They were talking, discussing something. He was there too, dressed in white. He looked better, more put together than I remembered him, but his nails gave him away. Cracks in his facade—they were rimmed with black. He scratched his nose, pale eyes darted through the room—I hid away from his piercing gaze, closing my own eyes as if I'd be less likely to be spotted that way. But within the darkness I found the damning image had been burned into my retinas.
Nails, blackened with grime.
Breakfast. Cleansing. Interrogation. Cleansing. Dinner. Sleep. Breakfast. Cleansing. Interrogation. Cleansing. Dinner. Sleep.
Routine.
Another two days gone. Six days since our arrest. Eight more until our execution, until Corvo and Billie returned. Four until the start of Month of Darkness. Days had never mattered to me in the Void. They passed within the blink of an eye. Now I found myself counting them, keeping track. Had Sokolov understood? Eight more until our execution, if we made it that long.
The Empress and I hadn't spoken after that night. I was relieved to find she ceremoniously forced herself to drink each day, hydrating her weakened body. Her eyes would always find mine, as if looking at me helped, somehow. Maybe it was because I'd been put through the same, yet I wasn't bothered—no, I had other things to bother me. The High Overseer had yet to show his face again, there'd been whispers of a disturbance that needed his attention—I wondered if Billie and Corvo could be responsible. The interrogations executed by the other Overseers hadn't been as taxing as his, but the damage they did each day still quickly deteriorated my remaining health.
It had taken another day for my voice to return after the initial questioning, and as soon as I was able to speak they cut my throat again to see if I'd break. I didn't, instead I passed out. I'd been useless to them so far, and I wondered what they'd need a single name for. The Empress's attitude towards me had changed significantly, but I could tell she was still wary—I was wary too. She'd been observant enough to know my throat was still an open wound, a psychological wound at that. It had made her assault on me during our first night all the more frightening.
She'd tried to hit me where it hurt the most—albeit with good reason—it unsettled me to think about. She'd outed that weakness. She'd taken the most vulnerable part of me, and bared it for the world to see. But in turn I'd allowed for her to be subjected to this, to be captured and sentenced. I had bitten my tongue, and I had watched as her name had been dragged through mud and blood. I had potentially ended her dynasty. If anything, it was abundantly clear we were on equal footing again, more than ever before—and that made me more uncomfortable than her cutting remarks or cruel retorts.
Her mere presence managed to touch upon long-lost fragments of myself, pieces of my past that now haunted my mind. Visions of days gone, of times no one else remembered. I'd carefully stowed those memories away, had locked them in the deepest, darkest corners of the Void. But sleeping—no, existing—next to her, was like staring at snow for too long: it blinded you from your path, and likewise I was losing my destination. My goals, motivations, and convictions had been clear-cut for the last thousands of years, but she burned through them all until none of my icy powder remained and I was left in an uncontrollable puddle of what once had been.
I'd known this. She'd been the first to hear about my sacrifice, the first I reached out to—touched, for the sake of touching. I'd been curious, I'd told myself; there had been no ulterior motive—no strange pull that begged me to get closer, to know her and let her know me... That was the exact source of all my troubles: there was no more me, but her intoxicating presence whispered impossibilities, poisoned my mind with feelings and wants.
I wasn't allowed to want for anything, not anymore. But each time when push came to shove, I found myself unable to resist: I wanted her to live. I stood powerless against her influence, and now I'd been forced to simmer in the heat of her presence, the uncomfortable burn of her constant scrutiny. I'd been lying awake for a while now; another nightmare, I figured. I'd awoken the same way I had the night before, completely drenched in my own sweat and panting to compensate for my oxygen-starved lungs.
She'd been right that first morning, although I didn't remember what I dreamed about, I was painfully aware how certain memories seemed to linger as if unearthed by something. I wondered if she too had been pulled from her sleep, again. She hadn't said anything about it, but I'd noticed her sleep deprived look this morning. A rustle of fabric—she was moving. I felt her eyes as they locked on my form, stare burning holes into my back. I was cold, I realised, the sweat that drenched me had turned the surrounding atmosphere into ice.
I hadn't been aware of my shivering, but it seemed she was. Another rustle followed by the creak of springs, was she going somewhere? Iron scratched against stone, and somehow I knew she was pushing her cot towards mine. My eyes flew open, but I didn't turn to look. Instead I saw her shadow dance across the wall in front of me, before lowering herself on her cot once more. Blood rushed up to my ears as the creaks neared me, heartbeat accelerating. The press of a body: she rested her warm back against mine.
I stiffened at the sensation, nerves sending shivers through my limbs and spine. She wiggled a bit before she settled, letting out a shuddery breath as her body stilled. I kept staring at the wall, eyes unable to close and lungs suddenly gone dysfunctional. She sensed my tension, and I heard her head lift to glance at me from the corner of her eye. I held my breath, just as she held words to herself, thoughts that were loud enough to be tangible within the thin air of the room. I was frightened, I soon realised. Adrenaline shot through me like lightning, jolting my heart into further overdrive.
"Wyman was right... you know?" she whispered, words gentle as they were carefully released from the soft cradle of her tongue.
Breathe. Calm yourself. Nothing was going to happen.
"I do lash out. At everyone." She paused, and I imagined her chewing her lip. "Whenever I get hurt, I yearn to hurt those responsible."
