Reprise – Chapter 2

Wait.

This isn't Lissandra's ambush.

I can still feel her hands in my hair and mouth. Deprived of stimulation, my nerves echo what came before.

So this is where Sejuani fell? I swim towards her voice.

Like an amputee with a phantom itch, I find myself yearning for those hands.

I hear someone else drown out her eloquent longing. I am in my room, alone, howling in frustration. I watch as I pull at my clothes and hair, scatter furniture and invoke Avarosa.

This fair, enlightened woman who would be queen has dropped her mask, and she will never fit the pieces together again.

I draw nearer. The currents of time nourish the roots of a tree, groaning as if alive. It shambles towards a final destination, breaking limbs as possibilities dwindle.

Yet I can brush aside obstacles, free branches before they snap.

I whisper one thought to my broken self. This is not how it ends.

After kissing Sejuani for the first time, I succumb to madness.

Madness can take any form, and I needed one for my purpose. I wasn't subtle.

Dreamcraft was beyond my skill. That world remains pure. Instead, I put a silly, waking notion into my lovesick head.

I stain a pillowcase with my blood then shamble across the plains to deliver it.

All I have is brute force and emotion. I navigate with no sense of direction. I could be running in circles.

I come to a wide ravine, flanked by two ancient pines, a stalemate lasting until both die apart.

I whittle signs into the bark. I spread rumours to ensure my forces and the Winter's Claw meet within Lissandra's trap.

I contrive Sejuani's death to ensure progression. I'm sorry, my love. I saw no other way. Perhaps a better person would have seen farther.

The pine falls, bridging the crevasse.

Onward, I urge the treant, which cares for nothing else. Onward.

I've cast Sejuani to the depths. Now I must follow.

The sweetest birdsong can herald an avalanche. I see Quinn beneath my lair. She's making use of my targets, yet she's due to become one.

All I have to do is needle myself to wake up. Loneliness, desire and the cover of night will do the rest.

I crawl through dense undergrowth. Brambles tear my clothes and flesh until my pulp is exposed.

In hiding, I am revealed.

It is a mercy that I needn't witness the creature I've become.

Left alone, I savage wildlife, humiliate Sejuani and orchestrate Volibear's capture. Likewise, he came looking for me of his own accord.

Occasionally, patterns form without a seamstress, or they are not patterns at all, and we suppose order that isn't there.

The Winter's Claw might have agreed with that interpretation, if they hadn't killed me.

The treant says nothing. It follows a path which is no path.

Momentum gathers. My knotty companion rides the scree down a misty gorge.

I can't find the means to cross the sea but a momentary lapse of reason will provide a ship.

With a nudge, I crawl to Volibear with my tail between my legs, even though I'd resolved not to seek his approval.

Above our meeting, Valor betrays Quinn. Was he careless on purpose? I guess we'll never know.

The treant swerves down a steeper cliff, as eager to descend as I am. Our wills are becoming one.

Olaf kills me again, and the cycle resumes. Like a whirlpool, it sucks me further down with each repetition.

Why can't I prevent this? I intervened before. All I have to do is ensure Volibear returns alone.

Something is blocking history's progress. I have to discover what.

The whirlpool ends in a single point. All that's left is darkness. The light, from where I fell, dwindles above.

Before dissolving with the cycle, the treant offers a hand. I suspect we're older friends than I know. He says, 'I would end your burden, but it always returns.'

I draw words from another life. 'I know, Maokai. Please rest. You needn't wait for me.'

'I will always wait for you. When your final journey beckons, I will be there to carry you forth.'

But for now, I am alone with my shadow.

So… do I replay and regret my decisions for as long as my thoughts endure? The despair hasn't set in yet. I've crossed over to new world, beyond time and death. What marvels await?

I hear the frayed voice of an old man. 'Your sense of wonder is a gift, ashen maid. Every turn, you greet us with the same song in your heart. I keep expecting your flame to die from one life too many, yet you persist.'

I reach for my weapons. They're gone. Avarosa's protection doesn't extend to here. 'Where are you?'

