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Even as they rowed away at a frantic pace, the fear that pulsed from their souls was as potent as though they were standing next to him. From the end of the sunken docks, Thresh watched the band of treasure hunters, now minus one member, flee. He had allowed them to. He knew he would kill them all eventually and he planned to savor it.
The first he would hunt down within the month. The second he planned to kill would be on the one year anniversary. The third, in three years. The fourth, before the end of the seventh. And the final doomed soul, the captain of this little crew, he would kill after a decade. He always preferred killing the leaders last. It gave them plenty of time to wallow in fear and sorrow and guilt, so that by the time he did finally come for them, many felt as though they deserved this fate.
Thoughts of the prolonged hunt to come filled his mind as he watched the last of the dead hunter's blood evaporated off his scythe. He could feel traces of the man's life essence, that shallow craving lesser wraiths hungered for, in it, but that alone no longer satisfied him. He ran a finger over the last of the blood still on his blade, feeling nothing, and longed to feel that sticky warmth against his skin once more.
His thoughts were interrupted though as he felt a vast storm of malice close in behind him. This wrath burned brightest in the soul of the one at the head of his enraged host. Thresh did not need to turn his attention from the sea to know who now blocked his path.
"Karthus," Thresh smirked, "is that you? From the bloodlust you are radiating, I almost thought you were Hecarim. Such anger is uncharacteristic of you. Tell me, what has troubled you so?"
"You know what," Karthus said, his voice taut with anger, "so cease your derisive tone and answer for your crime."
At this Thresh laughed.
"My crime," he jeered, "which one, Karthus? Murder? Torture? Or perhaps the entirety of the Ruination itself, as so many curse me for? What crime do you damn me for with such bravado?"
He did not turn to face Karthus.
"What you did to my daughter," Karthus stated bluntly.
"I did nothing to her that she did not agree to."
"You killed her."
Still, Thresh kept his attention on the distant boat. As distracting as Karthus's presence was, he could not deny how amusing it was at the moment. The sight of the other wraith and the host that followed him had amplified the fear in the fleeing hunter's souls. Their terror filled him and he let out dark chuckle as he responded to the lich.
"I did not kill Achlys," he stated truthfully, "I merely separated her soul from her mortal body for a brief time, but she never perished. I would not be so careless," but as he continued to speak, his sardonic tone returned, "Oh, you should have seen how thrilled she was to have a taste of what awaits her. She was positively elated. Did you know she asked me to do it to her again? And just like you, I am powerless to deny that precious girl anything she wants."
Karthus had reached the end of his patience with Thresh. He wanted honest answers. He wanted undivided attention, and to achieve that, Karthus knew what he had to do.
He focused on the souls of those on the boat and, with his staff raised high, began to channel the overwhelming magic of the Isles. The sky over the boat warped, spiraling like a maelstrom. The life essence of those onboard drew Karthus's magic down towards them, like a flagpole in a thunderstorm. As the magic built, it became visible, illuminating each of the damned in a pillar of cold light.
As the five pillars shone on the horizon, Thresh realized what Karthus was doing, but it was too late to stop it. The Deathsinger slammed his staff on the ground and the spell was completed. The magic exploded onto the doomed vessel, obliterating it and killing all aboard instantly. The Black Mists descended upon the wreckage, seeking out the fresh souls to be consumed.
Thresh whipped around to face Karthus. The fury of being denied his prey radiated off him in a palpable wave.
"Do I command your attention now, Warden?" Karthus asked in an even tone.
"Oh yes, Deathsinger," Thresh snarled back, only just able to restrain himself from shouting, "You have my attention."
The balefire in Thresh's eyes burned as he glared at Karthus and his choir. Perched on ruins and crouching on the shore, Karthus's choir were all poised to attack on the lich's command. They hissed and bared their fangs and claws. Such lesser beings would normally cower away from Thresh, but Karthus had whipped them into such a frenzy that their rage far overpowered their fear. Likewise, Thresh refused to be intimidated, and so he reined in his emotions as Karthus glided towards him.
"Answer me, Thresh," Karthus demanded, "why did you kill my daughter?"
"I already answered that question," Thresh responded, his tone devoid of all the mockery he had been speaking with earlier, "I did not kill her. I removed her soul from her body, yes, but I never severed the connection. Then I returned her soul to her body before either could suffer from the separation. As far as her mortal form was concerned, she may as well have been unconscious. Achlys never died."
