Part III continued

"The Dreadful Wale"

Chapter 25

The Void felt different. Warmer. Even brighter. The Outsider was still alive––I could feel it––but his black star was fading beneath Delilah's bright ascension.

I stood alone in a garden of black roses.

The garden appeared to be floating in a black sea of other gardens, each sprung from gray rock. A silvery sheen blanketed the roses like kisses of moonlight.

But there was no moon. There were no stars. The Void spun around me like molten glass, flowing from one shape to another. Steps formed at my feet, beckoning me forward along a grassy path. The grass was a brilliant green, a shock of color against shifting shades of gray.

I followed the path.

Time had no meaning. I just walked on and on, the roses at my feet shimmering like black jewels.

I picked one.

I watched the rose wither in my hand, its soft petals curling in on itself until only a pinch of black ash remained in the center of my palm. I lifted it to my mouth and blew. The ashes danced in unnatural spirals, forming a lifelike scene of revelry in my opened palm. Tiny, faceless dancers formed a ring around two figures. A man and a woman. He held the woman's hand in his, bowing low over it with a gentle kiss. When he rose, his eyes were like black diamonds.

But it was the woman's eyes I felt drawn to. Bright eyes, a spark of madness within. My eyes.

I gasped, clenching my hand into a fist. The miniature scene vanished in a whoosh of black magic, like a mirror exploding into jagged pieces, each a reflection of the Void. I closed my eyes, pressing my fist against my racing heart. Like a ghost whispering in my ear, I heard the distant sounds of merry laughter and the soft clinking of silver and glass. Memories of home, of the Rose Gardens in evening's light… The Sunset Regalia. Had it only been yesterday? It felt like a lifetime ago.

I heard soft footsteps behind me and opened my eyes.

"My dearest niece."

I turned to face her. Delilah.

She was bathed in moonlight, her pale skin like porcelain. Her blue eyes were like ice, a chilling seduction so reminiscent of the Outsider's black-eyed gaze. She smiled knowingly at me, as if we were sharing a secret.

She looked the same. Thin and graceful. A haunting beauty. She wore a dark pant suit with a pelt of long feathers over her gaunt shoulders. Dark red roses framed a low bodice, exposing her cleavage. Again, as in the throne room, her makeup was strong, thick black lines circling her eyes.

She looked intensely satisfied to see me, like a cat with a mouse trapped beneath its paws.

"Surprised I can pull you into this place?" she asked, a charming smirk on her glossy black lips.

I said nothing, putting on my Empress face. My armor.

When the Outsider had 'caught' me falling from a rooftop, lifting me into the Void, I had quickly learned how loosely my thoughts were secured. I'd been an open book, my thoughts laid bare beneath the Outsider's gaze. Did Delilah now have that same power to read minds?

If she does, the war is lost before it's even begun. And so I remained silent, watching, waiting…

A throne chair appeared out of thin air. The garden of black roses shifted around it, as if it was the center of the Void. It looked like mine, the throne I'd lost, but it was wreathed in black vines, pulsating with red light.

Delilah traced a finger along those poisonous vines, smiling coyly at me. The black vines slithered and writhed around her finger, like a pet seeking affection.

"Little sparrow, how far you have flown," she said, her voice dripping with malicious sweetness. "Do you really think you can escape Dunwall? Escape me?"

Does she know I'm here on the river, racing towards the Ocean? I held her gaze with all my strength, giving nothing away. Not one flinch. Her cold blue eyes dropped to my sorcery hand, the Mark of the Outsider burned into my skin.

"How unexpected! I see now I should have cast you into marble, and not your dear Royal Protector… I stole one Mark only to have it replaced by another. Interesting."

Alarm rose in my breast and I sucked in a breath unwittingly. Can she steal my Mark, here in this place?

If she could, she would have done it already, I decided. I tried to relax, but my heart felt like a pounding kettledrum.

"Does it please you to know you were his last?" she asked, her black lips curling in scorn.

His last Mark.

