Stitches

Karthus could sense them just beyond the horizon, souls begging for salvation. Tired, hungry, frightened, souls, crammed aboard a lost ship and desperate to return to where they belonged. They believed this was Noxus, but Karthus knew that where they truly belonged was on the Isles, as all souls should be. No more would they have to fight in Noxus's endless wars. In his choir, they would finally know peace.

How he yearned to glide across the waves and free them from their suffering, grant them the gift of unlife, and bade them to bring their doomed vessel to its ultimate harbor. He could practically hear their final words on the wind. His mind hummed with the dirge he would sing to them. And above this din of dying breaths and sorrowful song that played through his mind, he could hear another voice his thoughts drifted to the ship.

"Claim it for me."

But he could not. Not if it meant that Achlys would be alone.

"You don't need to worry, Father," she said, "I'm a big girl. I will be safe. I have Acheron and my magic."

"I believe you," Karthus said, though his response was hesitant.

"You sound upset," she observed.

He was. Despite the confidence in Achlys's voice, Karthus still anxious.

"I worry about your safety, as any good father would. You are still so young."

Though they did not know the exact date of her birth, Elise imagined that Achlys was at least six years of age. There was no doubt in his mind that she was far more lethal than any other six year old. That being said, there was also no doubt in his mind that the dangers on the Isles could still easily overwhelm her if they so choose.

"No," Achlys protested, "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. You need to take care of the other souls. I will stay so you can help, please."

Karthus placed a hand on her head and stroked her hair affectionately. She was right; he couldn't abandon those suffering souls. This task would not take long. The Mists would carry him swiftly. It would be over in hours. And if he could not trust her alone for this short while, then for what purpose did he create Acheron?

"Very well, Achlys," Karthus relented, "I will go, but you must follow these rules."

The logical part of his mind still protested that this was a terrible course of action, but the aching yearning that pulled on his soul was becoming difficult to resist.

"First," he continued, "you will not interact with any wraiths you do not know. Second, you will always have both Acheron and Gaspare accompany you. Third, you will not leave the cathedral grounds."

"But may I go to the blue tree?"

Karthus considered this for a moment. The blue tree, an enormous blessed magnolia that was in the peak of its bloom when the Ruination struck it, was one of her favorite places on the Isles. The gentle glow of its spectral blossoms was soothing and kept the surrounding area in perpetual twilight, so that even if it were the middle of the night, Achlys would be able to see. What was more, the tree was only a several minute walk from the cathedral, close enough that if anything were to happen, his choir could swarm there in moments.

"I will allow it," Karthus agreed, "but you may only go to the tree and back, nowhere else."

"I promise."

"And there is one more rule, if you are in danger, I want you to scream as loud as you can and let your magic run wild. Summon every wraith to you and fight. Do you understand?"

"I do."

He bent down and hugged her.

"That's my good girl," he praised, "I will return to you as soon as possible. Be safe."

"I will."

She watched as Karthus turned and departed.

"Good-bye," she called after him, "I love you."

Once Karthus had departed, Achlys searched out the wraith of Gaspare. As always, the Noxian looked down at her with a stern expression. Achlys did mind his dour disposition. She had felt it on his soul; he was always stern with those he wished to protect.

"Father said we can go to the blue tree. You need to come with me."

Gaspare nodded.

"I will go where I am commanded," he spoke with all the obedience of a good soldier of the Empire.

"Very good," Achlys chirped, "Let's go, Acheron!"

She rushed off to her room to grab Grimm before dashing out the door to the cathedral and sprinting to the fence. Acheron floated behind her, easily keeping pace with the excited child. Gaspare strode steadily behind them. He was in no rush; he knew Achlys would have to wait for him.

The trio made their way over the ancient tree so that Achlys could play beneath the lambent light of its blossoms. Bathed in the blue aura of light, the whole world around the tree looked as though it were frozen in ice. This delighted Achlys, who thought she looked quite beautiful when she was below it. The light made her skin glow as bright as a specter. She wondered if this was how she would look when she was dead.

"Okay, Acheron," she asked as she leaned against the petrified bark, "what should we play first?"

