The shifting sands of Shurima, as fluid as time and almost as immutable. The dunes were like gorgeous recreations of ocean waves, some sweeping high and others crashing low, only ever stirred by the strongest winds. Their color changed as the day grew long, beginning as a bright beige, then a tan and finally a deep orange before the cycle repeated itself. In many ways the sands were indeed like the ocean waters, influenced not by the moon but by the sun, the brightest beams shone against each grain of sand gifting them a shimmer not unlike the moon and the sea. It was later in the evening, the heat wasn’t as severe so the animals didn’t protest nearly as much as they used to.

The din of nomads and bleating beasts was absent-minded noise Enzo filtered out. His arrival in Shurima had been uneventful so far. When Oni promised adventure he expected it to meet him on Shurima’s doorstep, the moment he disembarked from the tall ships with the ragged sails, but alas, he was wrong. He knew he had to have patience with these things. So he waited, long enough to adjust himself to Shurima’s extreme climate. The Freljord’s cold lingered on his mind for weeks at a time, wishing he could feel the icy embrace of falling snow again. But in time he found himself acclimating to the differences. The idea of wearing more clothes to keep yourself cool was something he scoffed at… Until it was proven true. Dark colors drew heat and so he had to discard all his darker leathers. Only fragments of his Freljordian origin remained after the first month.

Being a Yordle in Shurima was just as dangerous as almost anywhere else on Runeterra. He had more than a few close calls with the locals. So Enzo learned to disguise himself, wrapping his face and folding his ears behind a veil. At a distance he could pass for a child. The only thing that gave him trouble now was his totem. Travelling in Shurima was best done light, or with a beast of burden at one’s side. And his affection for his totem hadn’t yet run out, so he stole a Camel and made off into the desert. He couldn’t rightly work for it and those vendors had plenty to sell, or at least that’s what his rationale was at the time.

Now he was amidst a horde of Shurimans on some sort of pilgrimage or processions? Thousands of people all heading in the same northward direction. Whatever it was they were after, it was probably important. His eyes wandered up to the long-legged beasts. Skallashi, they called them. They stood some fifteen feet off the ground with extended, trunk-like necks, draping leather-brown fur and bull-esque horns. Their tall humped backs were buried in travel bags, belongings and keepsakes. Some of them supported whole families in hanging booths strung over the beast’s backs. Their hide was coated in characters and shapes drawn with various pigments. Some were chalky whites and others stained like red paint. Little children played precariously on the small of their spines as they cantered, shouted back to safety by half preoccupied parents. Sights like that made Enzo smile.

For as many Skallashi as there were towering over the tide of people the majority were on foot, trudging with heavy sleds at their backs loaded down with belongings. Whatever this exodus was, it was clear these people didn’t intend to return to wherever it is they came from. Some Skallashi hauled whole dwellings behind them made of straw, cloth, bone and hide. His camel, much smaller than the foreboding Skallashi, strode along at their feet - Its low eyes ahead, huffing to clear its nostrils of sand every other minute. He could tell his mount was exhausted, feeling its labored exhales beneath him. Luckily night was nearly upon them.

He placed a palm on the Camel’s head. “There, there, we’re just about done for today, big guy.”

The importance of this strange pilgrimage was lost on Enzo and he almost rathered it remain a mystery. He couldn’t find fault with Oni’s assessment, mercenary work didn’t equate to adventure and he found an abundance of that here in Shurima. The people, the culture and most importantly the food all added to the enthralling experience of finding his way in alien lands. He lost himself in thought until the mass of Shurimans began to settle in for the night, brought back to the fore when his Camel wheezed back at him. He blinked and looked about himself, watching as the beginnings of a tent city was erected.

He pulled on the reigns and his mount gladly held at the first sign of resistance. Enzo clambered down, using one stirrup to get him closer to the ground before he leapt off into the sand. The camel collapsed the moment his weight left it’s back, sending more sand billowing up into Enzo’s face. He coughed and laughed, moving around it’s side to undo the corked water vase. Then Enzo filled a bowl and set it down before his mount. The Camel bowed its head and drank while he went around again to grab the feed, placing it to one side of the bowl.

“There you go, all set.” He whispered.

Enzo turned to gather his sleeping arrangements when a bright glinting blinded him for half a second. He squinted and held an arm up, finding the sun reflecting off something glossy in the near distance. His eyes caught a glimpse of gold strapped to another Camel across the way, something round, something golden and something sharp. A sheet was cast over the exposed half of whatever that strange object was, giving him a better look at its owner. A lone woman sat isolated from the majority of the Shuriman travelers, preparing a fire for when the desert inevitably got cold after sundown. She was striking, her long black sandswept hair, her half emerald half sapphire colored eyes and her abundance of exposed sunkissed skin.

