Vi had never liked Singed's lab.
It was not only the smell, though the smell was bad enough. Sharp chemicals burned the nose, metal carried a cold tang in the air, and beneath both lingered something organic, wet, and faintly sweet in the worst possible way. It clung to the throat after every breath. It made the whole place feel less like a room where people worked and more like the inside of some creature that had learned how to grow pipes, lamps, wires, glass tanks, and restraints.
The light did not help. Pale lamps hung over long tables. Greenish tubes ran along the walls. Hextech crystals sat inside containment frames, humming faintly under layers of stabilizing plates. Glass cylinders held liquids that changed color depending on the angle, purple, blue, black, violet, then purple again. On one side of the laboratory, a covered mass of flesh, carapace, and severed chitin rested beneath heavy restraints.
Vi knew what that was.
Rek'Sai.
Or what was left of her.
She had seen enough monsters in Zaun to think she could stomach almost anything, but this thing made even her uneasy. It was dead, or at least it was supposed to be dead, but every now and then the remaining tissue twitched under the hooks and clamps, like the body remembered hunger even after the mind was gone. Tubes had been inserted into parts Vi could not name. Fluids were being drawn out in slow pulses, some dark and thick, some strangely bright, some with a shimmer that made her eyes want to slide away from it.
Singed moved around it with the calm of a man slicing bread.
Viktor stood near one of the main tables, leaning slightly against the edge as he adjusted the flow between three connected containers. The first held something extracted from Rek'Sai's body. The second contained Shimmer, refined until it looked almost clean, though Vi did not trust anything purple that came from Singed's hands. The third held Hextech energy, not liquid, not gas, but something trapped between lenses and copper rings, shining with a steady blue pulse.
Jinx was there too.
That was the part Vi kept watching.
Not the monster's remains. Not Singed's needles. Not Viktor's careful calculations. Jinx.
She stood with her hair tied back, goggles pushed over her eyes, a thin tool held between two fingers. Every time Viktor gave an instruction, she followed it without a joke, without an explosion, without any of the restless humming or muttering that usually filled the space around her. She adjusted valves. She cut plates of metal to fit the frame of a half-built suit. She measured the distance between Hextech conduits. She carved tiny grooves into armor pieces so some black-violet residue could be sealed beneath a protective layer.
Vi understood almost none of it.
She had learned to read a fight in half a heartbeat. She could tell when someone shifted their weight wrong, when a punch was a feint, when a knife was hidden under a sleeve, when a frightened person was about to run. But this was not her world. Singed would murmur about tissue rejection. Viktor would answer with words like resonance, containment, conductivity, and corruption threshold. Jinx would nod, ask one brief question, then go back to work like she had swallowed all the chaos inside herself and locked it behind her teeth.
Vi only knew the goal.
They were trying to make suits, armor, whatever the hell the final thing would be called, that could resist Void corruption.
Nilah had arrived in the Twin Cities with news no one wanted to hear. Logan was gone into the Void. Ahri had followed him. Lissandra was headed for Mount Targon, searching for a way to pull them back. The Freljord had been scarred by corruption from the death of a Watcher. The Void was stirring, not in one place, but everywhere, like one wound had made the whole darkness flinch awake.
After Nilah said all that, people had moved.
Jayce had called for resources. Viktor had gone straight to the problem. Singed had offered his knowledge with that same blank expression he wore whether he was curing someone, poisoning them, or cutting into something that should never have existed. And Jinx had walked into the lab after them without being asked.
Vi had followed because of course she had.
At first, she had expected Jinx to argue. To snap. To make some wild declaration about building a rocket big enough to blow open the Void and drag Logan out by the collar. That would have scared Vi, sure, but at least it would have been familiar. Jinx loud was dangerous. Jinx laughing too brightly was dangerous. Jinx spinning grief into sparks and gunpowder was terrifying, but it was still something Vi could reach for.
This was different.
Jinx was quiet.
Not calm. Vi knew better than that.
Quiet.
There was a difference.
Jinx's shoulders barely moved as she worked. Her jaw stayed tight. Her eyes, whenever the goggles lifted, were too focused, too sharp, too still. She was listening to every word, watching every reaction, using every piece of knowledge she had, even when this was not really her area. She knew weapons. Traps. Improvised machines. Explosives. Hextech, at least when Hextech could be persuaded to blow something apart or power something that would. But this, protective gear meant to endure corruption from the Void, built from pieces of Rek'Sai, Shimmer, and Hextech, belonged more to Viktor and Singed.
Still, Jinx stayed.
She wanted to help find Logan.
That was all Vi needed to know.
A glass tube cracked under pressure. Jinx caught the leak before it became a spray, sealing the line with a clamp and twisting the release valve with a fast, precise motion.
