Eyes of the Void
Chapter 4—Home Sweet Home
SEE THE BOTTOM OF THE STORY FOR AUTHOR'S NOTES.
Disclaimer: I do not own any portion of the Dishonored® franchise. To the best of my knowledge and belief, Dishonored® is the intellectual property of ZeniMax® Media, Inc. This transformative work (fanfiction) is produced as a tribute in honor of the series and was made solely for the pleasure of creating and sharing said tribute. I receive no financial reward for its production. I own only the original story line which I personally created, any original characters featured, and the exact order in which I wrote down the words of this story. Everything you recognize from Dishonored® and any references made to other published works are the property of their individual copyright holders.
***DISHONORED***
After his restoration to a flesh and blood state, Emily's father was largely unharmed, but incredibly weak. He'd remained awake just long enough to assure himself that she was safe and that Delilah was defeated, before slipping into unconsciousness.
This isn't good, Emily thought. She had no idea what the long term effects of losing his mark would be, and that alone was terrifying. Could the loss of it lead to his death? She didn't know the answer. He'd always been so vibrant, far more so than other men his age, and she'd long suspected that his mark contributed to that.
It wasn't as though there were authoritative texts on subject of the Outsider's mark available for her to consult. She grumbled to herself about the Abbey's history of censorship and the paranoia of Overseers. If the useless pricks hadn't spent centuries obsessed with rooting out 'heresy', I might actually have been able to find something worthwhile on the topic. An idea filtered through her mind. The Outsider would know, wouldn't he? It's his mark, after all.
Emily sighed. While she would definitely question the god if he appeared, she remembered her father's stories well. "Once you were back on the throne, he vanished," Corvo had told her. "I feel his presence from time to time, but I never spoke to old black-eyes again." Even when Corvo completed construction of the hidden Outsider shrine that housed his runes and extra bonecharms, the God of the Void had been conspicuous by his absence.
The thought of no longer seeing the enigmatic, onyx-eyed god made her breath catch in her throat and her eyes burn with tears she wouldn't allow to fall. Just one more person who's lost to me now, she thought. She'd long known that the wounds left on her heart by her mother's murder would never fully heal. That hadn't been the end of it. Not by a long shot. Piero, Callista, and Cecilia had vanished years before. Emily didn't know if they still lived. Samuel, Alexi, and Khulan were dead. Hypatia would likely never leave Karnaca. Emily couldn't blame the good doctor, of course. The Addermire Institute was Hypatia's world, and she would never abandon the miners.
Meagan… Emily shook her head. No, she's Billie now. Not that it mattered. Whatever the woman chose to call herself, she was gone with the tide. Anton was still in Dunwall, but Emily knew that he didn't intend to remain for long. Her friends from the 'bad old days' were already gone, along with nearly everyone who'd stood beside her during the recent crisis.
Emily could likely convince Wyman to return from Morley, but the thought brought resignation, not comfort. She loved Wyman. She was certain that a part of her always would, but Wyman hadn't been a real partner to her, and never would be. She accepted that now. Besides, while she'd loved Wyman, she'd never been in love with the sensitive Morleyan noble. Truthfully, I think I was in love with the idea of being the sort of woman who was in love with Wyman more than anything else, she realized.
Wyman had been Emily's escape, her youthful dream of laughter and romance and…normalcy. The time to put away childish things was long past. She didn't have time for that little girl's dreams any longer. Before the coup, she'd frequently passed her responsibilities onto other shoulders so that she could slip off to linger in a fantasy where she was just a young woman and not an Empress. That foolishness had nearly cost her the throne. How many people lost their lives, she wondered, because I didn't want to grow up? With dogged will, she shoved away her guilt. Guilt is a weakness, she told herself. One you can't afford.