I could feel the way the sounds vibrated within her, the hot press of her back burning through my shirt, revealing the steady beat of her heart as well.
"'All cutting words like the knives you obsess about,' or something like that." A snort escaped her, but I could tell the gesture was disingenuous. "I pushed them away every chance I got, cut them down at every opportunity... as if I hoped for them to fail... Like the world had failed me all those years ago."
I shifted uncomfortably, seared by her presence. She'd helped rid me of the cold, but now the room felt ironically hot. She sighed, body deflating against mine, accompanied by the sound of fabric rubbing fabric.
"Try and sleep, Outsider."
My eyes darted across the wall, observing every bump and imperfection. How was I supposed to sleep with my heart nearly bursting from my chest? I rubbed my feet against each other in an attempt to calm myself, to relax my mind and frenzied body. The feeling of my own cool skin was soothing, somehow, the friction distracting me from my rambling thoughts. How could I get her to move away without tempting her curiosity? I felt helpless—my inner monologue refusing to hand me any useful advice—and soon the heat simmered to a comfortable warmth, spreading through my core. I felt my eyes grow heavier, urged to close by the hypnotising rhythm of her calm breathing—and before I knew it, my consciousness slipped from the clutch of my frantic mind.
Tie it as tight as you can, until the flesh turns purple and starved. Use a strong knot, don't let it slip. Mind the flames, tend to the fire: let it die and all is for naught. Burn more wood, use the cinders. Cut as fast as you can, seal securely, then sweeten it up—golden sugar to keep safe, nourishment to fight the sick. We'll eat tomorrow.
Don't be afraid, a leak in the coast never desiccated the ocean. Don't mind the screams, keep going and the sooner they'll end.
There, purple enough, use the sharpest edge. Don't close your eyes, stay focused. Slice away the rot, purge the impurity. The ruinous needs to be cut, or the black will spoil the flesh. Keep going, think of the cinders. Your hands will clean again, don't worry, the skin won't stain. Yes... do what is asked. Finish the first, then on to the second.
Salvation spills from torn meat, severed muscle, serrated bone—nothing to fret about. I'll wake again, don't worry, let me rest my eyes for a bit. Is the bad gone?
Am I clean?
Sister Yadav didn't say anything when she found the Empress had moved our cots together. I'd awoken to my stomach purging itself until what little I'd eaten now covered the floor. She'd been standing there, cart parked next to her waiting figure, ever watchful gaze directed at me. I could tell something was up—even with her eyes hidden, the tension in her gaze was palpable. A creak alerted me of the stirring Empress.
Purple flesh... Purple to purge the rot.
I'd never liked the colour black, had been frightened of the Void's darkness for a long time. Light the lanterns, colour them purple. Purple was safe. Then she had come and cleansed the purple from my skin, had lit the candles and let the fire paint the walls amber and warm.
Food was offered, and I found my pale hand reaching for it on its own. The Empress moved near me, weight causing the mattress to dip as she accepted the small plate as well. I watched Sister Yadav from the corner of my eye, the tasteless food trickling down the damaged walls of my throat—no magic could heal me from the cycle of daily abuse. I spotted movement beneath the thin stretch of skin at her temple, her jaw tensing ever so slightly—Sister Yadav was noticeably nervous. What would her eyes betray? Such a thing would be impossible to tell with the blindfold wrapped before them.
Another bite, more food rubbing against the damaged tissues within me. The Empress sat impossibly close, the warmth of her skin flaring against me. She was distracting me, filling my mind with unwelcome thoughts and stray tangents. Focus.
Had Sokolov done his job? I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to regain my composure. Two Overseers stood at the door, guarding the exit like they always did when someone was in the room with us. I could see—feel—their gazes as they watched us disinterestedly. They'd grown bored after a few days, disappointed the Outsider wasn't as menacing as they'd expected him to be. On to Sister Yadav. My mind traveled the cold surface of the metal flooring, nearing the tense woman before us. Small feet wrapped in white boots, damaged soles from pacing. Warm hands—warm hand, warm what?
"Hey, are you okay?" The Empress's voice rippled through me like a strong current, crashing straight into my mind.
My eyes shot open, and I found the room to be much too bright for my sensitive pupils. I glanced down to catch her hand on my shoulder, suddenly aware of the wetness that tickled my chin.
"You weren't swallowing... your food, I mean," she spoke in a hesitant mumble, hand gone from my shoulder as unexpectedly as it'd been put there.
I used the back of my sleeve to wipe my face, frowning, annoyed I'd let myself slip too much. My eyes found their way to Sister Yadav's face, noticing the way her lips pressed together a fraction too tight.
Cleansing came. The agonising music shrieked through my core, rubbing the tender spots of my tendons and bones until they felt as if they might crack beneath the sound. The wet slaps of towels being dragged across my skin bounced off the walls like a bird flapping its wings against the metal bars of its cage—its prison. I attempted to shut myself off from the surrounding noise, but the more I tried the more I became aware of each and every minute detail.
Clothes were wrapped around my frame with a hastiness that felt deliberate. I stared down at the damaged floor with feigned disinterest, mind carefully following their every move in an attempt to pick up anything that would indicate further unease. The only unease I could detect dripped off the Empress, clouding my senses with its dominating presence. I knew it was the water that had put her off again, always the water these days.
