𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 -- 𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭
                      𝟎𝟎2: Ekkos of the Past
                    (𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚, 01x07)

EKKO woke with a start, the familiar pulse of adrenaline rushing through him as his mind slowly surfaced from the tangled depths of sleep. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of a single light creeping through the cracks in the curtains. He rubbed his eyes and let out a breath, the weight of another night spent in restless silence pressing on his chest.

He pushed himself out of bed, the floor cool beneath his feet. His steps were automatic, the routine ingrained in him—head to the bathroom, splash water on his face, brush his teeth. Anything to shake the fog still clinging to his thoughts.

As he reached for the bathroom light, a chill swept over him. He hesitated, almost like he knew what would come next.

The mirror reflected his disheveled image, his tired eyes staring back at him. For a moment, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. The old, cracked tile and faded wallpaper. The grimace of exhaustion that tugged at his face.

Then, in the reflection, a figure appeared.

She stood there, as she always did—silent, unmoving, like a ghost too tired to haunt, yet unwilling to leave. Her presence was a constant now, an unsettling fixture in his mornings. Eleven years old, forever frozen in that age, with her dark hair hanging in loose waves around her face. She never spoke, never moved, just stared at him with eyes that seemed to pierce through him, into places even he tried to hide.

Ekko's grip on the toothbrush tightened, his breath hitching for a moment. The image of her didn't change, no matter how many times he saw it. Moon—stuck, like a photograph never meant to age, a haunting reminder of a past that wouldn't let him forget. Her stillness was what unnerved him the most. She never answered him, never even blinked. He'd stopped trying to speak to her long ago. There was no point. She was as distant as she was present.

"Not today," he muttered under his breath, the words slipping from his lips before he could stop them. It had become his ritual—whispering to her as if that would somehow convince her to leave him be. But she never did. She never moved.

With a sigh, Ekko turned away from the mirror, focusing on the faucet, turning the cold water on, hoping the sound of it would drown out the silence that followed him wherever he went.

But in the corner of his eye, there she was again—unchanging, unblinking. Forever eleven. Forever watching.

And Ekko, ever the survivor, simply moved forward. Because what else was there to do when the past refused to stay buried?

Besides, he had other things to attend to.

Powder—no, Jinx, as she called herself now—had obliterated another shimmer raid, leaving chaos and blood in her wake. She'd killed some of his fellow Firelights this time, people he'd fought beside, people he'd sworn to protect.

Ekko had tried to hold on to the past, to the memory of Powder—the bright, clumsy girl who once called him a friend. He'd searched for her in every frantic laugh, in every fleeting moment of hesitation he thought he saw in Jinx's eyes. But the truth had been glaringly obvious from the moment they crossed paths again: Powder was gone.

She had fallen down a well, consumed by grief, guilt, and anger. And Jinx had clawed her way out, emerging twisted and unrecognizable, a version of Powder he couldn't save.

Ekko stared at the wreckage she'd left behind, his heart heavy and hollow. It wasn't just the loss of his people that hit him—it was the realization that the last piece of his past, the last shred of that innocent world they'd shared, was gone.

Powder was dead. And with her, the final piece of him died too.

But she just wouldn't die. He saw her face everywhere—Moon's face. She refused to leave him alone, haunting him, punishing him. For what exactly? He wasn't sure.

Moon was dead. He knew that. He had been the one to drag her lifeless body to the sea, the one to let the waves claim her. And yet, she lingered in the corners of his mind, refusing to fade.

It wasn't as if he saw her all the time. No, Moon only appeared when he least expected it—her shadow flickering just behind him in the mirror, her reflection blending with his own in broken shards of glass.

But he sensed her. He heard her laugh carried in the wind, felt the ghost of her touch in the way his skin prickled when he was alone. He caught the faint scent of her paint, the earthy tang of oil and pigment, as if she were still somewhere nearby, working on one of her endless projects.

Sometimes, late at night, he swore he heard her humming. Just a whisper of a tune, distant yet familiar, as though she were trying to soothe him from some place he couldn't reach.

Moon wasn't there. But she was everywhere. And she would never let him forget.

It was strange that she wouldn't provide him the luxury of peace, given how much Moon had craved it for herself. She had told him so, time and time again.

The rooftop was quiet that evening, the city below humming with its usual chaotic energy. Ekko sat cross-legged near the edge, watching as Moon worked on a canvas balanced on a makeshift easel. Her hands moved methodically, streaking colors across the surface with a precision that seemed almost detached. She didn't paint like someone expressing emotion—she painted like someone unraveling it.

"You ever think about what it'd feel like?" she asked suddenly, her voice so calm it almost didn't register as unusual.

Ekko tilted his head, squinting at her. "What what'd feel like?"

