Marked

Achlys dragged the struggling wraith towards her.

"It's really upset," she strained to say as she focused more of her magic on the writhing spirit.

"They usually are," Thresh commented, "Do not relent. Force it to submit."

"I'm trying."

More binding magic was what Thresh was teaching her. Though Achlys would have preferred to continue learning how to levitate and glide, her instructor brushed her requests aside. His lessons, as he told her, were less about what she wanted to learn and more about what he thought she should be learning. And today he insisted that she learn new binding magic.

Achlys was struggling to learn it. Although she had become proficient at exerting her will over lesser spirits, such control was always temporary, freeing the spirit as soon as she severed her connection with them. This new magic however, would tie them to her in a more permanent sense, forever leaving a trace of her on their souls. It would be like how she could always feel a little bit of her father's essence on the souls of his choir or how she had felt Hecarim's anger branded onto the soul of the knight.

This required Achlys to force her magic deeper into the soul than she normally would. Thresh had described the magic like getting a cut. Most are shallow and heal and fade with time, but deeper ones, even after they healed, would leave scars, a permanent reminder of an injury. Achlys did not like this analogy. It made her feel like she was hurting the wraiths she attempted to bind to her, and the way they would struggle against her did little to ease her mind.

But there was always a struggle, she reminded herself. It was a reflex, like flinching when something comes flying at you. The wraiths could not help it. Even Katherine, she remembered, had resisted her magic at first, and now they were friends. She hoped the same would be true for whatever spirit she would successfully bind to herself. Then she could feel good about doing this.

"I can't keep holding it," Achlys whined.

The wraith was so close to her now. If she could just reach out and grab it, she might be able to strengthen her magic's grip on it. Achlys reached towards the wraith and it renewed its struggle. It howled, its will surging with a pulse of energy. Achlys's connection to the soul was severed. At once, the wraith flew off, fleeing into the ruins of Helia.

Achlys let out a sigh and sat back on a piece of rubble to catch her breath. She wiped the sweat from her brow and hung her head in shame. Every attempt she had made to bind one to her in this manner had ended in failure. That was the sixth wraith that had fled from her that day and she had thoroughly exhausted herself.

"No more, please," she asked, "I'm tired."

"Very well, Achlys," Thresh agreed, "you may rest."

"I'm sorry I couldn't do it."

"Not everything can be mastered in a day."

He placed a hand on her head and gently turned her face to look at him.

"We still have many years together for you to learn magic," he said before releasing her, "Do not worry. We will try again next year."

"Next year?"

"You have a strong spirit, especially for one so young, but I have become practiced at discovering when someone's will has been pushed to its limit. You are at yours."

A disappointed sigh left Achlys.

"A year is a very long time," she grumbled.

"Years slip away faster than you would think."

Achlys laid back on the rubble. She traced lines in the air as Acheron, hovering over her, followed them. Her eyes scanned the shrouded skies, looking for the faint light of the hidden sun. It was past the apex, but still high in the skies, meaning that it would still be some time before Karthus came to collect her.

"Is there other magic we can practice?" she asked, "I don't want to stop yet."

"Do you have strength enough to practice?" Thresh asked without turning to face her.

His attention was on the surrounding ruins. Hiding among them were lesser wraiths. Though some were drawn close out of curiosity, he could sense that many more were there for more malicious reasons. The distress of the wraiths Achlys had tried to bind had drawn these predatory spirits in as sharks are drawn to blood in the water.

They skulked through the rubble, the light of their glowing eyes peering over at where Achlys rested. Even if it had been the distress of one of their own that had initially attracted them, a weakened mortal was a far more enticing prize. But as desperate as they were to leech off her life essence, the mere presence of Thresh was enough to keep them all at bay. He could feel their fear radiating off them, mixing with their frustration and aching hunger. The sensation was mildly amusing, if nothing else.

"I think so," Achlys answered, interrupting his idle thoughts.

He turned to watch as she summoned a ball of balefire to her hands, holding it for a few moments before it fizzled out.

"Or maybe not," she grumbled.

"Do not over exert yourself," Thresh said, "Learn your limits. What would happen if you left yourself too weakened to defend yourself? Such mistakes could be fatal."

"But I have Acheron and you to protect me."