We'd been returned to our cots when the Overseers surprised us by leaving, taking their cursed music with them. I could sense Sister Yadav's presence lingering behind the reinforced door, her hesitance evident in her actions. I held my breath in hopes of catching something, anything, that might help me understand. The Empress remained next to me, her wary gaze locked on the exit as if someone might still enter at any time. No one did. And as we both sat like statues, our still forms etched into the ever-watching iron walls, the actual passage of time was only hinted at by the melting wax of our single candle. No interrogation today. The usual pair of Overseers never came, and I was only vaguely aware of our dying light. Soon the fire would dissipate and darkness would wrap us in its greedy hold.
Could it be they no longer needed the name they'd so desperately tried to force from the grasp off my tongue?
The sound of a creak startled me, drawing my gaze towards the Empress beside me. She was leaning forward, face scrunched up in a concentrated frown, narrowed eyes stared intently at the windows up above. The room that lay behind was dark, as it had been for days now. With the absence of the High Overseer, no one had stared down on us for a while. I figured the Empress would be just as confused as me by the lack of torture, a thought that came easy enough for it to sting. However, I doubted they'd be watching us, as I suspected the Empress might be thinking right now.
Something else was up, something unrelated to us. I didn't know how I knew, perhaps Sister Yadav's strange behaviour had told me more than I'd initially thought. Or maybe it was the fact that some of the best living assassins would have been wreaking havoc up at Shindaery right around this time. Either way, something had managed to lift the Abbey's focus off of us, and I welcomed the unexpected relief.
I closed my eyes as I allowed my body to slump back down on the mattress, startling the Empress with the sudden movement. I could try to catch some more sleep, give my mind a break from the agony that was my body, but I was certain my dreams wouldn't bring me any peace either. Our candle would die soon, and I wondered if the Overseers or Sisters would come to replace it. Chances were they wouldn't. I'd learned not to fear the dark through centuries of hard lessons—but with the Empress so close there was no telling what my weakened mind might subject me to.
The room was silent, and there was no actual way to tell what time of day it was. For the first time since our capture, I felt the isolation of our solitary confinement creep up on me. A strange sense of loss hung in the air between us, as if we'd both been freshly cut off from our lives, even though I'd hardly had a life to begin with. I wondered what it would be like to die—really die—this time. Would I join the tortured souls within the Void? Cursed to linger and wail in its eternal depths? Or would my consciousness fade at last? I knew that all depended on one single factor, and that single thing lay in hands I couldn't control. If all went as I'd wanted it to, I'd gladly allow myself to sink into eternal slumber.
The Void was currently hungering, and it would choose a new representative to fill the gap left by me. In due time all would be restored, and the Empress would live on in a world unchanged. She might even marry someday, perhaps to Wyman. She would get to be happy, enjoy a rich number of years filled with the love and protection of her father… I didn't open my eyes at the sound of movement next to me, expecting it to be the Empress laying down as well. Our cots still stood side by side, edges touching after she had pushed them together. I felt the warmth that radiated off of her start to heat my skin once more.
Yes, she'd be happy again, someday. It was unlike myself to be optimistic, the world had shown me too much of its rotten core to allow for much, but I found these impossible thoughts seep into the corners of my mind as much as the warmth that teased my right arm. Perhaps these were the thoughts of a dying man, and it was my way of being sentimental. Perhaps I was actively bringing myself down again, reminding myself that such things—such a future—could never be mine. I blamed her presence for it all. Surely my ability to feel things, human things such as hope, had died aeons ago.
I was going to die.
8 more days of my miserable human existence and I'd be dead. Nothing would matter then, I wouldn't matter anymore. I'd be nothing but a dirty little secret, a shameful part of human history. The Abbey would find a new subject to use and abuse for their fear-mongering. Such institutions always did. The Empress would move on, disappointed in herself for her temporary lapse of judgement—the people would forgive her for it, eventually. My title would fade from their minds, to be recalled only by dusty books that retold a history seldom repeated by the common folk.
What had I even hoped to gain?
Maybe it had been another taste of the real thing, the real world... I'd fooled them all, but most of all I'd fooled myself. Lurk had been an idiot to think she could make me keep any promises—my voice was made up of nothing but lies. Selfish. All selfish. As I'd always been, all my fault.
3 more days, more for me.
If I was to find peace then I had to play along. This was still a game after all, but her presence made it hard for me to commit to it. I couldn't force from my mind the soft breaths she took, the air that flowed through her lungs as she rested beside me. I fought the part of me that imagined the rise of her ribs, the way her skin would stretch across muscle and bone, across the beating of her living heart. I had been surrounded by the dead, and now I'd been ripped from my shelter of souls to find myself amongst the living, who wished me dead all the same.
The air was contaminated with her, and each breath I took exhumed me further from my coffin of lies—but I had no interest in such a fate, no desire to chase broken dreams and doomed sentiments. I had watched too many suffer and perish, had seen too much blood spill from the innocent and soak the earth red. Witnessed too many children weep as they vomited their lives away onto the anguish-stricken streets. I had observed the people with unseeing eyes and a lying mind, and I had done nothing.
My redemption lay in nothing but my own rotten corpse, so rot it would.
"That day... your cheek was bruised," her voice was fragile as it broke through the silence. "What did you tell my father?"
I opened my eyes to look at her, only to discover our candle had died sooner than I'd expected—or perhaps more time had passed than I was aware of. An eerie silence filled the room, the woman next to me covered in a veil of black. I could make out the steady beat of her heart, accompanied by the distant ambience of Overseers moving through the building. I found my lips unmoving as my eyes continued to stare.