She didn't look at him, her focus entirely on the brush in her hand as she swept a line of deep blue across the canvas. "Being free of all this." She gestured vaguely with her other hand, encompassing everything and nothing at once. "This body. This city. Everything that keeps us tied down. Just... letting it all go and floating somewhere else."

Her words should have unsettled him, but the way she said it was so casual, so matter-of-fact, that it almost felt comforting. Like she wasn't talking about death, but about freedom. He leaned back on his palms, staring up at the sky as her words settled over him like a blanket. "That's kinda heavy, don't you think?" he said, but there wasn't judgment in his tone. Just curiosity.

"It doesn't feel heavy," Moon replied, dipping her brush into a jar of water. "It feels... light. Like dropping something you've been carrying forever. Like letting yourself fall, but knowing you're falling toward something softer than this." She paused, tilting her head as she considered her next stroke. "I don't want to be tied here forever, Ekko. Not to this place. Not to this... prison."*

He glanced at her, watching as the moonlight caught on her profile, illuminating her serene expression. "You say it like it doesn't scare you."

Her lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile. "It doesn't. Why should it? Fear's just another chain, and I'm tired of being bound by things that don't matter."

For a moment, he said nothing, letting her words sink in. They should have spooked him. Should have made him worry for her. But instead, they felt... quiet. Like a lullaby. Like she was describing a kind of peace he'd never imagined before. "You're somethin' else, Moon," he finally said, shaking his head with a small chuckle. "You make even the weirdest stuff sound kinda nice."

She laughed softly at that, the sound warm and fleeting like the glow of a firefly. "Maybe I'm just better at painting pictures with words than I am with brushes."

He didn't respond, and she didn't press him. They simply sat there, the weight of her words lingering between them as the city buzzed on below.

Moon, as young as she was, seemed to crave death—or at least what it entailed. There was a longing in her, a quiet ache that no one could quite touch, not even those closest to her. As grateful as she was to Vander for saving her and as much as she loved her found family, she never truly felt as if she belonged. It was as though her soul was bound to something far beyond this world, something she could never fully grasp while she remained tethered to the Earth.

She carried herself with an air of detachment, her golden eyes often gazing past the moment, as if searching for something no one else could see. There were times when her smile seemed genuine, times when she laughed with Powder or painted alongside Vi, but even then, there was a weight to her presence—a quiet resignation that whispered she didn't believe this life was her true destination.

It wasn't a matter of ungratefulness or unhappiness; it was something deeper, more intrinsic. Moon seemed to exist in two places at once: one part of her bound to the world of flesh and stone, and another part already halfway gone, yearning for a freedom that only death—or whatever lay beyond it—could provide.

So that couldn't be Moon, haunting him day after day. It couldn't be her soft laugh in the wind or the faint brush of her presence in empty alleys. The Moon he knew, the Moon who had longed for freedom from her earthly ties, would never linger like this. She had craved release, an end to her suffering, and Ekko had convinced himself she'd found it at last.

Whatever stood behind him in the mirror, staring back with golden eyes that seemed to pierce into his very soul, was something else entirely. Something more sinister.

Moon's soul had moved on—he was sure of it. She'd escaped to the peace she'd spoken of so calmly, so longingly, in those quiet moments on the rooftop. But this presence, this shadow that followed him, whispered lies and filled the empty corners of his mind, was not her.

Ekko swallowed hard as he turned away from the mirror, refusing to look again. He told himself it was a trick of his exhausted mind, a cruel fabrication born of grief and guilt. But deep down, he wasn't sure.

Whatever it was, it didn't belong here. It didn't belong to Moon. And yet, it wouldn't leave him alone. But it wouldn't fool him.

Moon's eyes were brown.

"YOU look good for a dead girl."

The words left Ekko's mouth with a sharpness that surprised even himself, a bitter edge that felt foreign but all too fitting for the moment.

His past wasn't completely dead, he discovered.

There she was. The pink-haired girl he'd once idolized, the one who used to lead their makeshift family with such fire and conviction, was now bound and kneeling before him. Vi. Alive. Breathing. Glaring at him with those same defiant eyes, even through the bruises and the rope that held her wrists together.

The sight of her knocked the wind out of him for a moment. They'd all told him she was gone—dead, vanished, just another victim of Zaun's unforgiving chaos. But no. Vi had clawed her way back to the surface, just like her sister.

It was almost too much to take in.

"It's like this family just can't stay dead," Ekko muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her, his voice tinged with frustration and disbelief.

"What were you doing with Jinx?" Ekko questioned, his tone sharp, barely masking the accusation.

Vi shook her head, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Her name is Powder. And I just found her when you and your goons showed up." She looked directly at him, her voice softening just enough to remind him who she used to be. "It's me, Vi. Same person who used to take you down to the junk heap and hose you down when you got grease everywhere. Same person who had to help you steal new paints when you spilled all of Moon's."

