Consequences always had a funny way of catching up to you—I'd learnt that lesson better than anyone else. I had been the prime witness of consequence through the centuries. I had watched people face retribution more often than I'd seen them rewarded. As I'd noticed my failing perception, I'd also noticed my quickly worsening inability to stay neutral. I'd been able to salvage myself from feelings for a long time, I knew this particular predicament had been boiling beneath the surface just as long. I'd made a mistake by getting too attached, once, and I thought I'd learnt from it. I hadn't.
And now that I found myself waking—basking in the warmth of the sun, bright rays burning their way through faceted glass—I realised there was absolutely nothing separating me from what I'd done. The day cleansed the night away but did nothing to cleanse my conscience. Not even the cold water that bit into my flesh, until each drop felt like a serrated knife cutting meat from bone, could combat the memory of skin-to-skin contact, of soft planes and arching curves.
I clenched my eyes as I rubbed my face with my hands—hands that had smoothed across long legs, shaped by sinewy muscle. Hands that now scrubbed at my skin until it was red and raw, close to bleeding. She was everywhere: from a small breeze, reminding me of her breath, to the feeling of silk sliding across my frame, like her soft cheek had against mine. I swore I could still taste her on my lips, distinctive scent lingering all around me.
My feet were leaden, ruefully making my way towards the dining room, knowing what I'd have to face. I wasn't surprised to find everyone already seated at the table, their heads turning to see who entered. The Empress sat at its head, as she always did, eyes shooting up to meet mine. She held my gaze as I paused at the entrance, one hand leaning against the door, if only to make sure I wouldn't succumb to my failing legs right then and there. I quickly turned to glance at the other occupants before entering. Billie was looking rather amused and- my blood ran cold, the tickle of her magical eye carressing my skin. She knew.
I was seated across from Wyman again, Lurk and Sokolov flanking me.
"Whoa Mel, you heal fast." The Morley noble looked at me in awe, blue eyes wide with wonder.
"It's my new medicine, it should hit the market soon," Sokolov rasped from beside me, redirecting the noble's attention. I nodded in silence, afraid I'd betray my sins if I uttered so much as a word. As if on cue, the conversation picked up from where it had been cut off by my entrance.
"I've opened up a reasonable budget that should see to your needs while you're away." The Empress's contemplative mind was distinctly audible as she addressed her father.
A warm hand was placed on my arm, drawing my attention to Lurk's conspiratorial features.
"I expect to make my return within two weeks." The timbre of Corvo's voice traveled from the other side of the table. "You'd do well to take caution in the meantime; my absence will be noted."
"Can we talk, later?" she whispered.
"Yes father, I know how to protect myself." Annoyance contaminated the Empress's voice, and the Royal Protector lifted an unimpressed brow.
"Duly noted," he grumbled in response.
"Why?" I narrowed my eyes at the dark-skinned woman, keeping my voice low, aware of Corvo's suspicious glances.
"Meagan will be in charge of the ship I've acquired for the both of you," the Empress continued.
"Because I have something for you." There was a sense of urgency in Lurk's hushed tones.
"Meagan, could you stop whispering during breakfast?" Corvo interfered.
She feigned innocence. "I was just telling my dear Mel what a handsome young man he is." Her voice was mockingly sweet as she batted her lashes at Corvo.
"That wasn't at all what you were saying," I parried, face scrunched up.
"Of course it was, you're just not used to compliments, is all." Lurk feigned a laugh that quickly transformed into a sneer as she turned to the Royal Protector. "You could do to give the kid a compliment, old-timer."
Corvo frowned at the both of us.
I blinked at Lurk, wary of her words.
"As I was saying," the Empress steered the conversation back to business, effectively grabbing her father's attention, "I've managed to acquire a small, but hospitable vessel for the both of you. It has been provisioned accordingly."
I tuned out the Empress's dull planning, shifting my gaze to the windows. They were there, still—waiting. I felt my hands wrap around the porcelain of my plate, body rising from the chair—drawn towards the unearthly music. The Empress's speech wavered, gaze briefly following my form along with the other guests. I ignored their questioning looks, approaching the high structures of glass, the distant sea revealing itself before me. They were waiting there, large bodies invisible beneath the churning of waves. They had come for me. I stood and watched the places where I knew they hid below, their cacophony uninterrupted. I knew the whales possessed eyes capable of seeing both worlds at once, the thin veil that separated us from the mirroring Void non-existent to their gazes. They swam in between the cracks, in the small streams that branched through this dimension like veins beneath skin.
I had been cursed with their eyes once, cursed to watch all that stretched through, next, and beyond. Now I saw only my reflection in the glass, and the shimmering waves that lay just out of reach. It felt good. Normal, almost. I had to fight the bitter snort that threatened to escape me.
"Mel, wait up!" Wyman's voice called after me, light footsteps speed-walking as they tried to catch up with me. "Hey, listen," their usually airy tone was urgent now, a line in between their brows that looked entirely too foreign on their sunny features, "we need to talk."
I continued to walk as they fell into step with me, hands shoved into my pockets in a manner I knew they, and their 'proper' upbringing, should disprove of.
"Then talk." My voice was well-composed in its neutrality.
"Um, okay. Well." They scratched the back of their head, fumbling with the hem of their jacket. "A few days ago, something rather odd happened." They hesitated. "I didn't think much of it at first, reckoning that, you know, I was reading into things." They continued to stumble, words clipped and hasty. "But then the headlines followed, the ones about you and Em, I mean, and there was something I—I think I might have picked up on something."
I stopped, turning to look at them. "Why would you warn me?" I asked before they could get to the point, catching them off guard and causing them to fumble even more.
"Em and I… we care for each other a lot, always have." They glanced down at their shoes, expensive and immaculately clean. "I don't intend to intrude on whatever it is the two of you have... It's obvious you two share some history I've never been clued in on, perhaps she has good reasons of her own, and I respect that-"
"We don't," I interrupted them.
