Dying

"Father," Achlys asked, "What did dying feel like?"

Karthus looked down at Achlys. They had been sitting next to each other in comfortable silence, content to watch the moon rise over the ocean, with only the sound of the waves on the shore filling the air. But this interruption was one that he was more than happy to indulge. A smile crossed his ancient face and he pulled Achlys closer to hug her tenderly.

"I wondered when you ask that question," he said.

"Is it a good question?"

"It is one of my favorites you have asked me."

Achlys smiled and leaned into him, making herself comfortable before listening to what her father had to say.

"My death," Karthus began, "was centuries ago. I came from Noxus to these blessed shores seeking enlightenment. When the Mists found my boat, I leapt into the ocean to meet them willingly. I sang the dirge I had written for my own death. It was equal parts mourning my passing as it was a prayer beseeching whatever powers were listening to grant me what I desired most; knowledge about existence after death. It was the grandest song I have ever sung."

"My passion was heard by the spirits and my prayers answered by the Mist. They flowed out to me, meeting me in the ocean as I struggled to come ashore. I did not shy away when it encircled me. I sang louder and it poured into me, turning me into what I am now."

"What did it feel like?"

"Like waking up into a dream. You gasp, shocked by the euphoria of what is happening, and take a deep breath, but never exhale. You feel the cold air fill your lungs and seep into the rest of you. Your body becomes frozen, but your mind is freed."

"I think I understand," Achlys nodded, accepting what he said even though her face showed signs of confusion.

"Do not feel ashamed if you are confused. The beauty of the moment is difficult to understand for someone who has never experienced it before. But, perhaps you can," Karthus held out his withered hand, "see it through me, Achlys."

Without hesitation, Achlys summoned her magic and took her father's hand.

He could feel his heart racing faster than it ever had before. He could see it on the shore, curling tendrils of Black Mist snaking its way through the tree line and over the sands towards him. Behind him, he could hear the terrified cries of the fisherman, imploring him to aid in turning the boat away from this place, but he could scarcely hear the words over the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears.

Even if he could hear them, in his heart Karthus knew he would not heed them. He feels a sensation rise within his being that he hadn't felt since he had first joined the tally-men of the Kindred; a desire to belong.

He turns his staff over, his hands trembling from excitement, and carves the final tally into its base; the places reserved for the staff bearer's own death. The mark is carved. He jumps overboard and into the ocean.

The water is frigid. It soaks through his robes in an instant. Strands of hair stick to his face. He pushes them to the side as he opens his eyes above the water. Water still drips down into his eyes, the salt making them sting. He pays no mind to the discomfort as he wades towards the shore, towards the Mist.

Elation swells within him. He is so close to salvation. So close to finally finding what he had always searched for. So close to death. He begins to sing.

"Born into a bleak world from a dying mother's womb,

Of lowly Noxian blood did I, faithful Karthus come,

Damned to languish among mortal suffering and doom,

But in my heart a melodic calling began to thrum."

"Surrounded on all sides by the suffering and dying,

Mortal agonies of hunger and plague were always known to me,

And with each cold dawn there came a loss that filled the air with crying,

Ever present death stalked the slums and spared not my sisters three."

"Horatia, eldest and dear,

Caecilia, of tender heart,

Livianna, with a mind of cheer,

From you three I was forced to part."

The Mists meet him in the surf. They swirl around him. There is a dim glow of green from within the darkness. Karthus thinks he sees faces in the shifting mass, curious eyes, grasping hands, mouths open wide, but in anguish or laughter he cannot tell.

The Mist is on all sides of him now. It touches his skin. It is like ice. A strand curls around his chest. Its chill penetrates through his clothing, through his skin, directly into him. His heart skips a panicked beat. Fear, primal and beyond his control, flutters in his stomach. He pushes the emotion aside. This is not something to be afraid of. His heart is beating faster now, each pump is painful. This is what he wants. He sings louder.

"But from their dirges once again my calling it was heard,

Seek out the dying and witness that moment sublime,

So towards the tally-men of the Kindred I was spurred,

Hopeful the secrets of eternity would become known in time."

"Devoted to death, my duties I performed with love and grace,

Easing the passings and soothing those forced to remain,

But from mortals, I could not receive the wisdom I did chase,

A pilgrimage I began, soul passionate and fain."

"Land of blessed shadow,

Isles shrouded in mists of black,

Your secrets I beg you to show,

To mortality I wish not to go back!"

The magic of the Isles pours into him. He welcomes it, though it is painful, sharp, like a sword through the heart. And with the cold magic, comes the cries of the dead. He can hear them, countless voices in unison, beckoning him to join them, to slip away into them. But he forces himself to remain alive a little longer. He must finish his prayer. He must finish beseeching the magic here to grant him transcendence beyond life. He must complete his song.

"Hear me, ancient powers, to you I beseech,

Across Empire and ocean I came to your sacred shore,

To follow those undying, learn what mysteries they teach,

Into this plea, my passion, my piety, my soul, I pour!"

"The beauties and wonders of death I desire to behold,

So come dreadful fangs, come swiftest, silent arrow,

Let the body expire and soul remain on perfect threshold,

Remake me in glorious form after my soul you do harrow!"

"Faithfully I served my vow,

And willingly go to my death,

Without fear I embrace it now,

I sing with my final breath!"

The sound of the beating stops. He gasps as the cold envelops him. He feels himself fall backwards bellow the waters. But there is no darkness. There is a cold light.

Achlys's heart skipped a beat. The sensations in the memory had become too intense for her to focus on and she released Karthus's hand. As soon as she did, she let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding in.

"Achlys," Karthus asked, "are you alright?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"It is an overwhelming memory, I know. I do not expect you to fully understand what I felt that day, nor do I, until your day comes."

"When will that be?"

"Many, many years from now."

"Will it hurt?"

"Only for a moment. Then you will never fear pain again."

"That doesn't sound bad."

"It isn't, and I will be there to guide you when it is your time."

"Can I ask one more question?"

"Of course."

"Will I need to sing?"

"I will sing for you. The song will be of love, sorrow, and eternity. It will be the most beautiful song you will ever hear."

Greetings Summoners,

My treat to you all this Halloween is a bonus chapter that contains one of my favorite things i have written for this whole fic, Karthus's dirge. Enjoy and have a happy Halloween.

Best of luck on the Rift,

-Gwoo