Despite all the thoughts twisting through her mind, Emily longed for the Outsider's presence. Cryptic as he was, the sound of his voice always brought her comfort. He made her feel less alone. You can't dwell on it, she told herself. You have an Empire to run and a city to rebuild. Your desire to talk to an eldritch god isn't important. Your loneliness isn't important. You can't allow it to be.
Emily found her unconscious father surprisingly easy to move. Well, she thought, if nothing else, I'm physically stronger than I was before. She idly wondered if this change was a result of the hardships she'd gone through in Karnaca, or simply a side-effect of her mark.
It took some searching, but eventually Emily located a guest room in a remote portion of the Tower which didn't appear to have been touched by Delilah's coven. She assumed that its location was the reason it was relatively clean aside from a bit of dust. She laid Corvo down on the bed. He had no obvious signs of injury, but he was far too pale, his olive skin ashen beneath his native pigment. She pulled a chair up to the right side of the bed to keep watch, and sat down, her thoughts focused on what her next steps should be.
Corvo was all Emily had left. If he didn't show signs of recovery in the next day or so, she would be forced to bring Anton in to consult on the matter before the old man had the chance to skip town. Emily admitted to herself that the only thing stopping her from seeking Anton out that instant was her hesitance to reveal her own mark to him. During their time in Karnaca, she'd taken care to never use her powers in the old man's presence, at least not while he was conscious. She was confident that he suspected something, but he didn't know for certain. Even Anton Sokolov was hesitant about accusing an Empress of heresy. She shuddered at the thought of becoming his test subject. He'd always been far too interested in the Outsider and the Void.
Regardless of her concerns, the aged genius was the only person she knew of who might be able to puzzle out a solution to any problems resulting from her father's absent mark. I'll do whatever I must, she decided. Father would do it for me. But if the old man goes too far, he'd best expect a backhand. I'm not a lab animal.
A swirling mass of black smoke and Void-light manifested in the shadowed corner across from her chair. The smoke pulsed before coalescing into a familiar figure. Emily's heart fluttered against her ribs—a frantic bird beating its wings against cage bars. She blinked in confusion. She hadn't actually realized that the Outsider could physically appear in the waking world with no shrine in the immediate vicinity. She thought of Stilton's mansion. That vile bitch had better not have left a rip leading into the void in the middle of Dunwall Tower, she thought.
The God of the Void approached Corvo and frowned down at him. "Meddling witch," he hissed. He reached down and tapped the back of her father's left hand with two fingers and his mark blossomed back to life. Ebony bloomed out like ink on water before pulling back into familiar lines. Purplish light rippled across the surface as the mark settled into place. Fathomless black eyes finally rose to meet Emily's own.
"It was never truly gone," the god explained. "Delilah lacked the capacity to actually strip my mark from anyone. My mark is bound to the very soul of those who carry it, and she could never hold power over that. She just drained the magical energy out of his body. It's why he was so weak after you released him from the stone. Until such a time as my mark managed to re-anchor a physical manifestation of itself on his flesh, it would have continued to drain him. Now, he'll be able to recover."
Emily nodded, relieved. "Thank you. I was worried about what losing it would do to him." Unconsciously, she leaned towards the Outsider, drawn to him like iron shards to a magnet.
The god gracefully inclined his head in acknowledgement of her thanks. "Feed him one of Piero's Remedies if there are any left in the Tower, or one of Doctor Hypatia's Addermire Solutions, if there are none. I know that you still have a few of those. It will help him recover his energy. Aside from that, only rest and time will be of assistance. He should be back to himself within a week or two, even after he insists on working himself to exhaustion in the meantime."
Emily chuckled. The Void God knew Corvo well and was aware of her father's stubborn nature. "I will. If they didn't discover the second safe room, the old one, there should be some Remedies stored there."
The god turned his head, eyes searching as though gazing through the walls. Despite their current distance from the safe room, she assumed that was, in fact, the case. After a moment, he turned back to her. "They did not, and there are. The Olaskir safe room is intact. I suspect that the lead lining the walls prevented its discovery."
