Feeling returns slow and heavy. I'm so tired. Is this what it's like... to die? Incredible warmth surrounds me. All I want is to sleep. I feel weightless, floating among clouds. Maybe if I just... close my eyes...
"Wake up..." A voice calls to me. The words, the vibrations, feel soothing, as if I've heard them too many times. I almost want to cry. But why?
"It's time... Open your eyes." The voice continues, but I want to stay here. Hands tug at me, pull me to my feet, and my eyes snap open. Warm light bathes me. Where am I?
"There you are. You need to remember." It tells me.
"Re...member?"
"Remember. You need to... Save Runeterra..." The voice surrounds me. Each word wakes me further. Remember. Save. Wake up. I need to sleep. A pair of the softest hands embrace my cheeks. Someone places their forehead on my own.
"Please... save him... save everyone..." The voice feels familiar. I want to cry. I don't want to let go. But she does. And when she does, I fall. The light recedes. All I feel is a pulse. A heartbeat. Slow at first, coming back to life. Then the darkness evaporates and I...
Sunlight spears through a canopy of leaves, painting my eyelids with a fiery glow. Groaning, I pry them open, squinting against the dappled brilliance. The air hums with life – the rustling of unseen creatures, the melodic chirp of unfamiliar birds, and beneath it all, a low thrum that resonates in my bones.
I push myself onto trembling hands. The ground is a tapestry of moss and tangled roots, soft yet uneven. Enormous trees pierce the sky, their leaves like enormous jade palms. The air hangs thick with moisture and a dizzying floral fragrance... sweet, almost overpowering. It stirs a memory, fleeting and fragmented, like a half-forgotten dream.
A splash of color cuts through the verdant green. Petals like spun gold shimmer amidst the leaves. A strange, bulbous flower, its heart glowing with an ethereal light. As I reach closer, a thorny tendril snakes out, snapping close to my fingers. Hissing, I recoil, my heart pounding.
The forest floor shifts beneath me. Shadows ripple, stretching across the sunlit patches in unnatural ways. A figure emerges from the gloom, a man clad in simple leathers. He treads lightly, his movements fluid and silent, as if he is one with the rustling leaves.
His eyes, sharp and watchful, fix on me. He was strong, but not imposing. He does not speak, nor does his expression change, but within those dark eyes, I sense a flicker of recognition… and something else. Apprehension? Curiosity?
The man continues his silent vigil, his dark eyes never leaving me. With each unsteady attempt to stand, I feel those eyes upon me, scrutinizing... judging? A flicker of panic stirs within me. Who is he? What does he want?
Suddenly, a blur of movement catches my eye. A small stone arcs through the air, aimed directly at my feet. Instinctively I recoil, scrambling back with a startled cry. Silence falls again. Did he... throw that?
Slowly, I rise, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The man remains motionless, his expression as unreadable as the forest itself. A strange thought crosses my mind – he's waiting. Testing. But for what?
Every fiber of my being screams at me to run, to hide from his watchful gaze. Yet, something else compels me, a curiosity mixed with a desperate need for answers. My legs feel wobbly, but I take a hesitant step forward, then another.
He remains motionless as I approach, his scrutiny unwavering. Within me, a sense of determination begins to grow. With each faltering step, fragments of memory flicker through my mind – flashes of light, a sense of overwhelming power, and a fear that echoes deep within my core.
As I draw closer, ready to demand answers, a flicker of something passes across his face. It's subtle, easily missed, but I see it: A faint nod, the barest hint of acknowledgment.
Then, without a word, he turns and melts back into the shadows of the forest, leaving me alone at the sun-dappled clearing. A path reveals itself where moments ago there was only dense undergrowth. A path I feel inexplicably drawn to follow. I step forward cautiously, hoping this man doesn't try to toss more rocks my way.
"Hey! Wait!" I call out. Silence answers. A rush of frustration floods through me. Why is he being so cryptic? My fingers curl into tight fists. "Who are you?!" I scream out. Oh... I just made myself light headed.
"Volume doesn't bring answers." I hear behind me. I let out a curse, my heart wanting to burst. I turn to find the man had somehow gotten behind me. Up close, I notice details I missed before – a faded scar across his brow, the weathered leather of his simple clothes hinting at a life lived in action. Despite his unassuming appearance, there's something in his posture, in the steady gaze of his dark eyes, that speaks of hidden power. I straighten myself and try to slow my heart rate.
"Wh-who are you?" I asked him. He only stares back, silent. His eyes narrow ever so slightly. The forest is silent.
"Who are you?" he asks, his voice low. His question catches me off guard. His voice put an emphasis on 'you'. Me? I'm... I...
"I... don't remember." My shoulders slump. "I... have no memories."
"No memories?" he asks, his voice low. He steps forward, his gaze piercing. I step back. A sudden gust of wind swirls through the clearing, scattering golden leaves around us.
"No, I don't remember anything." It felt strange to say. I try my hardest to remember anything at all. But not one thing surfaced. The surrounding area felt familiar yet so alien. The plants, the trees, the sounds. It's as if he knows more about me than I do myself.
"Ionia." he answers my unasked question. "You're in Ionia." My head spins. The word Ionia felt important. But still, no memories.
"Io... nia." I repeat, testing the word on my lips. A peculiar scar snakes from beneath his left sleeve – jagged, like it was made by a claw. I thought maybe saying it would feel familiar. Maybe I've said it all my life. But the word was foreign. My lips and tongue were unpracticed with it.
The man studies me for several heartbeats longer, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, without a word, he turns and walks deeper into the forest. He pauses at the edge of a clearing, then again beside a moss-covered boulder, as though carefully considering his path. Confusion gnaws at me. Does he intend for me to follow? Or is this another test?