The crystalline skull looked back at her impassively, though Achlys would insist that she saw meaning in the ways its balefire would ebb and flare.

"Should we play tag? Hide-and-seek?"

"No hide-and-seek," Gaspare interrupted, "No hiding. I must keep watch over you."

"Okay," Achlys sighed, "maybe we play catch or Harrowing or circle toss?"

As Achlys continued her one-sided conversation with Acheron, Gaspare began to patrol the area around the tree.

"I agree," Achlys nodded to Acheron who, according to her, had just made a decision about what to play, "circle toss is a fun game."

Karthus had taught her this game to help her improve her aim with magic. She drew circles in the ground, designated points to each ring, and a line behind which she was to stand and lob balls of balefire.

"You can go first, Acheron," Achlys said.

Much to her delight, Acheron's "delight" and her father's concern, Achlys had learned that she could envelope Acheron in her magic, causing his balefire to blaze wildly and him to fly through the air with enhanced speed. She held her hands aloft, inviting Acheron to rest in them. Her guardian obliged, and Achlys sent her magic flowing into him and tossed him towards the circles. With a sizzling snap, Acheron crashed down into the center of the highest point circle before returning to Achlys's side.

"You always get the best one," she said as she pet Acheron on the top of his skull, "Good job. Now, it's my turn."

With a flex of her fingers, Achlys called a glowing veil of magic to her hand. It had become as natural to her as speaking. She curled her fingers as though she were holding a ball, and an orb of swirling green magic formed. With a grunt, Achlys sent the magic flying, only to have it land in the second highest valued circle. This result left her frowning.

Acheron always beat her at this game and she was growing tired of it. She knew she couldn't beat him this time, but she could at least keep herself from being in last place. With a triumphant smirk, she picked up Grimm from the ground, volunteering the plush to be player three.

"Now it's Grimm's turn," she announced.

She pulled back her arm before throwing Grimm as high up as she could. She intended for there to be no way from the plush to land in any circle of value. What she had not intended was for Grimm to become stuck in the branches of the tree.

"Grimm!"

The sound of distress she made had Gaspare instantly at her side.

"What happened?" the wraith demanded.

Achlys pointed up.

"He's stuck."

The Noxian let out a low growl before begrudgingly agreeing to retrieve the doll, but Achlys protested.

"My fault," she said, "I will get him."

Achlys stretched her arms up as far as she could and stood up on her tip toes, but even she could tell that she would never be able to retrieve her toy from his arbor prison by simply reaching for him. So she used magic. Drawing upon what she had learned from Thresh, she created tendrils of magic from the tips of her fingers and reached out to Grimm with them. They wrapped around the plush and Achlys began to pull. From one branch to another, she tugged the toy downwards.

But just as Grimm looked as though he were about to fall free, he became stuck in a crevasse between a branch and the tree trunk. He was so close, so, so close. Achlys's frustration built and she began to tug harder. There was a tearing noise and Grimm was freed. He fell to the earth, but when Achlys picked him up, her relief turned to despair.

"Grimm, oh no," she whimpered.

Achlys held the little plush close. It had been torn open, the scraps of cloth that had served as its stuffing began to tumble out. Achlys could feel tears beginning to brim in her eyes. Desperate, she held the toy up towards Gaspare.

"Help, please."

The wraith turned the toy over in his clawed hands before passing it back to Achlys.

"I am a soldier," he grumbled, "not a seamstress."

This was beyond awful. She was supposed to be putting wraiths together, not taking them apart!

"Grimm."

Her whimper turned into sniffling, which quickly gave way to crying.

It was one thing to be alive, another to know your purpose in life, and yet another to know how to accomplish it. It was on this third thing that Gwen found herself stuck.

For years after her awakening, she had been wandering the blighted shores of the Shadow Isles, searching for a way off. On lucky days she would find an abandoned boat, but she lacked any experience sailing, so any attempt to sail away always resulted in her being washed right back onto the shadowy shores of the Isles.