'There's only one path. You can do naught but follow. Come.'

I walk away from the grey lamp. Imagination fills the void. I hear my footsteps echo as I cross the damp-slick floor of a tomb. I see torches flicker. They reveal stones, worn by the tread of generations or a lone restless woman.

His voice returns. 'You explored such ruins as a child, yes? We've had many conversations about them. I recall your first visit. You were determined to see the founding of your land. I've learnt to disappoint you now rather than later.'

The torches dim. So that's one prospect dashed.

'Sorry. Death is not omniscience, despite what others claim.'

This isn't the Shadow Isles. Apparently, death's kingdom ended like all others. The thought gives me some pleasure. Victory is mine, Kalista.

'There is no need for vengeance here. Kalista dug her own grave aeons ago.'

'Can you read my thoughts or do I ask every time?'

'Your thoughts aren't known to me but you always check for danger. Death inspires one to close the stable door after the horse has bolted.'

'Or the angry boar.' Silence. 'Do I always say that?'

'You do, and I always give you the prompt in case anything has changed.'

'Oh…'

'Try not to dwell on it.'

Of course, I'm going to dwell on it! I'm going to compulsively hunt for the means to differentiate my current self and escape whatever's happening. Where's a deck of cards when you need it? I could use chance to frustrate my host.

Lost in my own thoughts, I proceed without awareness. The spectral catacombs give way to a narrow bridge across the void. I halt as my feet are soaked in a terrible red light. Dread rises. The ground is an illusion. I'm suspended above the glow of a million collapsed stars, dangling as if caught by the scruff of my neck. A tug on my hair forces me to look at the horrifying monument above. I scream.

Crucified across a moon of blood, metal and stone is… Volibear, mouth agape and eyes hollow. His chest does not move. He shows no signs of decay or life. Meaningless words spill from my lips until a quiet voice breaks through.

'Sorry, ashen maid. There has never been a good way to show you this, only a quick one.'

A tiny, sallow man, nailed to a grandfather clock in a similar pose to Volibear, swoops in. I doubt his bones could survive the gentlest contact with any surface. His eyes are milky, but set within a firm expression. I hurl questions at him. 'What have you done to Volibear? He doesn't deserve this! Of all the people in all the worlds, why him?' No reply. 'He was the best of us! He was…'

'Your nation's past, present and future… and the end of all time.'

'What? Volibear is the end of time? How?'

'Even the ending to all things is a thing in itself, and you know it as Volibear. I'm sorry. I sought to change his fate once I learnt of his goodness but he grew hostile to my efforts.'

I guessed the universe would make little sense from here, but nothing could prepare me for this. 'You tried to help him?'

'I didn't get very far. His logic was curious. He believed as long as I existed here, I was denying others. Therefore I had to die.' The old man seems untroubled. He doesn't take it personally. 'Not just for his sake. He thought some worlds were possible only without me.'

'Could that have worked?'

'I'm unsure. I can't see a timeline where I don't exist. He has, on occasion, tried to hunt every instance of me, but his memory of that crusade rarely surfaced, and it ebbed whenever he… shifted. Memory falters without an anchor.'

I knew Volibear had shamanic powers, but since when was he a time traveller? He could have slain one of my ancestors. 'How long has he lived? Why didn't Anivia notice him?'

'You must have inferred from his regeneration that Volibear has experienced more lives than anyone could remember, least of all, him. A strange gravity, birthed from his role, draws knowledge of the man away from history and himself.'

'You mean it wasn't the storm keeping him alive?'

'It hastened the process and allowed him to fight for longer but no. Because of his inner conflict – his dual tendencies to judgement and compassion, order and chaos – he is in perpetual motion, a furnace that cauterises the flow of time. He never worshipped the storm. The storm worshipped him.'

How frustrating. If my experience with the treant was accurate, I'm exerting some influence between lives, but I couldn't remember this. 'To think I never saw.'

'You came close. Recall the trouble you had reading his expression or age. That was you glimpsing the veil.'