"Please Outsider... I'll be gone soon," she spoke, as if that small piece of information might yet salvage something. I knew it wouldn't.
My lips parted as the words hung between them, stuck on the tip of my tongue. I was a prison of lives lived and lost, of knowledge wasted on most. "You shouldn't hear it from me," I managed to croak. It was the first time I'd used my voice that day.
She seemed taken aback for a moment, the silence growing heavier before she spoke once more. "I'll never see my father again."
An unpleasant feeling grasped me, pushing down on my chest. I was an idiot.
"Why are you doing this?" The mattress creaked beneath her as she turned towards me, breath now tickling my cheek. My heartbeat accelerated, and I could feel the hairs on my skin rise in response to her nearness.
"Doing what?" I sounded old and weak to my own ears.
She held her breath, my skin quickly growing cold without it. "Pretending." She released the word as if afraid it might die without her to hold onto it. My eyes searched for her still, but only caught sight of more darkness.
Light the lanterns, and he will come. Colour them purple to tempt his tongue.
"To be innocent?" I countered her question, and I knew I had hit a sore spot when she winced ever so softly.
"You know that's not what I-" She was quick to defend herself, and I cut her off before she could finish whatever she was going to say.
"Do I?" I could feel the air around me start to crackle, charged by a foreign electricity.
"Outsider..." she breathed painfully.
"That's not my name." Something had taken a hold of my heart and had started constricting the organ within vine-like fingers, squeezing it until I wasn't sure it could keep on beating anymore.
She had fallen silent, but I could feel her gaze trail my features within the darkness. "Your eyes still glow."
I swallowed something bitter at her words, remnants of moonlight and a white nightgown beneath my fingertips. "Don't, Empress."
She ignored the words, voice only growing steadier as she continued on. "Do you know what it's like? To lose family?"
Another vine lurched from somewhere within me and wrapped its tendrils around the beating organ that pushed against my ribs—my pulsating heart that seemed unbothered by the increasing tightness that wound its way around it.
The skin won't stain...
"No," I spoke with absolute finality, and I felt my heart stutter as it whined beneath the painful grip that tore into it, the ice that had crept up my spine now caused every hair on my body to stand up—as if pulled from me by the strange, yet delicious static that lapped up every inch of my skin. I sensed her crumbling resolve, her disappointed silence. Good. It was all for her- no, my own good.
She turned away from me again, cot creaking beneath her twisting body. Silence took over and wrapped us in its suffocating presence, the short conversation weighing heavily on me. My mind replayed the way she had spoken the words, the unmistakable traces of vulnerability in her voice. There was a new kind of hurt within me, and I didn't dare acknowledge its existence or its cause. I willed myself to be angry instead—angry at humanity, angry at myself. I could sense the building quieting down already, announcing the death of another day, another day wasted. Meaningless.
They came spewing prophecies; rediscovered truths and long lost beliefs. Above all they promised prosperity, wealth, and nourishment for the starving. They would save our dying town, our damned gathering of beggars and thieves—kept poor by pretentious samaritans. They marched the cobbled streets in robes of virgin white, holding banners and preaching sacred texts. Soon they built a chapel, a safe haven for many in these barren lands.
The Eyeless, they called themselves; claiming they were blind to the newly proposed beyond. They spoke of said beyond, the Void—they warned us of the eternal darkness that mirrored our dimension, swallowed it piece by piece. The end was coming, a dark storm would brew. At first most were sceptical, the people here had been hardened by the ruthless environment they inhabited. But as time passed and the world around them changed, so did their minds, one by one. Darkness had come early, and most of them hadn't been prepared. Rations were currently too scarce to deal with the shadow months, and some were considering setting sail to more welcoming lands to spend the winter—perhaps the rest of their lives.
It all spiralled further down once the fish began dying, hundreds of them piling up along the shores, the acrid stench of rot making it impossible to go near them without losing consciousness. Those who'd already made it out had been the lucky ones, the rest were stuck here, the surrounding terrain impossible to traverse by foot. Those who hadn't yet fallen into despair turned to the Eyeless, clutching the fabric of their robes within their bony fingers, begging for salvation. The dead were piling up in the streets, their belongings stolen from their bodies. Sometimes they didn't care whether you were dead or not, they'd take your boots and pelts either way. The only place that offered any protection, any form of safety, was the chapel. The sick gathered there, seeking shelter and provisions—they always left dressed in robes of virgin white.
The only way we were able to tell the arrival of morning was due to the daily drone of Strictures. The Overseers were gathered within the building, repeating their gospel until the sentences became indistinguishable from one another. Their voices were like static, merging with the natural acoustic of the architecture until they became part of the structure itself.
I'd searched the room for water, and had been lucky to find the hose despite the darkness. I made sure she'd gotten her share, unable to tell how she felt about it without being able to see her. After that we continued our silence, the background noise of the building the only thing to keep us occupied in the darkness. After a while I found all sounds became impossible to recognise, twisted too much by the boredom of my own mind. Whenever I closed my eyes, I'd be plagued with the visions from my dreams, dead memories. I was crumbling from the inside, organs gripped by invisible vices. Breathing became more of a challenge the longer I spent within the suffocating darkness, the air becoming increasingly thick.
