Arcane: Red Sands

-----The Past, 10 years ago-------

The storm raged over the spires of the Immortal Bastion, as if the city itself were lamenting its unyielding cruelty. Dorrik, clad in his ceremonial armor, sat at his desk, staring at the wax seal of Emperor Darkwill. The letter bore a weight that seemed heavier than any weapon he had ever wielded.

General Dorrik Tadeus, you are hereby ordered to take stewardship of Bel'zhun in Shurima.

Failure to comply will result in the reassignment of your command and forfeiture of rank.

The words burned in his mind. There was no room for weakness in Noxus; the cost of defiance was absolute. Yet his hesitation wasn't born of cowardice. It was Briar—his daughter, his only tether to the life he had once dreamed of. Leaving Noxus with her fragile health might mean her death.

The letter remained unopened on his desk, untouched yet inescapable.

The sound of small footsteps broke through the rhythmic drum of rain. Dorrik turned to see Briar standing at the doorway, her Silver hair tousled, her blanket dragging behind her like a cape.

"Father," she said softly, her voice barely louder than the storm outside. "Why are you still awake?"

Dorrik smiled faintly, masking his turmoil. "I could ask you the same, my child. You should be in bed."

"I couldn't sleep," she said, stepping closer. "The storm is too loud."

He beckoned her forward, and she climbed into his lap, curling into his chest. Her frame was so small, so fragile. He could feel her uneven breaths against his armor.

"Are we leaving?" Briar asked suddenly, her words cutting through the silence like a blade.

Dorrik stiffened. "Why would you think that?"

"The servants were whispering about it," she said, her voice trembling. "They said you'd be leaving soon. Is it true?"

Dorrik hesitated. He had always told her the truth, no matter how harsh it was. Yet now, as her wide eyes searched his face, he faltered. "Yes," he admitted finally. "It's true."

Briar didn't speak right away. When she did, her voice was a whisper. "Will you take me with you?"

The question shattered him.

"I will." he said firmly, though he didn't know if it was true. "I'll make sure of it."

"Promise?" she asked, her hand clutching the edge of his gauntlet.

"I promise," he said, his voice thick.

Briar nodded, her head resting against his chest. "Then I'm not afraid."

Dorrik held her tightly, his heart breaking.

-----------------------------

The rain slowed to a gentle patter as the city fell into uneasy silence. Dorrik sat alone in his study, his fingers tracing the edge of the letter. He hadn't made his decision, but time was running out.

He leaned back in his chair, his mind wandering to memories of Arlena. He could still hear her laughter echoing in the halls of their old home, could still see her standing in the garden, tending to the roses she loved so much.

She had been the the most gentle, Bravest person he'd ever known, and yet even she had been powerless to stop the sickness that had taken her. Now, it threatened to take Briar too.

"Arlena," he murmured, his voice breaking. "I miss you so much...."

The candlelight flickered, and the room grew cold. Dorrik's hand moved instinctively to his sword, but before he could react, the shadows in the corners of the room began to twist and writhe.

The shadows coalesced into two forms, their features blurred and indistinct. The woman's figure was shrouded in a dark veil, her voice smooth and melodic. The man's presence was heavier, his crimson eyes glowing faintly through the darkness.

"General Dorrik," the woman said, her tone smooth and lilting.

He rose to his feet, his sword drawn. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

The man chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent a chill down Dorrik's spine. "We are everywhere, General. But don't fret."

The woman stepped closer, her movements fluid and unnaturally graceful. "We bring you an opportunity."

"I'm not interested in your riddles," Dorrik said, his grip tightening on his sword. "Speak plainly or die by my blade, Sorcerer."

The woman tilted her head, her glowing eyes narrowing. "You're in no position to refuse us, General. Not when your daughter's life hangs in the balance."

Dorrik froze, his heart pounding. "What do you know about my Daughter?"

"More than you do," the man said. "We know the sickness that plagues her. We know the pain she endures."

"And we can save her," the woman added.

Dorrik's jaw clenched. "At what cost?"

The woman smiled, a cold, calculated expression. "Loyalty. That is all we require."

The figures moved closer, their presence oppressive. Dorrik could feel the weight of their gaze, though their faces remained hidden.

"You have been ordered to Shurima," the man said. "A convenient coincidence, wouldn't you agree?"

"There are no coincidences in Noxus," Dorrik replied bitterly.

"Exactly," the woman said. "Your assignment is not merely a military post. It is an opportunity to serve a higher purpose."

"What purpose?" Dorrik demanded.

The woman's smile widened. "That is not for you to know."

The man's crimson eyes gleamed. "Your task will be only to ensure that our work in Bel'zhun remains uninterrupted. Nothing more."

Dorrik shook his head. "And if I refuse?"

The man's laughter was low and menacing. "You won't."

The woman extended a hand, dark energy swirling around her fingers, forming the shape of a Dark Rose. "This is not a decision to take lightly, General. But you already know what you must do."

Dorrik stared at the shadows that danced around her hand, his mind racing. He thought of Briar, of her frail body and the way she had smiled at him earlier.

Finally, he lowered his sword. "If you bring harm to her—"

"We won't," the woman interrupted. "Your daughter will live. That is our promise."

Dorrik took a deep breath, his hands trembling. "so be it. You'll have my loyalty."

The woman's smile sharpened. "Good."

As the figures faded into the shadows, the room grew silent once more. But Dorrik couldn't shake the feeling that he had just made a deal with the devil

-----------------

As the first rays of dawn broke through the storm, Dorrik sat alone in his study, his face buried in his hands.

The shadows were gone, but their presence lingered. The weight of his choice settled over him like a shroud, heavy and suffocating.

He glanced at a small portrait on his desk—a picture of Arlena holding Briar as an infant. Her face was serene, her eyes full of quiet strength.

"I'll protect her," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "No matter the cost."