At this time, Demacia was changing—different from the past, reshaped by the recent parade and Nat's death.
Demacians valued justice, honor, and kindness as their core virtues.
But the mages haunting their land—metaphorical or otherwise—seemed to tear those values apart.
Because of the ban on magic, innocent citizens were persecuted.
And those persecuted, in turn, sometimes lashed out at other fellow citizens, neighbors, and even family.
A vicious cycle that had played out for generations.
When the truth finally came to light, when all the hidden rot was exposed, the people of Demacia could no longer look away.
They began to question. What had the ban truly brought them?
Originally, it was meant to protect the kingdom from the dangers of magic.
But over time, it had caused more pain than it prevented, just in another form.
What if there were a mage in your family?
What if your loved ones had been sent to Noxus by Nat?
What if it happened to you?
The people of Demacia were beginning to reflect.
On their actions, silence, and how far they had strayed from their ideals.
More and more were questioning the very foundation of the ban on magic.
Just like the chant from the parade that echoed in their minds:
"Magic lives within me, but Demacia calls me a sinner..."
Now that the tragedies were no longer hidden, everyone feared the same question:
'Who would be next?'
-------------
Dungeon
"You haven't been here in a while."
Silas looked up as Luxanna Crownguard stepped into the dim cell.
He closed the book in his hand calmly.
"Sorry," Luxanna said, her voice tired.
"There's been too much to handle lately."
She looked different now.
Still carrying her magic tome, but dressed in a plain white robe with a small satchel slung over her shoulder, stuffed with documents and supplies.
There was weariness in her eyes.
The parade had just ended, and there was still much to do.
But it had been a success. The voices calling for the end of the ban on magic now held overwhelming support.
Especially after Nat's betrayal was exposed, his story uncovered so many others, pushing people to stand up and speak out.
Just yesterday, King Jarvan III announced that a public referendum would be held soon to decide whether to repeal the ban.
And that, in itself, meant they had already won half the battle.
Luxanna managed a small smile as her gaze fell on the book in Silas's hands—"Principles of Forbidden Magic."
She spoke softly:
"Du Lang was a brilliant mind. He was the first to develop practical uses for Petricite."
Silas nodded. "Reading his work gave me a new perspective."
Petricite—commonly called the Forbidden Stone—was a strange paradox.
It didn't block magic outright; it absorbed it.
Silas's wrists were still shackled with Petricite cuffs.
But over time, and through relentless testing, he had begun to understand their mechanics.
When he and Luxanna first clashed, part of her light magic had been absorbed into the cuffs.
After studying the book and experimenting with the stone's properties, he'd learned to call upon that fragment of magic.
Not much—just a sliver. Nowhere near enough to break free.
But it was a start.
Silas's eyes flicked toward her, thoughtful.
Despite the calculations running through his mind, he asked with genuine interest:
"Last time you left, you said you were about to do something big. What happened?"
"It worked," Luxanna said, and her tired face lit up for a moment.
"I think the ban will be abolished soon."
The abolition of the ban on magic marked the beginning of freedom for Demacia.
Many lives would be affected—some disrupted, others uplifted—but Luxanna believed she could help balance the shifting tides.
Silas raised an eyebrow, surprised. Ignoring his conflicted thoughts, he asked bluntly:
"So that's it? You're just going to silence everyone with your magic?"
"Silas!" Luxanna rubbed her temple, already exasperated.
"Murder and force aren't the answer."
"But they're the most effective answer," Silas replied, unapologetically.
Luxanna sighed. She and Silas agreed on many ideals—justice, freedom, the need for reform.
But they were worlds apart on how to achieve it.
Silas believed change had to be forged through strength—topple the old, rebuild from fire and iron, and enforce new rules from above.
Luxanna, on the other hand, believed that Demacians still held a noble spirit.
If given the truth and a better way, they would follow it willingly, not out of fear, but conviction.
That difference was why she still hesitated to release him.
Although... her teacher had proposed a clever compromise: to suppress Silas's magic and keep him under close watch.
Silas might never be fully trustworthy.
But her teacher had a point.
Fifteen years ago, Silas had been the most feared mage in Demacia—yet also the most iconic.
He had become a symbol for magic users everywhere.
