Chapter 56: Light

Something was wrong on the Shadow Isles. Karthus could sense it. From the doorway of his cathedral, he watched as tendrils of Black Mist flew through air with such speed and direction that he knew there was purpose behind its movements. When a sliver passed closely by, he reached out and placed his hand into it. As a greater wraith, Karthus was more attuned to the Mist and could at times entwine his magic into it learn more about what was transpiring on the Isles. And now, he wanted to know what made it move with such intent.

That hungry restlessness when one of the living was found trespassing on these blessed shores flowed through the Mist. It was a familiar hunger, but something was different about it this time. At first, it was the usual desire to seek out the living, an urge that swelled as fed off the emotions of the invaders and the strength of their life force, but then something different happened. Rather than the calm that followed a new soul joining the Isles, a frenzy, sudden and disruptive like a stone thrown in a still pool, shot through the Mist. These invaders were fighting back and they were doing it in a way that mattered.

Like hot pin pricks against his core, he felt souls being severed from the Mist. The wraiths defeated by the invaders weren't dissipating and being reabsorbed. Never to return home, they were robbed of their blessing and forced to succumb to finality. They were gone.

But before Karthus could fully process what was happening, he felt a pull on his soul as strong as a Harrowing's call and a voice in his head that wasn't his own.

"It's her, my love! I can feel her. She's trying to come back to me. Find her! Bring her back to where she belongs!"

It was a command Karthus knew he could not resist. No sooner than the words had echoed through his mind, the Mist sped off through the cathedral, ensnaring any wraith it found and infused it with the same desire as the one commanding it. Even the wraith Fito, who was actively bound to Achlys at the movement, was swept up, severing the young girl's connection to the wraith instantly with an audible snap.

"No, wait!" Achlys called to the wraith as he was pulled away, "Fito, come back! We were remembering your face!"

Her cries to bring Fito back were as effective as if she were fighting a hurricane with a fan. She ran over to her father and looked up at him, searching for an answer.

"What's happening? Is it a Harrowing?"

"Not a Harrowing," Karthus responded, "there are invaders on the Isles."

He watched as her expression changed from confusion to fear. Achlys then spoke, but though Karthus saw her mouth move, he heard none of her words. Another voice called out in his mind with deafening authority.

"Why do you hesitate? Go!"

Resisting the command was becoming unbearable. The pull on his soul grew, tugging at him with greater intensity than any Harrowing had before. Mist was wrapping around his form like a grasping hand, and as it tightened its grip on Karthus, he could hear a chorus of voices all echoing the same desire as their sovereign.

"Find her. Find her. Bring her back. Kill the invaders. Save her. Kill them. Find her. Make her whole again."

Karthus could see that Achlys was still trying to speak to him as she looked up with fearful eyes, but he could still not hear her voice. He had to leave though. The furor that tore through the Mist was too much to resist. With little other choice, he raised his voice to speak over her.

"Achlys, please listen to me. These invaders, I must seek them out. You must remain here. Do not take even a step beyond the cathedral's steps. There is something different about these trespassers, something that makes them more dangerous than the others that have come before. You are to keep Acheron close the whole while I am gone and if you see anything you are unfamiliar with, you are to run and hide immediately. Do you understand?"

Achlys nodded, though her eyes were brimming with questions. Karthus placed a hand on her head in a small attempt to comfort her.

"Be patient," he said, "be safe, stay hidden. I will return to you once the Isles are safe once more."

As soon as he withdrew his hand, Karthus surrendered himself to the Mist, allowing his form to slip away so that his soul could be carried more swiftly in its search. The Mist then rushed past Achlys, pouring into every room in the cathedral to call every member of Karhtus's congregation to it before speeding off after the greater wraith.

Achlys was left alone. There was not one soul left in the cathedral, but her. She stood stunned for a moment, trying desperately to make sense of what had just happened.

"Intruders?" her mind spun, "More dangerous? Was that why Father had sounded worried? But why didn't Father answer my question? How dangerous are they if everyone was needed to protect our home? Wait. Did the Mist take everyone?"

"Hello?" she called out.

Silence.

"Helloooo! Is anyone there?"

Acheron nudged her shoulder. Achlys placed her hand on top of her guardian's head, just as Karthus had with her, and let his balefire flicker over her fingers harmlessly.

"It looks like it is just us."

Acheron made a low rasping noise in response.

"We will be okay. We have been alone before and been okay. We will be this time too, okay."

She put on a brave smile for Acheron, though it fled her face at the first strange noise she heard. In the blink of an eye, she ducked into a pew and crouched down low.