Wake up, Emily, I thought desperately. The Outsider was sometimes called the Dream Whisperer. If I could somehow force myself awake, could I escape the Void? Escape her?

When I remained silent, Delilah gracefully crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair, staring intently at my face as if trying to read my thoughts. She looked majestic in the Void, a dark shimmer to her body that magnified her sorcery. She was a powerful witch; I could feel it in every pore of my body, rushing through my blood. I had the Outsider's gift, but I was an apprentice, just learning my powers.

Before me was a master.

The more I looked at her, the more I saw my mother. I'd spent weeks painting my mother's portrait for the remembrance ceremony, learning her every curve, her every line. Jessamine and Delilah didn't look like sisters––not outright––but there was a subtle similarity in the bones of the face.

"Why?!"

I couldn't stop myself, even knowing the question revealed the crack in my armor. If Delilah was family, my mother's sister, how could she betray our shared blood? I would have welcomed her with open arms, if only she had bowed to me.

Delilah smiled. "Ah, so the sparrow does have a voice."

"Why?" I said again, annoyed she was toying with me. "Why did you do it? So you can have your petty revenge?"

I used the Outsider's words, his explanation for why Delilah had stolen my throne. Revenge for what, I had no idea.

I instantly saw it was just the tip of the iceberg. Delilah's eyes were icy pools of hunger.

This time, Delilah remained silent.

I shook my head in disgust. "How can you call yourself my aunt?"

"Your half-aunt, actually." She shrugged like it was an amusing, but irrelevant irony. "Emperor Euhorn was a horny old goat. I am a bastard."

She leaned forward in the chair, nailing me with her icy blue gaze. "Just like you."

It was a slap to the face. Bastard daughter. How many times had I heard that whispered in the halls of Parliament? Tainted blood. Smears in the Dunwall Courier. Pressure to marry Gristol nobility. It was all because Empress Jessamine gave birth to a half-Serkonan baby out of wedlock.

Delilah smirked. "A sore subject, I see."

"You have no right to the throne," I shot back, glaring at her with all the hatred and rage I'd been holding back. The Throne Room Massacre. The innocents slain in the streets. It was all her fault!

"I have every right!"

Her voice struck like lightning, the Void flashing with arcs of brilliant energy. In the next instant, she Blinked away from the throne chair in a haze of red light, appearing beside me in a swirl of snaking, black tendrils. She whispered in my ear, her breath like hot coals, "No fate but what we make for ourselves."

I recoiled from her.

She paints the world as she wants it to be.

I stammered, "T-the line of succession––"

She smiled. "You are no more 'legitimate' than I. Your mother was an Empress. My father was an Emperor. The fact is, Emily, I am older than you."

"The rules of Parliament make it quite clear––"

"Foolish brat. You bore me." Her tone was at once dismissive and disdainful. She turned away from me and I bristled as I glared at her back. She took a seat and from the throne she smiled at me. A viper's smile. "Go ahead. Take back your throne if you can, little niece."

"I will."

An elegant eyebrow rose. "So confident. Do you know something I don't?" Her gaze flickered down to my Mark. "Is it the Outsider? Do you think he has helped you?"

She bubbled into sweet laughter.

"Oh, Emily! I've known the Outsider far longer than you. He only Marked you to make the game more interesting." Her laughter died, simmering into deadly disquiet. "It's too bad he won't see how it ends."

I paled. "You gave him the kiss of death."

"Noticed that, did you?" She ran a finger over her plump lips, moaning slightly. "Mhm… his black lips, bruised to perfection." Her eyelids fluttered. "That kiss, it was… ecstasy."

I looked away, hating her.

I remembered a different kiss.

He had tasted like the ocean, the salt and brine of crashing waves against my tongue. I felt a chill run up my spine at the memory, the ghost of his dark lips against mine.

When will I see you again?

His dark eyes flashed. 'When I'm a new man…'

'Look for me in the waves,' he whispered. 'The whales will bring me to you.'