Thresh smirked.

"I suppose you do."

"And," she continued boldly, "I'm not afraid of dying."

"You sound almost eager to rush to your death," he commented in a bemused tone, "Some would call you foolish."

"I'm not foolish! I'm okay with dying. I'm - what was the word Gaspare used about his own death? Recon-silly?"

"Reconciled?"

"Yes. I'm reconciled."

"Are you now?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "And dying is only the first part anyways. Then I get to be a wraith. That's the part I'm really okay with. I can't think of anything better to be."

Thresh thought of something, but kept his bitter thoughts to himself. Achlys continued to fill the air with her cheerful chatter. Now that she had caught her breath, she had plenty of energy for conversation.

"But Father says I need to wait. I'm not done growing. I still need to do things that living people do. But I'm curious. I want to know what it feels like. Father let me see his death but that felt confusing. He says I won't truly understand until it happens to me. Being patient is difficult."

"So sometimes I go to the big blue tree. It glows brightly and I a little bit look like a wraith under it. But wraiths don't always look like they did in life. Katherine didn't have scales. You must look different too or did you always have," she gestured around her head, "wobbly horns?"

"I had long hair."

"Oh. That makes sense. Did you braid it? What color was your hair? Do you think my hair will look like that? What do you think I will look like?"

An idea came to Thresh as Achlys asked this last question.

"Have you not been shown your own soul?" he asked.

"No."

"Would you like to?"

"Yeah!"

Thresh nodded with a smile.

"Then come here, Achlys."

Achlys jumped to her feet and moved to where Thresh directed her to stand against a wall. She leaned back into a corner and nodded to indicate that she was ready for what Thresh had planned. With his lantern trailing behind him and his scythe in hand, he approached her.

"You may feel some discomfort," he warned, "but nothing worthwhile happens without a little pain."

A wicked thrill filled Thresh as he placed his blade against Achlys's pale skin. Karthus would be furious if he knew how he was playing with her life. He could imagine how the lich would rail against him, hurling accusations of recklessness and murder. Overreactions, Thresh knew. It was not as though he was really going to kill her. This was only going to be a brief glimpse into undeath, something he knew Achlys would enjoy and Karthus would disapprove of.

Thresh turned his blade and pressed the point of it into the base of Achlys's neck. A single drop of blood rolled down her chest. At once, Acheron howled. His balefire blazed and crackled with magic as he threw himself at Thresh. Thresh paid little mind to the diminutive guardian's attack. With a wave of his hand, he moved his lantern between himself and the skull. Magic radiated outward from the artifact, the force of it stopping Acheron where he hovered. Though he could move forward no more, the keening noise he made had Achlys's attention.

"Acheron," she asked, turning to look at her companion, "what's wrong?"

Thresh placed a finger on her cheek and turned her head away from Acheron.

"Do not pay attention to him," he said, "Focus only on me."

He pulled back his scythe and rested the pointed tip of one of his fingers over her cut. Achlys could feel her heart hammering in her chest as he did this. She told herself that this feeling was from excitement. It reminded her of how her father's heart felt when she saw his memory.

"Achlys,"

She looked into his eyes as he said her name. They were burning intensely. She couldn't look away.

"Relax, just let go."

Achlys could feel the tips of his fingers scrape over her skin as he curled them like he was grabbing the front of her shirt. He suddenly pulled his hand backwards and Achlys felt like the air was knocked from her lungs as she was lurched forward. Her hands came up and grabbed Thresh's wrist. When she looked down at them, her eyes went wide in wonderment and, in surprise, she let go of him.

She could see through her hands! Pale green and glowing, she raised them before her face to get a better look. They still had an outline, but she could still see through them as though she were peeking through a fogged up glass. She whipped her head back around and saw her body, breathing shallowly, slumped against the wall. Misty tethers connected her ethereal form back to her unconscious body. Another tether coming from her was grasped firmly by Thresh. He released it, and it was reabsorbed into her spectral body.

"Well, Achlys," Thresh asked, "How do you feel?"

The sound of his voice surprised her. It sounded clearer, lacking the hollow echo that she had come to expect from wraiths.

"I'm happy," she answered, "and excited, I think. My mind feels excited, but my body doesn't. I usually feel something in my heart but I don't feel it."

