"Explain to me again why it is I'm forced to go and you won't instead?" I asked as yet another book tumbled to the floor at my feet.
"Because," the Empress started, bending gracefully to pick up the fallen object, "Meag- I mean, Billie and I... We separated on good terms." She straightened her back, adding the book to a disorganised pile nearby. "But I'm afraid that if suddenly both my father and I just so happen to show up at her hideout—well, we'd scare her."
I was unconvinced. "You're lying. And also—why are you teaching me women's etiquette?" Another book tumbled down, much to my ever-growing frustration.
The Empress had shown up at Corvo's office quite unexpectedly. I figured the Royal Protector had been stalling me until her arrival, awkwardly attempting to make conversation. I'd raised my brow at him, weary of his persistence to get me to socialise. They'd left the room together, standing just outside the door where they whispered conspiratorially—a few angry notes had pierced the sturdy wood that separated us—after which the Empress had led me away, to a private study that I recognised from her lessons with Callista. The younger Empress had often cursed her teacher in my name here, which—given the child's social standing—had been a very unbecoming habit.
Her lack of perfume had not gone unnoticed. The fact that she'd taken what I'd said to heart left me uncomfortable. It wasn't that I'd disliked the scent.
"Father asked me to prepare you, but doing straight up combat training just seemed... excessive."
I narrowed my eyes, directing an intentional scowl at her. "You're calling me weak?"
"Just uncoordinated."
I couldn't argue with that; I was, and I currently wore the cuts to show for it. "Empress Emily Kaldwin the heretic, teaching the Outsider how to knit and to look and walk prettily. I, for one, cannot wait to strap on my ball gown and dazzle the Abbey." I took a few more steps, slightly stumbling as I did and causing the remaining books that rested on top of my head to come crashing down.
The Empress snorted as she looked at the miserable heap at my feet. "First off: I'm not teaching you how to knit." Her hands moved to collect the mess I'd made. "And secondly: I really do need you to take this more seriously—proper posture is the starting point for anything combat related."
I raised my brows, gaze following her movements as she added the last of the fallen books to the ever-growing stack of failed attempts. "Whoever decided I needed to be trained in combat in the first place?"
"Enlighten me though;" the Empress ignored my question, "how is it possible for you to be strutting around the Void like you did, yet be a terrible walker in the real world?" She raised her chin with the inquiry, watching me with curious eyes.
"Only if you'll enlighten me on the ancient art of knitting."
The Empress groaned, annoyed at my persistent deflecting. "Believe it or not, it's generally perceived as 'okay' to actually answer a question every once in a while."
"Right, but what fun would that leave? I could just about tell you everything you ever wanted to know, and you'd spend no more time thinking for yourself. Hardly sounds stimulating, does it?"
"I don't think you're deflecting as a generous attempt to keep me stimulated. This has more to do with keeping youstimulated."
That one caught me off guard. "You make me sound selfish."
That specific sentence triggered something within the Empress, a strange set of emotions crossing her features. "And you're saying you aren't?" she asked, voice drenched in disbelief. "You never helped anyone with anything, even though you easily could have." There was an underlying bitterness in her voice, barely noticeable.
I didn't really know what to say to that, surprised by the sudden change of mood. "I did what was necesarry."
This only seemed to anger her, nostrils flaring as she bristled at the response. "Necessary? You gave people magic! You randomly swept in spouting Void philosophy instead of actual answers whilst granting people deadly powers. People like Daud, who assassinated my mother. Then my father—who only needed them because of your poor choices—after which he ended up stuck in stone because you thought it had also been a good idea to give powers to Delilah! Well look where that got you." She laughed bitterly, eyes dancing dangerously. I could see a slight quiver in her usually impeccable posture.
For a while I observed the woman in front of me, the way her narrow shoulders had squared to me. Perhaps I should be angry. Perhaps I shouldn't. I wasn't certain. There was a truth to what she said, but to call what I had done selfish… Why should the Empress understand? How could she? She had never felt what I had felt for over 4000 years, frozen in stone with the sensation of a blade against my throat, overflowing with foreign magic that devoured my every thought. She had never seen what I had seen: the pretence of society, the underlying decay that ate at every Empire until eventually the cracks ran too deep and the structure collapsed.
I'd seen it all.
Something cold spread through me, something that chilled me enough to want to wrap my arms around myself. So I crossed them as my stoic mask slowly transformed into a bitter grimace—an ugly twist to my brow. My gaze bore into hers, traced her offended features and self-assured scowl, and for a moment she appeared to waver—a hint of doubt cracking through her resolve.
I glanced at the books, the ridiculous waste of time. What was the point of any of this? "Just because you see no purpose does not mean purpose is lacking, and just because you don't understand something does not make it inherently evil only because you justify it so.
"And what? Just because I could, I should have? And tell me then: what should I have done? Force hands? Rid the world of evil? You wish me to soak my hands in blood and force in the name of some subjective morality? What of free will? What of choice?"
Where had my choice been?
I didn't speak these words, these thoughts. Feelings. These were mine, and they were not meant for anyone's ears. "Grow up, Empress," I hissed, the words eerily familiar. I walked away from the woman and her judging stare and biting remarks. I knew neither where to go nor what to do. I felt stuck in time as it constantly dictated my behaviors. Time to sleep, time to get up, time to eat, time to be prodded, time to eat again, time to be questioned.
Time to be wasted.