"Do you remember your name?" A careful whisper, a question wrapped in delicate silk—words that violently cut through me nonetheless. "You're to be executed, you might as well tell someone." She breathed the words with such delicacy that I wasn't even sure if she had said anything at all. Perhaps she hadn't, and it was my mind playing wishful tricks on me, twisting the ambience into voices, into more torture.
My lips parted to allow a shuddery breath to pass their hold, tongue darting out to wet them. Every sound I made was deafening, heart beating like an ancient drum and filling the room with its song. She was right, I was going to die soon. The growing torment within me made it hard to hold on to my anger. These would be my final passing moments; the final memories of my existence would consist of darkness and hushed voices. There was a small crack within me, a leak in the coast... I felt the coolness that pooled out of it and wrapped itself around my bones. I thought of the chorus consisting of nothing but my name, the beckoning call that begged for me to come. The sound of it had raised the hairs on my arms along with countless questions I realised I would never be able to answer. There would be no more answers.
When the words left my mouth, I found myself wondering if I'd actually spoken them out loud—but I knew the strange and foreign vibrations that tickled my throat were unmistakable. "The waves whisper to me with each foam-filled breath—constant carriers of the songs sung beneath their sheltering cover."
I could sense the Empress leaning in. "What does that mean?" she whispered, the sound made hollow by the iron walls.
I hesitated, allowing the ice to climb up my limbs and take hold of my entrails as I forced myself to accept the truth. "I don't know..." I finally admitted, and the words washed over me and tore at my skin, my limbs—painful. "I don't know," I repeated, as if testing the water... One toe at a time. I felt myself sink away, dragged further down with each admission. I was a drowning man gasping for air. This was something I would never know—a call consisting of a long forgotten name that would never be answered or explained.
Her hands found me and held onto me in the darkness, delicate fingers wrapping around my arms. I realised I hated her, her and everything she stood for. I hated the way her eyes would light up whenever they caught sight of her father, or how they would darken at the slightest mention of her mother. I hated that she had made me want to watch these things and more. Had lured me into her life and had made it impossible for me to turn away. Had made me want to know exactly what made her happy and unhappy all at the same time.
"I never wanted to die," I found myself whispering back, voice strange and shaking, mind screaming to shut up.
Her grip tightened, and I knew it was of no accident, but I was currently beyond caring—I was on my deathbed, only a few more days left. I was tired, exhausted, even though we'd been laying there for hours now, doing nothing.
"Then live." She sounded so small then, as if all her hope had been bundled up into that tiny statement—she was still trying to poke through me, to see whether she'd really been fooled or not. She still believed I could be a good person, deep down.
"I can't." The words were empty, and I could feel them crumble beneath the walls I carefully erected once more. Her grip faltered, fingers growing weaker the more the words sunk in. A silence fell between us again, the surrounding structure that housed our captors growing quieter the longer we laid there. We were two vessels, headed in different directions. She would be swept away as I crashed against the coast, my woodwork smashed to pieces.
Her grip tightened again, fingers pulling at my arms, lifting herself up until hers caged me in an empty embrace. "You say that as if you have no choice—we always have a choice."
My heart lost all control as she rested her head against my chest, strands of hair tickling my jaw. I wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that no one had ever actually been that close to me, or that she had chosen to do so in the face of her own demise.
"Did Jessamine have a choice?" I heard myself asking, and I knew it was the bitterness in me speaking, the hardened pain that had festered with each new disappointment.
"Outsider... You and I aren't very different." She paused, and I felt the blood rise to my head as she continued to lay there. "We hurt those that hurt us with weapons of our own choosing."
"I'm not hurt." But as soon as the words were out I knew the contrary was made obvious by the damning beat of my heart. She was doing it again—again. "Stop it."
A few more days.
She carefully wrapped her arms further around my torso, cheek digging into my chest. "I'm sorry." Her voice cracked ever so slightly, almost as if she meant it.
"For what?" The words escaped me, spilling through the tears.
Don't be afraid, a leak in the coast never desiccated the ocean.
"You must think very lowly of yourself." I could feel the words as they vibrated against my chest.
"I don't think anything." I was confused, a feeling all too familiar when in her presence. So I held on to what I knew, what was common. She was using me, for what I didn't yet understand.
"Your heart tells me otherwise."
I felt a shudder pass through me, breath caressing my skin through the thin fabric of my shirt. "Let me go." I was vaguely aware of the nagging voice at the back of my mind, telling me I shouldn't be held, not like this, not by her.
She was silent for a moment, ear still pressed tightly against me, almost as if she was attempting to hear my innermost thoughts. I felt dazed, and I suddenly noticed the subtle trembling of my hands. She let out a secretive sigh, barely noticeable, before she released me from her embrace and returned to her own cot. My body was exposed to the shocking cold of the room once more, and it hit me with its uncaring chill—almost like coming home.
I lay there, body cooling down without the comfortable warmth of another. I knew it'd only get colder, month of Darkness was approaching—but somehow this cold was different, it felt empty.
"You're scared." I heard her mumble beneath her breath, voice coming from far away. The words sent an unusual sensation through me, causing every muscle in my body to tense up.
"I don-"
"You don't understand," she cut me off, and I felt myself freeze even further, breath stuck in my throat, painful. "Which is why I'm sorry."