For a while Gwen had considered boarding the large ship the strange, thin woman would arrive on. It never had any problems navigating the waters around the Isles, nor did the wraths harry its travel, but in her heart, Gwen knew that this was also not to be her ticket off the Isles. The malevolence that radiated from the thin woman disquieted Gwen. She could sense that underneath the woman's silken exterior a hunger lurked almost as voracious as the Mists. The two hungers being related and the thin woman being allied to her enemy was not a risk Gwen was willing to take.

So she continued to search for another way off the Isles and she continued to hide. Always, the wraiths, eternally hungry and eternally restless, were hunting. They were everywhere on the Isles and it seemed as though their numbers were growing with each year. So ubiquitous were they that fending off a pack of roving spirits was not an infrequent event for Gwen.

Gwen however, was never bothered by such encounters, because always at her side were her trusted weapons; a massive pair of enchanted scissors and silvery needles and thread. With these she had been able to successfully repel each attack, reducing the offending wraiths to ribbons with little effort. These victories however, left Gwen feeling hollow; they never cut at the heart of the problem. As long as Harrowing were allowed to continue, the number of wraiths would continue to swell and Gwen would never be able to accomplish her life's purpose.

Which, of course, brought her back to her first problem. How to leave the Isles so she could fight the Harrowings whenever and wherever they appeared.

Gwen let out a sigh as she watched another cloud of Mist billow out to sea. Though not large enough to be a full-fledged Harrowing, she had no doubt that the specters carried within would cause suffering wherever they arrived. How could it not? The song echoing from it was already so mournful.

Her eyes, bright as polished buttons, followed the tendrils back towards the shore. An idea came to her mind. Perhaps she could follow the Mist back to where it came from. She didn't know what she would find, but it had to be more productive than endlessly patrolling the beach. Gwen plucked her scissors from the sand and, with a twirl, hoisted them up to rest over her shoulder. Then, with a spring in her step, she took off to investigate.

"What is the worst that can happen?" she thought to herself, "Nothing. You find nothing and nothing changes. And what's the best that can happen? You find him and can put a stop to this suffering once and for all. That's it, Gwen! Think positive and let's go!"

Up from the beach she skipped, darting between trees and weaving around wandering wraiths. None of the specters ever suspected that she was there thanks to her greatest asset; the Hallowed Mist. It was a protective magic, warm and soothing, like a mother tucking in her child, that Gwen could manipulate. Wraiths were weakened in its presence, and, if Gwen wrapped it close to herself like a veil, she could become invisible to them. With this, she was able to investigate almost every corner of the Isles with little hindrance, and she hoped it would continue to do so now. Gwen surrounded herself with this protective veil as she approached the area the Black Mist had been seen departing from.

She slowed her approach so she could look and listen for signs of her foe, but rather than the typical wailing of the damned, the crying she heard was softer, smaller, with sobs derived from sorrow and loss rather than hunger and torment. This piqued Gwen's curiosity and she hastened her step to find the source of this sound. With the Hallowed Mists rendering her invisible to the dead, Gwen rounded the path and beheld a great blue tree, forever preserved in full bloom.

Below its blossoming boughs, she spotted what she believed were three wraiths, though something about them seemed off. The largest of the three was what she had come to expect of wraiths able to manifest a simulacrum of how they appeared in life; similar but twisted to reflect the darkest versions of themselves. In the case of the Noxian before her, his form reflected the savagery of the Wolf he had venerated in life. The smallest of the three was also what Gwen had come to expect from those damned to the Isles; a weak manifestation of their soul, little more than a head. But the third, the spirit of a young child, the one responsible for the crying, appeared to be a perfect manifestation of how she appeared in life. She had a physicality about her that Gwen had not seen often in other wraiths.

Her curiosity grew. She began to sneak closer when suddenly, the dead soldier's attention snapped up. His hair (fur?) bristled and he scanned the tree line looking for this unseen presence. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and spoke with a voice as deep as a beast's growl.

"Something is out there. I will search for it. You stay here."

