Cling-clang go the chains
The Viscero was dead. Xin Zhao too. Still, something walked through the paths and roads of Runeterra with Thresh, and it definitely looked like him.
...
Astor could do nothing but hide after he felt them. Astor had never been special; a common merchant that lived on the roads between towns and cities, aiming for no more than another day of life. He was what we would call a normal person; nothing distinguished him from any other travelling merchant. And he thanked that.
His red eyes were always covered with tinted lenses that showed the typical brown eyes to the world. His short white hair was dyed pitch-black, leaving no trace of its true lack of color; same with his eyebrows. Astor shaved every inch of his face every morning, for later covering it all with tons of makeup; that's how his pale white skin ended up remiding everybody of the Ionian beaches. Aside from the lies, everything was normal for Astor; but not that day.
Polly, his albino mare, had suddenly started to run, leaving him alone by the fire. If he hadn't known the animal since it was born he would have thought that some animal had scared her, but that was not the case. After the chaos of his beloved mare departure was over, the night's silence reigned for a moment. But it didn't take any long for the clin-clang of some chains to echo through the night.
He didn't realize what he was doing until the fire was no more than cinders. His cargo hidden in the forest and his soul on his feet, digging him deep in the ground. Astor couldn't even make sure that he was breathing; something was holding him back from doing anything that was not silently hiding. He was scared with no reason; no reason until he saw them.
He recognized Thresh from the very beginning; once human, he was no more than a monster now. A mad man that had laughed at death itself and now walked through Runeterra harvesting souls. He had heard countless tales about him, specially during his times at Bilgewater. He remembered a young man crying at a bar in a small village near the city of Noxus talking to everyone about Thresh's insane laugh as he took the soul of every thing he had loved. But the Chain Warden was not alone.
A man whose armor was soaked in blood, whose spear was letting go little droplets while they both walked at the rythm of the cling-clang of the chains. A man whose face showed nothing; no fear, no hate, no love or empathy. A man whose eyes were closed, whose mouth only opened to answer the questions of the madman that had him in chains.
Suddenly, Astor heard a small squeak at his side. When he looked, he found a small light that danced around him; the surprise stunned him for a second, and after that he screamed. He heard one last loud clin of Thresh's chains, and then he started to run.
What to do? There was no time for thinking, he could only run. He could only follow the aether wisps.
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