I closed my eyes, closed my mind from her strange ramblings—her poisonous presence. I was weak. I had always been weak—weak enough to miss the feeling of her arms as soon as she'd released me.
I knew without looking that I'd been spotted, their nauseating gazes burned into the unfamiliar place I had found myself in. Shit. This wasn't the time to panic, I had to move. If I was to get away then I had to escape first. There was still time. My eyes searched my surroundings for a way out, a way to stay out of sight. My heart flooded my system with adrenaline, every fiber of my being now on high alert—I almost forgot about the ice that bit into the bare skin of my feet, or my stomach that had been empty for days now.
There! A gap between two buildings, just wide enough for me to fit through. My breath left a trail of steam behind me as I moved as silently as I could, the snow crunching with every inch I crawled. They were coming, probably thinking I didn't know they approached—didn't know they were coming for me. I'd heard it all, had seen their nauseating plans laid bare before my eyes; but I couldn't think of them, lest I panic. I held my breath, ears straining to pick up each and every sound. I perched myself up until I was narrow enough to fit myself through the crevice in front of me. For the first time I felt lucky to be skinny, bony frame pushing against the sturdy brickwork as I forced my way forward. I loathed the ice as it bit into my skin, the cold progressively eating away at my feet.
Step by step, I continued to make my way, breath coming in shallow gasps. I could see the light at the end of the passage, the flickering of candles burning in the streets. Darkness had taken a hold of the land for weeks now, unusually early for this time of the year, forcing the village to burn through their rations of animal fat in a frightening pace. The people were despairing, and if what I had learned was true... I was to be the solution. I felt a shudder wrack through me as I bit down on my lip in concentration, attempting to distract myself from my hurting feet. I heard their voices as they most likely discovered I'd disappeared, his voice undeniably present within the chorus.
No... This couldn't be right... He wouldn't. I was sure of it. It had all been a mistake, we'd sort it out. Before me I saw the passing shadows of people as they walked through the streets, unaware of my presence. Just a few more steps and I'd be free, we'd run away—or at least I'd find a way to. We'd go somewhere safe, build a better life there. Something we should have done years ago. We could sail away, live somewhere warm and no longer worry about the deadly cold. I could try to find a job, then we wouldn't have to beg anymore. Yes, that was it, we'd be happy, this was our chance at happiness. One more step, just one more.
When I opened my eyes the room was still dark, making it impossible for me to see. It took me a while to realise the Empress had pressed her back against mine again, a comfortable warmth surrounding me. Somehow I knew she was awake, even though I had no way of telling. Another day come and gone, time continued to slip by me, our final moments creeping closer. In my mind I could still picture the snow covered streets, the agonising cold. I'd been so young...
"I did have family." Something inside of me shifted into place as I spoke the words, a strange and unreal feeling settling in the pit of my stomach as I acknowledged their existence for the first time in centuries. "Sort of..." I felt her tense up against me, holding her breath. I waited for her to say anything, unsure what to do with myself now
She inhaled, back curling, digging into mine. "We really are dying... aren't we?"
"Emily..." I started, but I didn't even know what I was going to say. So we lay there in silence, two beating hearts the only indicators of life within the sea of black. How much time had passed exactly? My stomach felt empty, gut close to eating itself. Chances were we'd get no more food at all. We had free access to water, which was the only thing our bodies truly needed to survive the week. If they'd given up on our interrogation, they most likely didn't see the point in feeding us anymore—it was a waste of resources, we'd be dead soon anyway.
"Would you hold me?" Her voice was frail, devoid of the defiance that usually coloured her tone, like the smouldering remnants of a dead fire.
I felt taken aback by her request, heart skipping a beat at the thought, unable to comprehend why she would want me to in the first place. "Why?"
She appeared to be testing the words in her mind, her silence leaving me apprehensive of whatever she was about to say. I could feel her shift against me, hands fumbling with something. My heart felt unnaturally heavy, its beat filling my throat and making me lightheaded. "I'm scared too."
My mind exploded with reasons why I shouldn't, why it'd be selfish of me even though she had asked for it, why I didn't deserve it, why she couldn't possibly mean it. "I can't." The words stung for some reason, leaving a bitter taste in their wake, the vices that had been there for days tightened even further.
She was quiet for a while, and I realised it had gone truly silent within the building, indicating it had to be night. "What if I commanded you to? As Empress?"
She surprised me again. I felt something tug at the corners of my lips, and I realised I was amused by her words. "An Empress cannot command the Outsider."
She was quick to refute my argument. "But you're not the Outsider anymore, and I'm no longer an Empress. So I'm asking you, the person I have to share my cell with."
I contemplated her argument, almost annoyed that she insisted I was a person, still. It made me uncomfortable, like ill-fitted clothes. There was a disconnect in my mind, a wall that shielded me from humanity. There was no going back to what I once was, I had lost that innocence. Yet I still felt compelled to turn towards her, movements stiff and unsure, pulse almost deafening me. I knew I'd tell myself I did it for her, this was her request, but at the same time I felt as if I was taking something, claiming things that weren't meant to be mine—selfish.
I lifted my arm in the darkness, and somehow she knew, her body responding by pressing into mine. I was overwhelmed by the way she moulded against me, the warmth of her curling up against my abdomen and fitting into place like the piece of a puzzle—like a piece of me. Her scent filled the air around me, her head fitting into the crook of my neck, making me realise how much smaller she was than me. I allowed my arm to go back down, resting it around her waist, the places where our skin touched buzzing with the familiar sting of magic; the electricity that surged through me was close to paralysing, warming every inch of my body, dizzying me with its intensity. She was fuelling a fire within me that melted away the ice streaming through my veins, undid the tightness that had clutched my heart, my innards.