I entered the hallways, each step helping me settle the storm that raged inside of me—the conflict awakened by the Empress's accusing words.
My name tasted bitter on the tongues of the common folk, my very existence only proof of the cruel misfortune and misery rampant in the world—I was the widely accepted catalyst. Nowadays only the deranged dabbled in the occult, carved up bones. With the increased popularity and control of the Abbey, the strange worship of me had come to a quick end. Shrines were burnt and broken, my name now only whispered in hushed fear or screamed in hateful agony. I had gotten used to being despised. There was freedom in being hated, and I had willingly allowed the world to loathe me. I had laughed and rejoiced as the dominoes of the empire continued to tip until all was leveled, and I had done so out of spite. They had made me.
"Mel!" I could hear her calling my fake name, a name presumably nothing like my own.
I kept on walking. Turning corners and passing doors. The Empress's footsteps echoed behind me—she was running. But what was the point? Other footsteps came into earshot in front of me. Two men, if I was to be correct; heavy boots thudding loudly.
"Mel!" The Empress was nearing.
I turned another corner only to stop dead in my tracks. In front of me stood two men I wished I knew less about as I now faced them in the narrow hallways of the tower, their heavy boots halting in front of me. The sudden stop caused the white masks strung at their waists to swing, the light that streamed in from the bordering windows bouncing off of the pale material.
Fuck.
"Mel!" The Empress's voice came from around the corner, light footsteps finally catching up to me. Her sudden silence told me she'd also seen the two men, their eyes drawn to their Empress.
"Empress Emily," one of them—I knew his name to be Darren—began. They both moved to salute the royal behind me. "A pleasure to run into you, Your Majesty." I could feel them watching me from the corners of their greedy eyes, smug smiles on their lips.
"Overseer Darren, Overseer Marcus," the Empress greeted them in return, tone cold and formal.
This wasn't good. Fuck.
Something tickled at the back of my mind, something dangerous. I felt the remnants of the oil, the crackling substance that still traveled my veins. It was vague—like an itch—but a sense of premonition settled over me. A warm hand wrapped around my arm, tugging at it. It was the Empress—and I instantly knew she'd made a big mistake. I glanced at the hand that had just now damned her future with sorrowful eyes, knowing it was too late to change a thing.
"Our meeting still stands at four o'clock, but for now I apologise as you'll have to excuse us," she spoke to both men, increasing the pressure on my arm, once more trying to get me to move.
"I believe we haven't been properly introduced." Ignoring her dismissal, one of the Overseers, Marcus, addressed me instead.
Don't touch him. That was all I could think about. Don't shake his hand. I could feel a shiver scurrying up my spine, nibbling at my nerves. I knew I was expected to react, the other man's hand already rising to shake mine. I also knew these men had handled many magical objects, and I worried they might recognise the remnants of the Void beneath my skin like the Empress had. I had to act and I had to act now.
With as much force as I could muster, I allowed my teeth to sink into my tongue, pain painting my vision with familiar white spots. I started wheezing blood onto the blue carpet, the fluid spilling in red pools. My back and shoulders shuddered and convulsed, crumbling from the pain that shot through me in agonising quantities. The two Overseers jumped back in shock, put off by the blood that continued to fall from my mouth—a vision too eerily familiar of the rat plague. I could feel the Empress trying to hold me up, both hands wrapped around me in support.
"I'm so sorry, but he's very sick, he needs to see a doctor right now." She sounded panicked, voice noticeably heightened. I could feel her pull at me as she tried to get me to follow, to walk away from the wide-eyed spectators.
"Yes, of course, Your Majesty. Please allow us to help." Overseer Darren took a step forward, reaching out towards me. I flinched away, and the Empress appeared to pick up on the gesture, quickly declining the offer.
"No! I'm afraid it may be contagious. I've already been exposed, but it's best if no one else touches him until we've conferred with the Royal Physician on the matter." We stumbled back a few more steps, the two men's gazes following us. "I really do apologise, gentlemen." And with that, the Empress pulled me out of sight.
We fell into a slow run—more like she ran and I stumbled—back towards the library. I could see the windows flash by, bright lights burned into my retina. When we reached the wooden doors, the Empress kicked them open, very nearly throwing me inside—before apparently reminding herself that I was a person capable of feeling pain—instead carefully releasing me. I stumbled to a chair, where I allowed myself to fall as she closed the doors, rushing to my side. Her hands flew to my face, touched my cheeks, eyes frantically searching my features for other possible signs of sickness.
"What's wrong?" She sounded terrified. "What just happened?"
I had a hard time keeping my eyes open, feeling dizzy and weak from pain and blood loss. "Ig bhit thongue." Speaking was a disaster if I ever knew one, each word an atrocity to pronounce. I spat more blood onto the floor, the Empress moving back and out of the way.
"You bit your tongue?!" she asked incredulously.
I nodded sourly, using my sleeve to wipe my face, red blood turning it purple.
"Why?"
I slumped back into the chair, trying to focus through the pain. The blood just kept running, mouth filling up, another red pool forming on the expensive carpet.
The Empress's eyes followed me, hands at my shoulders and ready to help.
"Cudn't touchg." I managed to spit out.
Her brows knit together in confusion. I had to fight hard to keep my eyes from rolling back, head and vision swimming. I raised one of my hands and used it to lift my shirt, showing my freshly healed abdomen. The Empress's mouth fell open, fingers traveling towards the exposed flesh, moving to stroke it. But as soon as they touched the smooth skin, they flew back.