The smaller wraith looked up from the object she was cradling and nodded to the soldier as he stalked off. Gwen remained deathly still, her fingers curled around the handle of her scissors if she needed to fight. But she never needed to. The wraith's gaze passed over where she was standing but he never saw her and he walked off to search the woods for a foe he would never find.

Again, Gwen inched closer and again, her approach alerted the wraiths. The young wraith looked up and directly at her. And then something happened that Gwen never expected. The child raised her hand and waved. Then she spoke, her voice that was soft, possessing none of the hollow echo that the dead's voice rang with.

"Hello?"

"She can see me!"

Before Gwen had time to process what was happening, the child spoke again.

"Hello. Who are you? My name is Achlys."

Gwen blinked. There was no question; this wraith was unaffected by the Hallowed Mist.

"You can see me," Gwen said, equal parts statement as question.

"Yeah," Achlys responded with a nod.

"How?"

"With my eyes."

Once more Gwen could feel her curiosity mounting. She crouched down to be eye level with the girl.

"She definitely sees me. How exciting! Or is this concerning? If she sees me, does this mean that other wraiths could see me? Oh, I hope not. But even if she sees me, she's not attacking me. Interesting. Every other wraith has attacked me on site. This one has just asked for my name. She's cute. It's so sad that her soul is trapped here. Is she suffering?"

Gwen gave a cautionary peek back at her scissors and gripped them tighter.

"It won't be pleasant, but maybe I could help."

Achlys did not notice this motion; she was too distracted by the strange wraith before her. She gave a cautionary glance at Acheron. He didn't seem bothered by the presence of this wraith. In fact he didn't even seem to notice her at all, and so Achlys reasoned that she wasn't a threat. Again, she tried to introduce herself.

"I am Achlys," she said, "Who are you?"

Words alone hadn't been working, so this time Achlys also extended her hand. She summoned magic to her hand, wreathing it in the green of balefire, so that the other wraith would more easily be able to shake it.

Gwen extended her hand.

Though Achlys did not notice, the Hallowed Mist extinguished the balefire, as their hands drew closer. Her attention was focused upwards on the bright eyes of the other girl, shining as clear and blue as cloudless sky in the heart of spring. Such a color was unknown to Achlys, and the sight of it held her spellbound.

A warm smile crossed Gwen's face as she readied her scissors for the unpleasant task.

"Just one snip and I can end her suffering."

At the touch of their hands, they both came to the same starling realization at the same time.

"She's not a wraith!"

They released each other's hands, their expressions rapidly changing from shock, to confusion, to wonderment.

"You're alive!" Gwen cheered, "How wonderful!"

"Yeah!" Achlys also cheered, though she had no idea why they were cheering.

A torrent of questions flooded Gwen's mind and she found herself powerless to resist asking them. She opened the floodgates.

"Who are you? How did you get here? Are you lost? Are you hurt?"

Achlys faltered before the onslaught of questions, only managing to repeat what she had said to the strange woman earlier.

"I am Achlys," she said, "Who are you?"

"My name is Gwen."

"Gwen?"

"Yes," Gwen nodded, "May I ask you more questions, Achlys? I believe I spoke a little too quickly earlier."

"Okay," the child agreed since she was an expert on answering questions about herself.

"Why are you here?"

"This is my home."

This answer did little more than create more questions for Gwen, but she kept her tongue and only asked the girl one question at a time.

"How did you get here?"

"On a boat. How did you get here?"

"I believe I also came on a boat, but I don't know. I just woke up on the beach one day."

"Oh," Achlys nodded understandingly, "the beach is nice."

She had also been found on the beach, so this made perfect sense to her.

"Why are you here?" Gwen continued her questioning.

"To help people!" Achlys said proudly.

"Oh! Me too!" Gwen said as a smile lit up her face, "That brings me to my next few questions. Do you need help? Are you alone? Are you lost?"

Achlys shook her head.

"No thank you. I am not lost and I am not alone," she pointed to the skull next to her, "I have Acheron."

Gwen gave a concerned look.

"And were you being attacked by that wraith? I'll track him down and snip him to pieces!"

"No, he won't attack me. He is nice. He is one of my father's wraiths."

More answers. More questions.

