Arcane: Painted Tapestries

Callian sprinted from the mansion, hot steam escaping from his mechanical armament as he used its explosive appliance to propel himself forward at an impossible speed.

The stony ground burned white-hot under his metal boots, each step he took leaving a glowing footprint behind in the hard earth.

Fuck the plan. Fuck the months of effort they had spent on perfecting their new timeline. The Kiramman family needed to die, now. If the Arcane could interfere to that extent, then he couldn't risk waiting around for seven whole years to get his revenge.

The cloaked figure blitzed through the darkness of Eastside, ignoring the steadily heightening pipeline he had run across during the fifteen-minute journey he had taken to the hideaway 

The journey that he had now completed in less than forty seconds.

The glowing street lamps of Northside came into view; along with the impossibly large walls of the gigantic cavern that the entirety of Entresol was contained inside of; their many sub-terrain branches melding together into a far wider underground.

Callian looked upwards, glancing at one of the many sinkholes that connected Entresol to Promenade.

The imperfections in Zaun's surface were allowing a few rays of slowly brightening sunlight to be cast down onto the Undercity below, illuminating large patches of the Northside colony.

Dawn was breaking in the twin cities. He had to hurry.

The sinkholes above were the most direct route in and out of the Undercity.

They were almost impossible to take advantage of however, unless you possessed an inhuman level of mobility.

Speed was and had always been the strongest card in Callian's deck; with his hextech armament complementing this trait perfectly, meaning that his current self was now leagues beyond even the fastest of the Twin cities Champions.

The man's gaze scanned the ruined street ahead of him, selecting a particularly worn-down house and darting inside the wreckage.

A few melted footprints left behind in the utter darkness of Eastside and the outskirts were a tolerable risk he was willing to take; but not in the middle of a Northside street.

That was far too noticeable.

Such a thing being inside of an already ruined house however, would raise far less suspicion. The traces of destruction he would leave in this house might not even be discovered by others within his lifetime.

Callian crouched down, feeling his armament power up to a fourth of its total capacity; two of the eight hextech gemstones that were interlinked within his armour lighting up with a ferocious blue glow.

He jumped.

The wooden flooring underfoot splintered before completely atomising, the fragile material unable to continue existing under the staggering levels of heat being generated by the soles of his metallic armament.

Callian's hood fell back under the sheer amount of force opposing his ascent as he soared upwards towards the closest sinkhole; his dark blue fair fluttering violently in the strong winds.

The man landed feet first about halfway up Entresol, momentarily standing on the cavern's wall before twisting around and blasting off for a second time; flying past the sinkhole's entrance and soaring upwards into the fresh air of Promenade.

The man tutted irritably, realising he had likely overshot Promenade's ground level by about thirty metres.

Callian gazed at the grey clouds overhead and the abandoned city below, his upward momentum slowly coming to a halt midair before he was plunged downwards towards the surface level of Zaun.

His heavy landing caused the dirty stone underneath him to cave in underfoot, a small web of cracks stretching outwards from both of his glowing footprints.

Callian didn't wait to inspect the damage he had caused, instead starting to move forwards; dodging through the crumbling streets of Promenade and heading towards the closest bridge to Piltover.

He considered bribing the patrolling Enforcers manning the bridge for entry to their city, before remembering the bloody coating that was staining his only available funds.

Callian didn't think even the most corrupt of Piltover's law enforcement would allow such a blatantly dangerous person into their city.

It looked like he would have to sneak across again; although doing so unnoticed would be much harder now given the fact he couldn't blend in with the darkness of night anymore.

He stopped running, skidding to a halt in front of the bridge's entrance.

Yes, two guards stood facing him on the opposite side, exactly like they had been last night.

Callian noted the duo of thick metal cables that connected and supported the pillars that were built evenly across the bridge's length.

They would have to do.

If the guards looked up, they would spot him immediately. He just had to hope they wouldn't.

The man jumped onto the leftmost cable, running up the thin support's steep incline until he reached the middle of the bridge, where it merged with a pillar and expanded out onto a stone platform.

