Runeterra: First Light

A reinterpretation and recasting of Runeterra's lore "Everything remained the same—until one change changed everything."

[runeterrafirstlight]

The Book of the First Light – Chapter II: The Last Emperor

And when torment had no end, a man rose among the remains of the sun.

His name was Azir, born of dust and flame, last heir of the order that once was.

No god had called him, yet the light answered his desire.

He ascended with no prophets, no temples, for prophets and temples had long been buried.

And the Sun embraced him, not out of faith, but out of necessity.

At his side stood Xerath, keeper of the forbidden truths.

But wisdom turned to envy, and envy, to betrayal.

He sought to break the ascension, yet the thunder he forged returned upon his own heart.

And the fire of the traitor merged with that of the king, making of Azir something more than man, and less than god.

Then he gathered the remnants of the Ascended, whose wings were dust, whose eyes no longer sought the sky.

They marched beneath his golden banner, against the fallen gods men called Darkin.

For centuries they fought. The desert trembled, the heavens cracked, and the sands drank more blood than water.

Yet victory never came. Every battle mirrored the last, every song of glory died without echo.

And the Ascended spoke unto the mortals: “The Sun no longer shines, it never shone. The Sun burns.”

And the men were silent, for they understood that the fire above had not come to guide them, but to consume them.

And Azir saw that the enemy was not the Void, but war itself.

For the Void merely waited, and what it waited for was man to undo himself.

Then the Emperor fell silent, and for the first time, the Sun seemed unsure of its own light.

[runeterrafirstlight]

The Book of the First Light – Chapter I: The War That Ended Heaven

In the beginning, the light was pure, and the sands remembered every step of the gods.

The heavens burned with their names, and mortals bowed not in fear, but in wonder.

For the Ascended were once men, and men were once dust, and all were bound by the promise of the Sun.

The promise of eternity, the promise of order, the promise that light would never fade.

But beneath the earth, the silence awoke. It had no voice, no form, no mercy, only hunger.

It came not to conquer, but to erase. And in that silence, the gods heard their own hearts tremble.

They took up their spears, and the sands burned. The sky split open, and the stars bled light.

For a thousand years, the war raged without end, and the desert drank the blood of gods and mortals alike.

The Ascended fought not for the world, but for themselves. Their glory turned to pride, their pride to wrath, and wrath to madness.

And when the void grew quiet, they could no longer tell if the silence came from victory, or from their own ruin.

The light twisted within them. Their wings became weapons, their words became hunger.

And those once worshipped as saviors became the terrors of the night.

The Darkin walked the earth, and the sun hid behind their shadows.

Cities were swallowed by flame, rivers ran dry with ash, and men forgot the names of peace.

For centuries, the world was ruled by fear.

And the Prophet of Dust spoke unto the wind: “The day shall come when the Sun hides its face, and the earth shall remember no god.”

The sky was their throne, and despair their crown.

The gods had fallen, and no man dared to dream again.

And when the age of torment seemed without end, one man looked to the horizon and chose to do what was right.