She wore the kind of armor Enzo imagined would lie in ancient Shuriman tombs. A golden pauldron sat on her left shoulder and her forehead was adorned with a bejeweled golden crown. But from the brief glimpses he caught of that curious object her accessories didn’t shine nearly as bright. His curiosity was met with a sense of familiarity. That shade of gold, he’d seen it somewhere before. There was something special about it, he just couldn’t recall why it stuck out to him. Enzo shook the fascination away, finding his blankets and fire wood.

The distant drums and bells of excited Shurimans kept him up longer than he would’ve liked, hearing songs in a language he couldn’t understand. That’s one thing he failed to account for. In most places on Runeterra they spoke the common tongue, but not here. He grasped some of what they were singing, though. It was assuredly a joyful song, the upbeat melody and jaunty tone of voice told him as much. He began to draw parallels with Freljordian travel shanties, the kinds that were rendered on the deck of a longship out to the cold mistress they simply referred to as the Ice Sea. Both tunes were different but carried the same spirit, and Enzo found that remarkable.

In his half sleepy state he found himself glancing towards that woman again, looking at the round shape veiled behind cloth strapped to that camel's hindquarters. That sense of just barely knowing ate him. Why not just go ask her what it is? He reasoned with himself, ruminating on how she would respond if a creature like him approached with no other reason than curiosity. It was a dumb idea but Enzo was all about making bad decisions in the moment. He consciously knew it and still made to stand, dusting the sand off himself before striding in her direction.

She sat still on her arrangements, meditating. That was oddly familiar, too. Not the fact that she was meditating but the posture she carried whilst doing it. It was strangely… Ionian? He digressed, feeling a nervous knot tangle in his stomach. He was finally there in front of her. Even sitting she was a little taller than he estimated from a distance.

“Uh-... Hi.” Wow? How stale can you be, Enzo?

The woman’s eyes flickered open and she craned to look over at him, wordlessly. Enzo hadn’t thought further than a greeting, scratching at his bundled ear. “Sorry, I just uh- Saw a lot of gold on you, was wondering if you were some kind of treasure hunter or something?”

There was a long and foreboding pause that accompanied her unblinking stare before her features softened. “Of a sort.” She returned in common, her voice low and husky, nearly just as intimidating as her thousand yard stare.

That didn’t answer Enzo’s question at all, and he figured that was the point. “Really? I’ve been looking for work, maybe I could be of some help to you?”

She nearly smiled at the little creature, reading him up and down with probing eyes. “Is that so? Have you ever done mercenary work before…?” She led on, subtly requesting his name.

Mercenary work? That was exactly the kind of gig he was trying to get away from. But his empty pockets were persuading him against his better judgement. It wouldn’t be long until he was out of water and out of food, stealing could only get him so far and stealing from the wrong person could end up even worse for him. He wagered the pros with the cons before realizing she was still expecting an answer.

“Enzo! Nice to meet you miss…?”

“Sivir. Just Sivir.” She replied, dryly. “Tell me, Enzo… What’s a Yordle doing on a pilgrimage to the Sun Disc?”

This woman was sharp, but then again his facade did fall apart the closer he was to someone. “I honestly don’t know where these people are going, I just figured they were going somewhere important - somewhere interesting.” He admitted with a shrug.

“So you’re a tourist, then?”

“Of a sort.” He shot back with a smug smile.

Sivir shook her head in amusement. “Well, tourists usually travel in bunches, but you’re alone.”

“Yeah… I’m-... I guess I’m using this time alone to kind of find myself, y’know? Find my purpose.”

Sivir’s brow furrowed noticeably, still amused. She turned and fed more kindling into the fire beside her, sending the embers rushing up into the air to dance with the rising smoke. “Shurima isn’t the place I’d choose for self discovery, but- Hey, if it works for you…”

“Oh, yeah?” Enzo folded his arms across his chest. “Where would you suggest I go?”

“Ionia. It’s the capital of spirituality and all that nonsense.” Sivir replied, looking back towards Enzo after tending to her hearth.

“Already been, it’s kind of the reason I’m here… I see you’ve been as well.” Enzo said, turning the conversation back in her direction.

“How could you tell?” Sivir smirked, guilty as charged.

“You meditate like the people there, is all.”

“Very perceptive. Maybe you’ll be of some use yet…” She glanced about herself before leaning in a little closer. “I’ve got this job I could use a hand with, real simple delve into an ancient ruin, probably just your speed. You get your cut and we part ways, how does that sound, Enzo?”

