Chapter 12: A song of Iron and Blood

------12 years ago--------

The caravan departed at dawn, its long line of wagons and warriors carving a path through the golden dunes. At its center rode the Sang'Kallan Warriors, their armor fashioned from bone and leather, the designs echoing ancient symbols passed down through generations.

Among them was Su'Rhaal, his scarlet eyes fixed on the horizon. Though the youngest among the group, his presence was undeniable. His broad frame and scars marked him as a warrior, but it was his sheer presence that set him apart.

Beside him walked Zanaiya, her spear strapped to her back and her gaze ever watchful. She was the tribe's finest fighter, a warrior whose name was spoken with respect even among their elders.

The other warriors of the caravan kept a respectful distance from the two. They were older, more experienced, but none of them could deny Su's potential. He had surpassed many of them in strength and skill, save for his mentor, Zanaiya, who still bested him with her experience and sharp intellect.

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On the second night of their journey, the caravan camped beneath a sky of endless stars. The crackling fire cast long shadows over the warriors as they gathered in a circle, their voices low as they shared stories.

Rikan, one of the older warriors, leaned forward, the firelight glinting off the scars on his face. "You know why we make this journey, don't you?" he asked, his gaze shifting between the younger fighters.

"To prove our strength," one of the recruits replied.

Rikan shook his head. "It's more than that. The tribute is the price of our freedom."

Su listened in silence, his hands resting on the hilt of one of his blades.

Rikan leaned closer to the fire, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "It is said that before Noxus, before the rise of the empire, there was only the shadow of the Revenant. He came from the west, a dark being bound by iron and necromancy, and he sought to bend all who lived to his will."

The younger warriors exchanged uneasy glances, but Rikan continued, his voice growing stronger.

"Our ancestors lived in the great plains then, in a time of plenty. They knew the joy of the hunt, the laughter of children, and the warmth of the hearth. But the Revenant came like a storm, and he took it all from us."

His fist clenched, the firelight gleaming off the scars on his knuckles. "The Revenant enslaved our people. He bound us in chains of steel, worked us until our bones broke, and called it justice. The songs tell of how the sun itself seemed to burn colder under his rule, how the earth wept beneath his iron will."

"And yet, we endured," Rikan said, his voice rising. "We did not break. We bore the weight of his chains, the sting of his whips, and the fire of his wrath. We sang songs of defiance in the darkness, songs of the day when we would rise again."

"The day came," Rikan continued, his eyes blazing with the fire's reflection. "It came with blood and steel, with a rebellion born from desperation and fury. Our people, the Noxii tribes, those who had also suffered under the Revenant, and together we rose against him."

The warriors leaned in, their breath caught as they listened.

"The Revenant was a monster," Rikan said, his voice low. "His strength was beyond anything a mortal could wield. He conjured demons and wraiths as though they were extensions of his will. The songs say that his voice could command armies, his presence alone enough to break even the strongest of men."

"But we did not falter," Rikan said, his voice ringing with pride. "Our warriors fought with the fury of those who had nothing left to lose. Then finally the Revenant fell. His will was no more, his armies scattered, and his shadow lifted from the land."

"And from the ashes of that rebellion, Noxus was born. The tribes who had fought together now sought to build something greater—an empire where strength would rule, where the chains of the past would never return."

He sighed, his voice softening. "They came to us, our ancestors, and they offered us a place in their empire. They offered us safety, purpose, and glory."

"But we refused," Zanaiya interjected, her voice steady.

Rikan nodded. "Yes. We refused. Because while they saw strength in unity, we carried a burden they could never understand."

"Why didn't they stay?" one of the younger warriors asked.

"Because of our Covenant." Rikan said firmly. "It is our burden to bear, and ours alone."

"Strength is not just the power to fight," Rikan said. "It is the power to endure. To guard what must never be unleashed. That is why we refused Noxus. That is why we send warriors as tribute. To keep them from asking questions they have no right to ask."

Zanaiya glanced at Su, her expression unreadable. "The elders always said the empire's rise was its own duty. Ours is something greater."

Su remained quiet, his mind heavy with the weight of their shared history.

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That evening, as the caravan made camp, another story emerged—a tale that sent chills through the younger warriors.

"It wasn't just the Revenant we had to guard against," Rikan said, his voice low. "Years ago, before our time, a strange man came to the Tribe. Pale as the moon and with hair just as white."

Su's gaze sharpened. "A spirit?"

Rikan shook his head. "He came asking about our rituals, our ways of blood and strength. He claimed to admire our traditions, said they reminded him of his own people."

"What did the elders do?" Zanaiya asked.

"They turned him away," Rikan replied. "But not before he spoke of power—power that could rival even the Darkin. He said we didn't truly understand the power we wield."

The fire crackled, the only sound in the silence that followed.

"What was his name?" Su asked finally.

"he did not say his name" Rikan said, his voice heavy with unease. "he left only a dark Rose, saying that one day, he would return."

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On the sixth day, the caravan crested a hill, revealing the the Tri-Towers of the Immortal Bastion on the horizon, the very air around it seeming heavier.

The warriors of Su's tribe stood in awe, their silence a mix of reverence and unease.

"This is where they decide our worth," Zanaiya said quietly.

"We will show them" Su said, his gaze focused on the capital of the Noxian empire, before turning his gaze back, in the direction they came from. "We will show them all."

As the caravan approached the NoxTora, Su felt the weight of his father's words pressing down on him: "Our duty is to more than Noxus. Never forget who we are, Su'Rhaal."

He gripped the hilt of his blade, his resolve hardening. Whatever trials awaited him in the Immortal Bastion, he would endure them. Not for Noxus, but for his tribe—and the secret they swore to protect.