Karthus placed Achlys down in her lifeboat crib. She stretched with a yawn as Karthus changed her into fresh clothing for the night.
"We've had quite the eventful day, Achlys," he said softly.
She didn't answer, but only looked at him with a sleepy expression and bright eyes. Karthus's ancient face wrinkled into a smile. He then began to sing a lullaby:
"The moon shines down on the Isles' shore, illuminating sand with a glistening hoar.
And balefire blue gives its cold light, so that your home glows throughout the night.
Gulls come to roost in their trees, lulled to sleep by the evening's ease.
But specters do not need repose, in this land of light and shadows.
The wraiths will watch you as you sleep, to make sure nothing makes you weep.
Phantoms' forms will flit and gleam, all around you as you dream.
And skeletons will dance with their eternal grin, knowing you will champion their kin.
For you are the one I insist, that will one day be our herald of the Mist."
Karthus's voice echoed through the cathedral and wove itself into the wind. The spirits who heard him became calm. The restless patrols gave way to silent vigils and their wails conceded to the Deathsinger's lullaby.
"Fa," Achlys sighed as her eyes shut with a smile.
Karthus remained standing over her for several minutes to be sure that her breathing was easy and steady. No nightmares of the Chain Warden would haunt her tonight. Instead, she dreamt of the spectral seas serpent and the phantasmagorical patterns of light that flashed along its body. Satisfied, Karthus left her to sleep, but not before pausing at the door one more time.
"Sleep well, my daughter."