When was senna released

The Black Mist within the wreckage awakened upon contact with life. She and her village survived the ensuing storm of souls, thanks to the intervention of a nearby Sentinel… but in the wake of the attack, the Mist was still mysteriously drawn to Senna.

She was cursed, marked by the Mist so its horrors pursued her endlessly, the darkness drawn to her like dying moth to living flame. The Sentinel who saved Senna, a brusque veteran named Urias, did not understand why the Mist was drawn to a solitary girl—but he knew if she was going to survive, she had to learn to fight back.

She proved to be a deadly enemy of darkness, mastering the relic-stone pistol Urias gave her, learning to channel her soul into light. If she allowed them to get too close, they would only be hurt when the Mist came again. Senna could never stay in one place for long, something she and Urias learned when those who offered them shelter inevitably found themselves under siege. From the very first moment she found herself flustered, wondering if her walls were enough to keep out someone so stubborn, full of humor and love.

In time, it became his only focus, the light in his eyes passing into his gun—making Senna wary that Lucian would only see sorrow where there was love.

It was while researching a cure that Senna and Lucian came into conflict with the sadistic wraith Thresh. With her last breath, Senna screamed for Lucian to run.

But as Senna felt the deathblow and knew she had lost, she realized there was a glimmer of hope. While Lucian spent years seeking to grant his beloved peace, Senna explored her spectral prison. She learned that life had been the origin of her curse. She could use this force to pull the Mist into herself, empowering her to sever its hold over others in the lantern. When Lucian drove his broken pistol into the lantern, intending to end the torture of the souls within, Senna was waiting.

She was dead, but also alive , thanks to her curse, wielding a relic-stone cannon that could channel darkness along with light, forged from the weapons of fallen Sentinels. No longer running from the Mist, Senna now understands the suffering of the souls within. Though it is painful, she draws their Mist into herself, liberating them, and blasting darkness with darkness.

Embracing her death every time she transforms into a wraith, she becomes like those she fought, only to be reborn again thanks to the life infecting her.

Senna knows what they have to do next, a secret gleaned within the lantern. I felt the warmth where Lucian hand touched my shoulder as we stepped off the boat onto Ionian soil, somehow reaching through my walls the way only he can.

He saw the woman he tried to save, who was cursed, always running. He saw the scythe, swinging toward her… He looked straight into her eyes, even as he looked into mine. And now his hands were on his guns. On the horizon, darkness swirled, casting even darker shadows onto a village carved into stone, deluged by heavy rain, and worse.

Somewhere in that darkness was light. I could feel the wind pressing against my hood, the spray of the ocean hard against my skin, as if the world were pushing me back, warning me of the darkness ahead. But none of that compared to what hit me as a howl rose up, roaring through the village….

Drawn to me as I drew breath. The relic stones of fallen Sentinels moved as one, each held by too many hands before mine. Men and women, fathers, sisters, all lost to darkness. A tendril of Mist hit me as the wraith within took shape. Staggered by the blow, I stumbled back, catching my footing just before falling toward the rocks below. Thunder pealed as the screams of souls joined the rain and crashing waves that besieged the island.

It required control. It required focus. I needed to fight the Mist with every fiber of my being. And I could not stop. Not for a moment of my life. With every shot that burned a wraith away, another was revealed. I was so close to the village now, I could see new wraiths rising, sent spiraling toward me. It was rare for Sentinels to gather, but something had frightened Urias that made him call them all together.

He never told me what it was, but I could tell by the way the others looked at me…. When they tried to get past my armor, only to find the reason it was there. Still firing, I advanced further into the village. The wraiths moved fast, swooping into buildings nearly as old as the island itself, carved from the same stone. But there was order in the chaos. The wraiths were circling above.

They wanted something. Not just life. Not just souls. Not just me …. It was the voice of a girl… and then her light joined mine in the darkness.

She stood above a crumpled body, two figures in the dark. I can still hear them. But even as her knuckles grew white, clenching the haft of her glaive, I put my relic cannon on my back. I reached out gently and took her shoulder. Beyond her, I saw the entrance to the village catacombs. Swarming with wraiths. The catacombs had been carved out by countless floods. As we left the village behind, heading underground, still the storm made itself known, water rolling down the walls around us.

It would be in the Black Mist that rolled like a wave to meet us, swallowing our light in a liquid roar. I could hear the screams of the people from my village, torn away when I was just a girl and first saw death. Wraiths rose up throughout the catacombs, trapped in a rictus of the agony they meant to inflict. But no matter how loud the screams of the living, the sound could never drown out their own.

And no matter how brightly my light burned, it could never hurt them worse than when the darkness returned. My call was irresistible. I could draw the Mist to myself, away from others. I felt death rush in, push the lie of my body away. As the Mist clung to me, one by one, it let the souls go. All who had been drawn here. All who had died above. For a moment, I thought I saw Anabal…. Only one vague shape lingered, a will still slowly awakening.

It hovered for a moment before turning to face me, rage burning where there were no eyes. You listen. As darkness collided with darkness, the light within me glowed. I felt my body return, as the last of the Mist left me. With a gasp, I fell to my knees. I looked up at Daowan, realization dawning on her face. Her glaive was still pointed at me.

Senna woke with a gasp, her breath pluming in the frigid night. Slicked with sweat, her arms, legs, neck, and back were covered in a mantle of sand. A single thought tumbled through her mind. She sat up, and saw the dark waters of the Holnek streaming past the lonely riverbank. Her instincts were pulling at her again, speaking to her as they had since childhood.