'I struggled with Urisne in general. It wasn't…' Realisation dawns. 'Wait. Volibear was the only one I engaged. I didn't even try to read the others.' How could I have united the Freljord with such myopia?

'You insist upon your failings. Avarosa gave you much but your vision was always your own.'

I have one burning question. 'Does he remember Sejuani?'

'Volibear sought many children. Sejuani was one of many, but no less important for that. He loved them all. The man before you has loved more than any being I've known, and he mourns just as deeply. Though he doesn't recall why, the feeling endures.'

I'm wracked with sympathy. 'Poor Volibear, that's impossibly cruel. I couldn't live with that.'

'Neither could I. Before my disjunction, I was already a grandfather. My family survived for generations. I can celebrate their lives without regret.' He looks up in reverence. 'Volibear is a martyr. He grants the universe peace by forgoing his. Even now, he rages against his fate and that only strengthens his grip. I sometimes curse my existence, but I need only consider him to know my fortune.'

'I fear I'd be less generous, er… sorry, I never asked your name.'

'You had no reason to ask. Who would you tell of me?' He laughs kindly, with more vigour than I expected. 'My name is Zilean. Some call me the Chronokeeper, which is nonsense. I keep little, except for my wits. I may have been chosen to bear witness but, all told, I'm just a mage of limited power who came unstuck from time.'

'I could ask you so many questions but it appears I'll move on and forget them anyway.'

'That is true, and I have no need for an audience. Besides, you don't have long.' Shadows lap at my feet. 'The breach will soon resolve by returning you to the cycle.'

'The cycle… I had visions where I changed the past.'

Zilean sounds tired of disappointing me. 'Yes, but you always come to the same end.'

'Even if I make Volibear go on without me?'

Before Zilean can reply, a familiar, menacing voice takes over. 'Aah, dal segno without a coda, forever and ever and ever. Such a dull composition, but you are one of my favourite performers, Ashe. I could listen to you recite a grocery list.'

Zilean groans. 'Tragically, Volibear and I are not alone and this divo craves an audience like no one else.'

Karthus descends, arms out as if to welcome me to his show. The lich may be vain, but he was helpful in the past. I should indulge him. 'Well, I'm in no position to judge. I've put on a few displays.' I greet him with a bow. 'Thank you, Karthus. You did say we would meet again.'

'Ah, Zilean, do you remember when she used to curtsy? Her romantic escapades have turned her into a man.'

Zilean's not impressed. 'You're trapped in your own time, Karthus.'

'Aren't we all? Now step aside. This part was written for me.' Karthus pretends to clear his throat. 'Regardless of your actions, you are destined to die, some ten months after your latest requiem. Anivia will try to preserve your soul only to throw you back to the first rupture.'

'I think I saw it… when I captured Sejuani and forced mead down her, correct?' Was that our first kiss? Or the consensual one which followed?

'Yes. You grant her one of two deaths, the quick sundering of the flesh or the slow drowning of her self. You let her go most of the time. When you do put a bag over her head and stab her with that relic of yours, a voice from another life maintains you're doing her a favour, which you are.'

To think I celebrated unearthing the Frost Queen's Claim. I'll bury that weapon again so it won't harm anyone else. 'Ten months, you said? How will I die, and why can't I avoid it?' Something tugs at my chest. I look down to see a crab-like symbol mark my breastbone.

'You had ascribed your inconvenient fainting spells to stress, dehydration or whatever seemed relevant at the time, all false. You have heart cancer.'

'No, that can't be! So my efforts were for naught? Even if I do everything right, I'm going to die young?'

'Yes. Each time we meet, I urge you to embrace the sweetness of the grave instead of this recurring nightmare but, no, you must sing every verse of your pain, conduct every variation on your twin themes of desire and self-hatred. Your cold-feathered friend has ensured that.'

'Anivia… did she know any of this?'

'No, she was just reckless. You can't imagine the joy it brings me to know that… thing is not here. Clearly, she dies eventually, unlike that charmless mediocrity.'

