Author's Note:
Hello,
In this chapter Karthus remembers the deaths of his sisters, who all died in a plague. Due to recent global events, I understand that this may be a sensitive subject for some readers. If these are scenes you do not want to read, I advise that you skip the flashbacks. I will not be offended and I still hope that you can enjoy the rest of the chapter.
- Gwoo
Chapter 61: Inevitable
Karthus hugged his daughter.
"I missed you too," Achlys said as she hugged him back.
For a minute, he held her closely, feeling her life pulse against him, until she gave a gentle pull to extract herself.
"Did you get to talk to the king?" she asked him.
"I was able to."
"Does the king want to meet me?"
"He does."
A wide smile bloomed over her tired face.
"Did you hear that, Acheron?" she said, "the king wants to meet us!"
Acheron made no comment. He was completely indifferent of who did and did not want to see him.
"Are you going to go now?"
"No," Karthus answered, "we will go tomorrow."
"Why do we need to wait if he wants to see me?"
"We need time to prepare. You want to look your best for the king, do you not?"
Achlys nodded.
"Then you will need to take a bath, pick a dress to wear, brush out your hair, and make sure you are clean from head to toe. This takes time. You also look like you are almost ready for bed. Sleep has been difficult for you, but you still need to try and be rested for tomorrow."
"Okay."
"Do you know which dress you want to wear?"
"One of the ones Auntie gave me. I want to wear the purple one. It's my favorite color, which makes it the prettiest, and I should look my prettiest if I am going to meet the king."
"I agree. Now let us go and get you bathed."
The rest of the evening was spent in restless preparation. Achlys bathed, laid out her dress for tomorrow, found some ribbons for her hair that matched the dress, and reviewed all the notes on etiquette that were in the book Elise's friend had written for her. Her stomach felt as though it were filled with hundreds of flitting wraiths, tickling her from the inside. This giddy feeling extended all the way down to her fingers and toes and up to her stir her mind. She wasn't sure if she would even be able to fall asleep with all these fantastical thoughts in her head but as soon as her head hit the pillow, her exhausted body quickly slipped off to sleep.
Vigilantly, Karthus remained by her all night. With luck, this would be the last night she might wake up choking on Mist. Tomorrow, Viego would help her. Tomorrow was going to solve problems, not create more. Tomorrow Achlys is not going to die, she is not going to have her soul claimed by Viego, and she is not going to be lost to him forever. But no matter how many times Karthus told himself this, part of his soul still feared it.
"Even should she die," Karthus thought to himself, "even if Viego says that she will serve him directly at his side, Achlys will not be lost. Her soul will remain here on the Isles."
He reached down and brushed a brushed a strand of her hair from her sleep.
"It will not be like the others. You know it will not. So why do you fear it will?"
A memory drifted back to him as he watched over her. He did not need her magic to recall it. The moment was etched into his soul so deeply, that even all these countless years later, he could recall it with perfect clarity. It was the night he first saw death.
The plague had been ravaging the slums. Every day the tally-men had been wandering the streets, collecting the dead and singing their dirges. Every day he had sung along. Every day he had snuck out of their home in hopes of finally being able to see the parting moment, and every day he had been without luck. But today, it was going to be different, because today it was going to be his sister who died.
Horatia. His older sister was always working herself to the bone to provide for the family. Working at the slaughter house, fishing by the river, the occasional pick pocketing; she would do anything to make he and his sisters always had some food on the table. Even when the symptoms had begun to show; coughing, fever, swollen lumps along her neck, she continued to force herself to work. It was only when she collapsed into a shivering mess, did she finally allow herself to rest in bed. The disease consumed her rapidly after that.
He has been by her side almost constantly since then, caring for her as a good brother should. He brings her water and what little food they had. He washes the sweat from her brow and blood from her lips after agonizing coughing fits. He sits by her side and keeps her company during her suffering. And the whole time, he cannot tell if this is because he wants her to get well or if he wants to be there when she dies, to finally be able to see when the light leaves a person's eyes.
He can tell it was midnight when he peeks out the window and see the moon, the faintest sliver of silver, high in the sky overhead, but it cannot hold his attention for more than a moment. He needs to be with Horatia. He needs to give his whole attention to her. She was going to die. Everyone was going to die. It was an inevitable truth of life. But ever as her body is wracked with a relentless coughing fit, Horatia refuses to accept it.
Blood trickled over her gasping lips, the only bit of color on her pale face. He takes an already stained cloth and wipes it from her with the gentlest touch. She reached up and grabs his wrist. Her touch is already as cold as a corpse. He places his other hand overs hers and runs his thumb over her knuckles. The effort looks immense, but Horatia manages to speak.
