When they play the song of my life, will it be pleasant to the ears, a tune for the ages, or will it be discordant and harsh?
When they strike the last note, will the audience laugh at me for thinking myself a hero, or will they despise me for becoming a villain?
When flesh rots and bones crumble, we're left with the ghost of what was, not what is—what had been, not what is being…
Who I am, or what I am… it no longer matters.
Noxian or human…
Man or beast…
The song is the same.
Still, I cannot help but wonder…
When they play the song of my life, will it be my own?