The champion awoke in total darkness. This alone would not normally have concerned him, but for some reason he could hardly move. Some sort of coiling wire tethered his limbs to a flat, but slanted surface. The champion blinked and squinted, trying in vain to collect his bearings.

"Hello?"

His deep voice came out hoarsely and sounded harsh to his own ears. He tugged at his bonds to no avail and spoke again, louder and stronger.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

There was no reply. The champion grew quiet and tried to think, which was made difficult by the fact that he had an explainable headache.

All he could think of was that he'd had a very long and grueling match recently. He had been paired with an incompetent summoner, the worst summoner he had seen in a long time, and there was nothing he could have done about it. It was one of the downsides of fighting on the Fields of Justice, rather than in a real battle. The champion sighed, mulling over the match. With a large early game advantage, his team had dominated the battlefield, destroying the enemy in every confrontation... Yet their summoners did not grasp the importance of pushing objectives while the enemy was down. The champion gritted his teeth as he imagined his summoner commanding him to kill the tenth dragon an hour and twenty minutes into the game, when most champion had already completed their item builds.

In fact, he suddenly remembered, he had been standing in front of that dragon pit, waiting for it to respawn, frustrated and confused, wondering why he still had his biscuit from the start of the game, while the enemy pushed to their nexus and won the game. It had to have been a novice summoner. There was no other explanation for the sheer stupidity...

The man sighed and shifted as best as he could. The cords bound his arms at a ninety-degree angle so that his fists rested near his head. His muscles were starting to strain. Just how long had be been in this position?

"You are Darius?" said a smooth voice with a snake-like quality from his right.

The man turned his head sharply toward the sound.

"Karthus?" he asked.

There was silence for a few seconds.

"No..." the voice said, "Answer the question."

The man frowned, but decided that in his current state, it would be best to play along for now.

"Yes, I am Darius, of Noxus."

"You are a champion... of the League of Legends?"

"I am," Darius replied, "Where am I?"

As he waited for an answer, a shining blue orb of light erupted in front of his face, causing him to flinch away as his eyes struggled to adapt. Despite the blue orb glaring in his face, he began to make out a lean figure standing by his side. He could only see the expressionless lower half of the man's face; the rest was covered by the hood of sweeping, floor-length robes. He held the swirling blue orb of light in his palm, and despite the color distortion, the champion recognized the man by his garb.

"Summoner?" asked Darius, "What's going on?" He winced, the bright light worsening the pain in his head, and he wanted to turn away, but he kept the summoner in his sight.

"Please, allow me to ask the questions for now," the summoner answered, holding the ball of light closer to his prisoner's face. Darius gave up sizing up his captor turned his head away sharply.

Darius struggled to think. What answers could he possibly have? What had happened recently? Nothing political, really. Perhaps this man was simply another disgruntled enemy of Noxus. These things had happened to others before. He remembered the results of Warwick's imprisonment and torture.

"How did you follow me?" the summoner asked, out of his view. Darius kept silent. He had no recollection of following a summoner anywhere, unless working on the Fields of Justice counted for something. He shifted in his bindings uncomfortably. Come to think of it, what had happened after his last match? He had been standing in front of Dragon. Then the match had ended. Now he was here.

It was strange, but he felt as though he were missing something. His headache flared and he curled his lips into a grimace.

"I... Didn't follow you here. I was on Summoner's Rift. The match ended. Then... Then..."

He struggled to continue the sentence, but failed, and heard the summoner take a deep breath. Darius shifted his arms, tugging at the bonds again. This made no sense. Why would a champion be following a summoner? Why would a summoner care?

He felt contact on his forehead and jerked in surprise, but the summoner did nothing, but to run his cool finger across his forehead briefly before pulling back.

"You fell out of the sky," said the summoner, sounding mystified, "I suppose I could be mistaken..."

It was all Darius could do not to roll his eyes at the arrogance of some summoners. He was disturbed, though. He'd fallen out of the sky?

"I don't understand," he said, a note of annoyance creeping into his voice, "Tell me what-."

"Yes, yes, I know that now. They didn't send you after me. You were given to me," said the summoner. There was a shift in the lighting and the blue sphere suddenly rose five feet into the air, where it stayed, illuminating a circular chamber. Darius could see that he was indeed bound by cords, black ones, on a smooth grey platform in the center of the room. His armor and his axe were nowhere in sight. The only other things worth noting were the runes inscribed on the walls. Defense-affiliated runes, Darius knew from his limited knowledge of such things.

"Who gave me to you?" he demanded. Was their a traitor in the league? The summoner had moved around his head to his left, and without the blinding orb in his face, Darius could see the man more clearly. It was indeed a summoner, with a gaunt face and a cruel smile lurking around his lips. Darius did note, however, that the man's robes were old and somewhat faded. It was no summoner he could recognize.

"Fate."

"Twisted Fate?" demanded Darius.

"No, my child. Fate. An accident. Purely coincidental. It happened by chance," the summoner reached out towards him.

"Don't touch me," snarled Darius, irritated that the summoner had the nerve to address him as a child. But the man continued regardless and held his palm against Darius's forehead. Darius glared at the summoner, expecting something to happen, but nothing did.

"I want some answer-" he started, and his forehead suddenly blazed with agony. He broke off with a yell and struggled fruitlessly, trying to shake off the summoner's hand that suddenly felt as hot as a thousand suns.