"I don't want to die, Karthus," she whispers, "I can't."
Her voice is dry and cracked like a charred piece of wood.
"Rest, Horatia," he says.
"I can't. I can't. If I don't take of you, who will?"
"You don't need to worry about that anymore. Don't worry about anything. Rest."
Words he had heard the tally-men say. Cold words.
"I can't."
She began to cough again. Another painful minute. Another trail of blood over her lips.
"I'm your big sister," she gasped out, "I need to take care of you all."
"You have."
"But I'm not done. Who's going to take care of you?"
"Rest Horatia, please."
More coughing. Her eyes wrinkle like she is going to cry, but no tears come out. Her body is too tired.
"I can't leave you all alone."
Her voice is desperate.
"Rest."
He squeezes her hand and looks directly into her eyes. They are wide with terror and filled with more light and life than he has ever seen in them before.
"I can't. . ."
And then she was gone.
The light in her eyes was gone. The woman who had cared for him his entire life was dead. He knew he should be sad. He knew he should be in mourning. He knew he should be bent over her chest wailing. But he wasn't. He was too distracted by the divinity in her face.
In the waking world, the sound of coughing pulled Karthus back to the present. Achlys's eyes snapped open as her wracking cough woke her from her sleep. Karthus placed his fingers above her heart to soothe the restless mists within her. It was over as quickly as it began.
"Take a deep breath, Achlys," he said, "I am here. All will be well."
He held out his hand for her and grabbed it and squeezed as she finished spewing out puffs of Black Mist. With her other hand she wiped her lips.
"I'm tired of this, Father," she sighed.
"I know you are. Tonight is the last night of these fits. Tomorrow, you won't have them anymore. Go back to sleep."
Achlys nodded and closed her eyes once more, not releasing her father's hand until she was in a deep sleep. Once it was freed, Karthus moved his fingers to feel along her neck. The skin was as smooth as it always was. No lumps. No plague.
There was no reason to check for lumps. There was no plague on the Shadow Isles, but the image of Horatia's face before death lingered in his mind.
"She is not in pain anymore," Karthus reminded himself, "She is at peace. She has not felt pain since the Wolf completed his hunt. It was a blessing to watch her pass."
The sound of his sister's wretched coughing played though his mind once more.
"But that did not mean it was easy to watch you suffer first, dear sister. I do not wish for Achlys to suffer during her passing. No painful death for her."
An image of Achlys's body, run through by a massive blade flashed through his mind. Its spectral edge had pierced through her heart and she looked helplessly up at him.
Karthus banished the thought from his mind.
"No! It will not be like that!"
But for the remainder of the night, his mind kept thinking of those two pained expression; Horatia's and Achlys's.
When the black night sky finally turned to the dull gray of a Shadow Isles morning, Achlys awoke with an enormous yawn. Karthus's relief was immediate. He now had something to do to hopefully distract his mind from Horatia; prepare his daughter for her audience.
"Good morning, Achlys," he said, "how are you feeling today?"
"Tired," she yawned again, "but excited. I get to meet the king today."
She smiled up at her father.
"Are you excited too?"
"I am overcome with emotion," he responded dryly.
Achlys gave a nod of approval.
"So," she said as she stood up and stretched, "can I put my dress on now?"
"After breakfast. We don't want you getting dirty."
Karthus made Achlys's favorite breakfast for her; hard tack made completely soggy from being drowned in sweet strawberry rhubarb jam.
"In case it is her last, it should be her favorite."
The lich shook his head, as if shaking his ethereal form could somehow banish the thought from his mind.
"It will do me no good to be thinking like that today."
With breakfast complete, Karthus made sure that Achlys washed her face and brushed her hair before putting on the dress. Elise had spared no expense with the dress she had bought her "little bug" for her tenth Finding Day. The fabric was dyed a regal purple shade with silvery silk trim along the neckline, sleeves, and bottom of the dress. Along the neckline, facetted glass beads were sewn on, as if to be a diamond necklace for those too young to wear gemstones. A black silk sash was tied around her waist and from it, more beads attached to silver chains hung down. The thread that held the whole dress together had a faint iridescent sheen to it so that even when the minimal light of the Shadow Isles fell on Achlys, parts of her glinted like stars.
But even with all this sparkle already on her, Achlys insisted upon wearing her sea glass pendant. More sparkle couldn't be a bad thing when meeting royalty, she reasoned.
