Two weeks felt like an eternity for Orion. Ever since the Academy entrance exam, the young inventor had walked the city streets with an undercurrent of excitement tangled in apprehension. Piltover bustled on as usual—its markets rang with shouts of merchants, and steam trolleys hissed along rails. For Orion, however, every day stretched longer than the last, each morning bringing him both closer to and further from the results he so desperately awaited.
Early one morning, he tinkered in his small workshop, adjusting the tension on his mechanical arm. Clara's gentle knock at the door interrupted him.
"Orion?" she called softly. "A letter arrived. From the Academy."
His heart jolted. Carefully placing his screwdriver aside, he rushed to meet her, pulse hammering in his ears. She handed him a crisp envelope, its seal bearing the Academy's crest. Grant looked on, anxiety pulling at his features, though he tried to keep a calm facade.
Orion ripped the envelope open, scanning the first few lines. We are pleased to inform you that your exam performance… He stopped reading, too stunned to continue. A broad grin overtook his face.
"I did it," he whispered, eyes shining with tears. "They've accepted me."
Clara let out a joyous laugh, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I knew it, my brilliant boy!"
Grant's relief showed in the slow, proud nod he gave, his voice rough. "Congratulations, son. You earned this."
Word spread quickly that Orion, the young genius with a single eye and a mechanical arm, was officially enrolled in Piltover's Academy. Tobin stopped by that very afternoon, presenting Orion with a small, carefully engraved gear as a keepsake. Even a few local merchants congratulated him, murmuring about how perhaps one day, the city's future might hinge on such bright minds.
A week later, Orion received a formal invitation to the Kiramman estate. Lady Kiramman requested his presence for a private dinner, ostensibly to discuss the next steps for his enrollment and to introduce him to someone special. Curiosity brimming, Orion tidied his best (though still modest) attire, while Clara fussed over his collar.
"It's a big evening," she remarked, smoothing wrinkles from his shirt. "Meeting the Kirammans at their home is no small honor."
Grant, adjusting the strap on Orion's mechanical arm, gave a teasing smile. "Just be yourself, son. That's worked well enough so far."
As dusk settled, a Kiramman carriage arrived, whisking Orion through the grander side of Piltover. Manicured hedges and marble fountains lined the avenues, culminating in a sprawling estate whose iron gates parted to admit the carriage. Warm lights glimmered from tall windows, reflecting off polished brass accents.
A servant welcomed him into a grand foyer, the marble floors and gilded ceilings every bit as impressive as the Academy's halls. Soft music drifted from a distant chamber, and clusters of potted plants lent the space a refined tranquility.
Lady Kiramman soon appeared, gliding forward with a warm, if reserved, smile. "Orion, congratulations on your acceptance. I was certain the Academy would see your potential."
He offered a polite bow. "Thank you, Lady Kiramman. I couldn't have done it without your help."
She waved a hand dismissively. "I merely opened a door. You had to walk through it. Now, let me introduce you to my daughter, Caitlyn."
At that, a poised girl with sapphire-blue eyes and dark hair stepped forward. She appeared to be around Orion's age, studying him with friendly curiosity.
"Mother's told me about you," Caitlyn said, extending a hand in a polite greeting. "Welcome to our home."
Orion managed a slight bow, then shook her hand gently. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kiramman."
Caitlyn's lips quirked in amusement. "You can call me Caitlyn," she replied, stepping aside to let him enter a spacious drawing room.
Dinner proved surprisingly relaxed, set in a smaller chamber rather than a massive banquet hall. A few close members of the Kiramman household joined them, including Lady Kiramman's husband, Tobias Kiramman—a tall man with refined features and a gentle, welcoming demeanor. He exchanged pleasantries with Orion and inquired about his time at the Academy, listening intently to the boy's enthusiasm for engineering. Orion found Tobias surprisingly down-to-earth, a balance to Lady Kiramman's more formal composure, and he sensed genuine warmth in the man's encouragement.
After the meal, the conversation turned to Orion's upcoming plans at the Academy. Tobias shared a few humorous anecdotes of Piltover society, making both Caitlyn and Orion laugh. Through it all, Caitlyn remained intrigued by Orion's stories of tinkering with various gadgets, occasionally glancing toward her father with a smile.
Afterward, as the plates were cleared away, Caitlyn tugged Orion by the sleeve. "Come on," she said. "You have to show me these inventions Mother's been telling me about. I hear you've built a wind generator and some sort of mechanical bicycle."
Orion followed her through the estate's corridors until they reached a private study. The room's tall windows overlooked a garden softly lit by lanterns. Caitlyn shut the door behind them, ensuring a bit of privacy.
"I brought some of my smaller prototypes," Orion explained, setting down the satchel he'd carried. Carefully, he removed the miniature wind generator, then the partial schematic of his multi-gear bicycle, spreading it out on a low table.
Caitlyn examined each item with open fascination. "This is incredible," she murmured, twisting the wind generator's blades gently between her fingers. "So it captures wind and transforms it into electricity? That sounds… revolutionary."
Flushing with pride, Orion nodded. "It's still early days, but I've managed to light small bulbs. With better materials, I could scale it up."
"And this bicycle," Caitlyn went on, leaning over the schematic, "it shifts gears depending on the slope? That could make traveling the city's inclines so much easier."
"Exactly," Orion said, excitement creeping into his voice. "I used a multi-gear ratio system—though building it required parts I had to salvage. It's not perfect, but it works well enough."
Caitlyn tapped her chin thoughtfully, eyes flicking to Orion's mechanical arm. "So, what's next? Any new inventions on the horizon?"
He hesitated, glancing at the blueprint for a mechanical eye hidden in his satchel. Slowly, he removed it and handed it over. "I want to make… something like this eventually."