"It burns..." she remarked, holding her hand against her chest.
I rested my head against the back of the chair, feeling the wood dig into the back of my skull. I was relieved she'd removed her hands as fast as she had. The sensation of her fingers brushing against skin had rippled through my insides. It caused my heart to lurch, and I really could not use that right now.
"How?"
I spit another mouthful of blood onto the floor, wondering irritatedly if she was going to help me with that anytime soon. "Shokolof, whgale oilw."
"It healed you?"
I nodded before resting my head again, dizziness taking over.
"You were afraid they might feel it. The magic," she reasoned. "Like I had."
I nodded. "Sawg somthn," I added as I pointed to my head, watching the Empress's reaction.
"What, like a vision?"
Another nod. Her forehead wrinkled, eyebrows drawn together. "How- how can you?"
I pointed at my stomach, at the patch of skin that still seemed to glow when looked at from the right angle.
"The whale oil…" I noticed how her fingers were slowly traveling back towards me again, reaching for the magic that crackled there. I was quick to swat them away.
The Empress sent me a questioning look, but I decided to ignore her. "Wheak."
"Yes, but it's magic," she countered. "It gives you magic." She was starting to sound excited—until something dawned on her, the small flicker of enthusiasm quickly gone from her eyes. "What did you see?"
I moved to speak but the words wouldn't come. Instead, more blood fell to the floor as my body was once again wracked with coughs.
"Oh Void, we have to have that fixed." Her eyes searched the room for an idea, and when something occurred to her she was quick to stand and run towards the hallway. "Wait here!" she yelled, closing the doors behind her.
She was gone for only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. My hands had turned completely red, blood running down my skin, glistening wetly in the sunligh. My vision grew increasingly darker, throat starting to fill with clots. I could see flashes before my eyes, white stars dancing and sparking.
When she returned she was flanked by none other than Sokolov—who moved towards me as fast as he could.
"By the Void!" the elder exclaimed, eyes roving across my blood-soaked face and limbs. "What happened?"
"He bit his tongue," the Empress replied quickly, eliciting a surprised sound from the physician. Sokolov was quick to move, hands gesturing for me to open my mouth. The smell of old musk and spices filled my senses again, dry fingers rough against my cheeks. I could feel the blood spill and run down my chin as I complied.
"This is bad," Sokolov grumbled as he let go of my face, turning to fish something out of his pocket. When his hand returned I was met with the now familiar container of neutralised whale oil. "You're lucky this even works," he spoke grumpily, fingers urging me to open my mouth again. As I did I felt him rub the oil onto my tongue, fresh waves of pain rolling through me. "Don't swallow!" he warned me, carefully watching my mouth.
I could see the glow that emanated from the wound reflected on Sokolov's features, the veins in my face lighting up and drawing strange patterns upon his glassy eyes. The visions were short this time, expanding on the sense of premonition I'd felt earlier. Clearer images swam through my mind, no longer the strange and distant itch they'd been before. They left a sour taste in my mouth, stronger than the oil. When the burn of magic wore off, I spat the last remnants of blood and oil onto the carpet, turning to find the Empress watching me from behind Sokolov. There was a strange look in her eyes, an unfamiliar flicker in those golden depths.
"And what exactly made you bite off half your tongue?" the Royal Physician inquired curiously, eyes capturing mine from underneath his bristly brows.
I breathed in the fresh air, relieved I was no longer in danger of choking on my own blood. I hadn't known how much force was enough to break the skin, so hearing I'd severed half my tongue wasn't as much a surprise. I was regarding Sokolov with a calculating look when the Empress's voice surprised me.
"We ran into two Overseers. He was afraid they'd sense magic if they touched him, so he bit his tongue to fake illness," she cut in.
"I wouldn't call it afraid per say," I objected the use of the word.
"Mhm," Sokolov grunted, eyes never leaving my face. "What made you think this?"
"You've touched him, you should know," the Empress spoke, a little too tense.
The physician shook his head, brow pinched together. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, dear. I don't sense anything."
He didn't? But then again, Corvo had touched me as well, and he'd never mentioned feeling anything strange. Could it be only the Empress was capable of sensing the hidden traces of magic within me?
Said Empress took a step forward, crouching next to Sokolov, face paler than it had been. "The whale oil, how does it work?" she asked, changing the subject, gaze darting between my newly healed wound and the physician next to me.
Sokolov slumped back a fraction, tense shoulders relaxing. Their two heartbeats filled my ears: one, young and fast… the other, old and slowing with decay.
"It's like a bandage." His usually gruff voice took on a friendlier tone towards her. "He's magically wounded, damaged somewhere on the inside. The whale oil fights the symptoms, but not the problem."
The Empress shot him a confused look, glancing back towards me. "That doesn't explain why it's capable of healing him the way it is." I watched her sharp features dance with every word, skin and muscles stretching across the structure beneath. So full of life and warmth, still.
Sokolov inhaled a trembling breath before speaking, eyebrows low and serious. "Humans can be hurt, Lady Emily. Gods cannot."
The Empress escorted me back to my room after Sokolov had returned to his lab. A tense silence hung between us; partly because of our argument, but also due to the revelation of her being the only one affected by my touch. I wasn't keen on exhuming the buried discussion, I had no answers to offer her—clearly she had other plans in mind.
Her voice broke the silence, shattering the peaceful walls we'd built around ourselves. "You know, you really shouldn't run off every time things get uncomfortable," she spoke, eyes not meeting mine.