Enzo placed a thinking hand to his chin, stroking the scruff of his facial fur. “Sounds too good to be true.”

“Well, I’d explain why it’s dangerous but you’re not from around here so I imagine anything I could say wouldn’t make sense.” Sivir reasoned.

“You never know… Lay it on me.”

“These ruins are to the south near Sai Kahleek on the old border of Icathia… That’s Voidborn territory.” Sivir explained, her tone a little more serious than their casual conversation had been.

There it was again, that word. The Void. Thoughts of his conversation with Oni came flooding back to him all at once. Was this his gateway into purpose? Is this what he had been searching for all this time? He struggled to hide his deliberation.

“I’ll do it.” He said, decidedly.

“Guess your pockets must really be hurting, Enzo.” Sivir muttered with a sly grin.

“I’ve got nothing better to do, is all. What’s the payout looking like?” His chin rose with suspicion.

“Needless to say danger equates to coin… Lots of coin. You’ll get your fair share, enough to keep your belly and your water skin full for three months or more.” She promised, combing through her hair with her fingers.

Enzo didn’t know quite how much Securi that amounted to but he was more than happy to take her word for it. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Bright and early.” Sivir nodded.

Morning came sooner than Enzo would’ve liked. And with it the Shuriman heat returned. Waking up drenched in sweat was a feeling he never could get used to. The desert cold fled just as quickly as it came, leaving him dried out and reaching for his waterskin. It washed down his throat like fresh relief, revitalizing his cracked vocals. The bells of Shuriman cattle clanked nearby as the horde of nomads readied themselves for another brutal trek across the desert. His Camel, well rested, perked its head at the smell of water.

Enzo scoffed in his direction, dusting himself clean before preparing breakfast. His empty stomach wouldn’t let him continue without a meal. From his travel bag came jerky and dried vegetables. In the Freljord the environment itself was every traveler's refrigeration, if raw meat was well wrapped and kept damp to throw the senses of predators it could very well last weeks at a time, but Shurima was different. The heat rotted his rations he brought from Bandle City in just a night’s time, leaving him with nothing. It was honestly something he should’ve expected, but even his thorough preparation didn’t account for just how scorched this dust bowl would truly be.

After his hardly appetizing breakfast he stowed away his belongings and searched for Sivir, finding her already mounted and awaiting him. He was shocked into haste, clambering up onto his Camel to join her.

“I honestly didn’t expect you to be here when I woke up.” Enzo chuckled as he adjusted his head wrappings.

“And I didn’t expect you to be up this early.” Sivir hustled her camel along as Enzo arrived at her side. “An hour later and I probably would be gone.”

“Guess I was right, then.”

“The early bird gets the worm, Enzo.” Sivir sighed.

“...What?”

After more time on the road spent arguing about the accuracy of the saying “the early bird gets the worm”, the pilgrimage finally arrived at their destination. Enzo and his guide crested a dune, watching as the Shurimans burst into joy ahead of them. Little kids pointed with their Fathers and Mothers wept with bright smiles. He beat into the side of his Camel with his heel, eager to crest the next dune and see what all the commotion was about. Rising over the lip of the mound was a golden rim that became a half-circle and then a full circle. His eyes went wide with realization and understanding. He was struck with awe so immense he struggled to comprehend what exactly he was looking at.

It was a disc, a massive golden disc as large as the clouds were high, textured with intricate designs many times more beautiful than any filigree he could ever detail in his works of iron and steel. Immediately upon seeing it he knew no one craftsman could lay claim to that masterpiece. That was a work of art from a bygone era, ancient and perfect. It was suspended there without tethers or influence, sat between two massive, curved obelisks that framed its lower half. From his perch on the tall dune he could recognize the escalating geometry of a city, sparkling with sandy golden architecture the likes of which he’d never seen replicated anywhere else on the coasts of Shurima.

The natural tiered depth of the city led his eyes down into a chasm many miles deep surrounding the city. The chasm was uneven, shaped like a Zaunite gear with the spaces between each tooth being massive outcroppings of land seemingly arisen from this dark pit. At the very base of the plateau the city sat upon, facing towards the mass of pilgrims, stood a giant outlet - expelling pure and sparkling blue water that danced its way into the unknown oblivion beyond the dark. Further south past the city itself was a rim of curved stone fashioned something like a dam that poured more water into this cavernous wake around the city. And unlike the majority of the parched Great Sai the land around this floating disc was alive with vegetation. Moss clung to the edges of architecture and palm trees swayed brilliantly on the dust-speckled wind. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Even something as spectacular as the Frost Guard Citadel paled in comparison to this construction’s grandeur.

“Welcome to the City of the Sun.” Sivir said.

