A Life Without Lifeblood
Hey guys! Once again, I've been a bit silent, sorry - finals drained a LOT of my time and energy. Hope everyone's doing well!
Now, just a heads up - this story is a bit of an unusual one for me, I wrote it for the Xayah Mains Discord's birthday contest, and now that the submission deadline is approaching, I decided to post it here. Warning: this could be a repeat of Last Stand for those of you who read The Elementalist Tales, so I apoligize in advance if you end up using a lot of tissues.
Just a quick explanation here: this is a backstory for a Xayah skin concept titled "Exiled Xayah" I came up with for the contest. It's a depressing one too (sorry!). But hopefully you'll still enjoy the story.
Anyways ... on to the story!
The haphazard melody composed by a scattering of birds woke Xayah from her slumber. She noticed the sun was higher in the sky than usual – she must have overslept. Slowly, she rolled onto her side and then pushed herself into a sitting position, careful not to shift an inch of her back.
Yet another morning in exile, she thought, as she reached for her pack. Luckily, there was still an assortment of leftovers from the trade she’d made with the locals. Xayah then quickly polished off a piece of bread and the last of the cheese, which she could tell was about to turn bad.
Looks like I’ll have to go trade with the humans again soon. Ugh. So much for avoiding them.
As much as she hated interacting with humans, it was currently the safest way to survive until her back was finally healed. She couldn’t cover it or put pressure on it for an extended period of time yet without experiencing excruciating pain. That meant she had to be alone until the evidence of what she once was had finally vanished.
Well, there wasn’t anything to be done about the ears, but they at least could be covered with a hood and no one would ask. The still healing wounds on her back, on the other hand, couldn’t be treated by mundane or magical means – humans would react as expected once they realized what she was, and as for her kind …
Xayah’s mood darkened as yet another flashback of that dreadful day flooded her mind.
The mission was supposed to be simple – recover the vastayan artifact and leave. Well, at least it would have been before the pack of male juloah Rakan and I had run into decided to join us. That meant that the plan had to be altered substantially – instead of Rakan putting on a show and me sneaking in to grab the artifact, they were coming with me.
Rakan seemed skeptical of the juloah from the beginning, which had struck me as odd. Rakan almost never disliked fellow vastaya, and this was the first time I’d ever seen him visibly display it. When they’d told him the artifact we were after was stolen from their tribe, he’d backed off a bit. However, just before the mission, he’d pulled me aside and, in a more serious tone than I’d ever heard from him before, he warned me not to trust them, and to leave if anything went wrong.
I should have believed him. Because I didn’t, I paid the price.
As expected, Rakan’s performance quickly drew villagers and guards alike, leaving the compound where the artifact was completely unguarded. We quickly made our way in, grabbed the artifact, and were about to escape into the forest when a child’s voice asked, “Who are you?”
The juloah and I all spun to see a small human girl staring at us with curiosity in her eyes. She was not a threat, and I was already composing a believable excuse that would satisfy her when one of the juloah took a menacing step towards her, clearing intending to dispose of the witness.
In that moment, I knew I had two options. I could either let the juloah kill the human, or step in. The girl’s expression instantly morphed into fear, and I could tell she was about to scream for help.
To this day, I still don’t know why I made the choice I did. But all I remember was that fearful human child’s radiant blue eyes and pale hair, and an instinct to protect. Maybe her resemblance to my mate had caused my reaction, or it could have been because I had already planned on just leaving her with an excuse. But I made a fatal mistake that day, one that I still regret.
Before the juloah could take another step in the child’s direction, I stepped between them.
“She’s just a child who can easily be told off,” I chided him. “Human children believe what they are told, and by the time some other human figures out the truth, we’ll be long gone.”
The juloah scoffed at me, his expression partly disgusted.
“It’s still a worthless human,” he replied. “Aren’t you the one who wants them all gone, so Ionia’s magic can be restored to its former glory?”
The other juloah started to advance in my direction as well, dark thoughts evident on their faces. I realized that Rakan had been right to worry – these were true rogues, vastaya who took the cause too far. While I would only kill if provoked and generally sought to avoid humans as much as possible, these juloah spared none, and would kill anything or anyone that stood in their way.
And right now, I was their obstacle.
I turned my head so I could see the human girl and yelled at her to run. But before she could take a step, the first juloah – the very one that had originally sought to kill her – lunged for the child and gored her through with his horns.
With that, he tossed the frail little body to the side and turned on me.
The next few moments were a flurry of feathers and blood. I held them back with well-aimed cuts as I darted for the tree line. If I could make it deep enough into the forest, I could lose them and circle back to warn Rakan.