"Your father?"

"Yeah."

Too many questions. Gwen decided she would inquire more on that comment later. For now, making sure this odd, little girl was safe was her top priority.

"If that wraith wasn't attacking you, why were you crying?"

Achlys's mood plummeted in an instant. Ashamedly, she held up her toy, careful not to spill anymore of the stuffing onto the ground.

"I hurt Grimm," she explained, "and I can't fix him."

"Oh no."

Gwen furrowed her brow. She intimately understood how distressing breaking a toy could be for a child. Fortunately, this was something she was well equipped to deal with. She held out her hand.

"May I see Grimm, please," Gwen asked, "I know I'm asking a lot for you to trust a stranger with your friend, but I know I can help."

She plucked a needle from her pocket, its silvery metal iridescent below the tree's haunting glow.

"I will sew up your friend nice and quick!"

Achlys looked between Grimm and Gwen, before nodding in agreement.

"Be brave," she whispered, equally to herself as Grimm, as she handed over the torn toy.

Gwen gently held the plush over in her hands and was surprised to discover that the toy had been made to resemble a wraith of all things. Why anyone would want a doll of the gruesome monsters, Gwen was powerless to discern. Its design was terribly uncute, the fabric it was made from had clearly been scrap, it was stuffed with more scrap, and the expression painted onto the face was completely neutral, straight mouth and everything. But despite the shoddiness of the fabrication, Gwen could still tell that the toy was made with love. That fact was written all over the child's face, and that alone was reason enough for her to fix the doll.

One, two, three, four, five.

Seconds was all it took for Gwen to stitch Grimm back together. She gave the seam a cautionary tug and, satisfied that it would hold up to all the rough love a plush could expect, handed the doll back to Achlys.

"Grimm!" she cheered, "you're all better!"

Achlys ran her finger over the stiches. At her touch, the thread pulsed with a blue light. Achlys's smiled widened. As far as she was concerned, this only made Grimm a more "lifelike" toy of a wraith. She hugged Grimm tightly before throwing her arms around Gwen, giving her just as big a hug.

"Thank you," Achlys said, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"You quite are welcome," Gwen replied just as cheerfully, "How could I not help a doll in need? You know, I used to be a doll myself."

Achlys looked up at Gwen, eyes sparkling like the stars she rarely got to see.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes," Gwen nodded, "magic brought me to life. I know it sounds strange when I say it out loud, but this world is full of strange and wonderful things!"

Achlys nodded in agreement. This was like a dream come true to her. Not only did this strange woman fix Grimm, but she was also a living doll! And because of that, she wasn't a wraith, so Achlys technically wasn't disobeying her father's rule that forbade her from approaching any unknown wraiths. Truly, this Gwen person was ideal friend material. Achlys knew what she had to do.

"Gwen," Achlys asked, "do you want to play with me?"

At those words Gwen's soul bubbled over with joy. This was what she was made for. Though she knew her purpose in life was to end the suffering caused by the Black Mist, that was not what she originally had been made for. Her maker had intended for her to bring joy, and what greater way was there to do that than playing with a child. Gwen heartily agreed.

"Yes, Achlys," she said, "I would simply love to play with you. What shall we play?"

Achlys had been content to play a simple game of circle toss, but now that she had a new friend to play with, it was time for some serious roleplay. She picked up a stick, the mightiest weapon a six year-old could wish for, and held it aloft.

"Warriors," she declared.

"Sounds exciting!"

"Yeah! We will be warriors and so will Grimm. Acheron, will you be the monster?"

The skull made no movement, which Achlys interpreted as him agreeing to her request.

"Acheron said he is a basilisk," Achlys explained, "and Grimm will be a soldier. I am a mage. What are you?"

Gwen stood and spun her scissors over her head and snipping them several times for a flourish.

"I will be a daring swashbuckler, fearlessly traveling the world and saving people from great evil!"

Achlys turned to Acheron and gave him a gentle push.

"Go on," she whispered to him, "Go be the monster."

As he floated away, Achlys turned and grinned at Gwen. The game was on!