If he could be brought into their cause—even reluctantly—other mages might rally behind him.
"A few days ago, I organized a parade..."
Luxanna began to recount the recent events. The impact had rippled through Demacia.
Citizens were finally asking hard questions.
She wanted to hear Silas's thoughts before making a final decision.
When she finished telling him about Nat's betrayal, Silas sneered.
"So the Lightshield family is filthier than I thought. Jarvan III shines bright on the outside... but his family's rot runs deep."
"They've still done a lot for Demacia," Luxanna replied, her expression complex.
"People are complicated. No one goes through life without making mistakes."
Nat had been part of a lesser Lightshield branch.
Forced into things he didn't want, he barely knew his fiancée.
He likely never wanted to hurt anyone.
It reminded Luxanna of her cousin, once arranged to marry Fiora.
They barely knew each other and were tangled in family politics.
Now, they maintained a delicate and strained relationship.
She didn't know what would happen if her cousin had to confront Fiora someday—someone with so much power and pride.
"I used to think the world was simple," Luxanna admitted quietly.
"I thought my family, my magic, and my status were all things to be proud of. I thought doing good would bring a reward. That following the law was what it meant to be a good Demacian."
But she'd realized that her well-intended actions might still cause harm.
Even now, if she lost control—if she accidentally infused light magic into the Petricite in Silas's cuffs—someone might die because of her mistake.
Even her obedience could hurt people.
Every Demacian had a duty to report a mage.
But she turned a blind eye, again and again, because of what she was.
Even then, someone else would still report them. Even their own family might.
"As it should be," Silas muttered, his voice thick with anger.
"We were born strong. We shouldn't be slaves to those weaker than us."
"We shouldn't be their oppressors either," Luxanna replied gently.
"Everyone deserves to be equal. The more power we have... the more responsibility we carry."
Silas frowned, quiet but unconvinced.
He'd heard this from her before. And in truth, part of him agreed.
He had once been a proud Demacian boy who believed in their ideals.
But when he remembered the years of pain, the chains, the betrayal—that faint understanding drowned beneath the weight of his rage.
Silas tried to calm himself. He took a deep breath and said slowly:
"So you want me just to forget the pain? Forget ten years of torture like an animal?"
"No one's asking you to forget," Luxanna replied, her voice soft.
"The people responsible will be held accountable—"
"Accountable?" Silas cut her off with a bitter sneer.
"What punishment could ever compare to what they did to me?"
Luxanna didn't flinch. She met his glare with steady eyes.
"Silas, your suffering represents more than just your own. What if I could get people to voluntarily experience what you went through?"
Her voice was calm, but filled with a quiet, fierce conviction.
Silas blinked, surprised. He stared at her for a moment—this young woman in a white robe, radiant with light and determination.
The same girl he once saw as naïve and untouchable now spoke words that shook him.
He hesitated, but the question left his lips before he could stop it.
"...How are you planning to do that?"
If Luxanna could truly do something like that... maybe, just maybe...
She looked around the cold, bare stone of the cell and said with quiet resolve:
"This isn't just your cage, Silas. It's the cage of every Demacian. We've made terrible mistakes, yes—but many of us still carry the honor of Demacia in our hearts."
Silas tilted his head, intrigued. "...You mean...?"
"This place represents the pain of every mage," Luxanna said firmly.
"You suffered here for fifteen years—wrongfully. I believe there are people out there who would come here to understand that pain. Because we are Demacians."
She thought back to the march—how thousands had stood behind her, willing to be seen and heard.
That parade proved Demacia still had a soul.
Not everyone would stay here for years. But they would come, they would see.
And maybe that guilt inside them would start to heal.
Silas gave a low chuckle.
"Sounds... interesting."
His tone was unreadable, but his eyes flickered with emotion.
A strange satisfaction crept into his chest. Was it revenge?
Maybe. But he couldn't deny it stirred something deeper.
Yet, despite the stirring in his chest, he still couldn't let go of the past.
"One more thing..." Luxanna said, smiling slightly.
"...What?"
Silas narrowed his eyes, instinctively wary. Her sudden shift in tone made his stomach turn.
He didn't like being led by anyone, especially not by this girl, even if she meant well.
This feeling of being tethered—hopeful and trapped all at once—left him uneasy.