"What was that? Acheron, go look."

The guardian floated into the yard and surveyed the area. Sensing nothing, he made a low thrumming sound that Achlys knew meant safety. With more caution than she usually used, Achlys crept out from her hiding place and went to the doorway.

The howling noise was heard again and she turned her head towards the source of the sound. It was the hollowed out core of an ancient tree that stood outside the cathedral's yard. As the wind passed over the opening, it created the noise that had startled her so. It should not have though. It was a noise she had heard hundreds of times before. But now that she was alone, it sounded completely different and far more monstrous.

"It was nothing to be afraid of Acheron," she said with a sigh, "we will be okay. Father won't let any invader get this far, but just in case some does sneak past him we will be, uh, what was that word? – Oh! Vigilant. We will be vigilant!"

Moving as fast as her legs could carry her, Achlys sprinted to her room to gather allies for the task ahead. The big girl part of her brain told her that these toys were not living (or unloving) creatures capable of protecting her in any meaningful way, but the scared child in her reasoned that the extra sets of eyes, even if they were only painted on, would be helpful.

She set each one up in a window so that each direction from the cathedral could be watched; Lamb and Wolf looked to the south, Clammy to the east, Miss Spider monitored the west, and Grimm looked north. Achlys then took her post alongside Acheron in the doorway, and their vigil began.

Nothing happened. An hour ticked slowly by and there was nothing. It was quiet save for the wind, and not a single soul passed by the place. It was a silence Achlys was unaccustomed to and one she was eager to fill with something.

She paced around the cathedral, checking in with each of her sentinels. Each responded with "all is clear." Steadily, she was growing bored, even as the occasional creaking of the branches made her jump, so she let out a groaning sigh and plopped down on the top step of her home and began to sing to pass the time.

"Don't mock the tally-men as they go on their way,

They'll come to count you another day.

Fangs to the throat, arrow to the heart,

They'll pick up you up a throw you in the cart."

It was an old rhyme that the Noxian children of the slums would chant as they watch the dead be collected. Karthus had taught it to her. Acheron bobbed along with the words, but right before she was about to begin the second verse, a howl, one harsh and loud enough that it couldn't be confused with the wind, pierced the stillness.

Achlys scrambled to her feet. Balefire was already blazing in her hand, ready to be used to defend herself. Acheron let out a harsh noise, but Achlys raised her hand to him.

"Wait," she ordered and then was quiet again.

Again, the howl was heard, but was this time followed by a pained braying noise.

"I think I know that sound," she said before calling out, "Hello."

From the darkness, the faintly glowing form of a large wraith stumbled forward. At once Achlys recognized it, having felt its soul before. This was the drakehound form the beach. It approached the young girl with slow, awkward steps, mimicking the pained whimpering noises it would have made in life when injured. The source of this distress shone forth like a ray of rare sunshine.

The drakehound was missing a leg and in the limb's place was a wound of burning white and yellow. Achlys's gaze was locked on the glowing stump. She had never seen anything like it before.

"Why is your heart going fast?" she thought to herself, "this isn't something you need to be afraid of, right? You've seen wraiths without arms and legs before. But they were missing those parts when they had died. And sometimes they lose limb when fighting other wraiths, but they reform them, and the missing area usually looks wispy, not like that. Why is it glowing like that?"

Achlys went to the bottom step and held her arms open.

"Come here," she beckoned, "come to me. What's wrong?"

The shimmering tendrils of her magic reached out and entwined themselves around the wraith as it approached. Unlike last time, there was no contest and the drakehound's will instantly gave way to hers. As her magic touched its soul, Achlys recoiled back in shock as the wraith's pain rippled through her body and forced her to sit. The drakehound stumbled to a stop and collapsed onto the stairs next to her. She placed a hand on its side. The spectral creature's chest was heaving as it would have in life, though it had no need of air in its lungs.

"Shh, shh, you are safe at the cathedral. It's always safe here. We won't let anything hurt you. Right, Acheron?"

Acheron made a low sound akin to a growl as his unblinking eyes looked upon the glowing wound trying to determine if this was a threat to his charge or not. Achlys's gaze was likewise locked on the wound.

"What did this to you?"

The drakehound only let out a pained whine in response.

"I don't understand. Not just not understanding hound sounds, but also why you are in pain. Father says that death is supposed to free us from pain. There is nothing the dead cannot reform from, so why are you so hurt?"

Achlys's brow furrowed as the wraith made another pitiful sound. She looked between the drakehound's wound and where her hand rested on it. An idea came to her. She withdrew her hand.