"Excuse me?"
"Have history. We don't."
Their mouth formed a small 'o' as they searched for how they might respond. I glanced sideways, to the window that captured the Wrenhaven within its frame.
"Regardless," their voice was soft yet firm, "it would do me no good to watch and do nothing." We truly were polar opposites, I realised, turning back to them. "There's a man, I forgot his name, he came up to me—only a few days ago, before the headlines." I crossed my arms, watching their expressions intently. "He asked me whether I knew you or not, which of course I didn't—not really. But it's strange, isn't it? And then the other day… Mel, are you… are you in some kind of trouble?"
I suspected they had built a story around these tidbits of information. How I'd seemed uncannily familiar to the Empress and her Royal Protector, how I was carefully tended to by the old Royal Physician, and how Corvo took it upon himself to train me.
"We are not always what others might perceive us to be, you would know, would you not, Wyman?" I tasted their name on my tongue, a delicate flavour, with a history I had gleaned enough of to know better than to judge them only by their appearance. "Sometimes I too ponder the possibilities of escaping the ropes bound to us by our corrupt society, as I suspect you have as well. I can tell you that it pays not to conform, for the demands are endless and taxing. What might the results amount to, if not to your own unhappiness? This body I possess," I paused to look down at my hands, at the two rings meticulously placed around two of my fingers, before turning to gaze at the noble. "Your body." Their eyes rounded. "What are they worth, in the end? Within the Void?"
"I- What do you...?" Their wide eyes roamed my face in question.
"The Empress is as much a fool as the company she keeps," I whispered wryly, turning away, continuing my journey.
Wyman didn't move to follow me, but I knew they watched me go with great confusion. They didn't understand now, but they would—in due time. In due time, all would be revealed, there would be no more pretence. For any of us.
I knocked on Billie's door, her room near mine in the guest wing. The location of said room also explained her acute awareness of what I'd been up to the night prior, the hallway I'd found myself drawn to only a short distance away. She opened the door in silence, sending a dry look my way and curtly gesturing for me to come inside. I did, and I was quick to notice the similarities to my own room; the exact same furniture filled the space, and even the draperies were identical. But then again, all draperies within the tower appeared to be identical.
"We leave in an hour or so, so we don't have much time." Lurk had already made her way across the space, headed to where she'd packed a few suitcases full of clothes and other necessities she'd been given by the Empress. She opened a drawer, pulling out what looked to be her own clothes, the familiar red a stark contrast to the royal blues surrounding us. She used her bandaged arm to hold the pieces in her lap as the other searched the pockets, face twisted up in concentration, teeth gnawing the inside of her cheek.
She clicked her tongue when she appeared to have found what she was looking for, swiftly removing her hand and turning to face me. I recognised the thing she held clutched between deft fingers, its dried surface as disgustingly repulsive in the real world as it had looked from the Void: a taxidermic rat.
"I want you to take this," she urged, straightening her arm and holding out the vile relic.
"Why?" I questioned, turning up my nose at the nearness of it.
Lurk sent me an annoyed frown, a set of lines creasing her skin. "Because I expect you to give it back to me when I return."
It was my turn to frown. "I can't."
"I don't think I spoke clearly so let me repeat that;" Lurk tipped her head, continuing to hold out the rotted talisman, "I. Expect. You. To. Give. It. Back." She enunciated each word.
"I-"
"Promise me." She waved the thing in front of me. "Promise me you'll give it back."
I eyed the object reluctantly, knowing its importance to her, chest constricting with the impossibility of such a promise. I bit my tongue before letting out a weary sigh. "I promise." My fingers wrapped around the relic, its rough texture unpleasant against my skin. I recalled the flashes I'd seen the day before: glimpses of laughter and merry fires. It had been enough to convince me that Lurk and I had developed our own strange version of companionship, two outcasts trying to find their way through life.
I knew that would soon make me the only one she had left in this perpetually dying world. Everyone else had, and would, perish. Her mentor, her friends—I glanced down at the object I held—and her lover.
I returned my gaze to the woman before me—surprised to find her approaching, strong arms enveloping my tall frame. My heart stuttered at the sudden act of affection, the feeling of her warmth pressed against me more comforting than I would have expected.
Like the caring embrace of a mother—before cold, dead skin would hit the snow.
She rested her face on my shoulder, cheek moulding into the curve. I could hear, and feel her take a deep breath, followed by a low chuckle. "Even expensive soaps can't scrub away the smell of you." She sounded amused at the discovery, and I felt her smile through my clothes. She gave my body a final squeeze before letting go, face turning to look into mine as she took a step back, a sad smile decorating her features, softening them. "Take care of yourself, kid." Her hand ruffled my hair in a final gesture of fondness.
I didn't move to correct her, answering her with a subtle smile of my own, in thanks for all she had done. Because no matter how infuriating she could be, she'd helped end my banishment—and for that, I would be forever grateful.
She turned away from me, lifting the suitcases onto a nearby cart before wrapping her fingers around the handle. She sent me a final look of goodbye before pushing, bringing the cart into motion. Soon the door closed behind her, but not before she could throw a final warning my way.
"Don't get her pregnant!"
They were gone. I had watched the ship as it set sail earlier, the vessel leaving port whilst I had hidden within the deceptive safety of my room. I'd been able to pick out the small dot that was the Empress, thin arms frantically waving her father goodbye, leaving a frown on my face. My mood had soured, and I didn't fully understand why. I remained by my window for some time, body unable to move just yet, even after the Empress had gone away, the pier looking lonely without her there.
I was brought back to my current reality, flinching when Sokolov pushed a sharp needle through pliable layers of my skin. The shiny object slid into my vein, filling my blood with more clear liquid. He mumbled beneath his breath as he moved to add more of the dark tinted mixture he'd created, drops hissing as they met the solution. I felt the familiar jolt as soon as it entered my bloodstream, surrounding veins glowing white, snippets of life passing before my eyes. It was overwhelming—almost. I clenched my teeth as I waited for the onslaught of information to calm, the walls of the tower flickering in and out of view as the skies beyond changed colours.
