The actors take their places.
The lights dim.
The spotlights take aim.
The curtain rises.
The stage is set.
The audience basks in the mediocrity of the performers on stage, each member of the concerto more boring and uninspired than the last. Viktor, waving his baton like the foolish baboon that he is trying ever so desperately to lead the rest to make something that at least sounds like music. Bard, who's notes dance to a song that made even the molecules in the air cover their ears. Teemo, who's shrill flute can be heard from miles away, yet he seems so embarrassed of his inability to properly play that he's disappeared. Sona, who took his rightful place at the bench, playing the song off-key and off-tempo, not even reading the sheet music. Yorick and his ghostly choir, who are more wailing in anguish that they have to endure this travesty than singing, and he, for a brief moment, felt the same way. And finally, there was Olaf, who was more content to hack his instrument to bits than actually play it.
From high above the crowd on the edge of the open roof, Khada Jhin perched, staring down at the concerto in disgust. He had already assembled Whisper. He was simply waiting for the perfect moment.
He was the best piano player in all of Runeterra, with thousands flocking from every corner just to see him, let alone hear him. But tonight, a young prodigy by the name of Sona took his place, he having had been turned away at the last moment. To say he was furious would be an understatement.
They will learn their lesson... he thought to himself.
Suddenly, his attention was pulled back to the performance below. He could see Sona clearly now, and what she would become.
He took aim, taking 4 deep breaths, in for 4 seconds, and out for 4 seconds. On the last exhale, he pulled the trigger.
Sona immediately stopped playing as the bullet ripped through her neck. She opened her mouth to scream, but all that came out was a flock of white butterflies in a cloud of smoke. She then fell backwards onto the stage, her fellow performers rushing to her side as the audience fled.
As they frantically looked for the source of the attack, a small piece of parchment ever so gracefully floated down to the stag, the words on it written in golden ink. Viktor caught it, and read it aloud to the rest.
"You shouldn't have rejected me."