She placed a hand over her heart and looked down towards it.

"Wait," she asked, "what is that?"

Below the surface of her translucent skin, thin curls of magic, jet black in color, writhed around her center. It was most concentrated around her heart, and the way it coiled reminded her of an illustration from her books of a dragon guarding its hoard. And at the center of this coil was a blotch, triangular in shape and pulsing with a pallid green light. The blotch was small, not even the size of a coin, but it dominated Thresh's attention. Scorn flared within him and his mind seethed with resentful thoughts.

His mark was already upon her, and yet he had no idea of her existence. Single minded in his pursuits, their king was oblivious to everything in his so called domain that wasn't directly tied to his obsessive ambition. Unworthy, Thresh thought, of the potential he wielded but chose to squander on an insignificant sole desire. And Achlys, servile and naïve, was already bound to the will of her prodigal king. All that was missing was her actual death, and she would be comfortably under his thumb. She too would be damned, kept from anything grander than the fool's petty whims, much as Thresh himself had been denied.

For a moment, he had a powerful urge to kill Achlys then and there. It would be so easy. Sever the tethers, take her into the lantern, and deny him her. Deny him anything. But as quickly as the urge arose, Thresh suppressed it. Such a rash action would only result in needlessly squandering the opportunity she presented.

To Achlys, his brief moment of spite was like a flash of lightning. She had always been sensitive to the emotions of spirits, and now that the boundaries of life had been removed, she felt them with an intensity that she had never experienced before. It startled her, briefly clouding her mind as though she had been jolted awake from a nightmare. Instinctively, she put up her arms to defend herself. But as soon as she felt the jarring emotion emanate from Thresh, it was gone. The assured composure she had come to expect from him had returned. The feeling was cool, like wading into a still pond that you could not see the bottom of.

"Thresh," she asked, "Is something wrong? Is something wrong with me?"

"No, Achlys," he said, "there is nothing is wrong with you. What you see inside of you is the Black Mist. It has latched itself to you."

Such an attachment usually proved fatal for mortals. It was like rot in a tree's trunk, weakening from within until the host died. Nothing short of magic could save someone so afflicted. The fact that Achlys had not died within her first few days on the Isles was a small miracle, likely aided by Karthus's mastery over the magic of the place.

"Is this what will make me a wraith when I die?"

"Yes, the Mist will transform you."

"I like it."

"Of course you do. You know your undeath will be a gift."

"I will use it to help wraiths."

"Ah, helping wraiths," he chuckled, "and am I to be included among those you help?"

"You can be."

"You are too kind. But that is enough talk about what you will do after your death, enjoy the taste of it I offer you now. You may only experience it a short while longer. We do not want you to become permanently like this, not yet at least. As you said, you still have growing to do, so enjoy the minutes you have left as a wraith."

"Oh, yes!" she agreed as she set her mind on exploration.

For the first time, Achlys took the time to look around her. The world was brighter now. Shadows no longer hampered her vision, allowing her to see the surrounding ruins with greater clarity, but at the same time, everything was also duller. Color was drained. She looked down at the tunic her body was wearing, its vibrant red now looking like a subdued maroon.

Her attention didn't remain on her body for long though. She didn't know how much time she had left as a wraith and she didn't want to spend it looking at herself. Focusing on her feet, she carefully tried to raise one leg and take a step. Her spectral form responded much as her physical form would have, and she walked forward without her feet touching the ground.

She climbed up onto the rubble, finding her ascent was all the easier now that she felt weightless, and looked up to Helia. The souls of the other wraiths shone like stars in the night sky. Her attention came to rest on a small cluster of wraiths pacing restlessly nearby and she found that, even without touching them, she could sense their emotions. They were hungry, she recognized as a feeling of scratching claws gripping her stomach. But she felt another, stronger emotion over their hunger; fear.

As soon as she felt it, the sensation filled Achlys's entire being. It danced through her form, tickling her with an extraordinary adrenaline rush. It almost felt as though she could feel her heart beating again. A few seconds tapped into the wraiths' fear was all it took for the same restlessness to form within Achlys. She jumped from the rubble, prepared to chase after the fearful wraiths, but Thresh's hand clamped down on her shoulder and yanked her back. Achlys tumbled backwards, but rather than crash to the ground, she hung in midair, suspended by his grip.