I was left gasping for air, and Sokolov watched me with a grim look. Sweat covered my torso, chest heaving as I tried to calm my racing heart. I could hear time tick on, and it felt like an eternity before I finally recovered.
"I further concentrated the dosage," Sokolov muttered, explaining my strong reaction, a bony hand stroking his matted beard. "You'll feel this one too." He added another drop and the process repeated itself, stealing the air from my lungs. Around me, shadows flickered; swinging corpses and wet blades.
Sokolov seemed tense, hands trembling more than usual. "I think that'll be enough for now. We'll repeat the process tomorrow, give your system some time to adjust."
"No." My voice was hoarse, body shivering from the stress it had been forced to endure. "Put it all in."
"Absolutely not, that would be incredibly dangerous!" Sokolov sputtered, blue eyes widening at the request.
But I had no time for such nonsense—I grabbed his frail hand and pulled it back towards the sack of clear liquid, adding the entirety of the small vial in one controlled sweep.
"No!" Sokolov exclaimed, but it was too late.
Light burst behind my eyes, the magical substance leaking into my blood—I saw a million pathways twist before me, all possible futures. Everything consisted of a jumbled mess, frying my mind. I felt the impact of the endless stream of visions, as well as the cold concrete floor. It was a small taste of what I'd had in the Void—a connection to all things, a rush of exquisite and bone-shattering knowledge—and my skin thrilled at the sensation, even as the high of it burned through me with an ecstatic and terrifying fervour, devouring every piece of me.
And then there was nothing.
When I awoke I had no idea what time it was, or how long I'd been out. The dancing shadows told me I was still down in the basement, hard wood digging into my flesh, suggesting I'd been lifted onto one of the worktables. Cold hands wrapped around my face, turning it side to side for inspection. I felt my eyes flutter open, the world slowly coming back into focus. I felt sick, insides burning with an electrical fire—steaming.
"Easy there," Sokolov's rough voice ushered.
I grimaced as I attempted to sit up, a splitting headache forcing me back down. Sokolov's hands helped bear my weight, supporting my back with what little strength they possessed. Familiar flashes swam before my eyes, brighter than they'd ever been. The tower buzzed with sounds of life, and I could hear every tiny detail. Rats in the pipes, scurrying.
It was time.
"I have to go." The pitch of my voice was distorted, torn between times and places.
"You really shouldn't be moving, what you just did could have easily killed you-" Sokolov protested, tense hands still supporting my weight, chest quivering as he fought to suppress several coughs.
I glanced at the elderly physician, face surrounded by a soft glow cast by my blurred vision. "I have to go."
I closed my eyes and filled my lungs with cold air, feeling the chill enter my system as I tried to control the roaring tempest inside of me. Calm. I willed the burning mass at my center to cool and settle. After a few more controlled breaths, my heart slowed, and the surrounding noise ebbed to a more bearable volume.
I attempted to rise again, pushing myself into a sitting position. Sokolov continued to grouse about my poor decision making, but I didn't want to make the situation any more difficult than it had to be—so I had to go. He would understand with time. My eyes searched the table for my clothes, vision still fogged by flashes and static. When I found them, my hands were quick to search the pockets, pulling out a worn piece of paper.
"What's the meaning of all this?" Sokolov stammered, a perplexed look on his face.
I turned to him, grabbing his hand and pushing the piece of paper against the inside of his palm, brows furrowing as I tried to convey the importance of the small scrap. "I need a favour."
Sokolov's eyes flew from my face, to the paper now resting in his opened hand, and back to my face again. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, watching me with a look of complete stupor. Then, hesitantly, he nodded.
I answered with a nod of my own, sliding off the table with some effort. My bare feet hit the floor, and the impact sent flashes of white through my veins. I glanced at Sokolov, who'd unfolded the paper I'd given him, revealing a carefully sketched portrait. His face turned back to me, mouth opening to form a question. I cut him off, shaking my head. I couldn't tell him what it meant right now, but he was a smart man, he'd figure it out.
I shrugged on my shirt, not bothering to grab my boots or jacket. I padded out of the room without looking back, feeling Sokolov's eyes trail after me. The tower felt lonely for the first time since I'd arrived, the hallways deserted and hollow, like an emptied carcass. The whales still sung their never-ending song, beyond the high walls that confined me, and that observation brought me some comfort, at least. I heard the whispers of rats all around me, tiny feet scampering through the pipes beneath. Billie's gift sat tucked inside my shirt. My bare feet were light, making little noise, as if I wasn't really there. Perhaps I wasn't. Perhaps I hadn't been anywhere for centuries.
Up the stairs, cold stones. The walls decorated, grand and lavish. Empty corridors and lingering traces of hushed whispers—the guards had left their posts. She'd be there. How would that have made me feel? How should that make me feel? Almost, getting closer. My heart pounded in my ears, and my lungs greedily begged me for more air, more—more. I felt like running. Strong currents of energy coursed through my veins, vibrated through my bones and tendons. If I lost control, would I explode in a million pieces? Would the energy burst out and take my body apart, like the Void tearing its hungry way into reality?
Who was I?
I entered the room without knocking, surprising the occupants with my bold entry. The Empress's eyes were the first to find me.
"Well, what a convenient surprise." Overseer Marcus stood in front of the throne, gloved hands clasped around a document behind his back, pale mask gleaming in the afternoon sunlight.
The Empress sent me a horrified look, hands grasping the edges of her seat. Wyman was there too, lurking behind her as if they'd been about to leave.
"Mel, what are you doing here?" the Empress questioned warily, an underlying current of fear in her sharply controlled tone.
I didn't reply, gaze trained on the Overseer who studied me in return. His features were hidden, but I'd witnessed enough of him to know what lay beneath the angry carvings of his mask.