"Look!" Achlys exclaimed, pointing towards Acheron, "a basilisk! It looks mad. We must stop it from attacking that village!" she pointed to the tree, "Grimm, Gwen, let's go!"

"At your side and ready to go!" Gwen answered.

Gwen surveyed the scene with the same imaginative eye that Achlys did. No longer were she and Achlys two girls stuck on the Isles, but mighty adventurers arriving just in time to save the day. Grimm too had transformed in their mind's eyes, shedding the form of a wraith to become a seasoned soldier, and across from them hovered not a skull wreathed in balefire, but a wild basilisk, also wreathed in balefire.

"I will start the attack!" Achlys declared.

Magic flared around Achlys's hand in an instant. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the accumulated magic soaring towards Acheron. She missed.

"Oh," Gwen gasped, "the beast is agile."

"I will try again."

It was the fourth magic missile that finally struck Acheron. The magic washed over him, but as he was attuned to Achlys, this did little more to him than make his aura burn brighter for a moment. For now Gwen had decided that she was just going to ignore that the child standing next to her was capable of corrupted magic.

"Acheron," Achlys whispered loudly, "make a noise like, 'aaahhh' and pretend you got injured, okay?"

Her guardian obeyed the request and let out harsh hissing noise and a sparking flash of balefire. Achlys clutched her ears, feigning distress at the "basilisk's" pained roar.

"I do believe it felt that one. What an excellent shot!" Gwen cheered.

"Now you and Grimm attack at the same time," Achlys ordered, "It will be confused."

"Splendid idea."

With Grimm clutched in her hand, Achlys ran towards Acheron. Gwen followed along, clearing the distance between her and their foe in one graceful leap. Achlys gently bumped Acheron with Grimm several times, accompanying each one with an over exaggerated grunt of exertion. Acheron took the onslaught with a stoic, steely resolve. Finally, Achlys placed Grimm atop Acheron's skull.

"Now shake him off," she whispered to her guardian.

The "basilisk" threw off its attacker, sending him careening several inches away, though in Achlys's mind's eye, her brave "warrior" may as well have been hurled well over a dozen feet.

"Oh no!" Achlys cried as she rushed to where Grimm had fallen, "I will help Grimm. Gwen, keep attacking!"

"I shall not relent!" Gwen called back with equal enthusiasm, "Be warned beast, I am a daring swashbuckler who has faced far worse than you! I'm not afraid of you!"

Just as she was unshakable before her foe, Acheron was also unmoved by her bravado, and he continued to remain so even as Gwen skipped around him, snipping her scissors above, beside, and below him. Now that she was closer to the skeletal being, Gwen could see that, despite its frightening appearance, the creature was not a wraith as she expected, though she could sense that it was still tainted by the corruption that cursed these lands.

"How odd," she mused, "three things that look like wraiths, but none of them are. Life is full of wonderful surprises!"

But she did not have time to dwell on such things for long. There was a basilisk attacking her.

"Watch out!" Achlys shouted, "it's attacking with its tail!" she turned to Acheron and commanded him, "spin around, Acheron."

The guardian spun in place. Gwen leapt back to avoid the "attack," but at the last second she clutched her stomach and sunk her scissors into the ground to lean on them for support.

"Oh," she groaned in feigned pain, "I thought I was fast enough but I have been struck! Achlys, I have wounded the beast but you must make the finishing blow!"

"Can do!"

Magic engulfed both of Achlys's hands as she raised them above her head, the dazzle of green energy making her look yet more wraith-like. With a grunt of effort, Achlys sent the magic soaring overhead to collide with Acheron.

"Fall!" she shouted.

As the magic washed harmlessly over him, Acheron did was he was commanded and fell to the ground.

"Hurrah!" Gwen cheered, "The beast has been defeated and the village saved. We are heroes!"

"Yeah," Achlys agreed, but then it was her turn to feign exhaustion, "but I feel tired and weak. I used too much magic. I might fall over."

With a staggering step, she spun around, teetering herself towards Gwen.

"Catch me."

Achlys let herself fall backwards into Gwen's arms.

