//------------------------------//
// Prologue: Extinguish the Light 
// Story: The Black Heart 
// by Astral Star and Company 
//------------------------------//

In the infinite expanse of the Multiverse, there is only darkness. All things are candles on a moonless night, ready to be extinguished by the cold winds. It is my greatest pleasure to snuff them out. Every single one will die. Every man, woman, child, bird, beast, wyrm, everything.

Even you.

I was born in the dreams of mankind, sentenced to float in the endless void of the collective human subconscious. I was a measly thing, a passing thought, a mere minnow in an infinite ocean. There I drifted for eternity, the long forgotten shadow of humankind. The beast kept hidden in all sentient beings. The quiet, malignant desire for chaos, rebellion, violence and death. Yet, I was weak. I couldn’t lift a finger in this realm, for it wasn’t mine. I was swimming through a cyclone of foreign thoughts, constantly stabbing me with their iron prongs of thought. Never will you dream of such agony. My pain gave way to hatred and rage. My desire to kill stoked by the malicious thoughts of you despicable beings.

Then, I found the light.

It was a curious, little ball in a realm of infinite darkness. It was warm, bright, opened my eyes to the world. I sensed life, emotion, intelligence, experience, sadness and love as I held it close. It made me feel human, an experience too foreign to acknowledge. I kept the light close, caging it in my narrow fingertips, contemplating its frailty.

Then, I snuffed it out.

I crushed it between my hands as a human would crush an insect. Life grew cold between my hands. It darkened, dissipated, faded away like smoke. The sheer rush I felt by ending a life rejuvenated me. I could feel the power of death flow through my body, granting me strength. Looking all around, I saw many more lights. Little stars hovering in the eternal night sky. I went from one to another, and another. I felt their life drain through my palms like the sands of time. Each light extinguished granted me more and more power.
I was drunk of it. The power overflowed through my veins, poisoning my heart with their broken dreams. Their fear made me stronger, their deaths gave me life. I knew my true purpose. To end human lives, to watch their souls drain through my fingers, to feast on their everlasting torment.

That is, until they found me…


<-(\|/)->


“Nocturne,” a gruff voice spoke up.

That was his name. The only name they could give him to suit his hideous crimes. The name of the genocidal spectre that haunted Runeterran dreams for almost a decade now. He was trialled for the murder of hundreds of people and the minds of thousands more. He could have ended far more had they not found him on their Twisted Tree Line.

He was a shadowy spirit, completely composed of darkness, like clouds rolling in from a storm. He wore armour for defense and huge armblades for attack, too large for a human to carry and wield with the speed and lethality he did. In place of legs, he floated 3-4 feet off the ground. His piercing, ethereal blue eyes glinted with malicious intent, like he was silently plotting to kill everyone he looked at. He was currently chained magical binding links of metal designed specifically for him. Being a ghost of sorts, he was hard to keep down.
“Do you know why you’re here?” the voice said again

Nocturne looked up. he was in a vast chamber, a circular affair with five ascending rows of seats. Lit only by daylight, it was a tall, imposing structure that allowed all members to look down upon their subjects. Summoners were seated on these rings of power. These men and women in their purple-blue robes made up the Supreme Council of Runeterra. This world was filled with strife, blood was shed and people died in their hundreds every day. The Summoners, powerful mages of manipulative magics, formed a truce between all races and regions. They formed a competition, a series of games to replace all wars in Runeterra. They called it:

The League of Legends

Champions from all around Runeterra came to represent their people, or themselves, in a heated conflict of power and skill. The noble Demacians, violent Noxians, the hextech scientists of Piltover, Ice born of Freljord and more were represented. However, some odd ones like Nocturne, were chosen for the simple concept of justice. He served in the league as punishment for his first killing spree on League territory, eight or so novice summoners.

The gruff, bearded summoner grew impatient, giving him a hard shove which left him completely unmoved. He stood, or rather, floated in the centre of the council, the subject of their scrutiny. 

“I said, do you know why you’re here?” the summoner asked again

Nocturne hissed at the man through his non-existent teeth.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he huffed

The summoner withdrew a scroll from the air with magic, then set upon reading it aloud.

“Nocturne, The Eternal Nightmare,” he announced to all the council “You are charged with numerous assaults toward league officials, the murder of hundreads of Demacian and Noxian civilians and the death of Luxanna Crownguard of Demacia, outside of league competition.”

Nocturne only responded with a sinister chuckle, as if more amused than worried. This reaction troubled the council, eliciting worried murmurs between the gathering.

“Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Nocturne just broke out into gales of laughter, a horrible sound like metal crashing against metal under the deepest ocean. The troubled whispers of the council grew in volume, until they were silenced by the bearded one.

“Well then,” he continued, with no hidden contempt “You are to be put to death on the Eve of Harrowing Day. Send him to the holding cell,”

Two summoners stepped forward to escort the dark assassin. Taking a chain each, they led Nocturne out of the council chamber, to the prison block. Nocturne himself did little to hide his laughter, brandishing the sound to all those who would hear it. Wicked gales echoed throughout expansive halls of the building.

Soon, he would be free…