Emily nodded. The lead in the walls was exactly what caused her father to build his shrine there. No magical resonances could seep through and draw the attention of visiting Overseers. They'd stored stockpiles of extra emergency supplies for the Tower in that room: water, hardtack, and numerous vials of Piero's Remedy and Sokolov's Elixir. There was even a duplicate of Corvo's folding sword. Piero had crafted it at the Lord Protector's request shortly after they'd found a cure for the Rat Plague.
Emily had nearly forgotten about the duplicate. She hadn't seen it in years. Her father felt it unnecessary for her to use the complicated, folding sword when the standard variety was safer for the wielder. She remembered him telling her: "There's no sense in you risking the loss of a finger because forgot to lock the mechanism correctly. If you wore a sword every day, I'd have no problem with you carrying it. The convenience would be worth the risk. But for training, it's just not worth it." A smile curled across her face. That solves one problem, she thought.
The blade Emily currently carried wasn't actually hers. Her father would no doubt want his sword back, but after her ordeal she wasn't eager to be parted from it. She'd never carried a blade previously because her advisors had thought it inappropriate for their young Empress to be visibly armed. "Your mother wouldn't have dreamed of wearing a sword, Your Majesty," they'd chided her.
Emily shook her head in irritation at the memory. I can't believe that idiotic rhetoric used to work on me. Well, to the void with them if they don't like it. I'm not my mother. My mother would never have escaped the damn Tower. She had no weapons training of any kind, and just look where that got her. If she'd been armed, she wouldn't have been such an easy target for Daud. She might have at least been able to take the bastard with her. I doubt they'd question it if an Emperor openly carried a blade.
To the Outsider, she said: "I'll collect some Remedies for him and do my best to force him to actually get some rest." She sighed. "Unfortunately, we both know that it won't be easy to keep him abed when there's so much work to be done."
The Outsider hummed wordlessly, his onyx eyes staring into the distance. "I've placed additional protections on the painting. Nothing mortal will be able to free Delilah from her prison now, and I certainly don't intend to let her out."
Well, that's a relief, Emily thought. She'd arrived at the Tower with the intention of killing Delilah, but the painting had provided a different option. She could only hope that it was the right decision, that the witch wouldn't be able to escape her trap. Delilah had managed to come back from the dead last time, so no matter how unlikely a repeat performance was, the painting seemed the safer choice.
Emily couldn't help but ask, "What about other immortals? Could something else free her?" Not that Emily knew of any other immortals, but it paid to be cautious. Overconfidence had been the downfall of many powerful people in the past, including both Emily herself, and Delilah.
The Outsider shook his head. "The Leviathan has only rarely interacted with humans, or paid any mind to human affairs, since the time of my ascension. Even in the unlikely event that he chose to do so once more, he certainly wouldn't free Delilah. He has as much cause to despise her as I do."
Emily blinked, remembering the great creature that swam through the expanse of the abyss, the mournful notes of his song infusing the essence of the place. In the Outsider's presence, she could always sense the Leviathan's song, hovering just beyond the edges of her perception. "What about other gods?"
The Outsider chuckled, his starlit eyes locked with her own. He paced around the bed on which her father rested, coming to stand beside her. "There are no other gods, my dear Empress. Not on this world at least. The Void would never permit such a thing. It's grown rather protective of the place."
The Empress nodded, still gazing up at him. She'd always wondered about that. She found the idea that the Outsider was the only god in the world to be both comforting and vaguely ominous for reasons she couldn't quite define. She swallowed and attempted to ignore the worrisome feeling. "I have to ask… How are you here? Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but I must know: did Delilah do something to the Tower?"
He cocked his head and arched one brow. "No, Emily. Not in the way that you mean. For me to manifest in the physical world is admittedly not a simple thing unless I'm in a place where the barrier between the realms is thin. It's easy enough near one of my shrines, but away from such places it becomes far more challenging, and the time I can remain is limited. Even now, the Void calls to me. However, the power of your marks serves as a sort of anchor." He shrugged with one shoulder. "It's more difficult than appearing at a shrine, but in no way insurmountable."