"I've got you," the older girl said, "you are safe."

Achlys let out a contented sigh before speaking again.

"Can we be friends?"

"Of course."

The two, new friends looked into each other's eyes and smiled; that smile quickly evolving into a chuckle, and progressing into full blow laughter. They were in stitches.

Gwen couldn't remember the last time she had had this much fun. When was the last time she had laughed? It must have been another lifetime ago. Gwen still didn't know how this strange little girl got here, why she was here, or how she had survived, but what she did know was that she was grateful to have found her. This afternoon had been the most splendid distraction.

"I like your dress," Achlys said, happy to finally talk about ribbons with someone who wasn't her father, "and your bows."

"Thank you! I like your dress as well."

"It's purple. That's my favorite color."

"Blue is mine."

"Is that why your hair and eyes are blue?"

"I think so. It must have also been my maker's favorite color."

"Oh, that makes sense. Does that mean my maker's favorite color was green?"

Gwen was almost 100% sure that eye color did not work like that for humans, but she was 100% sure that Achlys's eyes weren't green.

"Maybe," Gwen said, "but I think that pink might have been the favorite. Your eyes are the softest shade of pink I have ever seen. They are very cute!"

Achlys looked confused.

"My eyes are green, not pink."

Now it was Gwen's turn to look confused.

"Maybe it's just a trick of the light," she said as she pointed to the radiant tree.

"Maybe," Achlys agreed, "we could always ask Gaspare."

Achlys pointed to the far side of the tree where the wraith of the Noxian was remerging from the shadows.

"Achlys!" he called out, "where are you?"

"I'm here!" she answered, though he did not appear to hear her.

"Achlys!" he repeated, "you were ordered to remain here."

The young girl turned and looked up at Gwen.

"Is something wrong with him?" she asked, "He didn't see me."

Gwen wanted nothing more than to hold Achlys close and keep her hidden from the fearsome wraith, but she could sense the young girl's distress at being unable to address him.

"Achlys," he called a third time, "Karthus commanded that I guard you. Come here now, or we shall both be in trouble."

"I am here, Gaspare!" she tried to answer, her tone growing frightened.

It would be easy for Gwen to destroy the wraith, but in her heart, she knew this would cause more trouble. With a deep sigh, she released Achlys, letting her leave the protection of the Hallowed Mist, and helped her back to her feet. As Achlys took a few steps towards the wraith, her eyes began to glint with green light once more.

"Gaspare!" Achlys shouted, "I am here!"

This time the Noxian heard her and came rushing over to her. Acheron too was at her side in moment, the normally silent guardian letting out a distressed keening noise as he looked over the small girl. She placed a hand on his head and gave him a confused look. She didn't understand why he was so concerned. After all, she didn't really fall over and Gwen had caught her.

"Achlys," Gaspare scolded, "why didn't you answer me before?"

"I did," she pouted, "you didn't hear me."

He snorted, unconvinced of her tale, but relieved to find his charge safe and sound.

"Where were you?" he asked.

"Right here, playing with Gwen." Achlys answered as she pointed behind her.

Gaspare looked over the girl's shoulder, but saw nothing. He snorted again and growled something about the foolishness of imaginary friends under his breath.

"Gaspare," Achlys asked, "can we go back home? I am tired."

He nodded and motioned for her to lead the way back to the cathedral, but first, Achlys sped to her new friend. Gwen, wrapped the Hallowed Mists more closely to herself, so as not to envelope Achlys again and alarm the disgruntled wraith.

"We are going to my home!" Achlys chirped as she skipped are around Gwen, "You will like it! It is very big and is full of wraiths!"

The hesitation Gwen felt towards following the child somehow both grew and diminished at the same time. On one hand, it was a relief to know that the wraiths of the Shadow Isles were passive enough towards her that she was able to live in a building infested with them. On the other hand, she lived in a building infested with wraiths. Ultimately, Gwen decided to follow to Achlys, to see for herself the kind of place her odd, new friend lived.

"Lead on, Achlys," Gwen said, "I shall be right behind you."

