this boy, but when he mentioned curses, her thoughts drifted to the Shadow Isles.
Shurima was far from her domain.
"I do!"
A voice piped up from below.
A silver-haired, dark-skinned boy raised his hand timidly.
"You do?" Ezreal blinked, surprised. He looked closer and caught a flicker of shock in his eyes.
"Wait... are you a Vastaya?"
He noticed the boy didn't have human legs—his lower body was a long, thick snake tail covered in brown scales.
"No, no!" the boy waved his hands.
"My name's Mori. I'm from Shurima. My family's been tomb guardians for generations."
"Tomb guardians..." Ezreal echoed, thinking aloud.
"Those who protect the emperor's tombs after death. High-risk work in Shurima—but often fiercely loyal."
Mori nodded eagerly.
"Professor Ezreal, you're really well-informed!"
"You said you know about the curse," Ezreal said thoughtfully.
"It must be related to your transformation?"
Mori's expression darkened.
"Yeah… We were living normal lives. Then one day, the mausoleum's seal was broken. When we got there, the curse hit us. Our lower halves became serpentine. Most of us went mad from it... and died horribly. Only a few of us made it."
"That's awful," Ezreal said with a grimace.
"Where's the tomb? Maybe I can find some clues."
"We've guarded it for a thousand years. It's not far from Nashramae. There's a stone statue at the entrance—a winged lion made from mica."
Ezreal's eyes widened. "Wait—the winged lion statue? Made of mica stone? You mean that one?"
"Yes! That's it!" Mori beamed.
"You really do know everything!"
Ezreal coughed modestly.
"The tomb of the late Shuriman emperor is buried there. If I'm not mistaken… he was the 47th ruler. His name was Erudis."
He glanced away, eyes narrowing as he recalled something deeper.
He had been there. Deep beneath the emperor's tomb lay another crypt—Ne'Zuk's tomb.
The mausoleum door… it had been opened.
From the inside.
And he—Ezreal—had just finished putting on the gauntlet.
But…
Why was he the only one who hadn't been cursed?
"Erudis! Yes, the elders mentioned that name. You're incredible!"
Mori's eyes lit up with excitement as he looked at Ezreal with newfound respect.
"Now tell us about that curse," Elise cut in smoothly.
"I assume that's why you joined the Empire, isn't it?"
She hadn't missed the flicker of discomfort in Ezreal's expression.
It didn't take a genius to guess the opening of the tomb might've been related to him.
Elise's lips curled with amusement, but her tone remained light—supportive, even.
"Yes... the curse," Mori said, his voice losing its earlier energy.
His excitement faded, replaced by a deep sadness.
"Because we failed to protect the mausoleum we were cursed. The elders sent me out to find a way to break it."
"How much do you know about it?" Ezreal asked, caught off guard by the boy's seriousness.
"Not much. Only that the power of an Ascended being can resist the curse." Mori's expression grew solemn.
The Ascended—legendary beings granted immense power through Shuriman rituals—were far removed from anything within their reach.
"So that's it..." Ezreal exhaled, some tension leaving his shoulders.
"No wonder I wasn't affected. The armguard really is something else."
Swish!
In a flash of yellow light, Ezreal disappeared from his seat and reappeared directly in front of Mori.
"Here. Try on the armguard," he said, slipping it off and offering it to him.
This might've all started because of him. If he could help—he would.
"Ah... okay!"
Mori took the armguard with reverence and slipped it on. But after a few tense seconds, nothing happened.
Ezreal's faint hope dimmed, and Mori noticed.
He lowered his gaze, his voice quiet.
"Professor… is this an Ascended's weapon?"
"I can't say for sure," Ezreal replied, shrugging slightly.
"It's worth a shot. But maybe it only responds to certain people."
"Still, thank you for trying," Mori said gratefully. He hesitated for a moment, then took off the armguard and returned it.
Ezreal patted his shoulder and sighed.
"We'll find a way. You're not alone. We're Noxians now. If I can't do it, someone else will—maybe the Council, maybe the President."
"Yeah! I swear I'll return with a way to lift the curse." Mori nodded with conviction.
Then he pulled out a small, worn notebook from inside his robe and offered it to Ezreal.
"These are all the notes I've gathered about the curse so far."
Ezreal hesitated, clearly torn. "I... I don't know if I should take this."
"Please, Professor." Mori's eyes were steady.
"If I don't make it, I hope you'll write the solution in here and bring it back to my people."
The sincerity in his voice struck Ezreal deeply. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Alright," Ezreal finally said, taking the notebook with both hands.
"I'll do what I can. But don't give up hope. There are dozens of explorers digging through ancient Shuriman ruins. Someone will find a way."
He looked Mori in the eye, and his tone grew solemn.
"And I promise you—I'll save you and your people. That's my word as Ezreal."
"Thank you!"
Tears welled in Mori's eyes. He couldn't hold them back. In that moment, for the first time since leaving home, he felt truly seen—truly safe.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward and hugged Ezreal tightly.
He had made up his mind. Once his people were freed, he would dedicate himself to Noxus—his new home.
As the emotional moment passed, a wave of applause erupted nearby. Historians who had been observing from the sidelines began scribbling furiously into their journals.
History worth remembering often begins in moments like these—quiet, humble, and full of heart.