Emily nodded. She hoped that his sudden appearance meant that he didn't intend to vanish on her as he had on Corvo. Of course, she reasoned, Father wasn't displeased by the Outsider's absence. Perhaps that makes a difference?
The Void God reached out with one hand and laid his fingers against her cheek. They carried the chill of the void and the hum of its magic with them. He smelled of ozone and ambergris, of a tempest-tossed sea. "Go," he whispered. "Get the Remedy for your father. I'll watch over him in your absence. It's the least I can do for an old friend."
The Outsider pulled away as Emily rose to her feet. She instantly mourned the loss of contact. She could count the number of times the god had touched her on one hand and she vividly recalled each instance. Those brief moments were indelibly etched into her memory. She suspected that few individuals had ever received that much from him. "I'll be quick," she said.
He nodded and waved her off as he turned back towards Corvo.
Emily slipped past the Outsider and darted into the hallway. Unfortunately, the Olaskir safe room was on the opposite side of Dunwall Tower and it took longer to reach it than she'd have liked. She stepped into the darkened library and made her way to a secluded corner tucked far in the back, hidden by the stacks. She examined the bookcase, searching out the correct volume: a musty tome on the traditional heraldry of Gristol's pre-Imperial noble houses. Emily tipped the book forwards and then pushed it back until she heard a soft click. A floor panel immediately to her right rose up and slid away, revealing a narrow, aged staircase. She took a deep breath and headed down.
At the bottom of the stairs, an engraved metal door barred the way. She reached out to the mosaic panel inset into the wall beside it. The mosaic depicted the crest of the now-extinct Olaskir dynasty: a pair of leaping swordfish flanking the central crown. After a moment of strained focus, she keyed in the correct combination. The door unlocked and swung open.
Emily's ears filled with the void-song which poured forth from the shrine at the back of the room. A heavy chest sat beside the altar. The runes and bonecharms it contained added their own melodies to the air. As was usual for an Outsider shrine, eldritch energies rippled off of the altar and distorted the air around it. For a fraction of a second, Emily expected the god to appear, which of course he would not be doing. It was almost comedic. Here she was, visiting the shrine of a deity who was currently on the other side of Dunwall Tower awaiting her return. She shook her head, pulling herself from her muddled thoughts and moved to complete her tasks.
Emily scooped up several vials of Piero's Remedy and then crossed the room to the workbench where her father kept extra weapons. She opened the case containing the duplicate sword and laid claim to it, then headed back after resealing the room. We just had one crisis, she thought, I definitely don't want some fool Overseer to stumble upon a heretical shrine in the middle of Dunwall Tower. Though, I suppose that I could always blame the witches.
Upon Emily's return, she found her father awake, sitting up, and engaged in a staring match against a god. A god who doesn't blink. I'm not even sure that he can, she thought. He definitely doesn't though. Ever. It's like trying to out-stare a snake. Corvo's stubbornness rose to the level of idiocy at times. The words slipped out: "Are you actually trying to stare down the Outsider? Or do you have a head wound that I'm unaware of?"
Corvo broke off his ill-advised battle in order to glance in her direction. "He marked your hand," her father growled.
Unlike the God of the Void, Emily could blink, and she did. Repeatedly. "Please tell me you're joking right now," she said.
Corvo shook his head. "He shouldn't have done it, Emily. What's going to happen if the Abbey finds out? You're the Empress! Did you even consider the consequences?"
Her chin raised and all emotion drained from her visage. Emily vanished and the Empress of the Isles emerged. When she spoke, her voice was silky and cool. "Silly me. I clearly didn't put enough thought into the Overseers' feelings on the matter. That was obviously more important than staying alive and defeating Delilah. Why, it's almost as awful as the thought of a lady wearing a sword. Sure, the lady would have the means to defend herself, but it might make the noble-blooded fops of the Court feel inadequate. We mustn't have that."