With a surge of determination, I stumble after him. "Hey! Wait!" My voice cracks, unused to shouting through the thick forest air. He doesn't turn, but I sense his awareness of my every move, every hesitation.
Finally, at the edge of a tangle of twisted roots, he halts. His gaze meets mine, unwavering.
"Follow." The word barely carries above the rustle of leaves, but its impact resonates within me.
It's a command, not a suggestion. My legs move before my mind fully catches up, following the path he carves through the undergrowth. The air changes - warmer, carrying a hint of woodsmoke and something sweeter, like ripe fruit. As we walk, a strange sense of familiarity tugs at me. The sunlight dappling through the leaves, the scent of damp earth... it feels like something half-remembered, a place I've known in another life.
Ahead, a break appears in the trees. My gaze sweeps across a vibrant scene: a village nestled amidst rice paddies, alive with the sounds of laughter and the clatter of wooden tools. This was Ionia – a beautiful blend of nature and humanity. A stone path cuts through the rice paddies, lined by wooden buildings with thatched roofs. The villagers wear simple clothing, their faces weathered from a life working the land. And yet, there's a sense of connection and harmony permeating the scene, as though the people and the land were one.
"Welcome." a man said to me. His voice was gentle, but the word carried an undercurrent of meaning, as if he meant to convey much more. Another greeting, then another. I smiled. I felt less lost suddenly. And then suddenly I bumped into a boulder. I fall backwards with a nice thud and 'oof'. After rubbing my face, I look up to see the man had stopped, waiting for me. He then turns with a subtle nod, leading me toward a cluster of stalls lining the stone path. The scents of spices and grilled fish mingle with the warm air, creating a comforting atmosphere in contrast to the mysteries of the forest.
He stops before a vendor laden with colorful fabrics and sturdy leather goods. His fingers alight on a simple waterskin, a worn map, and a pouch of what smells like dried fruit and nuts. He exchanges a few quiet words and coins with the vendor, a woman whose smile lines speak of years lived in this gentle land.
Hesitantly, I step closer. "Are we... are we staying here?" Confusion and a flicker of hope war in my voice.
He turns, offering me the provisions. "The Placidium awaits." His tone brooks no argument.
Disappointment washes over me, but as I reach for the supplies, I notice a flicker of something in his dark eyes. Concern? Or is it simply a reflection of the setting sun? I open my mouth to question him, but he's already turned away, continuing down the path. I take this moment to admire the village. From the architecture to the lush greenery, everything felt welcoming, harmonious.
The villagers greet us with friendly smiles, their eyes sparkling with curiosity. As we pass, whispered conversations dance on the breeze. They looked to the man, some faces with admiration and others in fear. Did they know who he was? Was he famous? We continued on until we had reached the other side of the village. I stopped.
"This silence is filling me with more dread than anything else! Who are you and what is the Placidium? Why are you so cryptic?" My voice rises with each question.
"Who I am is irrelevant. The Placidium will help you." he replied.
"None of my concern? You dragged me from the forest!" A wave of frustration crashed over me. "I... I..." I try to formulate something to say, but I'm blank. He can tell the frustration he caused me, because he finally spoke more than several words.
"Your memories. Would you like to know who you are?" He asked. Of course I do! I mean... yes. I do want to know. Everything was new, but it didn't feel overwhelming. I'm familiar with this place. Somewhere here was a family looking for me. Loves ones who knew me since I was a child. I was sure of it.
"Yes. Yes I would."
"Very well. Follow me." With that, he continues down the dirt road, leaving me to wrestle with my apprehension and this sliver of hope. My stomach twists with apprehension. What if my memories were horrible? What if I was an exile or criminal? What if I was a child to terrible parents who made me clean all the time?... What if I don't like who I was? What if I'm...dangerous? No. The time for second guessing myself was before I decided to explode on this stranger.
We leave the vibrant village behind, its warmth swallowed by the lengthening shadows. The dirt path carves its way through rolling hills dotted with wildflowers. Their vibrant hues, names unknown to me, shimmer in the fading sunlight like scattered jewels. The air hums with the rhythmic chirps of unseen insects, and a bird with feathers like shimmering jade flashes through the trees. Apprehension gnaws at me, but so does a strange thrill of discovery.
As we walk, the landscape transforms. Rice paddies shimmer in the distance, reflecting the fiery hues of the setting sun. Farmers, their movements as fluid as the wind swaying their crops, chant a rhythmic song of gratitude for the day's harvest. The scent of wet earth and ripe grain fills the air, a sharp contrast to the decaying leaves of the forest.
A weathered stone shrine stands beside the path, festooned with vibrant ribbons and offerings of fruit and incense. The man pauses, his gaze lingering on the weathered carvings depicting figures with flowing robes and outstretched hands.
"A shrine to the spirits," he murmurs, his voice almost lost in the evening breeze. "Those who seek balance offer prayers here." His words are cryptic as ever, yet they stir something within me.
The path winds upward, revealing a breathtaking vista. Below, a river snakes through the valley, its waters gleaming like molten silver. On a distant hilltop, a sprawling structure rises amidst a grove of ancient trees – imposing, yet somehow inviting. Its sloped roofs and intricate carvings seem at once familiar and strange, stirring a jumble of emotions within me.
"The Placidium," He states, his voice laced with an undercurrent of what sounds like reverence Is this the place that holds the key to my forgotten past? As the last rays of sunlight fade, I take a hesitant step forward. This place was completely different from the villages we had passed. This Placidium seemed grand and prestigious. It must've held knowledge beyond my understanding. The man follows close behind, his gaze watchful and unreadable.