"I'm not uncomfortable." My voice was steel, shoulders set straight and firm—like architecture. They housed me.
The Empress took a few short breaths, moving to say something but then changing her mind. "It's just... dangerous for you to wander around like that." She sounded genuinely worried.
We arrived at our destination before I could respond, both halting at the double doors. Her hand reached for the knob, thin fingers wrapping around polished copper. She turned it, entering without looking back, expecting me to follow. I did, closing the door behind me without further thought. The curtains had been partially drawn, my room darkened by the fabric. The Empress turned to me, amber eyes aglow in the dim lighting. They stared straight into me, a storm brewing within their depths. She seemed conflicted, like she wasn't sure of what to say next. Her eyes darted back and forth for a bit before returning to my gaze at last, teeth latched onto her lip once more.
"I know I can't pretend to understand your motivations..." She hesitated for a moment, glancing down at her feet and causing her long lashes to dust over her cheeks—funny I would notice such things. "But… next time, tell me if I overstep your boundaries."
I didn't say anything, curiously observing the earnest look in her amber gaze. I had to wonder what had prompted this insight—I was aware Sokolov's admittance had shaken her, she'd been quick to change the subject. Still, I knew she would continue to hold me responsible for some of the terrible things that had happened in her life; most did. So I nodded, aware I wasn't brave enough to hear the sound of my own voice.
She sent me a small smile, hands folded in front of her as she moved to leave the room. I stepped aside, trailing her with my eyes. Her shoulder brushed mine, magic crackling in the air around us. Her eyes flew up to meet my gaze, and I was sure her touch hadn't been an accident. The door closed behind her, but her presence remained—briefly—in the form of a warm and subtle scent. Her scent.
When the air settled and the silence returned, I could hear them again, their songs as sorrowful as they'd been before.
Whales
I'd slept through the entire afternoon, my body having at last succumbed to exhaustion. Sleep had been empty, no dreams to plague my mind as they always seemed to do others'. It didn't surprise me to find that lunch had been left for me whilst I slept, the silver cart parked at the end of my bed. I moved the food towards the window, noticing the setting sun that burned outside. It illuminated the floorboards, painted red stripes across the room. They reminded me of the blood I'd been coughing up that morning—sanguine and vibrant. I sat down into my usual chair, not minding that the food had long gone cold. My body happily accepted the filling substance, soon thrumming with new vigor. My eyes danced across the ocean, touched upon the tumbling waves. They shimmered like stars, orange flecks flickering to life before quickly dying down again—swallowed by dark waters.
The sun continued to drop, celestial stars appearing amongst the clouds. Nighttime was fast approaching. And with it, the knowledge of what I'd have to do tonight. A nervous knot constricted my stomach, throat closing up every time I tried to swallow—suffocated. I was apprehensive to face the woman I'd faced back in Karnaca. She'd set out to kill me, and I'd happily helped her along. What would she do if she saw me again?
I was startled by a set of strong knocks, gaze drawn towards the large doors at the other end of the room. This time it was Corvo who entered, pushing another silver cart inside, identical to the one still in the room.
"I see Sleeping Beauty has finally decided to rejoin the world of the living," he commented dryly, parking the cart next to me. He removed the lid and carelessly dumped the plate onto my lap. "Eat that. We leave in less than an hour."
I sourly watched the steaming pile of fresh brew, still satiated. I obeyed the older man nonetheless, munching on the tasteless goop without protest. I knew I'd need it. Especially tonight.
Corvo sighed as he pulled up another chair, sitting down next to me, eyes watching the calm waters outside. I kept my gaze locked on the plate, examining the substance as it transformed with each bite.
"Emily told me about this afternoon." Corvo's voice rumbled next to me.
I'd learned by now that was to be expected. I'd be more surprised if she hadn't. These people told each other everything.
Almost... everything.
I noticed Corvo's movements from the corner of my eye, large hand disappearing into his vest. He retrieved a familiar object from the folds at his side. "I'm bringing this, just in case."
I watched the neutralised whale oil, the black sludge that danced inside its container. It was nice to know that—if needed—I'd be able to recover, but I had to wonder if there was a price to be paid. Whale oil was extremely toxic to humans, and my blood pumped the substance through my system as it would oxygen. Though Sokolov had removed most of its toxic components, I doubted frequent consumption could be deemed wise. I finished the plate, returning it to the cart. I knew Corvo was watching me closely. He always did.
"You nervous?" he asked.
I turned to meet his gaze, face carefully composed. "No." Of course I was. I had every reason to be.
Corvo nodded, slapping his hands onto his legs before standing. He reached towards the cart, retrieving two bundles. He threw one onto my lap, less carefully than he had the plate before it.
"What's this?" I asked as I handled the material between thin fingers.
"Your disguise for tonight." The Royal Protector's voice was muffled, and when I turned towards him I could see he was already changing clothes.
"I had Emily test your balance; turns out we won't be sneaking around tonight. Much too risky."
I frowned at that. I'd humoured the Empress when she'd asked me to do the book exercise—I hadn't known she'd be assessing me on her father's behalf. "So now what?" I asked curiously.
Corvo pointed a finger towards the bundle sitting on my lap. "That'll do just fine in keeping us safe. Just in case."