"Pressure spike," Viktor said.
"Caught it," Jinx replied.
No pride. No grin. No taunt. Just the words.
Singed leaned close to the container, watching the mixture settle. "The reaction is still too aggressive."
"Because the Void sample keeps eating the Shimmer stabilizer," Jinx said.
"Not eating," Viktor said, his eyes fixed on the readings. "Adapting around it."
Jinx's fingers paused for half a second.
Then she went back to work.
Vi saw it.
Maybe no one else did. Viktor was buried in numbers. Singed saw everything and cared about very little beyond what could be used. But Vi saw the tiny crack. The way Jinx's hand stilled. The way her mouth almost moved and then did not. The way her eyes flicked, not to the sample, but to the door, like some part of her wanted to bolt before the pressure inside her got worse.
Vi had seen that look once before.
The last time Logan had "died," Jinx had not simply cried. She had shattered. There had been no clean edge to it, no simple grief Vi could hold and understand. It had been fear, rage, guilt, denial, all tangled together until Jinx had looked like a girl standing in the ruins of herself, surrounded by every ghost that had ever learned her name.
Vi had promised herself she would not miss it again.
Jinx was better now. Stronger, in ways Vi was proud of and hated that she had needed to become. She had Logan. She had a life that was not made only of wounds and bombs. She was more stable than before, more able to stand when the world shook.
But old fears did not die just because people healed.
Sometimes they only waited for a familiar sound.
The hum of Hextech deepened. The container on Viktor's table glowed, then dimmed. Singed made a note. Jinx reached for another tool, and Vi watched the fine tremor in her fingers disappear the instant she clenched them.
A little later, Jinx left the main work area without a word.
She crossed into one of the smaller side rooms, a narrow chamber with shelves of sealed jars, old instruments, spare parts, and a sink stained by things Vi did not want to identify. The door did not fully close behind her.
Vi waited only a moment before following.
Inside, the noise of the laboratory became muffled. The hum of Hextech turned low and distant. Jinx stood with both hands braced on the edge of a metal counter, head bowed, goggles hanging loose around her neck. Her braids fell forward over her shoulders, hiding most of her face.
Vi stopped a few steps behind her.
"Powder."
Jinx's head snapped up, but she did not turn around. "Don't."
Vi swallowed. "I didn't say anything."
"You said enough." Jinx wiped at something on the counter with her thumb, though there was nothing there. "And you don't need to be here."
Vi kept her voice low. "I know."
"No, you don't." Jinx gave a short laugh, empty and sharp. "You're doing that thing. Hovering. Looking at me like I'm a cracked grenade. I'm fine."
Vi did not answer.
Jinx finally turned. Her eyes were bright, but dry. Too dry. "I know he's alive."
Vi held her gaze.
"I know he is," Jinx said, louder. "Logan's alive. He's not dead. He's not. And that bitch Ahri is with him, so she'll take care of him, right? That's her thing. Floating around all pretty and mystical and acting like she knows everything. She'll keep him alive."
Vi stared at her for a long moment, then nodded once. "Okay."
Jinx blinked. "Okay?"
"Okay."
"Great." Jinx threw one hand toward the door. "So you can go."
Vi did not move.
Jinx's mouth tightened. "Vi."
"It's okay."
"I said go."
"I heard you."
"Then go."
"It's okay."
Jinx stared at her, disbelief turning quickly into anger. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"That." Jinx pointed at her face. "That soft thing. That big-sister thing. I don't need it."
"Okay."
"Stop saying okay!"
Vi took one slow step closer.
Jinx immediately stepped back, bumping against the counter. "No. Nope. Don't. I'm serious."
"I know."
"Go back out there. Go punch a wall. Go ask Viktor what a corruption threshold is. Go bother Singed and see if he notices." Her voice cracked on the last word, and she hated it so much that her expression twisted. "Just go."
Vi took another step.
Jinx's breathing sharpened. "I'm fine."
"It's okay."
"I'm fine."
"I know."
"No, you don't know!" Jinx's hands curled into fists. "You don't get to stand there and act like you know when you don't. He's alive. I know he's alive. I can feel it. I don't need everybody looking at me like I'm going to fall apart just because something bad happened."
Vi stopped in front of her. "It's okay."
Jinx shook her head quickly, almost violently. "No."
"Powder."
"Don't call me that."
"Jinx."
"Don't call me that either."
Vi's throat tightened, but she kept her voice steady. "It's okay."
Jinx pushed at her chest with both hands. Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to warn. "Get out."
Vi stayed.
"Get out."
"It's okay."
"Stop." Jinx shoved her again. "Stop saying that."
"It's okay."
"Shut up."
"It's okay."