He stepped onto the platform, walking over to the opposite side and staring down the duo of Enforcers, who were now over fifteen metres below him.

Callian scanned the city of Piltover ahead, his right arm exiting his cloak and extending it in front of him.

His breath formed a foggy, icy mist that obscured his vision. He hated the Season of Frost.

He unstrapped his sleeve, jostling a collection of small rectangular stones that were sewn into his dark clothing. The runic patterns covering the handmade stones glowed an ethereal jade green as his fingers brushed over them, before dulling back to an ordinary grey.

Pulling the sleeve back, he turned his gaze towards his forearm, where a multitude of complex tattoos covered every inch of the exposed skin below his wrist.

Each line was intertwined with another, conjoining together to form an incredibly detailed map of Zaun. Small crests were dotted across its surface, indicating to who had owned what land and at what time period.

The map was so precisely drawn that the human eye would never have been able to decipher it, let alone the read minuscule writing dotting its surface.

Fortunately, his eyesight was far from human levels.

He turned his arm over, now looking down onto the opposite side of his forearm. A map of Piltover.

Callian's gaze flickered back and forth between the two, switching rapidly from his forearm to the city before him; trying to match the map with reality and find out what land the Kiramman family had owned at this point in time.

His final count was: A large mansion, a few factories that lined the great river, a personal dock at the bay, and a large workshop not too far from where he currently stood.

He expected more from a member of the council.

Callian frowned, spying a second crest hovering over the workshop. It was a hammer. 

The hammer of the Talis family. Jayce's family name.

Callian knew the man had been relatively close to the Kiramman family, but he had never elaborated on their relations; not wanting to be associated with the former governing family.

He didn't blame him.

He sincerely hoped the two houses weren't intertwined too thoroughly, or that would make his next course of action very difficult to carry out.

Callian took one last look at the map, before pulling down his sleeve and buttoning it up once more.

He stared at his destination, barely spying the Kiramman mansion over the very tips of the rooftops separating them.

The man sprang from his position on the platform, leaving the faintest of scorched footprints in the stone behind him.

It was time to move.

—

[Back in the old timeline, prior to Callian's departure]

"I think it's time we stop avoiding this conversation, Cal. It's time to decide what we should do about the Kirammans." Said Ekko, leaning back in his chair and swinging around to face the rest of the cluttered workshop.

A small, furry creature in a crisply ironed uniform stood in front of a large blackboard, halting his staggering progress mid-equation. The yordle's tiny hand fell to his side, dropping his half-used chalk back into its container and turning around.

He jumped off a stool that was about twice his height, now facing the dark-skinned man ahead of him. His orange fur was ruffled and unkempt, born of their countless hours spent inside the dimly lit room.

"I quite agree my boy, this indecision has gone on for far too long; especially concerning something so pressing. What say you Callian?"

The pair both glanced over to the corner of the room, where two figures sat next to each other on opposite sides of a round table.

Callian's right forearm rested on the small piece of furniture, a bright light beaming down onto the extended appendage, courtesy of the high-powered lamp aimed directly at it.

A blonde woman sat to his left, also dressed in a strict uniform; peering through a series of thick magnifying lenses that were also aimed at his exposed limb.

Callian's fist clenched tightly.

He did not want to have this conversation right now, or at all for that matter. He knew his two companions would heavily disapprove of his opinion on the matter.

"Lord Bright if you move your arm one more time I'm going to have to redo this entire section of the map." The woman burst out, looking extremely frustrated and very near to tears.

The tattoo she was carving into his skin would be crucial for his navigation of the twin cities, no matter what time period he ended up in.

The human mind could only retain so much information, with the shimmer he had taken not doing him any favours in that regard.

"Sorry Matilda." He apologised, knowing full well how much time and effort had gone into the map so far. "It won't happen again."

The blonde woman huffed unhappily, taking a moment to wipe a bead of sweat off her forehead before continuing on with her monumental task.

"You already know my opinion on the matter, along with our mistresses as well." Said Callian, replying to his friend's earlier question.