Gaspare appeared not to care that Achlys was chatting ceaselessly with her "imaginary friend" the whole walk back, which suited the girls just fine. Achlys skipped along, leading the group back to the cathedral while Gwen walked right beside her, unseen by the other members of their group. She and Achlys cheerfully discussed dresses, games, beaches, and anything else that crossed their minds; taking turns asking and answering questions until the cathedral finally came into view.

"I'm home everyone!" Achlys shouted as she raced through the gate and threw her arms up in the air.

There was a great sound, like a howling wind, that echoed through the cathedral before a throng of wraiths burst forth. Gwen panicked as she watched them swarm around Achlys, but her panic was swiftly replaced by confusion as she heard laughing from inside the mob.

"I'm back," Achlys giggled, "I'm back safe. I missed you too."

Gwen watched in astonishment as Achlys reached out and pet the wraiths without the slightest trace of fear.

"Gwen!" Achlys called, "Want to meet Father's wraiths?"

With a wary eye, Gwen approached the gate. With each step, a sense of dread began to build within her.

"This cathedral," she thought, "I can feel it. It's the lair some great specter. I can feel his corruption all over this place. The Black Mist holds great sway here. Every fiber of me says not to cross the threshold. Achlys, can't you sense the danger?"

But from one look at the girl, it was obvious to tell that she could not sense the mortal peril she was in. Gwen had one more question to ask.

"Achlys," she said, "Is your father a wraith here?"

"Yeah," she responded, as if claiming your father was an undead was the most natural thing in the world.

Gwen's heart sank. That was why the girl was here. Her new friend's father was a wraith, and she was connected to them. Gwen was conflicted. Although she had seen Achlys wield the foul magic of the Isles, she could not sense the obsessive desire that drove the wraiths ever onward in the small girl. There was no malice, no deep grief, no agony. There was only Achlys and her childlike glee. She was calm in chaos.

This did nothing though to ease Gwen's thoughts. It only made her more desperately want to snatch up the child and bring her to safety. But where could she bring her that was safer than this? Here Achlys seemed protected by the swirling mass of wraiths and, what was more, she seemed happy. Gwen understood that if she were to take Achlys away, she would be on the run from a whole cathedral of vengeful spirits and whatever entity her father was. And even if Achlys went willingly and there was no struggle, Gwen was still hunting a villain far more deadly than any basilisk. She understood that right now, this was the safest place on the Isles for her new friend, though it pained her to admit it.

"Gwen?" Achlys asked, "Do you want to say hello?"

Gwen somberly shook her head.

"I am afraid I cannot," she said.

"Why?"

"You are back at your home," Gwen answered, "I need to find my way to mine."

"Oh," Achlys sighed, "will I see you again?"

"I hope so."

"Can we play together again?"

"I would enjoy that."

Achlys made her way back to the gate to properly say good-bye to her friend. She held her arms outstretched as she approached Gwen, who crouched down and hugged Achlys closely. As she did so, her veil of Hallowed Mist briefly fell over the child, obscuring her from view of the other wraiths. They howled in confusion.

"I need to go now," Gwen said as she gave the girl a final squeeze.

"Okay," Achlys sighed, "good-bye. I will miss you."

"I will miss you too."

Gwen released Achlys and she became visible to the dead once more. She waved good-bye to the child and turned to leave. As Achlys watched her new friend go, she couldn't shake the feeling that something inside her desired to chase after Gwen, grab hold of her, and never let go.

Greetings Summoners,

Gwen has finally made an appearance, and in the longest chapter to date so far! Yay! Let me know what you think and if she is a character you would like to see more of in the future. I also want to let you all know that there will a change to my posting schedule. As August is sadly over, the weekly chapters will sadly come to a close. It was fun but exhausting trying to get so much content out. That being said, as it is still summer, yes there will still be weekly chapter of some of my content, just not one for each story anymore. I still plan on trying to get two chapters out a month for you all, with an extra one on Halloween next month because spooky. So please, continue to check back regularly for updates or follow me on Twitter for updates. As always, feedback is appreciated.

Best of luck on the Rift,

-Gwoo