Zilean brushes off the insult. 'We are stuck with each other. I exist through time, yet exert no influence. I couldn't end my vigil if I tried. As for Karthus, he loves the sound of his own voice too much to rest.'

'Oh please, I take my duty seriously. As long as one person lives, the universe has need of me.'

'It never had need of you.' Zilean rounds on him. 'Forgive our bickering, ashen maid. Karthus gets over-excited when you visit.'

'You don't even use her name, you pretentious idiot.'

I pay no heed to their argument. Emptiness claws at me. I see the darkness spread from my womb. 'I guess reliving my affairs with Sejuani and Quinn is not the worst fate,' I say to no one. 'If only I were good for them.' Smoke erupts. I try to locate the source but I can't see through it. An eerie glow tells me Karthus' barrier is up. Fortunately, I don't have to breathe. 'What's happening?'

Zilean calls, 'I don't know. Come towards my voice. I can protect you if needed.'

I hear someone choking. It sounds like a young woman. After clearing her throat, she whoops in joy. 'This is cosmic! We're totally invading the Shadow Isles if their reagents are this good. Wow!'

My sins always catch up with me. 'Lux?'

'Ashe!' The smoke disperses, and she totters into view, wearing a scorched apron. 'You are so my favourite person right now. All that stuff I told you about being a disappointment? All forgotten.'

Zilean says, 'Before you ask, she's new to me.'

Lux doesn't bother to introduce herself. 'This is the end of time, right? You don't have to explain. I heard everything. There's no way I was missing out, so I took a stronger dose to see if I could talk to you directly, and… ta-dah! Here I am.'

I fear I'm responsible for this. 'A dose of what?'

'A big bird dropped off a present from the Shadow Isles.'

'Quinn gave you the rose?' I'm jealous, despite my better wishes.

'Not her, the other bird. I'm not stupid. You and Valor did this behind Quinn's back, didn't you?'

'Sort of but she…'

Karthus booms, 'A rose?' Oh no. 'Did you smoke one of my flowers?'

Lux flutters her eyelashes. 'Maaaaaybe?'

He turns to me. 'Ashe, you light-fingered strumpet, we're having words.'

I say, 'You dropped the rose. I was only cleaning up.'

'What did I say about reminding me of my carelessness?'

Lux sashays between Zilean and Karthus. 'Either way, it seems you boys have a quandary, and I owe Ashe enough to solve it. Aren't you lucky?'

Zilean seems intrigued, but Karthus demurs. 'Not while death can solve anything.'

'You're so boring. Artists always turn out reactionary, don't you think?' Lux taps her chin. 'Right-right, Ashe will die if she breaks the cycle, so she's not only trapped herself, she's done it in such a way that she gets to have whoopee with two sexy ladies until her bits are raw. First question, are you sure you want out of this, playgirl?'

'Yes.'

'But you don't want to die?'

'Sometimes, but there is too much left unfinished, and Volibear told me to keep on walking.' I look up at him. 'It's a debt none of us will outlive.'

Lux follows my gaze. 'Remarkable,' she says hungrily. 'If only I'd known...'

A chill crosses the void, eliciting a moan from Volibear's chest. I clench my fist. 'You'll draw the wrath of the whole Freljord if you lay a hand on that man.'

'Fine, fine, it can't be helped, right? I was only speculating. Imagine what we could…'

Zilean interrupts. 'You are not the first to discover his identity. Nothing ever comes of it.'

Lux's brow hardens. 'Whatever. My whole life, people have told me what I can't do. Now it's time to show you what I can.' She stands with her back to him. 'So all of history is that-a-way, clock-face?'

'It is, but entropy has dispersed everything. You'd be trying to reconstitute a wheat-field from breadcrumbs.'

'If anyone can see into the dark…' Light suffuses her lungs, undulating like the surface of a lake. 'It's the lady of luminosity!' Her eyes and ears bleed radiance until a white sun obscures her features. 'Witness the power Demacia had repressed! No more holding back!'

We surge through the cosmos, riding Lux's beam as it races from station to station. I'm drawn to a certain chapter then descend, once more, into the stream of life…