At once, they became inseparable. This was by design of course, but Karthus was still pleased to see how quickly Achlys became attached to Acheron. Achlys talked to him, cuddled him as she would her plush toys, had him play with her and Katherine, showed him every corner of the cathedral she could, explained her magic to him, had him rest in her bed while she slept, and had him follow her everywhere she went.
This had also given Katherine the reprieve her weary soul needed. Though the wraith had been more than willing to remain by Achlys's side, the prolonged time away from her cove was beginning to show. Compared to Karthus, Kathrine was a lesser wraith, still in danger of once more losing herself to the swirling abyss of the Black Mist, if she did not return to the location of her death to remember herself.
Now that the wraith of the young woman was gone, Karthus had plans to test how effectively Acheron could be a guardian. Staying out of sight as much as possible, he would observe the pair as they went about their day, occasionally interfering to simulate a danger Achlys may face. And should anything prove to be too much for Acheron, he would be right there to prevent disaster.
Around midday, when Achlys had just finished her lunch, Karthus spoke to her.
"I have a task that needs attending," he said, "I will not be gone long. Acheron will look after you. You are allowed to play inside or outside, but you cannot go past the gate. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Achlys repeated, "I will be good. I will go with you to the gate. Then we say good-bye."
Karthus nodded and let down his hand for her to grab. Achlys, with Acheron levitating behind her, walked alongside her father until they reached the ancient fence that surrounded the cathedral. Only then did she let go of Karthus's hand, give him a big hug, and wave good-bye.
"I will return shortly, Achlys," Karthus promised, "stay safe and be good."
"Can do!"
Karthus departed, waiting until he was just out of sight before turning right back around and return to the cathedral. He snuck around the outskirts of the fence, until the light of Acheron's balefire gave away their location. Achlys had taken him over to a corner of the yard that she referred to as her "dream garden." Here she would pretend to grow all manner of plants, both fantastical and real, so that she could have tea parties surrounded by glowing blossoms. Right now though, she was hosting no such party, and was instead prodding at the ground with a stick.
"We need to plant the seeds," she explained to the crystalline skull.
Acheron hung emotionless in the air beside her.
"But first," she continued as she pushed the stuck into the dark soil with as much strength as she could muster, "we dig."
As Achlys said these last words, Karthus felt an old memory resurface.
Karthus pushed down on the shovel with all his might. Inch by exhausting inch, the earth had given way to his efforts, but his work was still far from done. He threw the shovel full of dirt up and into the cart above him before resting the tool against the side of the ditch. The top of the handle was still sticking above the ground; the grave was not deep enough yet. With a groan, Karthus picked the shovel back up and continued digging.
He was a scrawny teen. He had always been thin due to the poor diet the slums of Noxus provided him, but even with the priests of the Kindred ensuring he ate regularly, he had hardly gained any weight. It appeared as though he was always destined to remain gaunt. And it was this lack of muscles that made his duty of grave digging a monumental task.
"How are you doing, Karthus?" a voice called out from above.
"It's almost done," Karthus responded, "you don't need to worry about me, Master Acheron."
"How many times do I need to remind you," the Targonian said, "you do not need to be so formal with me. Speak with me as though I were a friend."
"The others think such casual speech is inappropriate from someone so new to the order."
"Well, the others aren't here right now. It's just us. So I ask you again, how are you doing, Karthus?"
"I'm exhausted," Karthus admitted, "and if I am being honest, a little disappointed. This is not the work I thought I would be doing when I joined your order."
"Everyone must do their time as a ditch digger," Acheron said with nod, "the humility this time gives is important. Here," he handed down a waterskin, "take a break if you need it. Do not work yourself to death in a grave that isn't meant for you."
Karthus placed the skin to his parched lips and began to drink. He leaned back against the wall of the grave, uncaring of how much more dirt he got himself covered with. He pulled a few strands of his sweat soaked hair from his brow. They had become so caked with the earth, that their natural blonde color was lost beneath the grime.
"I understand your frustration, Karthus," Acheron continued to speak, "I do. Gravedigger was never my favorite task either. I would much rather lead a group in prayer, but I understand the importance of this. The dead cannot do this themselves. They need us to take care of them. This is our responsibility. That is why we dig."
A noise from Achlys brought Karthus's mind back to the present. The stick Achlys was using as an improvised shovel had become stuck in the ground and when she pushed against it too hard, she sent herself stumbling forward as the stick refused to budge. Acheron swooped in to catch her. The guardian had moved before Achlys, pushing himself against her chest to keep her from toppling. His balefire did not harm her, and she was able to clutch onto his crystalline body until she was steady again.
"Maybe we go play inside now," Achlys said.
Achlys led Acheron back into the cathedral, with Karthus following secretly behind. She went over to where a play area had been set up for her and began laying out a variety of toys before her companion. Then she went down the line, introducing them all.