"I think I can help you with that, my dear Empress." The Overseer's tone was sickeningly sweet, causing my gut to twist in alarm; my instincts were warning me of what my mind already knew. His gloved hands moved to unroll the document he held behind his back, body turned to address both me and the Empress.
Boots drummed in the distance. More.
"It has been brought to the Abbey's attention, by unnamed sources, that as of the 9th day of the Month of Wind, 1852, Emily Kaldwin has been harboring criminal entities in Dunwall Tower and engaging in blasphemous and or hedonistic activities: among them giving aid and comfort to enemies of the Empire, amounting to treason," he read.
"That is untrue!" Wyman sputtered at the accusations, but the Overseer threw up a hand to silence them.
"It is therefore that the Abbey is forced to utilise all its power to neutralise the threat posed to the well-being of the Empire."
My eyes were drawn to the Empress, and I found her watching me with an unreadable expression.
"On this, the 18th day of the Month of Wind, 1852, Artair Kinley, High Overseer of the Abbey of the Everyman, hereby declares Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin, Empress of the Isles, under arrest for suspected crimes against the Empire: housing, protecting, and giving aid and comfort to an Enemy of the Isles-" Boots halted outside the doors. "-and falling victim to the Wanton Flesh, participating in heretical acts of adultery with none other than the Outsider himself."
I remained as indifferent as I'd been before the Overseer had proclaimed our guilt. What would my feelings change? They hadn't changed anything before. I glanced at Wyman, who held my gaze with a look of pure horror, and I knew the dots were finally connecting in their mind.
"Impossible," they sputtered.
The Empress raised her chin at the Overseer in an attempt to mask her fear, but I'd noticed how her knuckles had gone white—and the Overseer would too. "Proof being?"
Overseer Marcus chuckled darkly, shoulders shaking with the sound. The doors swung open, and in burst a large group of Overseers, all geared up with a familiar device. The magic-dispelling music started playing, and I knew it was over. I could feel it taking effect as the veins in my fingers, hands and arms progressively turned black—the sickening color consuming my limbs and spreading rapidly. My joints stiffened, and a silky wetness started to run down my neck as I felt myself start to choke.
"It is him! It's the Outsider!" one of the Overseers yelled.
My knees buckled, hands shooting to my throat—blood spurting out between my trembling fingers.
"Men! Subdue them!"
I felt the familiar burn of an ancient scream as it ripped through my throat, the sound drowned out by the orchestra of whales. Their deprived voices howled and belted in agony, the ground shaking with their efforts.
"Empress Emily Kaldwin, you are under arrest for high treason and heresy!"
The Overseers paused their music, flooding the throne room, moving to restrain me and the Empress, her voice a high screech—sharp, like clawing nails—as she attempted to fight off the members of the Abbey.
"Mel! Run!" she shouted.
It wouldn't work. I knew it wouldn't work. Nothing would have worked.
Wyman pleaded with the Overseers, denying their lover's sins, denying her knowledge of my identity.
She'd been damned to this fate the moment her hand had rested upon my arm—the moment she'd decided to rescue me—the moment the cold blade had broken through her mother's skin and she'd been taken away by assassins—the moment a cold blade had slit my throat and drawn my blood.
"Mel—fight! " The screech echoed through my mind from far too far away, behind doors that had been locked by a cruel destiny aeons ago. All had already been written in our blood.
I felt the cold texture of gloves as the Overseers grabbed me, several men pushing down on me to keep me restrained, but I wasn't resisting. They pushed my face to the cold floors, twisted my arms behind my back, cuffing them—tying them. I could see her from where I lay, bent and bleeding. She attempted to push off the Overseers, denying her guilt. But she possessed no more magic, and killing them would do more harm than good. And if there was one thing I'd learned in my long, long existence, it's that you cannot fight the ropes that bind you. You cannot escape. I had never been able to escape.
Wyman was weeping as they watched their lover take blow after blow, the Empress not prone to giving up. This was yet another betrayal, another grab for power. Humanity hungered, and this was their feast.
"Please, this must be a misunderstanding! She'd never-" Wyman begged.
The Overseers pulled on my arms as they dragged me to my feet, I felt myself stumble, weakened to the bones. Now that the music had stopped, the gaping wound on my throat was gone as well, the black discolouration progressively draining from my veins. I could breathe, but the air still passed right through me. I fell to the ground several times before they managed to hoist me up successfully.
"These shackles vibrate at the same frequency as the heretical music. Magic will do you no good." I recognised the voice of Overseer Darren as he whispered into my ear with a giddiness that made me sick.
I fought to lift my head, to see the Empress subdued and cuffed, several Overseers flanking her trembling form. Wyman was still pleading, begging for the Overseers to see reason.
"Men, take them!" Overseer Marcus roared, gloved hand shoving the Empress forward.
"Don't worry, I'll be fine." The Empress's words were empty, desperate reassurances meant to pacify her lover, the wide-eyed Morley noble watching on in desperation as their Empress was taken away. Their eyes shot to me, utter disbelief swirling in their depths. I bowed my head as the Overseers pushed me forward, bare feet sticky with my own blood.
I deserved this, did I not?
The brightness of the sun burned my eyes as the Overseers pushed me through the entrance of the tower, more of their kind awaiting us outside. They flocked the grounds, and I had to appreciate the precautions taken; they truly feared me. The Empress followed behind me, usually perfect appearance disheveled, showing the aftermath of her struggle; her dark hair falling loose, strands obscuring her glistening face, forehead pebbled with the sweat of exertion.
They led us around the structure, the high walls shielding us from the harsh scrutiny of the ever-burning skies, our forms temporarily cast in shadow. Still no guards. The Abbey had been swift in their dealings, securing their plea by taking complete control. The whales howled beyond, their mournful sounds clearly audible at last. The gates loomed before us, opening up to reveal a vast mob that had been attracted by the incoming flood of Overseers. I heard them whisper amongst each other, wondering what was going on, wondering if that was Empress Emily Kaldwin who walked behind the young man with bare feet.