Torn.
If he ever regained his freedom, he would disappear into shadow and silence.
And when the time came, maybe he'd return to finish what he started. Maybe.
Still, Luxanna's presence lit something in him.
Her time in this cell was the brightest light in his otherwise dark and broken world.
He wouldn't stand in her way. And if things turned bad... he'd be there for her, even if only once.
Luxanna stepped closer. Her hand moved toward the Petricite cuffs.
Silas's breathing grew shallow.
Then her soft voice touched his ears:
"Silas, your talent is extraordinary. Demacia needs that strength. If the ban is lifted, we'll need new force—mages who can protect, not destroy. You could lead them."
"My strength isn't even close to yours," she added with a self-deprecating smile.
"But at least I know my limits."
Silas responded absently, his gaze fixed on her hand.
The Petricite cuffs began to draw in her magic—subtly, quietly.
She didn't notice it.
Luxanna hesitated for a heartbeat, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.
But then she smiled—and continued.
"Your potential is obvious to everyone," Luxanna said softly.
"If you had enough magic, I wouldn't stand a chance against you."
After a long silence, she finally withdrew her hand from the Forbidden Stone and straightened up, her eyes meeting Silas's.
So close…
Silas was surprised by his restraint. He'd been just a moment away from escaping—but the rage, the desperation that used to drive him so fiercely… wasn't there.
Not like before.
Suppressing the thoughts swirling inside him, Silas forced a smile.
"I'll give it a try," he muttered.
"It would be ridiculous for someone like me to command mages. Others won't stand for it even with your backing—and the Crownguard's."
Luxanna's expression didn't falter. She had noticed the subtle movements he made, his silent attempts to gauge the cuffs and the Forbidden Stone.
Her eyes held something new—a quiet resolve.
"Once the ban on magic is lifted," she said gently, "it gives everyone a second chance to change. Why not wait and see?"
She took a small step closer.
"We're all Demacians, Silas. And sometimes… the best revenge isn't killing the ones who hurt us—it's living well. Living freely. Not as they hoped we would."
Silas looked up at her, genuinely startled.
He didn't expect words like that from someone like her.
He always thought Luxanna was an idealistic noble- a girl with lofty ideals but little understanding of real suffering.
Now, hearing these words, he wasn't sure anymore.
Had someone told her to say that? Was it her teacher's idea, spoken through her lips?
Could she understand?
His thoughts conflicted when he glanced down at the iron restraints around his wrists.
"…We'll see," he said at last, uncertain.
"Don't rush," Luxanna replied with a gentle smile.
"The referendum is still a few days away. I'll let you know the outcome as soon as I can."
She crouched and set her backpack down.
She pulled out a simple robe from it—blue, linen, and warm.
Folding it carefully, she placed it just close enough for him to reach and said softly:
"It's getting colder. I brought this for you. I'll be busy the next few days so that I won't be back until after."
Then, without warning, she stepped forward and hugged him.
Silas froze.
Her arms around him were light, barely touching—but it had been so long since anyone had embraced him with warmth.
And out of the corner of his eye, he saw it:
Her hand grazed the Forbidden Stone again.
If he truly tried, a faint shimmer passed through the crystal—enough magic now stored within it to break the bindings.
Luxanna stepped back with a sheepish wave, picked up the book she always brought for him, and turned away.
As her figure disappeared up the stone steps, Silas remained still.
He didn't move toward the robe. He only stared at it in silence, with an unreadable expression.
Outside the prison, Luxanna walked briskly toward the city, her steps unusually light.
But later, in a hushed room beneath the ivory spires of the inner sanctum, she bowed her head before her teacher, no longer the confident young woman she had been in the cell.
"I'm sorry, Master," she said softly.
"I made a decision without asking."
"If you hadn't poured magic into the Forbidden Stone today," the old voice replied calmly, "you wouldn't be Luxanna."
At those words, warmth spread through her chest.
Every book she gave Silas had been chosen with care.
Every visit, every gesture, is deliberate.
She knew exactly what she'd done today.
But she also knew she couldn't stop him forever—only guide him when the moment came.
If he chose to leave… the magic she left behind would always linger.
A light by his side. Watching. Waiting.
"Thank you," she whispered, "for letting me be reckless… one last time."