"You saved me twice, from Delilah," she started, and I closed my eyes at the feel of her voice against my chest. "Why?"
I didn't know why, but for the first time in a long time, I felt sad instead of bitter or angry. Maybe it was because I only had a week left to live, or maybe it was because of the way she so easily filled an emptiness within me that had been there for as long as I could remember. "I can't talk about it." There was an unmistakable crack in my voice, but I couldn't bring myself to feel ashamed about it.
She tangled her legs around mine, burrowing into me as if I could shelter her from our situation, her worries. She didn't press the question, and I was grateful for that. Instead she pulled my arm further around her, until my hand rested against her chest, her heart beating beneath my palm. My fingers touched her collarbone, and I found myself mindlessly tracing it.
"I find it so hard to imagine that you and I should have never been able to meet, that you were born thousands of years ago..." she paused, taking a small breath before finishing her thought, "I can't imagine my life without your presence."
"Without the cults and witches?"
"No. Without you forcefully dragging me into the Void." There was a teasing tone in her voice, and I couldn't help but feel amused.
"Thank you," I heard myself say without really knowing why, but she seemed to understand nonetheless.
A silence fell between us, but for once it wasn't loaded or uncomfortable. Instead I felt myself become calm, my body relaxing more the longer we lay there. I took a deep breath, and relished the way my chest pushed up against her and brought me closer, heart swelling with something strange. I noticed how her breathing was starting to slow, and I allowed my own to match her rhythm, until I felt the familiar weight of sleep drag me down into its hold.
They'd followed me, somehow. I could feel the sting of bile at the back of my throat as my entire body went numb, skin growing cold and feverish as fear caused me to break out in sweat. I heard them around the corner, could hear how the snow cracked beneath their boots—his voice unmistakable. No. No, this couldn't be. We couldn't run... We had nowhere to run. A whimper from beneath, a broken body long cut to pieces. I scanned the walls, searched each and every corner; no way out. A call, and the whimpers ceased—pale eyes opened but couldn't quite see what was going on. Lips parted and gasped for words, gasped for answers. But I stood helplessly. Damned. Soon they would find us here—they would come to take me away.
Think. It couldn't end like this.
My eyes scanned the walls again, searched the ground. Nowhere to hide, nothing to hide with. It was pointless. I'd made a big mistake. No... no, no, no, no, no, no! Again, look again. The voices grew louder from behind the surrounding brickwork, called for me; it was my name that fell from familiar lips. Like lies. Shadows stretched their way across dirtied snow; sludge-like after being trampled again and again.
Time stopped, and I felt myself freeze as I came face to face with him, his hand clasped around the hilt of a blade. The flames of our fire reflected off the metal, glinting ferociously and blinding me with its shine. I felt my senses fade as I watched it all unfold in front of me, body frozen in place. I couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe that this could happen to me... to... I was helpless as I witnessed the horror, as I fought to force myself into motion, to try and stop it. But I was too weak, too small to do anything. I'd led them here, I'd done this.
The snow was soaked red as blood blossomed through the milky powder. Life faded from widened eyes and torn skin turned purple, dead—I realised I never should have tried to run. This was my fault. I'd tried to outsmart the Void, and it had punished me for fighting back. I'd been naive enough to think anything could change, that we could have been happy someday—that I could have been happy. Selfish. There wouldn't be a someday anymore. There would be no more days at all. All because I'd been selfish.
All my fault.
She was there still when I awoke in a panic, her slender frame wrapped tightly in my arms, as if that would keep me from going completely under. She was my lifeline, my sanity. She didn't try to escape my hold as I fought to control my breathing. The images of my dream had been burned into my mind, the darkness of the room dancing with the remnants—pools of blood. I knew I had banned the events from my memory, had locked it all up and had tried my best to forget about it. But the more I tried, the more the world showed me its reality, the echoes of my past always present within every soul I came upon; suffering was as much part of the human condition as breathing. The cruellest reminder of them all was now my only comfort as I tried to process the ancient torment I'd relived, my arms crushing her against me.
In the distance, I heard the Overseers as they patrolled the building, their boots thumping against the marble floors. Another day, our final hours. The thought made me want to hold onto her even tighter, but I knew I shouldn't, it wasn't right. I'd already broken each and every promise I'd made myself, had done exactly what I'd told myself not to do. I'd pay for this, there'd be a price for this kind of selfishness. There had always been a price. Slowly but surely, I was able to calm myself, breathing becoming more controlled and my heartbeat steadily less erratic.
"Are you okay?" I heard her whisper from beneath, body unmoving within my hold.
I couldn't bring myself to answer, didn't want to hear the sound of my own voice. I rather pretended I wasn't quite there, that it wasn't me who used her for comfort. Instead I nodded, and she seemed to pick up on the gesture. She didn't ask another question just yet, allowing me to come back to my senses in silence. I softened my grasp, taking another deep breath before forcing my body to relax. Somehow her scent helped, and I couldn't resist resting my cheek on the crown of her head, ignoring the part of me that scolded myself for my self-indulgence. The panic I had felt in my dreams still lingered, stuck to me like honey, but I was able to ignore the unpleasant feeling that clung to my insides—I separated my mind from my body.