Enzo could feel the weight of history bearing against his mind, the scope and scale of this primordial golden disc implied a lore he wanted to know more about. A story yet to be explored. Desert birds poured over the dunes, swooping low and into the chasm towards water still unseen. The pilgrimage moved along the exterior of this great capital city to the eastern bridge that crossed over into it.

Enzo could no longer keep his fascination at bay. “That disc… What is it?”

“That’s the Sun Disc. Some ancient thing or another built by the Targonians.” Sivir replied with a nonchalant lack of interest.

“Seems pretty important.” Enzo added, noticing her dry tone of voice.

“To some people.”

“So why are we here?” Enzo inquired, feeling around for his waterskin.

“Supplies and some unfinished business. Nothing you need to worry about. I’ll be ready to leave by tomorrow night. Until then, let’s find you somewhere to stay.” Sivir declared with an air of confidence.

The two of them came to the head of the bridge, greeted by soldiers, but not of the living variant. These soldiers, armed and armored with perfect golden spears and cuirasses, were forged of the very sand they stood upon - mimicking a human in their false physicality. Regal purple robes fell from their backs, catching wind whilst they stood sentry, silent and unmoving. The more Enzo ventured into this city the more he was both surprised and confused. They quietly watched, their ornate spears upright as waves of Shurimans were let in at a time.

As he trotted along he recognized more soldiers, but these ones were patrolling the length of the bridge, tower shields to one side and spears to the other. They moved like automatons, taking stiff strides forward before coming a sudden halt to about face and continue the other way. Whatever ethereal magic held them together was easily seen, swirling and circulating through their sandy interior. Upon entering the city he found it escalated in many layered tiers like a favela. Running through the streets and across bridges were aqueducts, carrying undiluted cyan blue wellspring waters, clean enough to drink by the handful. Enzo hurried off his Camel to fill his waterskin, greedily scooping water into his mouth. It had a magical essence to it that he couldn’t describe, filling him with a sense of vitality.

Then Enzo looked further along to find the source of this perfect water, spying another smaller golden disc flanked by stone pillars, set in the shadow of its larger sibling. Water just seemed to flow endlessly from the edges of the disc down somewhere beyond his periphery. The buildings here were just as he saw them from a distance, sandstone adobes with oasis gardens topping their roofs and golden filigree that upped the royal Shuriman flair. It was all so perfect. Every city had its flaws, its ne'er-do-wells, its underdeveloped regions, its homeless peoples but here no such thing existed. It was a thriving metropolis without imperfection. This was becoming less of an adventure and more of a vacation by the second, he never wanted to leave.

He finally caught up to Sivir after drinking his fill of sparkling water, finding himself deeper in the city where they encountered an inn. Enzo stepped inside, feeling the immediate and welcoming shift in temperature. These adobes were well insulated, it seemed. He wiped the sweat from his furry brow, approaching the tanned woman behind the counter. Her garments, like everyone else's here, were adorned with golden jewelry that was matched with thin white silks - leaving little to the imagination. She greeted him in her native tongue, which he didn’t understand, but luckily Sivir was there to cover for him. They interfaced and currency was exchanged.

“That’s coming out of your cut.” She said, shooting him a glance.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Enzo replied, smugly.

They both stepped outside to gather their belongings still left on their mounts, walking them to the stables beside the establishment. Sivir didn’t travel with much, but that disc, that golden disc wrapped in the sheet was the first thing she grabbed. She hefted it and carried it inside. Enzo paused at that before hustling inside after her with his travelling bags and essentials. He ascended the steps to find Sivir already settling in.

“Right next door.” She gestured, pitching him a key.

He caught it and pressed open the door to his room, finding it sparsely decorated. There was a floor bed, a closet, a dresser and a hearth for when things inevitably got cold at night. Enzo scattered his stuff across the open floor, vowing to sort it later. For now he was going downstairs to enjoy some Shuriman delicacies and a cold drink. He stopped just outside Sivir’s open door.

“Hey, you hungry? I still got some Securi left.”

“No… Thanks. I have to get moving, someone’s waiting on me.” Sivir tucked her things neatly away and stood, coming out of her coin purse with some extra money to hand Enzo, turning to lock her door after. “Keep yourself entertained.”

“Is this coming out of my cut, too?” Enzo smirked.

Sivir gave a smile that answered his question without words. Then she started down the stairs. “See you later, Enzo.”

Enzo turned back to the door she’d just locked, thinking to that strange disc again. Could it be just like the one that floated above his very head? What was she hiding? And why was he so interested? He looked down to the Securi she’d given him, enough to last for the two days he’d be here. If he had to wait up for her he might as well enjoy himself.