"Even if she didn't die, your flippant disregard for her life is appalling."
"Flippant? Karthus, do not use such a term to describe me. I am not flippant. If something is mine to guard, I take that responsibility seriously. It's what made me such a desirable warden in life. If there were a chance that what I did would have killed Achlys, I would not have done it."
"You removed her soul from her body. Death was always a potential outcome."
"Perhaps, if it were done by someone not as practiced as I am. Do you honestly believe that I would not be able to recognize when her body had reached its limits?"
"No. I know that you are sickeningly well practiced in such matters."
"Then you know that she was in no real danger."
"Even if controlled, the danger was real, but that is not the only reason I am livid at your actions."
"Enlighten me."
"You betrayed my trust. I trusted you to care for Achlys, and you treated her like a toy. Why?"
"Our deal was my continued silence in exchange for teaching Achlys without interference. What I taught her and how I taught her was never part of the agreement. I had decided that I wanted to have some fun while I instructed her, and that was reason enough for me."
"Entertainment?" Karthus said, voice heated with indignation, "You risked her safety for something so base?"
"I said she was not in danger," Thresh snapped before continuing in a more even tone, "What you need to understand, Karthus, is that not every soul on these Isles is a pious zealot like you. Some of us actually want to revel in our undeath."
"A poor excuse!"
"But an honest one. I have not lied to you tonight. I did not kill Achlys, I would not have removed her soul if I thought there was a chance I wouldn't have been able to put it back, and I only did so because she wanted to experience it."
"But you were the one who put that idea in her head."
"Of course I put that idea in her head," Thresh scoffed, "Everyone is putting ideas in her head. You, me, Elise, the Chronicler, and soon, so will her beloved king."
"You promised secrecy."
"And you promised no interference."
"Perhaps there is a way I could have your silence and Achlys could find a new teacher."
As he said this, Karthus raised his staff towards Thresh. Its top was ablaze with cold light as though it were a torch. The members of his choir snarled and leaned forward, prepared to attack. Thresh watched this and tightened his grip on his scythe.
"Fight me, Karthus, if that is what you desire," he said, "but before you do, know that I will defend myself, and should you lose, you will be reduced back to Mist. Who then will raise little Achlys in your absence? Hecarim? He would sooner kill her. Elise? She would take her from these Isles forever. The Chronicler? She never leaves her library willingly. Achlys would starve. Perhaps her king? But that would require him to be aware of anything beyond his obsession long enough to be useful for something. No, none of them would do. You know that if you fight me and you lose, I will be raising Achlys and I will make her someone unrecognizable to you. Consider your next actions carefully, Deathsinger."
Karthus looked around at his choir. He could feel his connection to each of their souls. They were all prepared to attack at his command, even if it would mean their destruction. They had Thresh vastly outnumbered, but Karthus knew many of his wraiths would be destroyed, reduced back Mist or worse. How many members of his choir was he willing to send to damnation?
Thresh was ancient, his existence dating all the way back to the start of the Ruination. And during all those centuries, not once had Thresh been bested in combat by any other wraith. It was because of this fearsome reputation that Karthus brought so many of his wraiths, hoping that numbers alone could shift the odds in his favor. But now that he stood opposed to Thresh, he began to doubt his chances of success.
The insouciant demeanor that Thresh usually approached him with was gone, as was his fury. Now the Warden only emanated an oppressive air of severity and unflinching cruelty. Karthus could practically see, reflected in Thresh's burning gaze, how the other wraith planned to tear them each apart. Karthus steeled his resolve. The dead should have nothing to fear. If it was violence Thresh craved, Karthus was willing to provide it. He would finish time's job and sink the docks then and there, crashing the ruins down with arcane might.
All this destruction, all for the chance of revenge. Was it worth it? Yes. But, Karthus reminded himself, was it still worth it with the risk of orphaning Achlys? No. A chance at harming Thresh was not worth the chance of harming Achlys. And so with great reluctance, Karthus lowered his staff and spoke.
"Your infraction is not worth Achlys's future."
"I knew you would see reason," Thresh responded, "Now allow me to continue being honest with you. I genuinely do want to see Achlys grow. She is a curiosity and one that entertains me. I -"
"Now let me honest with you," Karthus interrupted, "Your magic is valuable to her, I will not deny that, but there are others magics she could learn. There are many on the Isles who could teach her, but there is only one Achlys. Do you understand, Thresh? I can replace you, but you cannot replace her."