"I said shut up!"
Vi reached for her.
Jinx tried to twist away, but Vi caught her and pulled her in, arms closing around her shoulders before she could escape. Jinx went rigid instantly, every muscle locking as if the hug were a trap.
"Let go," Jinx hissed.
"No."
"Vi."
"No."
"I'm not doing this."
"You don't have to hold it all in like last time."
Jinx stopped fighting.
For one heartbeat, there was nothing. No movement. No sound except the distant pulse of Hextech through the walls.
Then Jinx sucked in a breath that sounded like it had been dragged through broken glass.
Vi held her tighter.
"It's okay," she whispered, one last time, but softer now. "I've got you."
Jinx made a small, furious sound, half sob, half laugh, like she was angry at her own body for betraying her. Her hands grabbed the back of Vi's shirt. At first she clutched it like she wanted to tear it apart. Then the strength went out of her fingers, and she folded forward against Vi's shoulder.
"He's not dead," Jinx choked out.
"I know."
"He can't be."
"I know."
"He promised." The words came smaller, younger, bleeding through every wall she had built. "He can't just, he can't just disappear into that place and not come back."
"He's coming back," Vi said.
Jinx shook against her. "I hate this."
"I know."
"I hate that I can't go there. I hate that I don't know where he is. I hate that she's with him and I'm not. I hate that everybody keeps saying plans and rescue and corruption and suits, and nobody can just open a damn door."
Vi closed her eyes.
That was the part no one in the lab could fix yet. Not Singed with his needles. Not Viktor with his calculations. Not Jinx with all the impossible things she could build from scraps and spite.
There was no door.
Not yet.
So Vi held her.
Jinx cried like she was trying not to. Quiet at first, then harder, each breath breaking out of her despite how fiercely she fought to keep control. Vi did not tell her to calm down. She did not tell her it would be fine in that empty way people said when they were afraid of silence. She just held on, one hand at the back of Jinx's head, the other wrapped around her shoulders.
After a while, the sobs slowed.
Jinx did not pull away immediately. She stayed there, forehead pressed against Vi's shoulder, breathing unevenly.
Then she muttered, "Your shirt smells like lab."
Vi huffed a small laugh. "Everything smells like lab."
"This place is disgusting."
"Yeah."
"Singed is disgusting."
"Yeah."
"Viktor's not disgusting, but he talks too much when I'm trying to think."
"Yeah."
Jinx sniffed and finally leaned back. Her eyes were red. Her face was wet. She looked embarrassed and annoyed and exhausted, but the frozen edge had left her. The cold certainty from before, the kind that looked more like denial than faith, had cracked open into something warmer.
Vi reached up and wiped a tear from Jinx's cheek with her thumb.
Jinx scowled. "Don't get mushy."
"Too late."
"I'll bite you."
"You used to do that."
"I'll do it better now."
Vi smiled, then let the smile fade into something steadier. "You were right, though."
Jinx looked at her.
"Logan's too stubborn to die."
For the first time since Nilah had arrived, something in Jinx's eyes truly changed.
Not fixed. Not healed. Not safe.
But alive.
The belief was still there, only now it was not a brittle thing she was using to hold herself together. It had breath in it. Hope. Anger, too, because Jinx was Jinx, but the kind of anger that could move forward instead of eating her from the inside.
"Yeah," Jinx said, wiping her face with the heel of her hand. "He is."
Vi nodded. "So we help make the suits."
Jinx took one more breath, shaky but controlled, then grabbed her goggles from around her neck and shoved them back up over her eyes. "We make the suits," she said. "And then we find him."
She pushed past Vi, not running, not fleeing, just moving with purpose. Vi followed her back into the main laboratory.
The work had not stopped.
Viktor looked up only briefly when they returned. Singed was adjusting the position of a sample under a lens. The half-built suit frame sat on the table, ugly and incomplete, its plates still open, its inner channels empty, its purpose greater than its shape.
Jinx picked up her tool again.
Her hands were steady.
Vi leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, and watched her sister work.
For several minutes, no one spoke except Viktor and Singed, trading quiet observations over the mixture's behavior. The latest sample had stabilized longer than the last. The Hextech pulse no longer shattered the extracted tissue immediately. The Shimmer no longer burned away on contact. It was not enough yet, Vi could tell that much from Viktor's expression, but it was something.
Then Singed straightened.
His gaze moved from the sample, to the suit, to the remains of Rek'Sai, and finally to the dark fluid pulsing inside one of the sealed tubes.
"This will not be enough," he said.
Jinx's hand stopped, but only for a moment. "Then what do we need?"
Singed turned his pale eyes toward them.
"We will need that girl with the Void symbiote to return," he said. "Kai'Sa."
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