I cast my gaze at the rough stones we traversed. They felt cold beneath my feet, and I found solace in the discomfort. Blood stained my shirt and pants, remnants of my ancient wound reopened by the magical notes of music. The murmurs along the crowd grew ever-louder as we continued our approach, wilfully marching on.
"The Royal Protector won't tolerate this," the Empress spat at the men who held her. "He'll make sure consequences are enacted."
The men of the Abbey didn't bother to reply, their anonymity awarding them a superficial sense of safety. We halted, and I kept my gaze trained on the ground, refusing to look into the scrutinising crowd. A sudden pull propelled me forward, towards the figure of Overseer Marcus who stood with arms raised, silencing the masses.
"People of Dunwall!" he started, voice bouncing off the surrounding brick-buildings. "This is the Outsider!" The crowd's whispers grew louder—shocked questions echoing at the mention of my title, swiftly silenced by Overseer Marcus' gesturing hands. "And he has cursed us! He has taken our electricity away! And he has come to gloat!" A ripple of rage erupted from the people, some shouting profanities, others questioning the legitimacy of the claims.
The Overseers responded by playing the music, turning my veins black and cutting through the skin of my throat, blood pouring from the tear. Another uncontrolled scream bubbled from my chest, an echo from a time long gone, and the whales cried louder in response. My knees gave out and the Overseers caught my falling form, dragging me back up to face the now furious mass in front of me. My eyes rolled back, into my skull, black shadows consuming my wavering vision. The music halted, and I gasped for air, for life.
"It's the Outsider!" a man shouted, sounds of shock traveling through the crowd.
"Void have mercy on us," another whimpered.
Overseer Marcus quieted the people once more, gloved hands beckoning for silence. The firm hands released me, my weakened body crashing down onto the stones beneath, a rough voice urging me to get back up.
Marcus spoke, tone authoritative. "And now—in times of darkness—the Outsider has corrupted the very head of our precious Empire!"
I saw several shadows pass me as I struggled to crawl back to a stand, elbows pushing against the stones in a battle of balance. I heard the crowd gasp yet again, and my eyes shot up to witness the Empress, proud form brought into full view.
"Our precious Empress, Emily Kaldwin, has fallen victim to heresy!"
The crowd grew divided, some shouting out in rage whilst others lamented the corruption of their dear Empress.
"She has harboured affections towards the Outsider! She has committed high treason against the Isles!" Overseer Marcus continued.
More angry shouts erupted from the people, to which several of the Overseers nodded in agreement.
"Therefore," Overseer Marcus paused, glancing at the Empress who stood defiantly, head held high and features contorted into a deadly glare, "she shall be punished accordingly!"
People started to chime in, some urging the adulteress to face proper retribution, a few begging for a more measured approach. Overseer Marcus retrieved the same document he'd held in the throne room, unrolling it and clearing his throat before speaking.
"It has been decreed by the Abbey, that Empress Emily Kaldwin and the Outsider are to be sentenced for their heinous crimes against the Empire..."
I finally managed to get back on my feet, knees weak and unbalanced. My eyes were drawn to the people before us, the angry mob that cursed me for everything I had allegedly caused them. For all the misfortunes and sorrows I'd personally bestowed them. For all I'd taken from them, ruining their lives with my pestilence.
"In accordance to their crimes, showing no penitence for blasphemy and heresy, the accused have been sentenced to execution on the 4th day of the month of Darkness, that they might hang by the neck until dead!"
The crowd erupted into an angry chorus, the noise deafening to my sensitive ears. I stumbled forward, towards the Empress, one of my hands clutching my throat as if to close off the wound that had already disappeared. I was surprised when the Empress's small hand grabbed onto mine, raising it into the air in one swift motion, the shackles that bound my wrists tugging painfully. My eyes shot towards her face, only to find her fiercely staring into the mass of people.
She was about to speak when the surrounding Overseers quickly pulled at her, stopped her, halting the words from entering the world. She used the last remainder of her strength to fight them off as they concentrated their efforts into shutting her up. I watched her in silence, stupefied at her will to continue fighting, to not give up on herself or me. Did she really believe her words could change anything? That people would suddenly turn around to support me? If anything, she was making herself look worse.
Overseer Marcus stepped in, tearing my hand away from the Empress's and earning an approving roar from the mob of citizens. "Members of the Abbey," he called, fingers digging into my arm, "take these heretics, and walk them to the Office of the High Overseer!"
"You can't do this!" the Empress cut in, breaking free from her assailants. "Law states it is custom for prisoners to be sent to Coldridge and await their trial—not the Office of the High Overseer," she sneered disapprovingly, jutting her sharp jaw.
Overseer Marcus rounded in on her with deathly precision, gloved hand shooting up to grab ahold of her face, forcibly dragging her towards him in an assertion of dominance. "Heretics of your kind have lost their right to a trial," he breathed darkly, turning to glance at me. "Only the Abbey can judge your sins."
I didn't react to the man's words. If anything, I remained as stoic as ever. I would not give them the pleasure of my anger.
Overseer Marcus merely huffed, promptly turning to his fellow members of the Abbey. "Penance starts now!"
They responded by setting off into the crowd, creating a clear path meant for me and the Empress to walk. Their masked bodies formed a protective line that shielded us from the crowd beyond, flanking our path. It took some forceful prodding and kicking for the Empress to start moving, the strong-willed woman refusing to give in so easily. Rough hands pushed into my back, feet stumbling across the jagged rocks, cutting into my skin and marking my path red.
I listlessly shuffled on, eyes trained on the cobblestone roads that followed. The members of the Abbey secured our way, containing the crowds of people, eager to get a good look at the so-called Outsider himself. I could hear scoffs of disappointment, as well as berating reprimands directed at children, telling them to cover their eyes, else they might become corrupted by my mere presence. Most were angry—furious even. How dare I take their electricity, their safety, and their comfort, away?