"But… It's sick. I know Caitlyn did a terrible thing to the Undercity - to Zaun. But killing her whole family because of it? It isn't right." Said the white-haired man, standing up and sending his chair spinning across the room unhappily.

"I agree with Ekko on this matter." Said Heimerdinger, walking towards the wide desk his dark-skinned pupil was leaning against and climbing onto it. "Caitlyn may have utilised the Kiramman key to cull the growing rebellion a little, but I don't believe that constitutes this kind of-"

"A little?!" Callian was utterly incensed by the yordle's ignorant words, barely managing to retain his right arm's unmoving state. He didn't want to delay the map's completion any longer. It had already been days.

His eyes flashed dangerously.

"You fucking fool. Caitlyn did not cull the Undercity 'A little'. She killed everyone in the outskirts - everyone. Everyone in Eastside, Westside, and Southside died that night. The only colony of Entresol left untouched by her gas was Northside because it's so high up in comparison with the others; and that's not even including what became of the Slump. We still can't go down into the mines even now because all of the gas collected down there after being spread." *

He brought up his free hand to knead his forehead despairingly.

Heimerdinger blinked in shock, having been unaware of the full scale of devastation Caitlyn's selfish actions had caused.

Callian laughed hollowly at his reaction, knowing full well there had been nobody left alive to tell of what had happened. Nobody except him and one other.

The full list of that woman's crimes had never been released to the public, the final death toll attributed to her was just too long to feasibly count.

The original council of Piltover had only heard of the body count after Jayce had talked Viktor down him his insane plan to 'evolve the world'.

"Three-quarters of Zaun dead. Just like that." Callian spat, his violet eyes glaring hatefully at the small humanoid creature on the desk opposite him.

He felt Matilda stiffen up next to him, and he reigned his salgi back in, not wanting to scare the poor servant girl any longer.

That would be detrimental to her task.

Ekko just stared at the ceiling uncomfortably, not liking the blue-haired man's plan of action, but understanding his motivations to do so. Especially considering who he lost in the attack - who they had lost.

Callian respected the young adult standing across from him a great deal.

Ekko's inventions utilising the hex-gemstones had helped secure the twin cities a stable place in the world, even more so than the hex-gates already had.

Their twin cities were one of the few final bastions still standing in the world of Runterra, with most if not all of the outer, uninhabited landmasses lost to the encroaching void.

It was his and Heimerdinger's invention, the Z-drive, that had made this entire plan a possibility.

But he was too kind. Too forgiving. They both were.

That was their only weakness. They were too merciful for their own good.

They just didn't understand the brutality of war like he did. Like their Queen did.

This was why the two men opposite him were vassals, not leaders. They were not fit to rule the Twin cities

"I searched the Kiramman mansion earlier today, went and used Z-forensics on the place." Muttered Ekko, starting to spin his chair again. "I found out how the gas was released. There was a key, passed down from Cassandra to her daughter. Caitlyn then used it to access the information of their family's contingency against the Undercity and distribute the gas in retaliation for her mother's death."

Callian paused, his anger receding at this new food for thought.

He hadn't known that.

"If we destroy the Kiramman key then there won't be a way to release the gas, no matter how hard they try." Continued Ekko, glancing towards Callian hopefully.

"It's a plausible solution." Admitted the blue-haired man, conceding to the fact his friend's idea had some merit.

He still wouldn't go through with it though.

His mistress's orders had been clear, and he agreed with her decision wholeheartedly.

Even without the 'key', the Kiramman head might have prepared some sort of backup plan. A countermeasure for a scenario where the key was lost or destroyed.

There was just no way to tell.

Their continued existence wasn't worth risking most of the Undercity for.

That entire family line would die by his hand.

Whether his kinder companions agreed or not was irrelevant.

—

(Total word count: 2512)

* This is the only thing I have tweaked to the storyline, other than the addition of Callian. This small change in the gas from non-lethal to lethal will impact the story a lot, being the main focal point that changes Arcane's progression. A butterfly effect one might say.

—

This is the end of my raws, so expect slower updates from now on.