Standing alone in the dimly lit room, Duke stared at the Beyonder Potion on the table. The clock ticked softly in the silence, the air heavy with anticipation. After ensuring everyone else was asleep, he finally allowed himself to act.
He raised the bottle to his lips and drank.
The taste was unbearable—bitter and cloying. He wiped his mouth and gagged, nearly vomiting, but sheer determination kept him going. Then, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The air grew dense, pressing down on him as a strange, glowing light filled his vision. His body lifted off the ground, floating midair.
Suddenly, Duke found himself in the Arcane Dimension once again. The swirling void felt both familiar and alien as he approached the massive, glowing sphere at its center. He reached out to touch it, but everything froze before his fingers could make contact.
A rush of knowledge flooded his mind—not traditional knowledge, but a series of impressions, a form of communication from the Arcane itself. Piece by piece, the understanding came together, revealing a truth that left him awestruck.
The Arcane conveyed its terms and purpose through this peculiar method. Once Duke formally established his family, it would forge a deep connection to the Arcane, though the specifics were incomprehensible in mortal terms. It wasn't a mere contract—it was a symbiotic bond, an agreement of profound magnitude.
He called it the Arcane Contract: The Covenant of Resonance.
This pact would bind mortals to the Arcane in exchange for power, knowledge, and influence—facilitating their progression through the Beyonder pathways. But the world of Runeterra followed different laws from those of The Lord of the Mysteries. One couldn't simply drink a potion and ascend to godhood. The Arcane itself would bridge the gap, providing power and resonance with the pathways, enabling their progression.
For example, if Duke drank the Visionary Pathway's Sequence 9 potion—Spectator—the Arcane would channel its energy to grant him the abilities of that sequence. It acted as both a source and a medium, drawing upon the vast, untamed magic of Runeterra. The very essence of the World Runes echoed with the Arcane, further attesting to its incredible power.
At this moment, Duke accepted the contract. It would benefit both him and his family, granting them a future steeped in strength and influence. But questions lingered: What did the Arcane gain from this exchange? Why had it chosen him? How did it even possess knowledge of the Beyonders?
As Duke pondered, an unsettling thought crossed his mind. If the Arcane could read his thoughts, had it become aware of its existence as a fictional construct? Did it know it was part of a story meant for entertainment? If it did, it gave no sign. The Arcane was alive, but it lacked emotions—or, at least, that's what Duke told himself.
Shaking his head, Duke refocused. A single word formed in his mind, a command from the Arcane: Name your family.
To complete the contract, he needed to give his family a name, a foundation upon which the bond could be anchored.
He glanced at the glowing sphere, his thoughts racing. "What should it be? Arcane Family? No... too obvious. Arcane Clan? Duke Clan? Something else entirely?"
He frowned, trying to think of something meaningful—something that could carry the weight of their destiny. Yet, the perfect name eluded him.
...
"How long's he been like this?" Vander asked, his voice low but tense.
Unbeknownst to Duke, the crash of glass and the thud of his body hitting the floor had caused a commotion. The first to wake was Violet, whose room was closest to his.
"I don't know," Violet admitted, her voice tight with worry. "I found him like this. He fainted again."
Duke lay unconscious on his bed, surrounded by his family. Powder clung to him from behind, hugging him tightly, her small arms trembling as though her hold could keep him safe.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Vander let out a frustrated sigh. His shoulders slumped, and his voice cracked slightly as he muttered, "He's been like this before. Probably keepin' somethin' to himself again. Damn it, Duke. Why are you doin' this to yourself?"
"Is he going to be okay?" Violet's voice broke through, hesitant but firm.
Vander glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "I don't know," he admitted grimly, turning toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Violet asked, rising from her seat.
"To get Dr. Snibbles," Vander replied without looking back. "You stay here and keep an eye on him." His tone carried authority, but his heavy steps betrayed the weight of his worry.
Violet sank back onto the bed, watching Duke's pale face. Mylo, ever tactless, broke the silence from the corner. "Y'know, Duke's been actin' weird lately. Like, buyin' us stuff and all. What if—what if those were his last gifts or somethin'?"
"No!" Powder's voice cracked, trembling but fierce. "Big brother's not like that! He wouldn't just—just leave us!" Her hands gripped Duke's shirt like a lifeline, her knuckles white.
"Shut up, Mylo!" Violet snapped, her tone sharper than usual, her eyes flashing with anger.
Claggor smacked Mylo on the shoulder. "Really? Can't you see what's goin' on? Why would you even say that?"
"I was just sayin'..." Mylo mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, his guilt evident.
The usual squabbling carried on in the background, but Violet sat silently by Duke's side. She clenched her fists tightly, her frustration boiling beneath the surface. She wanted to help her brother, to do something—anything—to ease his suffering. Yet, when it mattered most, she felt powerless.
Her thoughts turned inward. 'I've been leaning on Vander and Duke for so long. They've always been the strong ones. Vander protects us, runs the bar, and looks after the community. Duke... he sacrificed everything for Powder and me. Even when he was left crippled, he still kept fighting.'
Violet's chest tightened. Duke was the strongest, most selfless person she knew. She couldn't bear to see him like this—broken, hiding his pain behind forced smiles. He deserved better. She had to be better.