"This," she stated while holding up her most beloved toy, "is Grimm. You met Grimm before."
She hugged the toy wraith before putting it back down.
"This is Miss Spider. Auntie gave her to me."
The next toy she picked up was another Karthus had made for her. It was a plush puppet of a clam. After Achlys had seen a clam squirt water on the beach, she couldn't stop giggling and she became obsessed with looking for them every time she was near the water. Karthus had been unable to resist making a toy one for her.
"And this is Clammy," Achlys introduced, "Clammy is a puppet."
She demonstrated this for Acheron, making the toy open and close its shell. She then placed Clammy down and moved on the last two toys she had taken out of the box. They were the most recent ones; acquired on the mainland by Elise at Karthus's request. The lich had hoped to use these figurines to teach Achlys about the most critical thing to the role he knew she was meant to play.
Achlys picked up the first toy.
"This is Wolf."
She carefully placed the darkly painted figurine down and picked up its partner.
"And this is – "
"- Lamb."
Karthus looked at the shrine Acheron was pointing to. There was a lamb, beautifully carved of white marble and wearing a mask painted the color of a moonless night. She was posed so that she was standing on her hind legs and held a bow in her front ones. Around her feet, dried flowers were scattered, along with long burnt out candles, and letters imploring the being to take suffering loved ones peacefully into the beyond.
"Why is her shrine so much smaller?" Karthus asked.
Beside the shrine of the Lamb stood the shrine of the Wolf. Tall and imposing, this monument to the violent end of life was more than twice the size of the Lamb's. In the center stood a statue to a great wolf, forged from the iron of melted weapons taken from Noxus's foes. The beast was posed howling, his head tilted back and his jaws open in a wicked grin, all to hide how he wore a white mask that resembled his graceful partner. Unlike the delicate offerings and prayers placed before the Lamb, the Wolf was surrounded by bloodied weapons and armor; celebrations of a violent end.
"They are both death," Karthus continued, "so why do we not revere them equally?"
"They should be revered equally," Acheron agreed, "rarely are they. One thing I have learned during my travels is that how people view death, is often a reflection of how they view life. Look around the Wolf and you will see what the people of Noxus value; strength and devotion to their home. They consider it an honor to give blood to the Empire; both their own and the blood of their enemies. Noxians do not wish to go quietly into the night. You are the descendants of survivors. It is in Noxian nature to fight till the end, and so the Wolf, the struggle against death, is revered over the Lamb, the willing death."
"I still don't understand," Karthus said, "if the Wolf hunts those who do not go to death willingly, why do the soldiers worship him? When they march to battle, are they not going to face their death willingly? Should it not be the Lamb waiting for them on the battlefield?"
Acheron looked down at Karthus and gave him a soft smile, his eyes shining with pride.
"How fortunate I am to have such a clever student," he beamed, "yes, I believe far more Noxians give themselves to the Lamb than they realize. But they fear that admitting that they accept death would make them appear weak, and so they all turn to the Wolf."
"What about you? Do you believe that submitting to the Lamb is weakness?"
"No, I do not. To know when your time has come and to go willing into the unknown is one of the bravest things I can think of."
"Then that is what I want," Karthus declared, "to embrace death without fear!"
Acheron blinked at his student's sudden bold statement. Then he laughed.
"Karthus," he chuckled, "you are still so young. I do not believe you will need to consider your own end for many, many years. But when it is your time, I have no doubt that you will go willingly and with grace."
"Father says it is important to respect them both."
Achlys placed both the Lamb and the Wolf before Acheron.
"Which one do you want to play with?"
Karthus watched as Achlys contently played with Acheron. Although the guardian was largely passive, Achlys more than made up for this with her own exuberance. In their role play, she had assigned the Wolf to Acheron and cast herself as the Lamb. The pair played at psychopomp, ending the "lives" of Achlys's toys.
Apparently, Clammy had chosen to run from death, so Achlys tossed the puppet across the room and commanded her "Wolf" to give chose. Much to Karthus's delight, Acheron did respond to Achlys's command. He flew over to retrieve the toy and bring it back to his "Lamb."
"Thank you!" Achlys chirped as she threw her arms around Acheron in a hug.
The two continued play a while longer. Eventually though, Achlys began to put away her toys.
"I want to wait for Father outside," she informed her guardian, "we can go outside. I want him to be back soon."
Karthus rushed himself back outside and hid once more. He agreed with Achlys that he had been away from her long enough, but he still wanted to observe how Acheron would respond to a "hostile" spirit. Once he was sure that he was well hidden, Karthus summoned one of the weaker members of his congregation to him. He waited until Achlys and Acheron were both waiting by the fence, then he commanded the lesser spirit to menace Achlys.
"What's that?" Achlys asked as she noticed a glowing form approaching her.