Corvo tried to interject, but she cut him off with a snarl, her eyes flashing fire. "Don't you dare! You want someone to blame, Father? Well, I'm right here. This was my choice. I took his mark willingly and was damn grateful to have it. You weren't there. You have no idea what I've gone through."
Once more, Corvo tried to speak, and was halted by the force of his daughter's glare. Emily paced at the foot of the bed, whipping back and forth like a caged Pandyssian wildcat. Both man and god watched her silently. Abruptly, she stopped and turned to face her father. "I'm getting very tired of having everyone's hypocrisy shoved down my throat. The Abbey is filled to the brim with murderers and sadists who spend all their time preaching against sin. When they aren't too busy committing their own, that is."
Her smile glittered like the light on a knife's edge. "My advisors, who constantly say that I don't understand the threats against me, are the same old men who demand that I go unarmed lest someone think that I'm not a proper lady."
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "And you, the very man who trained me. You needed the mark's power to survive during the Rat Plague. Without it, you wouldn't have been able to accomplish the things you did. You've admitted as much on more than one occasion. Now, when our roles are reversed, you dare to criticize me for making the same choice? Next time you feel the need to shove your hypocrisy down a throat, I suggest trying your own."
Emily looked away and forced her simmering rage back beneath the surface. When she looked back, her features were as composed and serene as those of a marble statue. She faced the Outsider with a gentle smile. "It was a pleasure seeing you, as always. I do hope that you'll visit again soon. I thank you for your assistance, and apologize for the…unpleasantness."
Then she turned and sat her father's sword and the vials of Remedy on the bed beside his feet. When she looked up at him, her smile was sweet. "Drink your Remedy and get some rest. I'll bring you something to eat in a few hours."
With those words, the Empress turned on her heel and strode from the room, gently shutting the door behind her. Corvo can damn well scream his thoughts into the void, she thought. I have work to do.
***DISHONORED***
Author's Notes: After the last chapter, janed12000 asked me how my story will differ from canon and about the nature and origin of the zotl. I thought that I'd post the answer here in case anyone else would like to have the information.
While there will be a degree of canon divergence here and there, most of what I do is go around canon. In the games we only see a limited amount of the knowledge and experiences of a single character per play through. I write under the idea that we (the audience/players) don't actually know most of what's going on in this world. Even if you've read the companion books such as The Dunwall Archives, you just don't know that much. I try to take snippets of what you see in the games and expand that information in an attempt to create a vibrant, complex environment.
In the games there are references you can find to Dunwall having been built atop of older cities, which is a thing that's happened in our own world. I took information about places that's happened here, combined that with the Dishonored world, and threw in a dash of Lovecraftian mythology to create the place under Dunwall. The zotl are a unique creation designed for that environment. They were loosely inspired by legends about Xolotl (an Aztec deity portrayed as a monstrous dog who has strong connections with death and the underworld) and the Aztec folklore about the ahuizotl (dog-like water monsters which were psychopomps that carried away the souls of the dead). However, while I took inspiration from the Aztec legends and Lovecraft, the zotl don't match these stories. They're original beasties born in my brain.
The Void in my story is another example of how I warp details. My Void started with what we see in Dishonored, then I blended in tons of legends about the Void and primordial chaos from different cultures to create my own mythos. What the characters believe about the Void is based on limited knowledge and understanding. It's not so much that what we see of their beliefs in canon has been changed it's just that their beliefs weren't always accurate.
***DISHONORED***
Please review! Kind or critical, reviews really motivate me to keep writing. I'm always happy to know what my readers want to see more (or less) of in my work.
Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited this story! I adore each and every one of you. It means more than you know. Also, a special thanks goes out to my lovely beta, CaptainXeno!
