Chapter Two

The Wayfarer

Not much time passed before another man stumbled upon the ancient ruins of Icathia. He was a pilgrim of the ancients, a strong minded young man who had journeyed far from his home near the great Mount Targon. He was dressed strangely for his robe had no upper half and his strong muscular chest was exposed to the vicious desert winds, only a brown sash went across his chest, holding his brown layered robe bottoms to his shoulder piece, a pair of brassards horned with the tusks of a great boar. Upon his wrists were a pair leather vambraces. A black scarf was wrapped around his neck and covered his mouth and nose. And all across his garb were magic symbols written in the language of the Icathians. His long black hair blew gracefully in the desert wind.

He fondled his sword in his hand as he moved forth, knowing very well that rumors said dark beasts laid dormant here in waiting. The city was quite small, or at least what could be seen. He had read that the city was built upon a hill thousands of years ago and a never ending sandstorm had buried it as well as the once fertile area that is now called the Shurima Desert. It was said that it was just an occurrence of nature, but the young pilgrim knew better than that. Deep in his studies, hours of intense laboring through old manuscripts and texts he had found a single torn document with a single sentence written upon it.

"...and the Dark Ones, disappointed with the cowardice of their followers, buried the Cyclopeans."

He kept that with him now, that very note was what lured him here. The allure of the taboo magics had always appealed to the young man, delving deep into Necromancy and Hemomancy in the days of his youth, but as he grew older he sought the most taboo of all, the magics of darkness. On another scroll he found a spell which he had sewn into his robes. A spell that transferred the dark energies of the caster into a blade.

The ruins of the city that were still upon the surface consisted of small huts and pillars, adorned with faded carvings of words that even the young man could hardly read, much of it unimportant, a home here, a home there, a shrine here, but then he came upon he came upon a crumbling building with a clear cut inscription, as if it was carved in just moments before.

"Let all know the dread of the Unknown and let the world writhe in fear." He placed his hand upon it and felt a tingle in his finger tips. He reread it and noticed that the word "Unknown" was used as a pronoun and not an adjective. It puzzled him greatly. He looked at the crumbled building and saw that the debris had been recently disturbed for it was not blanketed by the falling sands. Then he heard a sound he would not forget for the rest of his life.

"KASSADIN HELP ME PLEASE! HELP!" he heard a bone chilling scream echoing from the inside the crumbling building. The young man raced inside and discovered a tunnel that was crudely dug into the sand, held up by some mystical energy. He flew down inside and rushed to find the source for the voice sounded eerily familiar. The tunnel seemed to twist and wind in all directions and if felt like it took almost an hour to reach the base and once he did he stood aghast as the sight of his daughter bound in chains entered his eyes. He ran to her but fazed straight through. He turned around and tried to grasp her in his hands but he could not.

"This is the future for you my friend." a voice spoke out from behind him and he turned, blade in hand, to face the source but the room was empty.

"Show yourself coward!" Kassadin roared but all he heard in response was a raspy metallic laugh. Suddenly all the room went dark, and the image of his daughter was gone. All that was visible was a shining purple tear in the wall ahead of him, it showed an image. An image of the bedroom in his home and his wife, cleaning the dust off of his study. He watched it for a while until he noticed that the blackness was creeping into his home. His wife was grabbed by a tendril of darkness and pulled into the black abyss that surrounded him.

"Agatha, no!" he screamed as tears rolled down his face. His wife kicked and screamed against the darkness enveloping her but to no avail and with a final shriek of the name of her husband, completely vanished. Kassadin bellowed in anger and charged into the darkness, slicing blindly with his blade as the voice laughed and jeered at him.

"Your attacks will not hit me, pilgrim." a tremendous force knocked Kassadin off of his feet and onto the ground a few yards back. He tried to stand but his legs were immediately swiped by another force and he laid face down on the ground. He started to cry again and the darkness echoed in the laughter of the malefic voice that haunted him now. He managed to move his head towards the image of his home again, hoping to see that he had just imagined all of this, but his wife was indeed gone and to his despair, the darkness now was clutching hold of his daughter, Serena.

"No please! Don't! Not my daughter!" he begged and the darkness laughed and dragged her in as well. He stood again and ran towards his daughter and was caught by another tendril. "I will do anything, please do not harm her!" he cried and the voice was silent. His daughter, no longer visible could still be heard screaming from some far off and distant place. "Take me instead. Please..." he groveled now.

"I shall take your humanity away from you and turn you into a warrior of the dark, a paladin of malevolence, a Wayfarer of the Void." the voice said, no longer sounding raspy and metallic but more charismatic and charming. "You shall be my soldier and slave, and your beautiful daughter," Kassadin flinched at her daughter being called beautiful by such a foul presence, "shall be set free." Kassadin heard some shifting and writhing in the dark and his daughter was pulled forth by a dark tentacle from the shadows, unconscious but unharmed.

"What of my wife?" Kassadin spoke weakly, knowing he was making a deal with the devil. Again he heard the writhing of the darkness in the shadows and this time his wife came forth, completely of her own power, completely nude and approached him. She was laminated with a hue of purple light and shone brilliantly in the darkness. She came to him and pressed her lips against Kassadin's and they kissed, slowly and passionately and then she broke off.

"My love, I am already lost..." She spoke softly and slowly faded away into the darkness.

"She is with the Void now. It is too late." the voice did not sound sincere, just simply impartial and apathetic to the emotional trauma that it had just caused to him. Kassadin stood in despair for a few moments and looked towards his daughter.

"I am yours." he said softly and watched as his daughter was slowly brought back into his home and the image slowly withered away.

"Brace yourself. If you do not live the transformation, I will try it on your daughter next."the voice spoke with a hint of satisfaction. Kassadin spat and spread his arms wide.

"I welcome your curse." He said and closed his eyes. Immediately his arms and legs were grabbed by tendrils and pulled apart, Kassadin screamed in agony as his limbs were stretched to their limits and beyond. He felt a hand pressed against his chest and opened his eyes just for a moment to see a pair of glowing purple eyes, no whites or pupil just a complete purple, in front of him. The hand pressed firmer against his chest and he began to feel his skin melt away and the pain almost rendered him unconscious if not for the thought of his daughter's survival. Slowly all of his skin burned to ashe and fell away, leaving his muscular system completely exposed. The hand was removed from his chest and he took a deep breath of relief.

It did not last long before a huge blast of energy burst forth against his chest and he felt the energy surging throughout his body. He felt a new skin growing back, even more painful than losing it was regaining it he watched his hands as the red muscle was covered in a new skin, tinted a deep blue. His robes, which had been burned away with his skin, also regrew, now jet black and adorned with white markings in Icathian, evil markings binding him to his new form. He felt his skin burn once more as the same marks were burnt into his body. Lastly he felt an extreme pain as a sharp point, almost dagger like, cut markings into his cheeks. On the right it read, "Void" and on the left it read "Walker".