But I never made it. Just as the last juloah chasing me crossed the tree line, one of them lunged for me. I spun to the side to avoid getting gored head-on, but he managed to grab my arm as he passed. The force of his lunge yanked me to the side, and I lost my grip on my current handful of feathers.
I still had one more trick up my sleeve to escape, though. I began to channel all of my magic into my wings, causing the feathers to glow a brilliant purple. Then I slowly spread my wings, continuing to channel magic into my feathers.
I heard one of the juloah yell, “Stop her!” and closed my eyes, hoping that I could finish channeling in time. Once all of my magic was dispersed into my wings, I could send dozens of feathers flying, which would shred through the juloah. I would be drained of magic for a while, but at least I’d be alive.
But just before I was able to release the magic, the unthinkable happened.
Among the different tribes of the vastaya, there are not many shared rules. But there is one law that will mean swift and deadly punishment for those who are caught – never destroy a vastaya’s link to magic. Magic is our lifeblood, and without it we are less than human, weakling mortals that will wither and die.
And while I had learned to expect humans trying to steal my feathers, I had never in my life expected anyone to target my wings.
Indescribable pain tore through me as the sounds of skin shredding, muscles tearing and bones breaking filled the clearing. I screamed as the juloah who had managed to approach me from behind tore my wings from my back, leaving two gaping wounds and a world of agony.
The moment my wings were completely severed, I collapsed to the ground, narrowly avoiding landing on my back. A fresh wave of pain still sprung through me as a result of the impact.
I looked up at the juloah, tears clouding my vision as I saw a pair of them standing there with my bloodied wings still in their grasp. One of them grabbed the bag I’d stored the artifact in, and another walked over to rip my cape away from me. He paused, and then reached for the skull adorned with Rakan’s feathers. I desperately made a grab for it, but I was too weak to stop him – my magic was depleted and I was in too much pain to move.
So, all I could do was watch as my last tie to my mate was ripped from my grasp.
Their mission complete, the pack of juloah turned and ran. They, as well as I, knew someone had likely heard my scream, and would come to investigate. If Rakan came, they didn’t want to be at the scene of the crime, and if a human came, they still wouldn’t want to be there.
After a moment, I struggled to ignore the pain and began to pull myself out of the clearing. I would have to find a place to hide until the pain receded a bit, and then I would need to leave. Injured or not, I didn’t want to be nearby when the villagers finally learned that the artifact was gone and one of the children had been murdered.
As I finally dragged my weakened body into a hiding spot, I looked back in the direction of the village sadly. I couldn’t go look for Rakan in my state – I’d have to hope he’d find me. But without the magic binding us, it was unlikely he ever would.
I was going to be alone again, but this time my solitude would be accompanied by the pain of losing a love I never thought I would find.
Xayah managed to snap out of the flashback with a jolt. She hated reliving that day, yet still it happened, every time her thoughts wandered towards the vastaya.
She had been living without magic for weeks now. Weeks of loneliness, of excruciating pain whenever she had to adjust her back, and of searching for a way to survive until what was left of her wings healed – that is, if they ever did.
A Lhotlan’s wings were the vastaya’s connection to Ionia’s magic, so they by nature were magic themselves. And magical wounds tended to heal differently. It didn’t help that Xayah couldn’t set foot back into Ionia’s wild lands lest she get chased out by misunderstanding vastaya, since that was likely the only place her wounds could heal.
And, of course, there was the constant pain of losing Rakan. While he was still alive and well, as far as she knew, she still missed him terribly. But the odds of either of them finding the other were nearly impossible, since Xayah didn’t have her magic anymore.
She’d managed to barely make a living by using her mundane hunting skills to trap animals, but it hadn’t been long before she tired of the constant meat diet. Luckily, she’d found a small village nearby where the villagers didn’t ask questions. Since then, Xayah occasionally traded the animals she caught for other edible items, as well as supplies when needed. She’d had to steal a large black, woolen cape from an Ionian, but since then she’d been able to procure everything she needed through less dangerous means.
Without her wings, she blended in with humans much more easily, but getting caught for stealing was now too great a risk, since she could no longer fight off any adversaries. Xayah now relied on trading with humans to survive, and while she wasn’t happy with it, at least she was alive and slowly recovering.
Another memory came to mind – the first time she’d had to trade with humans, and one of the moments when she realized just how drastically her life had changed.