I directed my gaze back to the package, taking it apart with care at the Royal Protector's words. Before me I found the common clothes of civilians; muted browns mixed with yellowed whites. Folded between the garments was a black mask, oval shaped. I surveyed the small object, recognising it instantly.
"This is a visard," I spoke sceptically. "Only women wear these..."
Corvo had been tying his pants when he turned back to me, eyes shooting between my face and the mask I held between my fingers. "Typically, yes. But so do men on rare occasions."
I raised one of my eyebrows, not lowering the mask as I continued. "Two men? At the same time? Together?" I questioned.
Corvo switched from his silken shirt to the yellowed wool he'd brought. "Two men returning from the pleasures of the Golden Cat, yes." He pulled out two used tickets, the yellow icon a familiar sight.
I glanced back at the velvet covered object, still doubting the soundness of his plan. "Why visards? Men wear all sorts of masks to the Golden Cat."
The Royal Protector rolled his eyes as he shrugged himself into a worn-looking jacket, several buttons missing from the fabric. "Yes, but everyone knows that those with a visard don't speak. Which will be very important if we don't want to be bothered tonight."
"What if they question us?"
"You can speak and I'll wave alluringly." He gracefully swept one of his hands through the air, illustrating his point.
I fought a groan as I put down the mask, finally unfolding the clothes Corvo had brought. I changed into them and strung the mask at my waist, pointedly ignoring him as he continued watching my every move. He retrieved a bag of supplies from the cart before walking up to the window, opening it, and exiting with practiced care. Crouched on the ledge outside my room, he motioned for me to follow.
"I thought you said no sneaking?" No way was I going to climb out the window.
A large hand grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me out of the sheltered room in one swift movement. I found myself pushed against the ledge, legs still hanging over the windowsill. The wind tore at my clothes, heart beating at a dizzying pace.
"Come on," Corvo ushered, voice low and serious. With another rough pull he dragged me further, my legs scraping against the concrete. I grabbed his arm with shaking hands, trying to get him to release me, but he just swatted them away. "I'm not letting you go," he grit out, eyes searching the grounds below as he pulled me to my feet.
I used my hands to help push myself up, rough bricks scraping my skin. I tried my best to not look down, able to sense the drop without having seen it. Corvo kept on walking in a controlled crouch, hand tightly wrapped around my arm.
I could taste the sea, the wind carrying the waves through the air. Salt.
The moon had revealed itself, lending its faint light to help us find our way. Corvo made his way around a corner, forcing me to follow along. I had started to feel lightheaded, the harsh winds constantly beating down on me, cooling me down until each sensation burned into my skin.
"Don't scream." Corvo's deep voice startled me, but before the words could sink in, I felt the ledge disappear from under me. Tightly pressed against Corvo's broad figure, the icy air ripped into me as we plummeted face-first. My heart felt as it might stop, the both of us falling through darkness, time slowing to an agonising shudder. I fought the screams that clawed at my throat, noticed the windswept tears running from my eyes as they saw nothing but the inky black. And just as I was about to lose the fight against the panic chilling my veins, we stopped.
We plunged straight into the salty waters of the Wrenhaven. Our reckless dive had driven us to harrowing depths, my ears feeling as if they might burst from the deafening songs that resonated from the dark abyss. I clenched my eyes shut, trying to force the ear-splitting noise from my head. It was no use. I felt myself go limp, the river sucking me into an endless vortex. As I opened my eyes, I witnessed a distant flicker of light—miles upon miles away. I realised I knew it, had seen it before. A very long time ago, when ships sailed no farther than the confines of their limited maps. I floated, feeling warm.
Home.
I vaguely noticed Corvo's warm hands, wrapping around my wrists as they pulled me up, dragging me away from the consuming waters and their morbid songs and endless hunger. When the cold air hit my face, I felt my body respond, limbs regaining their strength and fighting to stay afloat. Corvo pulled me on shore, clothes dripping onto harsh rocks. I coughed, water streaming from my lips, escaping my lungs. Had I been breathing?
Corvo's large hand patted my heaving back, slapping against my waterlogged clothes. "You okay?" he asked, voice hoarser than usual. Salt in our throats.
I just nodded, not knowing how I was feeling or how I should. I stared at the river that bled into the ocean, its black waves that continued to dance and tumble—tried to kiss my feet, seduce me. Corvo helped me up, his rough skin—cooled by the dive—an all too familiar feeling. The feeling of death. "I have a boat waiting a few miles up the coast. We walk from here." He was surveying me with a look of concern, features pulled into a worried frown.
I felt my socks slopping in my shoes, an uncomfortable sensation as my skin soaked and softened. Most people wouldn't be this affected by wet feet, I knew; their skins hardened over time. I was newly reborn, with no calluses to protect my tender heels and toes. It didn't help that the uneven shores we traversed sprouted with rocks and weeds. The lapping waters echoed through the silence. River mud stuck to my boots, sucked them in. Over the years I'd seen children trip and fall in grating sludge, blood mixing with the sting of salt.
A small boat awaited us in the dark, hidden away in the reeds. Corvo motioned for me to wait as he approached the vessel, hands searching the muddy waters. I heard the distant cries of the city, electrical surges replaced by the flicker of candles. The usual lanterns had all powered down, the streets lit only by flames and the sliver of moon. I entered the boat at Corvo's order, the vessel rocking beneath my weight. The smells of mud and wood were overpowering, strong enough for me to taste them upon my tongue. The Royal Protector sat down across from me, rope discarded beneath us. A small engine sat perched behind him, easily activated by the pull of a string. The boat roared to life and I knew we were off, no more turning back.
