Lissandra's presence did not arrive like a storm. Storms are loud, full of fury and prior warning. She arrived as the very absence of heat, a fundamental truth of the universe that simply is. The air, already thin and cold, became dense, vitreous, as if every molecule had frozen in place. The constant wail from the Howling Abyss, that chorus of aeons of agony, dwindled to a fearful whisper, bowing to an authority that was older, more present, more terrible.
I, who have lived for centuries, who have felt my mother's celestial fury and my sister's righteous fire, who considered myself ancient among mortals, suddenly felt young. A novice. The antiquity that emanated from her was not measured in years or centuries, but in geological eras. It was the weight of mountains forming and eroding, of oceans rising and receding, of the silence that existed before the first gods whispered their names to the wind. And before that, I was little more than a young tree, strong in my own roots but insignificant before the primordial, frozen forest she represented.
She stood at the entrance to the bridge, a silhouette woven from ice and shadow. Her iconic helm, with its dark horns that curved like frozen branches on a moonless night, seemed a crown that laid claim to the night sky itself. And though her eyes were covered by a blindfold of silk and metal, I felt her psychic gaze, a probe of unimaginable power, sweep over me like a glacial wind. It passed through my defences as if they weren't there, read my celestial lineage, felt the fracture in my soul, the ache of separation from Kayle, and the weight of my self-imposed chains. I felt exposed, dissected, an open book read in seconds by an indifferent librarian.
Then, her attention turned to Azra'il.
And for the first time, I saw the certainty of that ancient entity falter. There was a pause. A hesitation that lasted but a single heartbeat, but to me, it felt like an eternity. Lissandra's gaze, which had pierced my soul, seemed to… ricochet off Azra'il. It was like looking at static, at a blank space on the map of the cosmos, at a door closed and locked from the inside with keys she did not recognise. Lissandra's power was like an ocean, but Azra'il's soul was like a vacuum that not even an ocean could fill. And that, I realised with a shiver that ran down the base of my spine, frightened her.
Her voice finally cut through the silence, not as a shout, but as the crack of ice under immense pressure. Calm, cold, and filled with an authority that froze the very soul.
"It is poor form to pry into a woman's oldest secrets."
Her helmed head turned slowly in my direction, blindfolded though she was, as if her perception needed no sight. A heavy silence fell, in which I felt my celestial lineage being exposed and judged.
"And you, Daughter of Justice," she said, and the title sounded like both an accusation and a condescending rebuke, "should know better than anyone that certain verdicts must remain forever sealed. Your kind deals in laws, not in necessities."
Then her attention shifted, focusing entirely on Azra'il. The weight of her gaze was physical, a pressure in the air around my child that made the vapour of our breath freeze and fall like diamond dust. An almost imperceptible, heatless smile touched her pale lips.
"And it is more reckless still, child, to bring an echo from other worlds to witness how I saved this one."
The weight of those words hung in the frozen air. The threat was clear, the pressure of her magic was almost physical. I instinctively prepared to weave a shield of shadows, my hands balling into fists beneath my cloak. Fear was a cold creature nesting in my chest, but the need to protect Azra'il was a hotter fire. I was ready for a battle I knew we could not win, but one I would fight to the very end.
But Azra'il didn't move.
She did not retreat, did not flinch. Instead, she stood, her head tilted, a thoughtful quiet on her face that was the antithesis of panic. Her blue eyes, impossibly bright against the canyon's gloom, were focused not on the abyss or the ice, but on the figure of Lissandra. And more specifically, I realised, on the iconic helm she wore. On the dark horns that curved like frozen branches.
As the tension stretched to breaking point, I saw something shift in Azra'il's eyes. It was subtle, like the light changing on a deep lake. A spark of recognition, followed by a glint of sudden understanding. It was as if, in her mind, a million pieces of a cosmic puzzle had just clicked into place with an audible sound. A slow, almost imperceptible smile that was pure, crystalline audacity touched her lips.
To my utter horror, she moved. Not to flee, but to draw closer. With a calm that defied sanity itself, she reached into one of the inner pockets of her fur tunic. My heart stopped, thinking she might be reaching for a weapon, a gesture that would get us killed instantly.
But what Azra'il pulled out was not a knife or a magical artifact. It was the little blue leather book. The golem's book.
She held it, the spine resting in her palm, and opened it to a specific page without even looking, the gesture familiar. Then, completely ignoring the oppressive aura that made my teeth ache, she took a step forward, breaking the line I had created between her and the Ice Witch.
"I have a question," Azra'il said, her voice surprisingly steady, cutting through the stillness. She held up the book, pointing to an illustration of a dark, horned giant standing in a snowy landscape.
Lissandra, who had clearly been expecting fear and submission, was visibly taken aback by the interruption.
"This story," Azra'il continued, "is about a lonely guardian. A primal spirit named Hjorthar. He had antlers that scraped the sky and a song could soothe his heart. He frightened travellers away to protect a great secret." She lowered the book and glanced at me for an instant, a look that said, 'watch this' and then back at Lissandra. "But the interesting part isn't the monster. It's the lie."