As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, I quietly stepped out from the tree line and examined my surroundings. The trade market I was aiming for was at the very edge of the village and was starting to close down for the day. I adjusted my cape once more, pulling the hood down over my face to ensure my ears were covered and adjusting the fabric so its weight was off of my back, and then slipped into the loosely gathered throng of merchants.
I immediately wrinkled my nose at the pointless trinkets some of the merchants were selling. Not only were the baubles they offered crafted with fake jewels, they also had no magical purpose and were therefore useless to me.
I turned toward the group of traders offering various foods and began scanning their supplies. The first trader had mainly meat – he wouldn’t trade for more. The second’s wares consisted of cheese and bread, but I wasn’t sure if he’d want the various animals I’d hunted down over the last few days. Three traders were offering delicacies that wouldn’t be worth the price for me – I was looking for food that would last as long as possible so I could stay away until absolutely necessary.
A sixth trader looked like he was bartering for supplies instead of just selling. I slowly made my way over, steeling myself for an interaction with a lesser creature.
The human trader looked up from his supplies as I drew close. “Looking to trade?” he asked hopefully. “I’m trying to collect some supplies, and I’ve got the coin to pay for it.”
To prove it, he held out his hand, which contained a variety of Ionian currency. I nodded, remaining silent, and opened the bag I’d brought with me to show him the amount of meat I was offering.
The man’s eyes widened. “You caught all of that?” he asked incredulously.
I nodded again, trying to avoid speaking with the human. But I knew at some point I’d have to talk.
“Well, if you don’t mind, may I inspect your wares?”
I paused, and then decided it was worth it if that meant he would offer more for the meat.
“All right,” I finally replied, and then offered the bag to him. I knew somehow that if I picked out a piece, he’d assume I was only showing him the best and would get skeptical, so giving him the option to choose a portion to inspect himself seemed reasonable. From what I could tell about this human, he seemed honorable – I doubted he would grab the meat and run.
The trader took a few minutes to carefully examine some of the game before finally giving me a price. During that time, my cloak shifted so that it was resting right on top of the still-fresh wounds, so I spent a few moments painfully trying to rearrange it.
When the man was done, he looked right at me and asked, “You sure you don’t need anything for your back?”
I paused, taken aback that he had jumped to the correct conclusion. Then I responded, “I think I’ll be fine. But how did you know that was why I was adjusting my cloak?”
The human gave me an empathetic grimace and replied, “I’ve seen that sort of behavior from those who fought against Noxus and made it out with scars to tell the story of their survival. Most of the survivors with back injuries would try to avoid putting weight on their backs for a long time, even after the wounds were fully healed. I’d recommend you do the same.”
Immediately after, he reached over to the side, grabbed a small sack from his supplies, and transferred some of the game into it. He then handed the sack to me along with what looked like more coin than he needed to pay for the meat.
I tried to hand the sack back – after all, I could easily hunt more meat for myself – but the trader shook his head at me and said, “Keep this so you can avoid hunting for a few days. It will help your back for sure. And keep the coin. You look like you could use it more than I do.”
I nodded, and then turned and made my way over to the other food traders. As I walked, I quickly checked over the amount of coins the human had given me and the game he’d returned. He’d given me the pieces that were reasonable portions for one person, and from what I could tell of Ionian currency, he’d paid me far more than he needed to for the meat.
For a moment, I thought that maybe humans weren’t all that bad. But then the reminder that a human child had led to my predicament quickly shoved that idea out of my head.
But still, even if I didn’t like humans, the trader’s generosity was going to be helpful. I was able to buy some cheese and bread from the trader I’d spotted previously, as well as a few other supplies I remembered I needed, and still had some coin left to spare. Each human I interacted with was polite, offered reasonable prices, and, most surprisingly, didn’t ask any questions. I was used to nosy vastaya, so the fact that these humans merely accepted my presence and conducted their business without any distractions once again made me reconsider my opinion on the lesser species I so disliked.
Finally, as I exited the throng of traders and reached the edge of the tree line, preparing to leave, I noticed one last trader who had purposely set up near the woods. Whether to avoid thieves or reduce potential customers, I wasn’t sure, but what caught my eye was the gleaming daggers on display.
I didn’t have my feathers anymore. I couldn’t rely on my magic to defend myself anymore. And that thought almost broke me down as I turned back towards the trader and reached for the coins I still had left.
This trader was clearly an experienced smith. I could tell that just by how he had carefully arranged his wares to both display their – in my opinion – decent craftmanship and prevent them from being damaged by any possible change in the environment. That could include unhappy traders, after all.