Did she just stab him? It felt like it. Hearing someone else utter her name, Moon's name, aloud—so casually, so vividly—made his chest constrict. It reminded him she was very much real, that she wasn't just the being that haunted his every nightmare. She had been flesh and blood, laughter and sorrow. And now, she was gone.

He tried to keep his composure, but the mention of Moon brought everything crashing back in waves. Her laugh in the quiet moments, the paint streaks on her hands, the way she used to hum under her breath when she thought no one was listening. Ekko clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay rooted in the present, even as the past clawed at his mind.

"That was a long time ago. People change," Ekko muttered, his voice laced with bitterness.

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Vi shot back without missing a beat.

Ekko tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Are you working for Silco?"

Vi scoffed, a harsh laugh escaping her lips. "Fuck. You."

Ekko's expression didn't falter, but the tension in his shoulders gave him away. "I thought you were dead," he finally said, his tone accusatory. "Now you show up with a Piltie and give her a tour of the Lanes?"

"You were following us? Why didn't you say something?" Vi's frustration bled through her words.

"I didn't know if I could trust you."

Vi rolled her eyes, exasperated. "So... so you just come out swinging?"

Ekko crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Gee, I wonder who I learned that from?"

"Well, you should have learned more. You still punch like a little boy," Vi retorted, a smirk creeping onto her face.

"And you still block with your face," Ekko shot back, the faintest flicker of a grin tugging at his lips despite himself.

The moment hung between them, a brief echo of what used to be. Old habits resurfaced, their banter a reminder of simpler times—even if it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I remember when you wouldn't stand up to me," Vi said, her tone softer now, a teasing lilt slipping through the tension. She let her chain drop effortlessly to the floor, the clatter breaking the silence.

Before Ekko could respond, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

Shock painted his expression, his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. For a moment, he didn't know how to react. This wasn't the Vi he remembered—sharp edges and quick jabs. This was something... different.

"How long have you had those off?" he finally managed, glancing at her wrists, free of restraints.

Vi pulled back just enough to smirk at him, her arms still loosely draped around his shoulders. "How long have you been whining?" Slowly he returned her hug.

VI followed Ekko in awe to what she could only describe as paradise. A weird thing to have in a place like Zaun. Children laughed, people buzzed around on hoverboards, and at the center of it all, a ginormous tree stood tall and proud, its branches spreading wide like arms offering protection.

"Is that a real tree?" Vi asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Ekko said, his grin wide and proud. "When I first saw it, I knew this was the place. If a single seed could make it down here, so could we."

Vi approached the tree, her fingers brushing against its bark. "What do you call it?"

"Lunaris," Ekko said after a pause, his voice soft. "It's named after someone who... someone who believed in things like this. Growth, resilience, peace."

Vi looked at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. "You built all this?" she asked, gesturing around at the bustling haven.

Ekko scratched the back of his neck, a touch of modesty creeping into his demeanor. "Yeah, with a little help."

"Moon? I can see art everywhere, it's like her signature," Vi said, looking around at the vibrant murals that filled the space. Her eyes lingered on one particularly intricate piece, a swirling tree with a hauntingly familiar color scheme. "And I'm sure you've finally gotten out of that puppy love phase and asked her out. Your crush was suffocating."

Ekko's face faltered. He didn't look at her, his gaze fixed on the artwork. His heart had already shifted, too heavy with the weight of what he couldn't deny.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard," Ekko muttered, the bitterness in his tone cutting through the air like a blade. "Moon died a few weeks after you did—or after you were supposed to, anyway. Sold back to the brothel. The place she hated. The place that broke her. She got killed by one of their clients. For refusing. For standing her ground. It's funny, really... All that fire, that spark she had from being with you lot? The same thing that kept her alive for so long is what ended up getting her killed. Resilience, Vi. She never learned how to hide it."

"I tried to find her but I couldn't save her." He muttered. Vi felt her chest tighten. Moon had always been one of the ones that held them all together, and now she was gone. A piece of their family, their world, had just... disappeared. Just like the rest of her family she supposed but somehow deep down she had hoped Moon would be the one to survive, if anyone.

She swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. "I'm sorry, Ekko."

He didn't respond at first, his eyes distant, lost in the memory of someone who was gone far too soon. Finally, he spoke, though the words came out with a raw edge. "I never got the chance to tell her how I felt... and now, it's too late."

Lunaris, God she was an idiot.  Of course the first thing she did was talk about his dead first love. So much for a reunion

"She would have loved it." Vi reassured him. "Yeah," he muttered, gazing up at the tree. "She would have."

LOVE SPEAKS!

Moon 🤝 Lucy Grey
haunting the narrative.

Fun fact: Moon had issues eating due to an ED she developed at the brothel. She was extremely malnourished and if she was alive she'd only be 4'11.

A lot of people stop reading at this point so thanks for sticking around!