I stared into the Void, remembering… aching…

The Void careened around me, flowing between light and dark. I couldn't help but notice how empty it felt. Quiet. No whale song. No whales. Not one magnificent beast emerged from the gloom to roll one beady eye upon me. The Outsider had said the whales were afraid of Delilah, that they didn't choose her. She is not welcome here, I thought.

I took what hope that gave me and held tight.

When I looked back at Delilah, I found her glaring at me, a spiteful venom that marred her beauty. Her eyes bored into me like she was trying to break me apart. I realized she hadn't just pulled me into the Void to taunt me.

She wanted something.

"Did the Outsider show you his crooked cock?"

Her question was blunt. Cruel.

"What?" I breathed.

"No?" she mocked. "Not yet?"

She prowled around me like a tiger, circling her prey. "The Outsider is a master of seduction. He entices like one breathes. Did he hound you like a bitch in heat, pressing you to accept his Mark? Or did he just take you and Mark you without your consent?"

She snatched my sorcery hand, forcing me to look at the Mark side by side with hers. They were the same.

I tried to pull back, but she held me in a death grip. She snarled, "See how he loves us both. He cannot help himself. His arousal is all that matters."

I finally broke free. I stumbled backwards, clutching my hands to my chest and breathing hard.

Delilah looked sick. She whispered hoarsely, "He has no care for us. We are no more to him than interesting diversions. Whores."

She's been used, I thought. Badly.

Though whether by men in this life or the Outsider, I did not know.

But the moment passed.

Delilah straightened her back and held her head high once more. "It does not matter. He is dying. The Outsider will return to the Hungry Cosmos. Ash to ash. Dust to dust. We will feel it together, you and I."

"His death," I whispered. It was foretold.

She lifted her blue eyes as if searching the Void. "Soon."

"And afterwards?" I choked in anger. "Will you be the new Outsider?"

She laughed. "No, and I never wanted to be." Her eyes flashed in righteous anger. "When the Outsider dies, the world will thank me for it."

Doubt reared its ugly head. Would the world be better off without him? The Abbey certainly thought so.

"But magic––"

"Will still exist," Delilah said, shaking her head. Her condescending tone was getting on my nerves. "The Void does not need an Outsider."

But the divine cycle, I thought, remembering what the Outsider had revealed to me. He'd said Delilah had found the Genesis Altar, the source of his power, and his doom; it was where he first became the Outsider. He'd been a human before that, one chosen by the whales to ascend to godhood. He'd not been the first; there had been other Outsiders. He had explained how each Outsider was given a choice at the end of their cycle: return to the Hungry Cosmos (eternal oblivion) or rejoin the living and be reborn as a human. Was it possible Delilah knew nothing of this?

I felt a surge of anticipation and hope. His rebirth is a secret, I thought. A secret the Outsider had entrusted me with, not her.

I met Delilah's eyes.

Fearlessly.

For the first time, I felt like I had a weapon against her. Secret knowledge.

"You couldn't be the Outsider if you tried, Delilah," I said. "You're nothing but a parasite, draining his power like a black-bellied leech."

Delilah smiled coldly at my insolence.

"It's time," she said.

She turned her back to me. The long feathers of her pelt fluttered as if touched by wind, but the Void seemed to hang motionless, oddly so.

The Void stopped.

The black sea spun no more, the floating islands frozen in time. Inside the garden where I stood, the black roses began to wither, thousands of petals curling into death's repose. The green grass shriveled to ash and sunk into the gray stones. All became black. All became nothing.

Delilah disappeared in a haze of red light.

I was alone.

But I heard her voice, a haunting echo in my ears. "He's dead, little sparrow. Gone forever."

The darkness pressed in on all sides. I struggled against the panic. Delilah went on, "Whatever trick you think you have up your sleeve, let me assure you… It's a lie. The Outsider is your weakness, not your strength."

Her voice reverberated. Over and over, it sunk into my bones. Your weakness, not your strength. Your weakness…

"Wake up, Emily!" Delilah's voice taunted.