Acheron turned and looked in the direction that his charge pointed. The wraith Karthus had called floated up the path towards the cathedral. Though Karthus knew this was a weak enough spirit that Achlys herself would be able to subdue it, he had ordered it to howl and shriek with all the fury it could muster. It hissed and writhed through the still air, posturing with excess aggression. Even Achlys, who had grown used the mannerisms of her deathless companions, was taken aback by this specter approaching her, wailing with its arms outstretched.
The boy was weeping, clawing at Karthus's robes with all his feeble might. Acheron reached down and effortlessly scooped up the child, hugging him closely even as he kept reaching out towards Karthus.
"No! No!" the boy screamed, "You can't take him! You can't!"
"Shh," Acheron cooed as he held the child, "it hurts, I understand, but it is over, child. Your father has passed beyond our world. The Kindred have taken him."
"I want him back!"
"I am sorry, but he cannot come back."
He placed the child back down before kneeling to speak with him at eye level. He placed one of his hands on the child's shoulder.
"You may feel pain, you may feel sorrow, and you may feel rage. All of this is to be expected. Do not be ashamed of your emotions, child, they are a part of you, but you must understand, your father cannot come back. Your father was a brave soldier and he served the Empire with honor. Let his soul be at rest."
Acheron took the child's hand and led the boy over to his mother. She too was crying, though her tears were silent. Just as he had with the child, Acheron placed a hand on her shoulder.
"We priests of Kindred will do what he can to give you peace. If you wish, come to the shrines tomorrow and we will aid you in funerary preparations."
The widow nodded and mouthed the words "thank you," though no sound came out.
Acheron bowed and returned to Karthus's side. At his mentor's orders, Karthus picked up the bone-cart and pushed it away. Once they were out of sight of the grieving family, Karthus spoke.
"That child did not understand how much death was a blessing to his father. He was suffering from his wounds, now he is at peace. They should find solace in that."
Acheron sighed.
"You are correct, Karthus," Acheron said, "the soldier's suffering has come to an end, but the pain for his family has only begun. Not everyone is as at peace with death we are. This is your first day as a corpse collector. What you saw from the boy, that is normal. Most people respond to us in that manner."
"But are there are those who will be at peace?"
"Yes, but there will also be those who react in a worse manner. It is not common, but sometimes people will attack us, conflating us with the actual cause of their loved one's death."
"That's foolish of them."
"Grief can make people do foolish things, but we should not allow ourselves to grow angry with those who vilify us. They do not understand that we are here to aid them. Promise me, Karthus, that no matter what curses they throw at your, no matter how hard they fight you, you will remember that everything we do is for the betterment of them and the dead. Promise that that after all the screaming, shouting, and fighting, you will make sure they find peace."
"I promise."
"Now, let us go and continue to help others."
"Help!" Achlys eeped.
Acheron was responding before the word had even left her mouth. He flew around, placing himself between Achlys and the approaching wraith. His balefire shroud flared, blazing brightly and sending out a shower of ghostly embers. He let out a harsh snarl, the first sound he had made since his creation, which sounded like a bucket of water being thrown onto hot coals.
At this display the wraith froze in its path. It shrieked, pacing back and forth before the guardian as if debating whether to continue its feigned attack or retreat back to Karthus. Acheron did not give the spirit time to decide. Still radiating magic, he charged at the spirit and slammed into it. The wraith was sent spinning backwards through the air, howling in pain. Once it had righted itself, it flew away with as much swiftness as it could.
With the threat gone, the balefire around Acheron calmed. He floated back over to Achlys and bumped himself against her arm, nudging her until she wrapped her arms around him. As she did, her breathing calmed.
"Thank you," she sighed.
Out of sight, the wraith had returned to Karthus. It was hesitant to approach the greater undead, but Karthus extended his hand to it.
"Do not fear retribution," he consoled the spirit, "you performed as I hoped you would have."
His magic flowed from his hand, restoring the damage Acheron had inflicted on the weak soul.
"Return now to the others, and be hostile towards my daughter no more."
The wraith inclined its form in a manner that Karthus knew it understood his command and departed. Karthus was content with what he had observed that day and he went to reunite with his daughter. Though it would still be some time before he would trust Acheron alone with her, Karthus was confident that the guardian he had created would ultimately serve its purpose well. Soon, he hoped he could start giving Achlys the independence he believed she deserved. Soon, he hoped, she could walk these lands without fear ever again.
Greetings Summoners,
I hope you all are having a pleasant August. I really enjoyed writing this chapter and exploring who Karthus was in life. If this is something you enjoyed and would like to see more of, please let me know. Don't forget, there will be new chapters of Deathsinger every Wednesday this moth. Today was just ab extra bonus one because it was my birthday! As always, feedback is appreciated. Best of luck on the Rift.
-Gwoo