She had learned long ago to trust those feelings and hunches—and now they were telling her to leave. Lucian stirred in his sleep.

He turned and pulled their bedroll away, leaving her bare. A gentle breeze chilled her skin even more, and she burrowed her toes in the sand, searching for warmth. There was an unusual ebb in Harrowings, and so they had traveled north, to south-east Valoran, sailing upriver until they neared the Noxian border.

The pair had spent a short respite together in solitude, far from the storm that was their lives, a chance to rediscover one another after years of being apart. It was comfortable, like a well-worn cloak. Her instincts were ripping her away from the only refuge she and Lucian had known since they were reunited. She stared at the vast darkness and felt the glare of countless stars—each one like a wretched soul waiting for deliverance, watching in silence as she lived the life they were denied.

She had no right to squander salvation, these precious moments spent with Lucian. Lucian moaned softly in his sleep, head resting on a leather-bound tome. His breath quickened as he tossed beneath the bedroll, the moans growing louder. Senna shook his shoulder until he startled awake.

He pushed himself up on his elbow, breathing heavily. He took another deep breath, and relief settled in his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh. Senna tensed at the bluntness of his words, the easy disregard of their duty as Sentinels of Light. She looked at the codex lying on the sand, its bronze clasp broken and pitted with age. There were dozens of such volumes on their ship.

She, shrouded in darkness. He, illuminated by candlelight, hunched over a tome, desperately seeking answers to questions she had long stopped asking. Lucian finally turned to Senna. The warmth had returned to his face, along with a tinge of remorse. She longed to forget the horrors of the Black Mist, to look up at the night sky and see only stars.

Lucian picked up the heavy codex and started to rise. Senna felt the chasm widen between them, leaving her alone on the other side.

She took his hand, holding him fast. They had broken camp shortly after dawn. Senna was hauling the last of their provisions up a narrow gangplank while Lucian untied the halyard, preparing to hoist the mainsail.

They worked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts as the ship swayed in the calm waters of the Holnek. She planted a wooden crate on the weathered deck, next to their other supplies.

Their stores had dwindled during their stay. Lucian nodded. Senna gazed at the deep waters of the river, its current flowing gently toward the sea. Instead, he opened his canteen, took a long drink of water, and then slowly pushed the stopper back inside.

Senna thought of the chaotic patchwork of maps and lengths of twine that stretched across the walls in their cabin. Lucian had used them to track the Black Mist for years while she was imprisoned in the lantern. Senna shook her head. It was more than just anger. Lucian viewed the mist as a horrific blight upon the world, a scourge of wraiths needing to be purified. But her time in the lantern had shown her a different way. She could use her powers to redeem those wretched souls, liberating them from suffering.

Her legs weakened as an overwhelming weight pressed against her chest. Dark lightning slammed into Senna. The jolt sent her crashing against the deck, every limb contorted in searing pain, her body tensing and twisting as bones threatened to snap. A chorus of screams breached her mind. The anguished cries resounded and swelled until the world shattered in fragments of blinding light. She felt herself being torn away from Lucian and the boat and the shore, and the anchor that held her life in place.

She cracked open her eyes, flinching as she saw pinpricks of dark lightning crawling down her arms. Tortured screams still resonated in her mind. Slowly, her thoughts cleared, and the arcs of energy dissipated. Only the echo of laughter remained. She struggled to a knee, braced her arm on her leg, and rose in a scattering of ash and cinders. Air, thick and sweltering, rushed past her face like heat from an open furnace, the tang of a burning world on her tongue.

She tottered on baked clay—the ship had disappeared, leaving her alone on a plain of sun-cracked mud that stretched across a desolate wasteland, veiled in a haze. A triad of mountains towered in the distance, their fiery crowns spewing smoke into the ruddy sky.

Dread rose in her chest, hammering her heart and hitching her breath. She clutched her hands to ease their trembling, and inhaled deeply. But she had seen this before, or something similar: scorched wastelands, frozen tundras, bustling streets in chaotic cities. The landscape perpetually changed and warped in the spectral prison, as varied as its tortures.

Senna shook away the doubt and squeezed her eyes shut. In the early days of her imprisonment, she had wasted precious months, perhaps years, unable to accept her own death, trapped in a cycle of misery and loneliness. She had escaped once—she would do so again. Her eyes opened, and she looked for a way out. Senna called to the Black Mist, but drew smoke and embers instead.

The poor substitutes rushed in, transforming her into a wraith, shrouded by death. She moved, and the world blurred in a smear of color, hues shifting rapidly as the landscape changed.

She stopped with a jolt, and Bilgewater snapped into place. The harbor lay ruined, overrun by a massive Harrowing. Senna sends forth a wave of Black Mist. If it hits an enemy it latches onto them hungrily, rooting them and everything nearby after a brief delay. Senna draws the Mist she has stored in her weapon into a storm around her, embracing darkness and becoming a wraith within. Allies who enter the area are camouflaged and also appear as wraiths as the Mist shrouds them.

Wraiths gain increased Move Speed, are unselectable, and hide their identities. Senna calls upon the relic stones of fallen Sentinels, splitting her relic cannon into a holy array of shadow and light.

She then fires a global beam that shields allies from harm, while damaging enemies caught in the center. Login to post your comment. Show More Comments. No thanks Delete. Cancel Update. Login to reply. Cancel Reply. Contact Us. GDPR Compliance. Writer Awards. Tech Blog.