I was cold. My teeth chattered as the boat traversed the river, the winds even wilder out on the open waters. I watched the shore grow more distant with each passing second, dark rows of weathered buildings becoming less and less detailed as we gained distance. Corvo didn't say much, our wet clothing slowly blown dry. I wondered what he might be thinking about, eyes unfocused as he stared ahead; avoiding mine specifically. I vaguely regretted the words I'd let slip the day before. I could see they'd easily chipped away at the burly man and—contrary to what he might expect—I wasn't actually eager to do harm.
"Billie Lurk cleaved her way through Karnaca with a skill and grace matched only by her mentor, Daud. However, where Daud lacked, Billie easily flourished," I murmured to the air, more out of habit than anything else.
I felt the Royal Protector's eyes on me, narrowed slits urging me to get to the point.
"Her first kill wasn't without feeling, not a murder like any other. She'd lost the love of her life on the cold cobblestone streets. The skull she'd kissed so many a night before, now broken and empty. Blood between the cracks." I looked out at the moon, the crescent that had witnessed even more of the world than I had. A lonely vessel floating in the endless mass of space. "She built her first shrine after that—she stole the shrouds from a wealthy nobleman at the old Waterfront. He'd paid for it with his life, his children indebted." I could see the familiar shapes that bloomed on the horizon, the broken down buildings no one had bothered to repair. Perhaps too many memories still lay caged in their skeletons.
"You never spoke to her, did you?" Corvo asked, tone guarded.
I met the man's gaze, lined with the sorrows common to the people that roamed this world. "I can't resurrect the dead, Corvo."
He nodded, gaze returning to the approaching shore ahead of us. I looked at the mask made of velvet, its empty eyeholes. Empty eyes. Void of life, void of feeling. Had I been void of feeling? I'd forgotten what it was like, to live, being detached from the human experience like I had. Maybe I'd seen too much, jaded with time.
The waves grew increasingly impetuous as we neared land, shore covered with lush growth. Corvo was efficient as he jumped from the vessel, dragging the boat ashore. He moved to tie the rope to a nearby pole, testing to make sure it stood securely. He motioned for me to follow, not commenting as we passed the ruins of the Hound Pits Pub. I felt strange visiting here in the flesh. This wreckage filled with the remnants of slumber, dreams of other times. 15 years ago. Gone in the blink of an eye. I could still smell the alcohol that stuck to the stones, wine spilled by garish customers. The air here was strange, aged and thickened by history.
The streets were silent, surrounding buildings in disrepair—abandoned. Rats scurried over the cracked cobbles we walked, their high pitched squeaks surrounding us as they came and went. Corvo put on his visard, clenching the button to hold it between his teeth. I followed suit, velvet edges now framing my vision. I could feel my damp breaths against the fabric, warming it. We took a few shortcuts, entering buildings I knew Corvo had traversed before. My feet were still wet, and each step hurt, skin feeling as if it might tear away at the slightest pressure. In the distance I could see a few flickering candles—people that had taken up life in the ruined buildings.
The streets grew increasingly damp, cracks beneath our feet filled with a steady level of water. Plants grew from their soggy crevices. River krusts could be heard in the distance, their strange purring making for an unsettling ambiance that suited the environment. Old mattresses lay scattered, surrounded by empty bottles and other used containers. The entire place still reeked of plague, as if the past 15 years had never happened. This was the first time I could smell the decay that hung in the air, the wet rot that seeped from the architecture. The water that now dappled the street smelled of feces and death. The air was humid but cold, and I lamented the loss of the clean air of the tower.
Each breath here was acid, burning lungs and stinging eyes.
Corvo led me across broken structures and away from the river krusts, purring to life at our approaching forms. I tripped several times, skin breaking whenever I failed to catch myself. Blood dripped from my arms, and I was afraid the filthy water might enter the wounds. More lights flickered behind closed curtains, people safely confined in their broken homes. I knew we'd reached our destination when Corvo came to an abrupt halt, features obscured by the dark mask—but I knew exactly what he was looking at.
In front of us loomed the enormous figure of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin, marble face weathered but still distinctly recognisable. As I gazed upon those chiseled features, I was reminded of the current Empress. They were similar, yet nothing alike. I heard Corvo's long exhalations, saw the way his chest rose just a bit higher. I knew he wasn't over Jessamine, not even slightly, and I wondered if he ever would be. Most likely not. My gaze traveled away from the monument, to the paths that wound off before us. I saw the occasional bone peek out from the terrain—Overseers, I knew.
Instinct took over and I passed Corvo, making my way to a place I wasn't sure I remembered correctly. He didn't question me, instead allowing me to lead as he followed in forced silence—the mask still securely in place. We entered the large ruins in front of us, the remnants of a wealthier time. My feet moved automatically, climbing several stairs without second thought. She would know we were coming. she'd have seen us before we even set foot inside the large structure. The flicker of candles illuminated the hallways ahead of us, the rubble that lay scattered throwing ghostly shadows across rotting walls. The sense of ruination hung thickly in the air, slowly seeping into our bodies as we passed through one hall after another.
I knew of a man that once traveled these floors, before the water rose. A man in the early days of his youth. He'd come from a moderate family, residing in one of the cleaner and livelier districts of Dunwall. His sharp wits and bold character had served him well in the Chamber of Commerce, quickly climbing the ranks until he found himself serving in the Imperial Court of Empress Jessamine herself. I had seen his potential. Things could have been different here in the Flooded District; ruins would have still bustled with life, the tiles polished and dry.