"No running away," he chastised in an affable tone, "you wouldn't want to leave your body all alone to die now, would you?"

"No!" Achlys blurted out, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I just felt –"

"Excited?"

"Yeah."

"I understand," he nodded as he eased her back upright, "some emotions can be overpowering. They rob you of your senses and you act before you think."

"Can you feel them?"

"Yes."

"But you don't want to chase after them?"

"I have control, Achlys. I will not be led around by some emotion like a beast on a leash."

"But I was," Achlys mumbled, "I feel embarrassed."

"Self-control is not easy to master. If you are ashamed, learn from this. Master your own emotions so you are not as easily intoxicated by those of others."

Achlys nodded in agreement, though she had no idea what the word "intoxicated" meant.

"You don't have much time left," Thresh reminded her, "why don't you spend it with your little friend?"

Acheron! Achlys suddenly remembered how distressed he had been. How could she have forgotten about him in her excitement?

"Okay," she agreed, "please let him go."

Thresh called his lantern back to his side. The energy that had been holding Acheron vanished, and the crystalline guardian was able to move once more. At once, he flew to Achlys's body, desperate to see that his charge was still alive.

"Acheron," Achlys called, "I'm here. It's okay. I'm not hurt."

She held out her hands and beckoned for him to rest in them. When he did, Achlys felt his balefire brush over her skin. While it was normally a cool sensation that chilled her skin, the touch was now warm, like a rare ray of sun on her skin.

"You feel different," she said, "but I like it."

As she stared lovingly at him, she noticed something new about her friend. There was a spark of light in him, bright as the clouded sun, that she was surprised she had never seen before. The light shimmered and rippled, like moonlight on waves. It was beautiful. Achlys focused on this spark of magic within him and soon the tips of her fingers felt as though they were being dipped into a pool of water, balmy and soothing.

"Come on, Acheron," she said, letting out a contented hum as she tossed him back into the air, "let's see what my other magic feels like."

Thresh watched Achlys as she played with Acheron and her magic. Though he was curious to see how her magic manifested in this state, his attention kept being drawn down to the dark brand over her heart. Again, resentful thoughts pricked at his mind, noting how, once again, years of another's work, this time Karthus's, would be reaped not by the sower, but by a king taking what he felt he was due.

Thresh knew these thoughts grew solely from a place of petty enmity, but he wondered if there was perhaps a way to deny him her soul. She was, after all, still alive and not fully a part of his dominion. Removing the Mist from her would be the most straightforward solution. He had stolen away pieces of it before; this would not be difficult. But he knew that the Mist was so intrinsically bound to her soul that total severance would likely result in her death. This led to the next question. Could his mark be removed without disrupting the Mist within her? It was something to ponder at least; a puzzle he could entertain himself with. And perhaps what he learned from trying to unbind her could be used to aid him one day.

A faint noise beside Thresh interrupted his thoughts. It was Achlys's body. A tiny gasp escaped her bluing lips. He bent down and pushed back one of her eyelids. Her eye, clouded pink in color, was growing hazy. Her time was up.

"Achlys," he ordered, "come here. It is time for you to return to your body."

Achlys let out a disappointed groan but came as she was told. Thresh took her wrist and positioned her above her body. He placed his finger at the base of her throat and pushed her soul downwards.

"Take a deep breath."

Achlys's body readily accepted her soul. Once they were reunited, Achlys's eyes, bright and green, snapped open. She gasped, her lungs eager to take a full breath once more, and rubbed her arms as her hairs stood on end. Once her body had settled and her breathing returned to normal, she placed a hand over her heart to feel its pulse once more.

"Well, Achlys," Thresh asked, "did you enjoy your little near death experience?"

"I did," she nodded.

"Consider it an early finding day gift."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

"Could we do it again someday?"

"Perhaps, but both your body and soul will need time to recover."

"More waiting?"

"Yes. You should learn to be comfortable waiting."

"Why?"

"Patience will give you the presence of mind to be vigilant."

"Vigilant?"

"Watching very carefully."

"For what?"

"Opportunity and the right moment to seize it."