Lastly, Achlys handed a black ribbon to Karthus. Though in her heart, the ribbon Gwen had given was her favorite, the silky black one just matched the dress too perfectly to not wear.
"Can you please put my hair in the crown braid please?"
"I can."
Karthus gathered up her gossamer strands and braided them into one of the many styles of braids Elise had insisted that learn how to do to make Achlys happy. Beneath his fingers, he felt Achlys tug ever so slightly against him as she opened her mouth for another enormous yawn.
"I'm tired of this, Father," her voice replayed in his mind.
"I'm tired."
"I'm tired."
"Karthus, I'm so tired."
Caecilia was lying in the same place Horatia had died two days ago. The plague had withered her quickly; doing to her in two days what it did to her eldest sister in four. And just like before, he was right at the bedside, loving and caring for his dying sibling.
"Karthus," Caecilia moans, "I'm so tired."
"Then rest, Caecilia," he says.
"I want to, but it hurts so much."
The fits of coughing had torn her throat bloody.
"You won't be in pain much longer."
"I know."
Caecilia has accepted her death. She isn't fighting. She is just waiting.
"Are you afraid?" he asks.
"No, not for myself."
It looks as though it takes all her remaining strength the raise her arm and reach out to him. He takes her hand in his and holds tenderly. She turns her head to look at him and he notices that her eyes are dull. He wonders if she can see anymore.
"I worry about you, Karthus and Liviana."
"You don't need to worry about that anymore."
The same words he said to his eldest sister.
"Until I go, I will worry."
He can feel her grip getting weaker.
"Karthus," she sighs as her eyes close, "promise me you will take care of her."
"I promise."
Caecilia smiles.
"Thank you. You are a good brother."
Suddenly, her chest begins to heave and her eyes snap open. Caecilia's mouth contorts into a wild grin and tears begin to brim in her eyes as she speaks a final time.
"I see her! White hair, bright eyes, Karthus, she's beautiful!"
Then she falls completely still. She is gone, leaving just an enraptured look on her face.
The black ribbon cascaded gracefully over Achlys's white hair.
"There," Karthus said, "the braid is all set."
"Thank you," Achlys chirped.
Feeling the texture of the crown braid, Achlys ran her fingers down its length and gave a small smile.
"How do I look?" she asked.
"You are beautiful as you are."
"Would Auntie say I look like I belong in Noxus?"
"I think she would."
Achlys's smile is brighter and warmer than the dull sun overhead.
"You will die happy as well someday, Achlys," Karthus thought, "but not today. Caecilia was weary of living, you are not. I must have faith that Viego will see this and understand that you must continue to grow. I explained this to him, but will he remember? Yes, I must have faith that he will allow you to remain with me."
"Can we go now, Father?" Achlys asked, pulling Karthus from his thoughts.
"Yes," he responded, "I believe I am ready."
Achlys cast a confused look at him. Wasn't she the one who had spent the morning preparing herself? She didn't dwell on it much though. She was ready to go and too excited to wait a minute longer.
At the doors of the cathedral, Karthus commanded his choir to remain. It was to be just the three of them today; Achlys, Acheron, and himself. The whole walk to Helia, Achlys was always several steps before him. He could tell she wanted to sprint the whole way there, and he had to remind her that if she ran and fell, she would get her lovely dress all dirty. That was enough to get her to slow down.
They did not talk much on the journey, but Achlys did not appear to mind. Her mind was too busy imagining a fairytale world of kings and queens, princesses and knights, love and happy endings. As her thoughts wandered through these colorful fantasies, she began to hum a song that she had heard many times; a lullaby.
"To their songs I add my care,"
"And too my hopes and prayers,"
"We all wish you sweet dreams, my dear, our nightly lullaby."
"Your voice sounds beautiful, Karthus," Liviana whispered, "thank you for singing."
"I promised I would take care of you," he responds.
Liviana tried to smile, but another coughing fit erupted from her and shook her entire body. When she became still again, Karthus wiped the blood from her lips and offered her something to drink. She accepted it. He knew she would drink, but she hadn't eaten anything in two days. She didn't have the strength to.
She handed the cup back to him and spoke.
"Am I going to die?"
He needed a moment to decide how to respond to that. Horatia died in this bed, Caecilia died in this bed. And now, Liviana was laying in it. Death was the likeliest outcome, so why couldn't he say that? Death had been a blessing for his other sisters. Horatia was suffering and Caecilia was world weary and he had been given the ultimate privilege of seeing the moment of their parting. What was different about Liviana? There shouldn't be anything different. Nobody could live forever.
