-Achlys could feel the uneasiness of the wraiths around her and began to whimper.

"Be still, Achlys," Karthus soothed, "I will not allow him to harm you. You know I fought Hecarim for you, and he is stronger than Thresh."

"Mmm," she groaned.

"Be still."

It was true what he had said, Hecarim was one of the strongest spirits on the Shadow Isles. Very few could match the Shadow of War in terms of pure physical strength, but Thresh possessed something that Hecarim lacked. Cunning. And it was that cunning that made Karthus curse that he didn't command more wraiths to accompany them.

Karthus straightened up and gripped his staff more tightly. He would not allow himself to be intimidated by a mere sound. The wraiths, sensing their master's resolve, grew calmer. They began to hover protectively around Achlys and soon, she too had calmed, though each clanking echo of the chains had her flinching.

The baleful light of the dark lantern flickered at the end of the hallway. It tinted the walls with its cold, green light. The air began to grow colder, though the shadows on the bookshelves danced as if a fire blazed. A clawed glove grabbed the top of the lantern and Thresh came into view. He held his tool aloft, completely dousing the dark passage in light. The balefire that wreathed his head flared with excitement at the sight of Karthus.

"Ah, Karthus," his voice echoed, "what a delight it is to see you here, and I see that you brought the baby with you."

"Thresh," Karthus replied with as much courtesy that he could muster, "I am surprised to see you here. I never took you to be a reader."

"Truly? I consider myself to be quite the scholar."

Thresh let go of his lantern and let it float alongside him as he walked down the hall, looking over the books with feigned interest. Karthus watched this charade with a wary eye. He wanted no part in Thresh's game, so he tried to continue on as though the other specter wasn't there. He resumed scanning the bookshelves for tomes of interest, but he kept Thresh in peripheral gaze. Achlys however, couldn't ignore him at all, and so she starred on with wide, frightened eyes.

Even with his split attention, a book did catch Karthus's eyes. Its binding was damaged, but the pages appeared to be mostly intact. Repairing it would be a simple matter. He went to reach for the book but suddenly, Thresh's hand was there first. The specter ripped the book from the shelf, pulling it out of Karthus's reach.

"Here it is," Thresh said as calmly as though he had only gently picked the text from the shelf, "I think this was what I was looking for."

He began to pace, muttering to himself as he did, and flip through the book.

"No, no. Not here. Wrong," he muttered aloud, ripping a page from the book with each word.

"This isn't the book I was looking for," he said with a shrug before tossing the tattered tome over his shoulder.

It landed inches from the lich and Karthus bent down to scoop up its sad remains. Karthus scowled.

"Why are you here, Thresh," he demanded.

"I dwell here, Karthus," the specter responded matter-of-factly, "the Isles are my home as well."

"You know what I meant. What are you doing at the library? And do not say it is because you are looking for a book."

Thresh abandoned his fake search of the bookshelf and turned his attention to Karthus and Achlys.

"Do I need a reason to want to see our own chosen of the Isles," he asked as he approached.

His face contorted into a smile and he reached out a hand to touch the child. Karthus gently pushed his arm aside with his staff.

"You do not need a reason, no, but I find it difficult that you have nothing better to do," Karthus said with an even tone.

Thresh retracted his hand.

"I am between marks currently," he said, "but I suppose I could always find a new one."

He yanked his lantern upwards and opened it a crack. A cacophony of confused noises came spilling out. The balefire around Thresh flared briefly at the noise as he reached a claw inside and withdrew a glowing soul. The dull glow of the wretched thing grew brighter and more frenzied as Thresh pulled it away from the lantern and into his palm. It tried to flee, but every time it passed Thresh's curled fingers, wisps of blue light would lash out from them and pull it back, leaving it to struggle like a fly on the end of a string.

"I believe this one still has family somewhere," Thresh continued, "a daughter."

An unpleasant feeling roiled within Karthus. He had always held deep contempt for how the Warden treated the souls of the dead, but today the feeling was different. It was not revulsion, nor was it hatred. It was something worse, something in the way Thresh was looking past the soul and directly at Karthus. It was something in the way he had said "daughter." It was fear, budding in Karthus's chest for the first time since his transformation.

How long Thresh held Karthus pinned under his gaze, neither could say, but it ended as suddenly as it had begun. Thresh snapped his hand shut, crushing the soul and sending it back to the lantern.

"But I can deal with her another day," the specter continued as though nothing had happened, "today I only care about seeing one girl."

Karthus raised his staff again, but this time Thresh only laughed at it.

"Do you still believe I want to hurt her, Karthus? I could do it if I wanted to. I could do it with ease."

Before Karthus could object, Thresh had his blade in hand. A quick swing and it sailed towards the balcony of the next floor. There was the sound of tearing paper and shrill screech as the chain went taut. Thresh grabbed his chain and reeled it towards him. A scrivener was hooked on the end. The spirit crashed onto the ground, scattering papers everywhere. Thresh stamped his boot down on its back.