Wake up.

"Wake up!"

I shot forward, nearly jumping out of bed. I was furiously gasping, trying to catch my breath. My heart felt like it would burst. I groaned in pain, clutching my head, a massive headache throbbing behind my eyes. My skin was slick with sweat and I felt like I was going to vomit.

The lantern's dim light cast strange shadows over the bed. I glanced at my father lying next to me.

His eyes were open.

"Father?"

I held my breath, afraid to move, afraid to see what he had become. Corvo the Black. The Outsider had freed him from stone, but not his mind. He'd said Corvo had gone mad, that Delilah's spell had awakened a monster deep within, shattering the man he'd once been. 'There's a darkness in Corvo's soul,' the Outsider had said. 'He'd sooner drown the world in blood, and cast the Empire into chaos if it meant restoring you to your throne.'

I trembled to see him. His eyes looked inhuman. Corvo's once-warm brown eyes were gone. Pitch black pupils stared back at me, the whites of his eyes grotesquely bloodshot.

"Wake up," he whispered. "It's just a bad dream."

I froze, lost in his eyes.

"Father?"

I couldn't believe it. I'd been so afraid of this moment, that I would find him reduced to a blathering idiot, incapable of coherent speech, yet here he was, looking at me like I was crazy.

"Where are we, Emily?" He curled upwards, pushing the blankets off his chest. "What ship is this?"

The little cabin had no porthole windows, but the swaying of the ship and the sounds of the river were unmistakable.

"The Dreadful Wale," I said between gasps of pain. I gripped my head as the headache throbbed in waves. I felt my father gently rub my arms, trying to comfort me. He used to do that when I was a little girl, frightened by nightmares when I'd slept in the broken tower outside the Hounds Pit Pub.

I forced myself to look into his eyes as he tucked a stray hair behind my ear. "What's wrong, Em? You never get headaches this bad."

"Concussion," I grunted.

I'd known it would eventually come back to haunt me. Sokolov's Elixir had only been a temporary measure. Not only would the pain return, but the bruises, too. From the look on my father's face, he'd found them. He turned my face with his fingers, tipping me to the left and to the right as he inspected Ramsey's handiwork. He'd slugged me hard in the throne room, kicking me in the head when I was down, and then later Lord Cosimo… Well, I didn't want to think about that.

And if my father saw the hickies on my neck, he'd put two and two together.

"What happened?" he asked, a deep growl in his throat that scared me. Corvo was no longer turned to stone, but his expression was just as hard. A deadly calm spread over his face. He wants to know who hurt me so he can hurt them back.

Hurt them bad.

I turned away from his touch, looking down at my hands. It was too difficult staring into his eyes; they were beyond disturbing. I slipped my sorcery hand beneath the blanket, afraid to reveal the Mark. I wasn't ready to feel his wrath directed at me. He'd been so adamant that I reject the Outsider.

"Please," I whimpered. I was too tired, too hurt, too upset to even attempt to explain everything that had happened since he lost consciousness. "We're safe," I managed, at least giving him that. "For now."

Corvo sighed heavily and dug through his coat, opening a secret pocket I'd not noticed before. He withdrew a tiny glass vial of Sokolov's Elixir. "You need rest," he said, "and you can't rest if your head is killing you. Drink this."

I was in too much pain to refuse. I took the vial with a shaky hand and swallowed the red liquid in one gulp. I shuddered as it burned down my throat. With that done, I leaned against him, resting my head against his chest as he wrapped his strong arms around me. I didn't care if he was Corvo the Black. He was my father and I felt safe in his arms.

A gulf of extreme exhaustion opened before me and I fell inside, drifting off…

An indeterminable time later, I felt his hot breath on top of my head, sinking into my hair. He softly asked, "Do you hear that?"

"Wha…"

"Her voice."

I heard nothing more, the sweet oblivion of sleep taking me.

End of Chapter Notes:

'No fate but what we make for ourselves.' – shamelessly borrowed from Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991 film).