"Death is inevitable," he answered at last.
"Oh."
In silence he sat at her side, cradling her cold hand in his and listening to the raspy rhythm of her breathing.
"I'll get to see them again, won't I?" she asks, "Mother and Horatia and Caecilia?"
"I think so."
He didn't know if there was a beyond or not. He wanted to believe though. He wanted her to be right.
"If I get to see everyone again, it won't be as scary."
"You don't need to be afraid. I will be here with you."
"You will be alone."
"I don't want to be alone."
Liviana tries to roll over in bed but only succeeds in popping open one of the swollen sores on her throat. A dark mixture of blood and yellowed pus dribbles from it. She lets out and pained whimper and rolls back to her back. With a fresh rag, he cleans the drainage.
"Karthus," she says, "I want to sleep. Can you please sing the lullaby again?"
"I will."
He took a deep breath and sang for her.
"The wolves they howl in the night, they fill the wind with song,
"With toothy grin and fur of grey,"
"They laugh and sing and bay,"
"'Till sky does dance along in step, haunting, wise, and strong."
"The owls, from their treetops, join the chorus of the night,"
"Crooning tender calls of 'hoo,'"
"From perch of oak or yew,"
"Such a soulful song, compels the stars to shine more bright."
Liviana closed her eyes.
"And in the mountains to the south, the gentle Bellswayers dance,"
"Celestial, with silver coats,"
"And golden bells of chiming notes,"
"Tintinnabulation puts the night into a trance."
Her breathing slowed.
"All these beasts of Empire home, their music swirling by,"
"To their songs I add my care,"
"And too my hopes and prayers,"
"We all wish you sweet dreams, my dear, our nightly lullaby."
Her breathing stops.
"Liviana," he asks, just to be sure, "Liv? Liv?"
She is gone. His last sister, his closest companion, is dead.
This time, he cries. He knows he shouldn't. Tears can't help her. Through bleary eyes, he looks at her face. Even the illness could not rob her of all her cherubic charm. She looks serene, like she is only asleep. He wants so badly for her to remain like that; to not have to suffer the diseases, or famine, or violence, or any other misery of life, but still be with him. He wants to extend that last moment of sublime peace on forever.
But he can't.
And now he is alone.
"How did my singing sound?" Achlys asked.
"Your skill reflects the time you have put into practicing," Karthus responded, though he hadn't been paying too much attention.
His thoughts were on his sisters.
"Agony, ecstasy, peace. Each passed in their own, beautiful way. I was happy for them. They were suffering and then they were not. I was right to be happy, or at least I had convinced myself I was. No! I was happy! But now, now that I am faced with seeing another I love die, potentially losing her forever, I am afraid. I was afraid. Not of death, but of the loneliness that follows and haunts those left behind. I know I should not fear this. I know I can reason away every fear I have, but I cannot shake the uncertainty that grips my soul. I do not want to be alone once more! But if I do nothing, if we turn around here, you will die. So for you alone, I will risk the solitude of centuries."
They were in Helia now, the ancient city of ruined splendor.
"Hold my hand please, Achlys," Karthus said.
She gave him a confused look, as though she didn't understand why she needed to be escorted through a city she had already been allowed to explore on her own, but she didn't protest. Hand in hand, they walked through the city. Karthus could feel the quick pulse of Achlys's heart, her life force, through her grip. Curious wraiths approached, drawn in by the young girl's excitement, and she waved at them as they watched her pass. But just like before, as they ascended up towards the temple, the wraiths stopped following them and it was just the two of them.
The change in the air as the magic became more saturated was felt by Achlys. She gripped Karthus's boney hand tighter and looked around apprehensively until they crested a hill and her eyes came to rest on the massive structure looming before them. A gasp escaped her and for several minutes she felt as though she were walking through a dream. Her thoughts were held spellbound by the floating pieces of the temple, phantasmal fissures, and gentle cascading Mist.
"Do you know what this place is?" Karthus asked as they wandered through the temple.
Hazy memories from the nightmares flitted through Achlys's mind. Something about this place was familiar to her.
"This is an important place," she said.
"That is correct."
They entered the inner sanctum, where the waters of the sacred spring were a perfect mirror. They reflected the circling Black Mist filled with its countless flecks of green phantom light so that the surface of the dark pool looked like star speckled sky.
"This is where it happened, Achlys. This is where the blessing of undeath was gifted to the world."
Plunged into the shattered marble before her, Achlys looked and beheld a pale blade.