What a shame it was then that he fell in love.
I'd learned a long time ago that the actions of a single man could ripple in ways often unimaginable. I'd also learnt that Billie Lurk preferred to strike from the shadows, and that her heartbeat would be as controlled as her movements. With a swift turn I reached behind me, hand enveloping a leather clad arm. I carefully held onto it, eyes traveling towards the owner's face.
Billie Lurk crouched behind me with a wide eye, the other glowing dimly within the poorly lit room. In her captured hand she held a blade, its metal surface carefully polished and ready to sever flesh from bone. Corvo was quick to react, removing his mask and coming to stand between me and the dark-skinned woman. I noticed the way his eyes lingered on her eye and arm, fully aware how she had gotten such strange alterations.
"Easy now Lurk," he warned carefully. "We mean you no harm."
Her eye flitted between me and the Royal Protector, a scowl masking her apprehension. But I had heard the quickening of her pulse at the sight of Corvo. She was afraid. "What do you want?" she spoke, words dangerous—like a hissing snake.
I released her, increasing the distance between us. Her Void arm spasmed in the corner of my eye, warning me. Corvo sent me a look, and I hated that I knew what he meant by the simple gesture. I couldn't help the brief trembling of my fingers as I reached for the mask, the muscles in my jaw aching from having been clenched. Billie's suspicious eye bore into me, waiting with baited breath as I pulled the object away, face gradually revealed in the candlelight.
Confusion contorted her brow and added dark shadows to her face—but the angry mask faded as she realised who I was. "No..." she whispered, eye even wider than it had been, mouth open in breathless wonder as she took a careful step forward.
Her hands rose to touch my face, and I was uncannily reminded of another moment in time, unable to recall the context. The movement caused me to flinch, a reaction that had not slipped Lurk's attention. She let her hands to fall to her sides, watching me closely.
"You don't remember." It was a statement, deep voice guarded again.
"No, he doesn't," Corvo cut in, drawing our attention back to him. "Which is why we need you."
Lurk snorted, one of her hands resting on her hip. "Listen here, Royal Protector," she spat the words angrily, "I don't know what you were hoping to find here, but you can't just come barging in expecting me to help." She jutted her chin.
Corvo seemed to falter at her words, chest puffing up to meet her challenge. He took a step forward, towering over the woman with ease. "It's not me who wants your help," he spoke through gritted teeth, narrowed eyes flitting over the woman's features dangerously. "It's Emily." His scowl deepened, a loaded silence settling between the two of them. I could see the shift in Billie when the Empress was mentioned. "Oh, and that guy," Corvo eventually added, throwing his arm towards me, not even turning to look.
Billie's gaze returned to me, a frown drawing her dark brows together. Her face softened a fraction, almost unnoticeable in the darkened hallway. "You've changed." Her voice was more tentative than I expected from her. To say I was confused by her attitude towards me would be an understatement. It frustrated me. I sensed there was something there, an understanding I wasn't yet aware of.
"Rivers change course over many lifetimes." The words tumbled from my lips, their meaning meaningless to the woman before me.
She let out a huff. "Shut up, kid." She shook her head at me, quickly glancing back at Corvo. "Come on, let's talk." She led us to a small room on another floor. It was simple, yet cosy. Notes hung scattered across the walls along with pictures of the Dreadful Wale. I saw a wanted poster of Daud sticking out of a stack of folders; she'd probably taken it with her all the way from Serkonos. The room was lit by a few candles, perched on an old safe, its door hanging open, revealing a collection of objects that cluttered the inside. Trinkets.
I realised that these were all she had left. She was all alone now, ship burned to ashes along with her old mentor.
All things end, all things burn to ash. But you, my friend, burn bright.
She motioned for us to sit down on a pair of rickety looking chairs in the corner, lowering herself onto the bunk bed against the adjacent wall. The mattress creaked beneath her weight, torn blankets bunching up as she sat down. When we were all seated across from each other, an awkward silence settled over us. The candles crackled softly, the air smelling of smoke and stale water.
Billie was the first to clear her throat and speak, eye carefully observing the both of us. "So what do you want to know?"
Corvo took the opportunity to reach into his bag, pulling out the same notebook I'd seen that morning. I narrowed my eyes at the older man; had his memory degraded or did he just like looking prepared? Maybe neither of those. "Everything you know." His eyes bored into the woman in front of us.
"Geez, talk about being non-specific, will you old man." She rolled her eye as she leaned back on the mattress. "Let's see…" She thought out loud, gaze tracing patterns on the crumbling ceiling. "Guess it all started when I went to find Daud."
Corvo nodded; he knew this from what I'd told him earlier.
"Said he had one last job." Her dark eye settled on me, a vortex of inexplicable emotions swirling in its depths. "To kill the black-eyed bastard."
Corvo snorted at the nickname, amused at Daud's apparent dislike for me.
"I'd rescued him from the hands of a cult, the Eyeless. Real creeps. Daud knew they'd have what we needed. To kill him." She gestured to me. Corvo continued to scribble down everything she said, sometimes scratching out several words before replacing them with others. She hesitated before continuing. "They possessed the Twin-bladed Knife used to sacrifice the Outsider 4000 years ago."