"I know it doesn't really work well on animal wraiths," she said, "but I'm going to use my magic on you. I'm sorry this is going to make you see who hurt you, but it's the only way I can learn, and if I don't know what did this to you, I won't know how to help you."

She took a deep breath and calmed herself as best she could. Then, with magic in hand, she reached out and placed her hand against the strange light.

Hunt!

The landscape of shriveled trees and crumbling ruins passes by in a blur. Claws tear at the earth. In every direction, the Black Mist swirls around, rushing alongside. No wind stings these lidless eyes.

The shriek of a wraith is heard in the distance. Prey has been found. A desire stronger than hunger surges. Form gives way to blackness. Form gives way to Mist. Claws no longer touch the ground. Movement is as swift as wind.

Must hunt. Must kill. There they stand. Living ones. Two, back to back. Silver shrouds their forms. They do not hide. They do not flee. They fight. Other wraiths swarm around them as well. Frenzy is in the air.

Kill!

Jaws ache, longing for the throat. Lunge from the shadows. Form returns. Claws scrap old stone. Fur bristles. Fangs bared. Leap and slash.

Prey is fast. Movement a blur. To the side now. Turn quickly. The world spins. A large wraith claws at the prey. The prey is not afraid. Face grim. Eyes piercing. He holds something up. Unknown thing. It glows.

BANG!

Bright and loud! Hurts to look! Light fades in an instant. Other wraith is gone. Prey is moving. Must pursue. Pounce! Claws reach for silvery tails.

Other living is there first, to my side. Fast. Too fast. Same unknown thing in her hands. Bright glow. White flash.

BANG!

Pain! Burning! Burning! Burning! Pain! Need to flee! Need to flee pain! Burning!

Achlys ripped her hand from the drakehound's wound and cradled it against her chest. Her skin stung as if she stuck her hand into too hot water. She peeked down at her palm and saw that her skin was pink where she had touched the wound. She had been injured by the cold before, but not heat. This was new.

Acheron nudged her shoulder and she snapped back to attention.

"I think I saw the invaders," she whispered to him, "they had things made bright lights and loud noises. It was scary."

She dispelled her magic and ran the back of her fingers down the drakehound's neck.

"They hurt you. I don't know how, but they did. I'm sorry. I don't know how to help."

The drakehound made no noise but continued to mimic the movements of labored breathing.

"I thought I could think and be clever but I don't know. I will need to ask Father but he is out there. Is he in danger? No! He can't be! He will come back! Until then, I will sit beside you. I can at least help that way."

Anxiously Achlys waited, and eventually, Karthus did return with his choir following in a grim procession. Achlys jumped to her feet, relief flowing through her, but as she looked at his expression, she could see that it was touched by worry. And this expression only deepened as he looked upon the drakhound laying across the stairs.

"Is it over?" Achlys asked.

Karthus nodded.

"What happened? Did you kill them?"

"No," he answered, "after we were called, we spread out to search a larger area. Some of our congregation fought the invaders, but I regrettably was not able to. Thresh found them first."

"Did he kill them?"

"He killed one. I believe he allowed the other to escape."

"Allow? Why would he do that? If they came here together in life shouldn't they be together in death?"

"I do not understand why Thresh behaves the way he does, but you are right, Achlys, people who loved each other in life should be with one another in death."

"It is our gift from this place."

"Yes," Karthus said with a nod, "eternity, our blessing."

He gave Achlys a weak smile before it faded from his face completely.

"Achlys," he said, "something happened today and I am afraid that I must deliver to you unpleasant news."

He took her hand and guided her to sit on the stair beside him. Achlys tightened her grip on his withered hand and waited for him to speak.

"This drakehound," he said, "you have the seen the wounds on it?"

She nodded.

"Yeah."

"The hound is fortunate. Its recovery will be slow, but it may survive its bright injuries. I have seen this before. These were caused by the invader's weapons. They are incredibly rare, powerful, and more dangerous than anything you could imagine. This is because these weapons have the ability to take our blessing from us. If they destroy a wraith, it dissipates forever."

"Forever?"

"Forever. Gone, never to reform, never to be among us ever again, forced to pass into what lays beyond death. This happened to several members of the congregation, including Fito. I am sorry Achlys."

"Fito? Gone? He won't reform from the Mist?"

"No. He is gone forever."

"Fito gone forever."

The sentence didn't feel real coming out of Achlys's mouth, but there they were. She began to cry. Never had anything seemed so terrifying to her before. The harsh reality of the day came crashing down on her; even on the Shadow Isles, finality could still find you.