She took the blueprint, brows furrowing at the detailed diagrams. "A… prosthetic eye?"
Orion exhaled, knotting his fingers. "I lost my right eye years ago. This design is still theoretical. I'm not sure how to integrate it biologically, but maybe the Academy can help me figure that out."
Tentatively, Caitlyn met his gaze. "How is it, seeing from just one eye?"
A moment of silence hung in the air, the question both earnest and delicate. Orion shrugged, searching for the right words. "It can be difficult," he admitted. "My depth perception isn't what it would be otherwise. Sometimes I knock things over on my blind side or struggle with fine tasks that need two eyes. But…"—he paused, lips twisting into a small smile—"I've learned to adapt. And one day, if I can finish this prosthetic eye, maybe I'll see everything clearly again."
Caitlyn's gaze shifted to his arm, taking in the small gears and wires. "And the arm? Is it… challenging, too?"
He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. "At first, yes. It was heavy, and I had to adjust to the mechanical movements. Now, it's part of me. I keep improving it, making it lighter, more flexible. Each upgrade lets me do a bit more."
She rested a hand gently on his mechanical forearm, eyebrows drawn in quiet empathy. "You're amazing, you know that? Most people would be bitter about losing a limb or an eye, but you… you've turned it into something extraordinary."
Orion felt heat rise to his cheeks, though he smiled at her genuine praise. "Thanks," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "I guess it's just… necessity. If I didn't fix it, I wouldn't manage very well."
Caitlyn stepped back, eyes flicking to the blueprint again. "If you succeed, you'll be the first person in Piltover—maybe anywhere—to create a functioning mechanical eye. That's… quite a legacy."
He hesitated, then nodded. "I'm hoping the Academy's resources will bring me closer to it. And maybe help with other ideas, like that new power source I've been tinkering with."
Curiosity sparked in her expression. "The one Mother mentioned? Energon, right?"
"Yeah," Orion confirmed, rummaging in his satchel. He held up a small, sealed vial containing faintly glowing liquid. "I'm still refining it. Too volatile for a real demonstration, but I believe if I can stabilize it, it'll be more efficient than steam or basic electricity. Maybe it'll even power advanced prosthetics someday."
Caitlyn leaned in, eyeing the vial with awe. "That's… unreal. I'd love to see it in action when it's ready. Perhaps you can show me around the Academy labs once you're set up."
A grin broke across Orion's face. "I'd like that. Maybe I can pick your brain about engineering details—or get your feedback on how practical my designs might be for everyday use."
They spent the next hour chatting about Piltover's architecture, the undercity's struggles, and even Caitlyn's own ambitions—she spoke of wanting to become an enforcer like her father had been, only kinder, someone who truly understood justice. In turn, Orion admitted that part of his reason for building new technologies was to help people on both sides of the bridge—Zaun included.
Time passed swiftly, and before they knew it, a soft chime signaled the late hour.
Lady Kiramman appeared at the door, a faint smile on her face. "I see you two are getting along."
"Yes," Caitlyn answered brightly. "Orion was showing me his prototypes. Truly fascinating work."
The older woman's gaze flicked to Orion. "You'll need to head home soon, I'm afraid. But I'm glad you've had the chance to meet Caitlyn. Perhaps you'll find a friend in her, as well as a colleague."
Orion carefully packed away his sketches and prototypes, nodding with earnest gratitude. "Thank you, Lady Kiramman. For everything."
She inclined her head. "Piltover thrives when bright minds collaborate. Don't be a stranger—my daughter and I would like to see where your inventions lead."
Outside, the Kiramman carriage waited to take Orion home. Caitlyn walked him to the courtyard gate, the hush of the evening sky punctuated by the soft glow of lanterns.
"Thanks for tonight," Orion said, turning to face her. "I haven't really talked to someone my age about… well, all of this. Most kids think I'm odd."
She laughed gently. "Better odd than ordinary, right?"
He returned the laugh, albeit sheepishly. "Yeah, I suppose so."
Caitlyn extended a hand, and he shook it, a bit more comfortably this time. "Good luck at the Academy," she said, sincerity in her eyes. "I think you'll do great, Orion."
He gave a small, grateful nod. "And maybe if you're around, you can drop by the labs. I'll show you how everything's shaping up."
"Count on it," she replied, stepping back as the carriage driver signaled for Orion.
The ride home was quiet, Orion watching the stately streets of Piltover roll by. His mind buzzed not only with the news of his acceptance but also the budding friendship he'd formed tonight. Caitlyn Kiramman seemed genuinely intrigued by his work and undeterred by his physical limitations. The idea of having a friend—a peer who understood his aspirations—warmed him from within.
By the time he arrived home, Grant and Clara were already waiting in the softly lit living room, anxious to hear how dinner had gone. Orion recounted the evening's events, including the first conversation he'd had with Caitlyn.
"I think we'll get along," he concluded, a spark of optimism shining in his eye. "And maybe—just maybe—this is the start of something bigger. For Piltover and for me."
Clara embraced him, pride and relief evident on her face. Grant clapped him gently on the back, his gruff voice hushed. "Glad to hear it, son. This city needs good hearts and bright minds—like yours and Caitlyn's—if it's going to keep moving forward."
Later that night, Orion sprawled on his bed, letting the day's excitement gradually fade into contentment. The Academy's acceptance. A new friend. The promise of shared ideas and breakthroughs yet to come. Gazing at his pinned blueprint of the mechanical eye, he felt hope surging in his chest like a slow, steady current.
Yes, he thought, drifting off to sleep, there was a place for him in this city after all—and new friends who might stand by him, no matter where his inventions led next.