"The scrolls we found said Hjorthar was an elk-spirit. But that makes no sense," Azra'il said, speaking like a scholar presenting a thesis at a symposium of dead gods. "Elks don't guard bridges; they cross them. It's logistically inconsistent. The story feels… fabricated. Constructed from half-truths to create a convenient 'bogeyman'." Her eyes lifted and fixed directly on Lissandra's helm. "A bogeyman with horns, who lives on the ice and guards a great abyss. What a coincidence."
Her smile widened, a glint of pure challenge in her eyes. "So the question is for you, Lissandra. And it's a very simple one."
She held the book out in the Ice Witch's direction. "Are you the Hjorthar in this story?"
The silence that followed was the heaviest I have ever felt. The air grew so cold that the moisture in it crystallised, dancing like diamond dust. I expected Lissandra to annihilate her, to turn her to frozen powder for such insolence.
Instead, a nearly imperceptible twitch in Lissandra's jaw was her only confession.
Azra'il knew she had her answer. "The story was a means of controlling information," she went on, her voice gathering strength, not with volume, but with the relentless certainty of a revealed truth. "You turned yourself into a fairytale monster so no one would look for the real threat. The girl with the song… that was a moment of weakness, wasn't it? A glimpse of the woman you were, before you became… this." She gestured to the bridge, to the ice, to Lissandra. "A moment you twisted and turned into a tool. Using a lullaby as a 'do not cross' sign. Genius. Truly."
Lissandra finally moved. Her helmed head tilted. "You talk too much for a child."
"It's one of my many talents," Azra'il retorted without missing a beat.
Lissandra's focus turned entirely upon her, her curiosity now overriding her anger. It was a predator's curiosity, that of a scientist observing an anomaly that defied all known laws.
"I can read the hearts of men like an open book. I can hear the dreams of demigods." Her voice grew tighter, more frustrated. "I feel the fractured celestial soul in you, Daughter of Justice," she said to me. "The pain of your broken wing, the echo of your mother's light." She then turned back to Azra'il, her psychic gaze intensifying. "But you… I look at you and I see… nothing. An echo. A closed door. A dream I cannot hear. What are you, anomaly?"
She tried to probe Azra'il, and I felt her magic extend, only to dissipate harmlessly against the stillness of Azra'il's soul.
Lissandra's inability to read her was our only salvation.
"The world cannot know the truth you have seen," Lissandra said finally, her tone shifting to that of a final decree. "You will keep my secret. That is the price for your lives." It was an imposed pact. "And to ensure your… cooperation, you will do something for me."
Her command was clear. Go to Noxus. "I feel something growing in that land of conquerors," she explained. "A new form of power, tied to ancient secrets of the earth, to the resurrection of an evil that was buried aeons ago. It may be a threat to the seal. Or it may be a tool I can use. Go. Be my eyes, or find oblivion in the ice."
She turned her back on us. But before she vanished into the shadows, she paused. "A final warning, Daughter of Justice. You rebel against a tyranny of light that has lasted centuries. I have kept a sun-devouring darkness locked beneath my feet for ages. Your pain is a scream; mine is the silence of the ice itself. Think on that before you judge me."
And with that, she was gone. The silence she left behind was even heavier.
"Well," Azra'il's voice broke the quiet, surprisingly calm. "That escalated quickly. From a folkloric quest to being pawns in a cosmic chess game against a liar-ice-queen with a saviour complex. A typical Tuesday."
I turned to her. My child. The girl I saved from the forest, who now seemed to have saved us with her audacity and a mind as sharp as obsidian. In her, I saw the glint of an ancient, furious power, and the loneliness of a knowledge I could barely begin to comprehend. We were no longer a guardian and her ward. We were two prisoners, chained by a secret that could destroy the world, on a journey we had not chosen. And the path now, whether we wanted it or not, led to Noxus.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
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Guys, I just noticed something funny 🤔✨. On Webnovel, almost everyone voted for a loyal Azra'il, devoted to a single partner. But on Scribble Hub… you guys are wild, huh? 😂 Over there, most readers wanted Azra'il in full "any fish that bites the hook gets reeled in" mode, going on romantic adventures, not a harem, but definitely flirty and womanizing.
But if I add up the votes from both platforms, the winner is still the one-partner, faithful version 💘. So yes, our immortal wolf's icy heart is still going to be truly conquered by just one person (side-eyeing 👀 those who already know who I'm talking about…).
👉 But hold on! I haven't made a final decision yet. The poll gives me an idea of what you all want, but it also leaves me room to think about how to shape the story. Maybe Azra'il will really follow the path of loyalty, maybe I'll explore more funny situations, romantic tension, and near-routes to keep the "womanizer team" happy too 😏🔥.
In the end, what matters is that I'll make her journey fun, intense, and full of moments that truly fit her character arc ❤️