Thresh scowled as Karthus continued to speak.
"And as you just said, Achlys is of interest to you and, as I had just said, your magic is useful to her. If it weren't for your callous disregard of her safety, I would almost call this relationship mutually beneficial. It isn't, but it could be. Fortunately for you, I do not delight in cruelty as you do and I am willing to allow you to continue to training my daughter if you are willing to renegotiate our agreement."
"I am not unreasonable," Thresh said.
"Nor am I," Karthus responded, "Now, I wish for the first part of the agreement to remain; you will continue to keep Achlys a secret."
"And I wish for the second half to remain unchanged as well; I will be allowed to continue to teach her in private and without interference."
Now it was Karthus's turn to scowl.
"I will agree to this," the lich said, "on the condition that you no longer meddle with her soul."
"I cannot agree to that."
All the rage Karthus had just suppressed came surging back. He was about to lambaste the other wraith for spurning his offer, but a quick, blunt statement from Thresh shocked him silent.
"Viego's mark is upon her."
"What?"
"I saw it on her soul. It's there, clutching at her heart."
"How do you know this?"
"I already told you, I saw it on her soul when I took it from her body. You may disagree with my decision to do that, but without it, you would have not learned of the mark until she died, and by then, it would have been too late to do anything about it. She would serve him directly rather than be bound to you."
"You say his mark is already upon her and then you speak as though it is something that can be removed."
"Perhaps it can be."
"What you suggest is treason."
"And yet you are considering it."
"And I am a fool for doing so. Such ideas do not matter. This cannot be accomplished. We are bound to the Mist and the Mist is bound to him."
"The Mist is born of him, but not bound exclusively to him. Its powers can be channeled by others without his direct involvement."
"How do you know this? How do you know that it is not because of our connection to him that we are able to manipulate the Mist?"
A wicked smile twisted Thresh's expression.
"Though I do not wield magic with the ease you do, I am no stranger to the arcane. Years in the Vaults made me knowledgeable about dark magic how to contain and manipulate it. Upon this matter I will now say no more. Secrecy is paramount in my work and I would not say such things aloud in so great a company," he gestured at the choir, "you understand, don't you?"
"I understand, and I sense what you are about to offer."
"I have knowledge that may be able to help your daughter and I will use it gladly to do so but in exchange, you must trust me completely on this matter. We need not fight about this Karthus, we are on the same side."
"We are not. You are on your own side. You always have been. So why do you care about her?"
"She is different. She interests me. Does anything beyond that matter?"
"Yes."
"Then you will be disappointed, because I will say no more about my personal agenda."
Karthus was silent as he considered Thresh's words. He didn't trust Thresh. He never would. But, if there were a chance that Achlys would be by his side for eternity, would he risk treason to take it? No. This was not treason, he told himself. She could still serve her king even if she were not directly bound to him. And if she did, would that not be a greater loyalty? Loyalty through devotion rather than subjugation? Yes, this is what was best for Achlys. Free her soul so that she may choose her allegiance for herself, and then have her willing give herself to the Isles just as he had centuries ago.
"Thresh," Karthus slowly began, "I only want what is best for my daughter, and that means giving her the peace of mind that comes with devout, willing fealty. If what you are doing can give her that, I will allow you to continue teaching her, but if you are deceiving me, I will never allow you near her again for all eternity."
"I am many things Karthus, but I am not a liar," Thresh responded, "I promise that while Achlys is with me, I shall not allow her to die. Death is what separates her from becoming like us. Viego's mark is upon her soul, but so long as her heart beats, it cannot fully take hold of her. It is merely a grasping hand in waiting. I will see if this hand can be severed and then you will be free to teach her fealty through love or piety or whatever satisfies you. But for this to happen, I will need to examine her soul again, which means I will be removing it from her body. Trust me, Karthus, she will not die."
"I trust that she will not die in your care. Beyond that, I trust nothing you say."
"That is all I need. I accept our new agreement. May Achlys live for many beautiful years."
Thresh walked down the dock to return to the ruins of Helia, but before Karthus commanded his choir to part, he place a hand on Thresh's shoulder and spoke a final warning.
"Pray that she does," he said.
"I will leave the praying to you, priest," Thresh returned, "and you will leave the liberation of Achlys's soul to me."