Chapter Text
Part 1
“Thresh, I need your lantern,” said Karthus.
“Why,” the Chain Warden replied in a deep and deliberate tone?
“Do you love the Black Mist as I do,” Karthus asked?
“Yes, other than the souls in my lantern the Mist is the only thing that sustains me,” Thresh replied.
“Good. Through my studies of death and our Black Mist, I have discovered a way to spread both beyond the Shadow Isles.”
Thresh steps toward Karthus and, without saying a word, offers him his unholy lantern. Karthus reaches out and grabs it with both hands. He holds the lantern up to his glowing, empty eyes to see the souls trapped inside. There are tons of screaming, crying, suffering souls, and that wraith that is Karthus looks back at Thresh in dark delight.
“Thresh, my dear friend, I am in debt to you! Your reward for this will be immeasurable! Freedom and power await! No longer will just have to sustain. You will flourish as the Black Mist spreads!"
“Well, I already grow tired without my lantern. So I will have to rest as you sing of death.” Thresh then labors himself like an old man to a dirty stone bench.
“Do not worry, Warden. In Ionia their spirit realm is always knocking on the door to reality. And in your lantern, many of the tortured souls are from Ionia. Once I unleash them, they will go to their home’s spirit realm, because Ionia will call to them. But I will Defile them first! Then the Black Mist will cling to the souls as they venture homeward. It will bring a Requiem! Balance will be destroyed, and the beauty of nightmares and death will begin!”