"If I had wanted to tear that child from your back Karthus I would have done it by now," he said, "I told you earlier, I find infants boring. I'm on your side, Karthus. I want to see her grow up to be strong and beautiful. I want to see her spread the Mist. But for today, I just want to see her, and I will."

Karthus considered his options. On the one hand, he did not want the Isles' most infamously sadistic monster anywhere near Achlys, but on the other hand, this monster could also be a valuable ally in protecting her. What Elise had said about Thresh was true, he was not deceitful, but that did little to ease Karthus's mind.

"Why is he so interested in her,"Karthus thought, "does he believe what I told him in the cathedral? Or is there some other reason he wants to see her grown? Is he waiting for when she will be less 'boring' to him?"

The thought was revolting. Questions continued to drive through his mind, but Thresh was growing impatient and had begun to move towards Achlys. Karthus pushed his staff against the other undead's chest. The wraiths hissed as tensions came to a point.

"Time's up, Karthus," he thought to himself, "you either address this problem now or later."

A final look at the scrivener tearing itself to shreds against the chains was enough to solidify Karthus's decision. This would be an easier battle if Achlys is old enough to defend herself.

"You may see her, Thresh," Karthus said with reluctance, though his tone grew more threatening as he continued, "but if you so much as make her bleed a single drop, I will do to you things that you can't even conceive."

This threat only produced a laugh from Thresh. He ripped his hook from the scrivener before kicking the spirit away and coming to loom over Achlys.

"Hello, Achlys," he said.

Karthus couldn't tell if Thresh was being more intentionally intimidating or not, because Achlys was frantically kicking his back in a panic.

"Neh! Beh! Beh! Mmmm," she grunted.

"My, my," Thresh mused, "you are so pale looking, like a porcelain doll."

He twirled a strand of her platinum hair around his fingers. The light glowing on their tips reflected in her green eyes and shone on her skin, making her as blue as the wraith beside her.

"Ehenn," was her response.

"She babbles quite a bit. What was her first word, Karthus?"

"She hasn't said it yet," Karthus answered.

Thresh suddenly clapped down on his shoulder.

"She hasn't said her first word yet," he exclaimed, "such a critical moment of her life. Some people say that a first word can influence the course of the child's life."

"What," Karthus balked, "that's not true. Who says that?"

"Some people."

"You are speaking nonsense."

"Is that a risk you are willing to take, though? Can you say 'flay,' Achlys? Maybe you can follow my footsteps instead, hmm? Hook, Achlys. Can you repeat that? Or cage or lock?"

Thresh dangled the lantern before her as he spoke the last words, allowing her to see the multitude of souls trapped within.

"Enough of you," Karthus snapped, "she does not need to put up with this aggravation."

Karthus backed away, letting his wraiths fill the space between them.

"We are leaving, Achlys," he continued, "and hopefully you will sparred his presence for many nights to come."

"Good bye, Achlys," Thresh smirked with a wave, "we will see each other again."

Once outside the library, Karthus muttered a long stream of curses.

"By the Hunters, Achlys, do not let any of those be your first word either."

"Meh," she replied.

She had calmed down now that she was breathing the fresh, salty air. The rest of the sunken city had also reemerged now that Thresh had departed, and the streets were soon illuminated by wandering spirits again. The lesser spirits parted as Karthus floated by, though many a curious and hungry eye followed him.

"We may not have a book for you, but I can still teach you words. I will not allow your first word to be something horrid, if for no other reason than to spite Thresh."

"Eh?"

"Try 'book' again, Achlys. You almost said it earlier," he held up a tome again, "book."

"Boh,"

"Good, book."

"Boh."

"Do you want to attempt 'hat' again? Hat."

"Hah."

"Keep practicing."

Karthus spent the rest of the day bringing her through the city, pointing to all manner of objects in an attempt to get her to speak a full word, but without much success. 'Crab' was 'bab,' 'wisp' became 'ssss,' and 'spider' was simply 'der.' He named all the parts of a house and identified the hardy few species of plants that grew among the ruins. Still, she only babbled. Achyls was enjoying herself, but steadily she grew tired. In one final attempt, Karthus brought her down to the docks.

"Look, Achlys, you can see the ocean. It is water. Please, make one more attempt. Water."

"Wah," she said with a yawn.

That was it. Achlys had reached her limits and would be asleep in minutes. Karthus resigned himself that they would need to wait until tomorrow to continue. Out of irritation, he knocked a passing crab into the water with his staff. He watched as the ripples spread across the calmer waters of this protected cove and then watched as they returned, larger and more erratic. A bright light pulsated from the depth. A moment later, the spirit of a serpentine sea monster burst forth. It let out a whistling screech, exposing its mouth full of needle-like teeth. Patterns along its side flashed wildly for a moment before it dove again and sped out to sea.

Karthus turned to check on Achlys. She was fully alert again, with her eyes wide and mouth agape. But she was smiling. She breathed out a word.

"Wow."