Her resolve hardened. If no one else could fix this, she would.
Violet stood abruptly, her jaw set. "Hey!" she called, her voice sharp enough to silence the room. "We've got work to do."
The others turned to look at her, startled.
"Powder," she said, kneeling beside her younger sister. "Stay here. Keep an eye on Duke, okay?"
Powder blinked, her tears drying as she nodded. "What are you gonna do, Vi?"
Violet hesitated, glancing at Duke before turning back to her sister. "Dr. Snibbles won't cut it," she said quietly. "I've heard about someone else. Singed. Maybe he can help."
The name hung in the air like a shadow.
Claggor frowned. "Singed? Are you sure about this, Vi? That guy's... dangerous."
"I don't care," Violet snapped, her voice unwavering. "If there's even a chance he can help Duke, I'm going."
Shoving her hands into her pockets, Violet headed for the door. Claggor and Mylo exchanged wary glances before falling in step behind her.
"Vi..." Powder called softly, her voice wavering.
Violet paused, glancing over her shoulder.
"Bring him back," Powder whispered.
Violet nodded firmly, her eyes fierce. "I will."
And with that, she disappeared into the night, determined to save her brother no matter the cost.
...
In the dimly lit shop cluttered with strange contraptions, jars of glowing liquids, and pungent-smelling herbs, Vander sat across from Dr. Snibbles. The yordle alchemist was a peculiar sight: short and wiry, with patchy grayish fur that seemed perpetually singed at the tips—likely the result of countless chemical mishaps. His large, expressive eyes glinted behind thick, circular goggles perched on his soot-smeared forehead. His black jacket, long and high-collared, was frayed and stained with substances whose origins Vander didn't want to guess. Vials, syringes, and tools dangled precariously from his belt, and his gloved hands—mismatched and patched—never stopped moving, twitching with restless energy.
"Alright, Vander," Snibbles rasped, his voice tinged with both curiosity and excitement. "You didn't come all this way for one of my delightful potions. So what is it? Something big, eh? Dangerous, perhaps?"
Vander leaned forward, his tone steady but undercut with urgency. "Duke fainted again. I need a favor, Snibbles. I want to cure him—once and for all."
The yodle's usual manic energy dimmed as his expression grew serious. He sighed, running a gloved hand over his unruly fur. "Duke, huh? That kid... I like him." His voice softened, a rare moment of sincerity. "But his condition—it's rare. Blightlung isn't something you just shake off."
Vander's jaw tightened. "Then we find a way to beat it."
Snibbles adjusted his goggles, his tail twitching as he considered Vander's words. "Blightlung's no ordinary sickness, Vander. It's a killer—a byproduct of Zaun's air. Toxic fumes, chemical leaks, hex crystal particles in the smog... they eat away at the lungs, then spread to the nerves. Once it reaches the final stage, the paralysis becomes permanent, and..."
He trailed off, shaking his head. "It's a miracle Duke's lasted this long."
"Why's he fainting so much now?" Vander pressed. "He's been dealing with this for years. What's changed?"
Snibbles shrugged, his fur bristling with frustration. "That's the part that's got me stumped. It doesn't fit the usual progression of the disease. Something else might be triggering it, but I don't have the data to confirm." He leaned back, his goggles catching the dim light. "For this, I'll need my equipment from Bundle City. Some of the gear there might help me study the disease further, maybe even slow it down. But curing him outright? That's a steep climb, Vander. A hell of a steep climb."
Vander crossed his arms, his frown deepening. "How long would it take to get what you need?"
Snibbles scratched his chin, his mismatched gloves creaking. "At least a week. Bundle City's not exactly next door, and I'll have to navigate Piltover's checkpoints. But even before I leave, I need to examine him again—see how far it's progressed. If we're lucky, I might find a way to increase his resistance."
The alchemist's sharp eyes flicked to Vander. "I've heard whispers of magical artifacts. Things that might bolster his system. But tracking down something like that? It's no simple task."
Vander's broad shoulders squared as he nodded. "Then do it. Whatever it takes." His voice carried the weight of his determination.
Snibbles hesitated for a moment, then nodded back, resolute. "Alright, Vander. I'll do what I can. But don't get your hopes too high. This disease..." He paused, then sighed. "It's cruel. And it doesn't care how much you love the kid."
Vander's gaze hardened. "Love's what's kept him alive this long. And it'll keep him alive a hell of a lot longer. So you do your part, Snibbles. I'll handle the rest."
The alchemist gave a wry smile, his goggles gleaming as he stood and began gathering his tools. "You always did know how to light a fire under someone. Let's see what we can do for your boy."
----
AN: I'm going to rest for four days. My hand and wrist are in pain when I write, and I'm afraid that if I keep pushing through, I might seriously injure myself. You wouldn't want that, right? So, I'm taking some time off from writing.
I'll also rewatch all the Arcane episodes during this break. If you'd like to support me, you can do so on Patreon. Your support will help me buy ergonomic equipment to improve my writing speed and comfort. I'll upload proof once I have it.
Patreon: patreon.com/FuelbyRamen26 – There are currently no advanced chapters on Patreon, but I'll start stacking them after my rest.
Thanks for reading, and see you in four days!