The human straightened as I approached, and I could tell he was attempting to pick an appropriate item to offer. Much to my surprise, he walked over to the section of his display that contained a variety of small daggers – some standard, some crafted for throwing – and asked if I had a preference. Daggers were the closest I could get to my old feathers, so the fact that he’d identified that exact weapon type for me was both unexpected and appreciated.
I moved closer to the daggers and noticed that there was a set of throwing daggers that appeared to have a unique sheen. While the other blades displayed merely reflected their viewer’s image back at them, these daggers gave off a faint blue glow – the same glow as Ionia’s wild magic, I noted with a jolt.
I immediately pointed out the daggers and asked if they were in fact enchanted. The trader nodded, not too surprised at my observation, and explained that the enchantment allowed the wielder to recall the blades, but only if they could wield magic themselves.
So much for that idea, then, I thought. But the human caught my reaction and added that he actually had a simple enchanted leather glove that he expected could do the trick, which he then showed to me.
“I’m no knife thrower,” he told me, “but from what I know of the art, this glove should be enough to enable you to use the enchantment.”
I nodded, satisfied with his answer, and took a few moments to inspect the daggers and glove once more before finally asking for the price. The smith provided it – but, I realized, it was just a bit more coin than I actually had.
But now I wanted those daggers, so I offered, “While I don’t have enough in coin to buy these, I have some game I’m willing to add to the deal to cover the remaining price.”
He asked to see the meat, and I headed over my bag. While examining the meat, he noticed the bread and cheese I’d purchased.
“I’d like to request some of this cheese to cover the remainder instead,” he countered. “I’ve wanted to try that trader’s goods for a while, but he claims that I sold him a cheap sword, so I can never purchase from him directly.”
That was fine with me, since I wasn’t entirely sure I was going to be able to finish all of the cheese before it started to turn, but I did want to get rid of some of the meat. So, I instead offered half cheese and half game to the smith.
The bartering only continued for a few more turns before we finally struck a deal. I even ended up with a proper sword belt that got added to the bargain. Once I had carefully sheathed my new blades and secured the glove in my bag, I thanked the human once more. His only response was to warn me that the creatures in the forests had been more hostile lately, and that I should be wary of road thieves.
Once I was back inside the forest and out of range of the traders’ hearing, the full weight of my realization finally hit me.
I was never going to wield magic again. That thought burned like a flame – magic had always been my lifeblood, and a life without it felt impossible.
I was never going to fly again. This thought was not as strong, but still enough to bring tears to my eyes.
And, most importantly, I was never going to see Rakan again. That was the realization that finally broke me. A choked sob escaped my throat as tears ran down my face.
It took what felt like a very long time, but I finally was able to pull myself together. As I reined my emotions back in, I realized that I actually hadn’t allowed myself to break down like that in a very long time. I felt like a small weight had been lifted – not much, but still a noticeable difference.
Maybe this cursed existence wasn’t going to be so terrible after all if I could at least see everything in a new light.
Xayah paused for a moment to mentally shove the memories back into the deepest confines of her mind. She didn’t need distractions, even if she had no purpose anymore.
Her meal finished and the flashbacks firmly under control, Xayah began to consider what needed to be done that day. Obviously, trading would be important, but after a quick check of her supplies, she knew she had a few days before it became critical. The more pressing issue was that she’d been occupying the clearing she was currently in for a few days, and it was time to move.
Xayah didn’t have much to pack. All she carried with her now was her bag of supplies, the set of daggers she’d bartered for, and any meat she intended to trade with. But that didn’t mean she could just take her stuff and leave. She still would have to clean up the clearing so there was no evidence of her being there just in case any curious humans ever wandered through.
As Xayah began to pack, one of the old folk-hymns her father used to sing to her sprang to mind, and she found herself singing the ancient melody. Rakan had always been the better singer, but he wasn’t here, so she sang anyway.
The song distracted her though, and if she had been listening for footsteps, she would have heard the vastaya that turned her way when he heard the song. She no longer could sense presences like she used to, but she might have heard the footsteps stop when she became visible to the newcomer.
But what she did hear, the noise that silenced her song, was the male snarl of rage that burst from behind her.
Xayah spun around to find Rakan standing at the edge of the clearing, bristling with anger, a furious expression on his face as the image of her missing wings was burned into his memory.
And that's it for the story! Hope you enjoyed it. I'll try to work on my next big project - A Lhotlan Tale - as soon as I can, but there are still some blind spots and plot holes in Ionia's lore, so for now ... not much progress.
Anyway, thanks for reading, and see you on the Rift!