"... is that him..."
"... rat faced mutt..."
"... would have loved me some piece of her too..."
"... just a man..."
"... shoo, Mathilde, don't look..."
"... I can't believe it..."
"... lost all I had because of him..."
"... think he'll kill us..."
We progressed at an agonising pace, each step tediously drawn out. The noises around me grew increasingly louder, the angry sounds of the people rising like floodwater. My shackled hands rose of their own accord, attempting to cover my sensitive ears from the racket. I flinched each time someone broke through the lines of Overseers. Most of them attempted to get a closer look, whereas others pulled at my limbs and tested whether or not I'd disappear—somehow—before being dragged off by a member of the Abbey. Some threw whatever it was they could get their hands on: rocks, pebbles, rats, and cans. Objects would hit me, and my veins would light up at the impact, scaring the people.
No one dared bother the Empress, danger was written all over her face. Despite the shackles that bound her, she looked every bit the proud ruler she'd been raised to be.
Suddenly another man broke through the lines, jumping at me with frantic movements. His fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt, and I felt myself topple with the force, hands torn from my ears and elbows catching the brunt of the fall, skin glowing and splitting on the hard-edged cobbles. Spots filled my vision, limbs sliding across the jagged street as I tried to crawl back up. The man who'd caused me to fall was already hauled off, but not without shouting a string of profanities at me. I didn't want to listen, but I could not turn away.
"... disgusting..."
"... serves 'em right..."
"... an abomination..."
"… his eyes creep me out…"
Two hands helped lift me, my head snapping towards the source: the Empress. She watched me with a solemn expression as she held my arm, urging me to keep on going.
"Don't-" I started, but she cut me off, brows knitting together at my protest.
"No, you don't." Anger seeped through her tone, grip just a fraction too tight. She tugged on my arm again, our gazes still locked. I caught the movement of an approaching Overseer in the corner of my eye, so I quickly limped forward, joints still painful from the fall. The Empress remained at my side, despite the scandalised whispers that arose from the public. She didn't speak, sharp nails digging into my skin as she held onto me with a vice-like grip, as if I might dissolve into smoke at any time.
"... she used to be such a good girl..."
"... it's that foreign blood of hers..."
"... can't be trusted..."
I recognised Boyle mansion when we passed it, the grand estate and the surrounding yard still as impeccable as always. Lady Esma Boyle stood at the top of the stairs, silver hair tied in a high and tidy bun. She watched me with failing eyes, but I knew she could see me clear as day. Those close to the Void always could. I met her gaze with measured interest, her once soft, aristocratic features laid to ruin by time—like wallpaper rotting off the panels, flesh creased and curled off her bones. The sight made my skin itch.
Granny, Granny Granny, come out with me instead. Granny, Granny Granny, you can't because you're dead.
The shackles would have contained my magic—if I'd been able to perform any in the first place. Now they only served to force it inwards. I felt my wounds start to close, the high dosage of concentrated whale oil still pumping through my system, unaffected. And for a moment I wondered how Sokolov was doing. Would he have heard already? Or would he be working still, down in the dark basement, a familiar portrait protruding from his pocket.
Kaldwin's Bridge loomed ahead, and the irony of crossing said structure with the Empress in shackles was not lost on me. The waves danced beneath, obscuring the large whales within their depths. The bridge trembled with their efforts, and I noticed the tense Overseers all around us. They grabbed onto me, separating me and the Empress. It took me a moment to realise why, until I noticed the tell-tale spurts of moisture that shot up all around us.
The waters roared as hundreds of whales broke through the surface, blowing high enough to cast a continuous stream of rain on our passing forms, drenching us. Their voices were deafening, and I had to squint my eyes to get a good look at them, their massive bodies flocked together throughout the Wrenhaven. The Overseers feared them, the strong scent of it all around me—their grip on my arms tightened.
"This is black magic," one of the Overseers remarked nervously, masked gaze drawn to the endless herd of maritime creatures.
They were much louder above the surface, their song on constant repeat. For the first time I'd heard them, I recognised their words; it was my name that danced off their tongues as would an ancient lullaby. It was the same song they'd always sung to me, back in the Void even, but now—as I walked with my hands and fate bound—I was finally able to understand. I glanced at the Empress beside me, her face set with fury, amber eyes ablaze. My name had been like an itch I couldn't scratch. But the more I thought about it, the more prominent the memory of my fervorous dreams became. I had floated in that amber sea, the Void momentarily washed from my skin and mind.
There, in the pull of waves and unbidden sentiments, she'd whispered it.
And somewhere along the way, I was sure she'd re-attached what had been cut apart all those years ago. I looked back at the whales, the setting sun bouncing off their glistening backs, their eyes all watching me. If I peered hard enough, I could see myself reflected in their gaze.
"I hate those whales," an Overseer nearby muttered, briefly lifting his mask to spit at the ground. "Harpoon 'em all, I say."
Sunlight continued to hit the falling waters, broken into an array of colours, casting the reddening skies in a liquid aurora.
"They reek," another Overseer added from nearby, sounding disgusted.
The whales had managed to garner the attention of the people, a curious crowd already forming at the other side of Kaldwin's Bridge. They were surprised to see their Empress in shackles, but they were even more surprised once an Overseer answered their questions. Hushed whispers tickled my ears, questions whether it could all be true, whether I was really the Outsider.
The people were calmer here, uninfluenced by Marcus' speech. Instead they wondered and watched, mostly worried about the copious amount of blood that had soaked into my clothes. Some tried to approach the Empress, tried to give her some support, but almost always the Overseers would cut off any who attempted to reach out. So they looked on, as more and more people gathered, surrounding us. The whales grew distant, the streets trembling less and less the farther we moved away. Soon they faded into nothing, our wet clothes and skin the only proof of their efforts.