I regarded her carefully, wondering how much she might reveal of the events that had passed—judging from what I knew of her, she'd be as concise.
"I stole it."
"Where is it now?" Corvo immediately asked.
"I'm not finished," Lurk hissed, annoyed at the interruption and taking a moment to rethink her words before continuing. "After I got the knife… Daud passed. But I remained persistent in fulfilling his final wish." There was a slight crack in her voice, the only indication of what she might be feeling. "With the knife, all that was left was to find the entrance to the Void itself. So I was led to the Royal Conservatory. Fucking bitches, those Oracular Sisters." Billie spat out the insult, crossing her arms as she did. "I found what I came for: a location."
Next to me the pen continued to scratch across the paper, Corvo minding not to interrupt again. He could be a fast learner, sometimes.
"Shindaerey North Quarry. There, the Void has opened up and merged with our world." I could hear the pen pause momentarily, Corvo's gaze back on Billie, her red eye shining eerily in the candlelit room. "Higher ranked Eyeless were present there—called themselves the Envisioned. Fucking loonies, if you ask me. Lost their minds in the Void mostly, and happy for it. I snuck past them—amateurs. Entered the void without a hitch. Too easy." She stared at the floor, the damaged panels that barely held the place together. "I found him there. The Outsider." Her eyes met mine again before focusing back on the floor.
I felt myself inching forward, trying to get closer as I watched her features—the slight twitch of her brow, the quiver of her lips.
"There wasn't even a final showdown, nothing for me to fight or kill. Just the body of a kid, silently screaming." Her gaze trailed over her Void arm, the dark stones twitching almost involuntarily.
I could hear it sing from where I sat.
"It wasn't right." The words had a tone of finality to them.
I glanced at Corvo as he continued writing, wondering what might be on his mind right now.
"In my hand I held the knife capable of ending the Outsider, the black-eyed bastard we believed responsible for all the shit in the world."
That was what I'd been expecting, that was how it'd always been. So what was I doing here?
"It wasn't right." She shook her head. "And I realised there was another way. All that was needed was his name." My name, that sounded familiar. I'd known that, hadn't I? Why had I forgotten it?
"Daud did it. Whispered his name—his spirit did, anyway. He finally found peace." A slight smile played on Billie's lips. But the moment was short-lived. "And you lived." She tilted her head at me, eye searching mine.
But I looked away, confused. They'd both set me free. They'd decided I deserved another chance. I couldn't believe it—couldn't think Daud would do that, of all people. I remembered my taunting words, the hatred in Daud's eyes. He'd always blamed me. It's what made me dislike him in the first place. He'd blame others for his mistakes, never understanding the gravity of his actions. He'd fallen back on old habits as of late, had projected his crippling guilt onto others. Had blamed me, again.
"What then?" Corvo's voice broke through my thoughts.
Billie hesitated, fingers fiddling in her lap. "I took him home," she confessed.
I looked up at her in surprise, heart pumping in my ears. Billie shrugged at the both of us, most likely at a loss for words herself. I didn't know why she'd take me with her, another mouth to feed. But I could guess there was something more to it, something perhaps even she wasn't ready to admit to.
"We traveled from Serkonos to Dunwall, slept right in this building here." I looked around the room, at the place I couldn't quite remember but still recognised. The broken wood that held the structure together, slowly eroded by water—the smell of it everywhere. "Stayed here for about two weeks. 'Till they found us."
"Who did?" Corvo interjected.
"The Envisioned." Her eyes darted through the room, scanned the papers that hung everywhere. "They surprised us—ripped through the Void, it seemed, and straight into our hide-out. Took the knife, tried to kill him with it. I thought they'd succeeded. He'd disappeared in the flash of an eye—then the whale oil problems started." Her normal hand rose to rub at her face, tracing circles at her temple. "That's all I know, alright?" She sounded tired. Weary with the world. "Now tell me what happened to you, your…" She gestured at my body.
I looked down at myself, clothed in modern day garb. Even dressed, I was unsettlingly skinny, my clothes bunching up in ways Corvo's didn't. I had to wonder if I was even capable of gaining weight with me slowly waning. "I'm dying," I spoke evenly, still perturbed by the assassin-turned-saviour before me.
That seemed to take her by surprise, in spite of having thought me dead until now. "You don't look it," she deadpanned, brow raised sceptically.
"He's deteriorating," Corvo supplied, still busy writing down the conclusion to the story. When he finished he put down the pen with a soft thud, finally directing his full attention back to the conversation. "Sokolov's working on it," he added.
"Sokolov's with you?" she asked in surprise.
Corvo nodded, the confirmation causing Billie to sit up straighter.
"He sailed over to help with the whale oil problem. A problem we now know the origins of, but not the solution."
I played with my ritual rings, watching the steel surface flicker in the candlelight. I knew for certain now: I was dying. In spite of Lurk's efforts, the knife had punctured me and upset what had allowed me to live in the first place.
No name could save me now.
"Why do you think my dying affects the whales?" I asked Lurk, not moving my eyes from the rings.
She didn't answer right away, but I could feel her gaze on me as she thought her own thoughts. "I don't know. The problems started when I thought you'd been killed. Seemed like the logical conclusion." She was earnest.
"It probably is," Corvo interjected, eyes shooting between me and Lurk. For the first time since I'd descended into the human world, an old heart pumping fresh life through ancient veins, I felt something akin to sadness. Maybe it was only a sense of disappointment, but it angered me all the same: what had I been expecting?