Serena's once-white eyes had turned a murky yellow.
Yet unlike the Death Walkers, who snarled and drooled with ravenous hunger, she remained composed.
If not for the spider-like web of veins crawling up her neck, she might have looked the same as ever.
But those marks—those veins—reminded Xion of his own chest.
Almost instantly, the pieces clicked together in his mind.
The devil's heart.
Back then, Darius had said he left that black stone on the bedside table, yet later they found it buried in the deep corner of the lowest drawer.
And before that day, Serena had come to visit him.
Xion had been blind then—blind not only in sight, but consumed by his own broken world—so lost he hadn't even noticed her breath.
If not for the system, he wouldn't have realized she was there at all.
When he had called her, she hadn't replied. She didn't ask about his health. Not even her usual jokes about Noxian being a brat without someone to look after him.