My limp grew worse with time, until I couldn't walk without someone there to support me. Of course that someone was the Empress, who seemed peeved at my physical weakness. I closed my eyes, too tired to bear any more familiar faces. I knew most of these people, and I also knew most of their stories. Funny thing was, none of them knew mine. I could feel the day pass on my skin, the air cooling as the burning sun lowered evermore. It would be night soon, an observable testament to how far we'd walked.
I was grateful no one attempted to throw anything anymore; my body still ached from the past battering of objects. I knew we'd reached Holger Square when the Empress released me. I opened my eyes and found the world cast in darkness, illuminated only by torches and a sliver of moonlight. The Overseers led us inside, the hallways dancing in firelight, ominous shadows moving up and down the walls. The limited lighting made the ceilings appear almost non-existent, as if the walls stretched on forever—into nothing. They walked us through the hall and up the stairs. Overseer Marcus led our strange parade, and Darren brought up the rear, their sinister presence somehow cooling the atmosphere.
When we entered a long hallway, I noticed a group of women further down: the Sisters of the Oracular Order. They stood in front of a door I knew belonged to the interrogation room. I glanced at the Empress, who'd spotted them as well, straight shoulders subtly tensing up. My feet stuck to the carpet, dirtied with blood and grit. New scars, I knew.
I recognised Sister Rosewyn who opened the door for us, and I noted the wood of the door had been replaced by steel. When I entered the room, I realised the door wasn't the only thing the Abbey had fortified, the walls now reinforced by strong beams of steel too. The familiar chair still stood at its center, and other furniture had been added as well, most pieces shoved against the back wall. The room was still sectioned into two pieces, iron bars seperating a small part at the back that could be entered through another reinforced door. Again, I was impressed by their precautions.
"Unshackle and undress them," Rosewyn barked. "Play the music, Sister Yadav."
A young girl nodded at Sister Rosewyn, handling a small replica of the music boxes.
"Careful now, Sister, I hear too much might kill," her superior added.
A number of Overseers and Sisters encircled us, making quick work of the shackles. My attention was drawn to the barred glass that loomed above, revealing another dark figure hidden in the shadows: the newest High Overseer. He looked on as his men started to undress me, like the Sisters did the Empress. They took my shirt first, the weight of Lurk's talisman lifted off me. I couldn't contain the shivers that rippled through me as my wet skin was laid bare, wrapping my arms around my torso in an attempt to hold onto what warmth I had left.
"Get your hands off of me!" the Empress bristled beside me, but the Sisters paid no mind to her complaints. All the while, the soft notes of music played, gentler this time. My throat itched but didn't open, and for that I was somewhat grateful. "You can't do this, you can't!" Her words ricocheted off the walls, ripping through my ears. She refused to give in, forcing the Sisters to tear the clothes from her body.
When would she learn? The harder she fought the more she'd hurt herself; her efforts only served to deepen the cuts dealt. It was senseless.
We stood, naked and shivering, as our captors moved us to a wall. The subtle flicker of candlelight cast shadows that afforded us at least some sense of modesty. Sister Rosewyn walked up to us, authoritative features set in a satisfied smirk, hands carrying the hose that hung suspended from the ceiling. She turned it on, and we were pelted by ice-cold water, washing the dirt and blood from our bodies. I closed my eyes and grit my teeth, arms still wrapped around myself. I heard the Empress curse at the woman, but I didn't see her face, my eyes mindfully avoiding her. I could imagine her humiliation, her royal status swiftly washed away by the icy stream. Drops clung to my skin and dripped from my hair, pinching me with their cold.
Like earlier, the discomfort brought me solace. It was familiar. It was all the humanity I'd experienced, all I remembered.
I grew increasingly weak, the long walk and hard falls taking their toll. The world spun, and soon, wholly out of my control, my skull connected with the floor, a sickening crunch audible. There was nothing left in me, and I felt myself lose the fight with consciousness. I could still hear their conspiring voices as my world gradually faded to black. Gloved hands picked me up and dried me, dressing me like a child would a rag doll. I floated in darkness, semi-conscious. And it wasn't until what could only be hours later that I felt myself begin to stir, my body resting on an old, hard mattress.
My eyes fluttered open, the world slowly taking shape. A single candle still lit the room, illuminating the Empress where she sat on her own cot, a few feet from mine, legs folded against her chest and chin resting atop her knees. Her hair was loose, and she wore poorly fitted clothes—a simple shirt, loose pants—in a muted grey-on-grey.
"You knew." Her voice was but a broken whisper.
I tried to sit up, but my body felt too heavy, my head as if it'd been cracked open. I was weak. Gravity weighed on my fatigued muscles, made heavier after a week of strenuous physical struggles.
"You knew," she repeated, louder this time.
My hands twisted into the ratty blanket, trying to find some support. I felt sick, stomach lurching dangerously. I drew my legs up, towards my chest.
"You knew!" the Empress shouted this time, and I pointed my gaze towards her shaking form, her head raised, eyes shooting daggers at me. My arms worked to push me up, knees turning in toward the mattress. I lifted myself, slowly, stomach protesting the movements. I fought to swallow the bile that burned my throat, hand shooting up to cover my mouth.
"Look at you," she said bitterly. "Pathetic."
I clenched my teeth as I dragged myself against a neighbouring wall, using it to support my weight, the muscles in my jaw burning with the force. I glanced down at my hands, and did a double take when I noticed my bare fingers. They'd taken my ritual rings, and I frowned at the discovery.
"People are right about you," the Empress continued her bitter tirade, "you are evil."
I snorted at that, followed by a string of coughs. My hand shot back up to my mouth, as if to try and force the choking gasps back in.
"You think that's funny?" She lowered her legs, fully turning her body towards me. "You enjoy sending people off to the gallows, seeing them killed?"
I rolled my eyes as I spoke in between coughs. "You're not dead."
"I'm going to be—all because you refused to help—you damned us both!"
"Don't be naive."
"Excuse me? This all could have been prevented! My father could have stayed—instead you bit your tongue and fucked us all!" She was becoming increasingly irate, eyes wide and unfocused. "My father knew! He told me not to trust you, told me you were dangerous... I didn't listen and now look where I am!"
"Then tell me: what would you have done?" I countered, voice cold and detached. "What could you have possibly done, exactly?" I leaned forward, closing some of the space between us, voice dropping to a deep whisper. "Run away? Fight them? Kill the Abbey in its entirety to avoid retribution?"
"You're really sick, you know that? Fooling me like that, pretending to be some lost little boy, drawing me nice portraits! They're right: the Abbey was right all along! You're evil and twisted, but worst of all you're an absolute coward. I never should have thought otherwise, you were right: I was naive. I was a fool to think you possessed even a fraction of humanity. You disgust me! I disgust me."
I stood from the mattress, ice running through my veins—no, her words didn't hurt me. No one could. I held her gaze as I looked down on her, and I noticed how the walls danced and tumbled all around us, like water. "Get out of your little heroic bubble for once and see the world for what it is; there wasn't a single possibility that could have saved you from scrutiny. You could have offered them my head on a platter, and they would still smear your name because that was their intent, and intent matters," I bit out.
Had they been right all along?
The Empress jumped up to meet my challenge, rage contorting her features into an ugly mask. "We could have tried!" Her angry glare was starting to fill with tears, and her voice cracked in testament to all her pent up emotions. "The least we could do was try. I could have fled, could have kept some of my dignity intact!" She flung her arms in anger, nearly hitting me. Everything I said seemed to further fuel her volatile state.
Was I a coward?
I lowered my face to hers, gaze boring into her amber stare. "There's always a price to pay," I said through gritted teeth, further narrowing my eyes at the woman. She was close now, breath mingling with mine, my face faintly reflected in her burning gaze.
She cocked her head, angular jaw flexing as her dark brows, divided by angry creases, pulled further together. "I hate you."
What good person didn't? It was easy, being hated. It made the world—the people—predictable. I didn't care whether she hated me or not. It wouldn't change anything. I didn't care. I never cared. Never. Caring was for people. I wasn't a person—I was the empty shell of a person filled only with Void and blame. The sooner she would learn that, the better. She'd been a fool for believing otherwise, for tricking me into believing the same, briefly.
The Empress surprised me when she pushed me back, hands hitting my chest with enough force to make me stumble.
"Fight me!" she seethed, parts of her hair obscuring her tortured features. "Fight me, you coward!"
I was pushed further back, calves hitting the cot I'd previously occupied. I didn't move, didn't stop the blows from coming. Her eyes darted across my face, like bloodflies, frantic and glowing. My fault.
"Why don't you fight back?" Frustration further contaminated her tone, anger spiking at my unwillingness to respond. Her fists continued their assault on my chest, battering my ribs with blows that sent painful shockwaves through my body. The light cast by the single candle illuminated the bars, separating our cell from the rest of the room, casting long, thin shadows—like slender fingers, curling around everything. Another blow, and I felt myself lose my balance, falling back and landing on top of the thin mattress. The Empress followed, fingers clutching my shirt and a knee planted on each side of my hips. My torso hung trapped in her hands, the clothing I'd been given wrapped painfully around my skin.
She was panting, nostrils flaring with the effort. I didn't break eye contact, schooling my features to be as unreadable as ever, hiding just how uncomfortable I was starting to feel. We stared at each other like that, suspended in time, almost. My body hurt for a thousand reasons, the Empress now being one of them. I could feel her grip on my shirt tighten, the fabric close to tearing.
"You think I'm good?" She hurled the words I'd spoken the previous night back at me, hands further wrenching at my shirt, shaking me. "Good enough for you to manipulate and ruin, you deranged piece of shit!" She was hurting me. Her hands released me, and I dropped onto the mattress, her fingers quickly wrapped around my throat—around the place where my life had spilled. They squeezed my vulnerable flesh, trapping me. Panic surged through me, flashes of memories, other hands had lain there—hands much like mine. Blackened nails.
"No-" I whimpered briefly, fighting the waves that tried to break me, tried to tear down the dams of my mind. I wouldn't—I wouldn't. The Empress increased the pressure, nails digging into my skin.
"Fight me!" The force of her growl sent me reeling, the world shattering all around me.
"Emily…" I breathed weakly, gasping for air that wouldn't come.
Her lip quivered, silent curses burning in her glistening eyes. Because of me. Her hands suddenly lost their grip, the places where her nails had been now marked by blood.
"Why?" she asked, and in that moment she sounded nothing like an Empress, but like a young girl torn from her mother. I had to wonder what she meant, exactly. Why what? Why didn't I fight back? Why hadn't I told her, or her father? Why had it all happened in the first place? But it seemed she didn't require an answer, her question more closely resembled an accusation: why was I like this?
I turned my head in shame, eyes focusing on the iron bars instead, I couldn't stand the way she looked at me. Right now, all I wanted was to disappear, but I felt more trapped now than I ever had in the Void.
Why?
I'd asked myself that more times than I could possibly count. 'Why' had been the bane of my entire existence, the burning question that had fuelled me, driven me—challenged me. I'd tested the question, first on my tongue, then on the world. Why? The more I questioned, the darker the answers became. It had driven me across lines I should not have crossed, things I should not have done. People, like pieces on a chessboard. All to ask: why? All to try and understand: why me?
When it became evident to the Empress that I would not respond, she appeared to deflate some, anger cooling and making way for mournful sadness instead. The dip caused by her weight disappeared, fingers releasing their hold entirely. I heard her settle down on her own cot, the room feeling hollow now that the brunt of her anger had dissipated. The remnants of her turmoil clung to me like a second skin, incapable of ridding myself of their presence.
I turned my back to her, facing the dark wall instead. I was tired. Exhausted, even. Yet sleep would not come to me, the scorn I'd faced effective at chasing it away. The darkness was suffocating in its quietude. No sound penetrated the thick walls we inhabited, no more music.
For once, all was silent.