I realised I was thirsty, but I didn't dare release the Empress from my arms, in case she might not want to come back again. After a while I was calm enough to think clearly, and I wondered if she'd been awake for long. I knew I needed to hear something other than my own thoughts if I was to remain sane, so I thought of ways to pass the time, to distract myself from my overly active mind.
"Did you have any plans for the future?" For the first time I was the one asking questions, and it scared me for a vast number of reasons; one of them being that I genuinely wanted to know.
"Am I hearing this right? The Outsider wants to know about some Empress's future dreams?" she teased, and I was grateful she couldn't see the beginnings of a smile that tugged at my lips.
"I just want to know exactly what I ruined."
I was surprised when her heel connected with my shin, the mocking gesture sending a shock through me and causing me to gasp. "That's dark," she protested, fake accusatory tone revealing she was aware I hadn't been serious. She stayed silent for a moment, holding her breath as she appeared to mull over my question. "To be completely honest I never truly gave my future much serious thought... I was always too busy figuring out the present, fulfilling my duties as Empress."
I frowned. "Too busy, or too scared of possible disappointment?"
She winced at my observation, letting me know I hit a particularly sore spot. "For someone who insists they're not human, you sure do know your psychology."
I allowed a bitter smile as I further nestled my cheek into the softness of her hair.
She didn't mention my behaviour, and I was grateful for that. "I..." She abruptly halted her sentence, at a momentary loss for words. "I always wanted to be a painter, like Sokolov..." she paused again, "like Delilah."
"It's not forbidden for Empresses to paint," I offered, knowing how much she'd loved it.
"It's a waste of time. I shouldn't be painting landscapes when my people are suffering..." she sighed, body shifting in my hold to get more comfortable. I could tell she wanted to say more, the words hanging in the air between us. "I would have loved to have a daughter." The admission surprised me, I had never taken her to be the motherly type, yet somehow it made sense. "What about you?"
I stiffened at the question. "If I wanted a daughter?"
The Empress laughed at that, the vibrations bubbling through my chest, filling my veins with lightness. "No, I mean if you had any plans, you know, before you died."
"Oh..." My fingers found the collar of her shirt and started playing with the material, "I don't really think so." I was lying, and for some reason I felt bad about it. I bit my tongue for a moment, forcing myself to think of a better answer. "I mean, I wanted to go someplace warm," I corrected, but the admission only served to make me nervous for some reason. "It's not as if it's really relevant anymore." I was rambling, urged on by anxiety, and I bit my tongue again in an attempt to make me shut up.
The Empress made an agreeing sound, head moving beneath my chin. "If you could make plans now, what would you want?"
My heartbeat quickened at the question, skin warming. What I wanted? My lips parted to allow a shaky breath, knowing she would be highly aware of my emotions.
"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to..." she added quickly, probably in response to my silence.
"No, I..." I would have slapped myself if I hadn't looked like an idiot for doing so, "I mean, I never thought about it."
"Too depressing?" she guessed, and I hated myself for shrugging in response.
I was the Outsider, the former representative of the Void. People wasted their lives away in hopes of catching a glimpse of me—sacrificed their closest friends, performed the strangest rituals. I spoke to few, and if I did I often drove them crazy with my cryptic offerings. Talking was something I was supposed to be good at, it was the only thing I ever did. But the words, my language, had momentarily abandoned me as I lay there with the Empress cradled within my arms. Instead of words my throat was filled with nothing but my own boiling blood, veins dancing to the rhythm of my pulse.
A forbidden voice told me exactly what I wanted, but I had learned to be wary of its deceit—lies and ill-fated promises. I stared into the darkness, the layout of the actual room close to forgotten. In my mind I envisioned myself on a cliff, feet bordering the edge. One step forward and I'd fall down the depths of no return. But instead I swallowed it all, pushed down the memory of me, the dead one, the foolish one.
"There has to be something that would make you happy?" She was being careful now, voice turned soft and reassuring.
I didn't know what that was supposed to feel like, it all seemed superficial to me. "I don't think I'm capable of happiness anymore."
She shifted again, turning her head upwards as if she might be able to see me that way, hair moving beneath my chin. "Just think of the thing that would be the least unhappy."
One week left, a few hours together—the desperate feeling that filled me was suffocating. "I think this comes close," I admitted, almost casually, fairly certain my heart could stop any second.
Emily didn't respond right away, and I had to fight the part of me that wished to disappear. "Imprisonment?" She sounded puzzled, unaware of my discomfort.
"No," I licked my lips, closed my eyes to try and partly shut myself off. "I mean not being alone." That sounded even more awful than I had imagined it to. What was wrong with me? "I mean, being alone is fine, I like being alone." That was worse, I'd made it worse.
"No one truly likes being alone all the time…" Emily suddenly moved within my hold, turning around to face me in the darkness, er legs still intertwined with mine. "Would you have wanted to get married?" She was being curious again, sensing my willingness to open up at last, and I swore I could see the shine in her eyes as they searched for me.
I swallowed something heavy at the thought. "I don't know. I don't see myself that way."
"What way?"
I paused, lips parted as if momentarily frozen in the moment. My ears were full of echoes, filled with static. "Alive."
"But you're alive right now." Her hand managed to find my chest, coming to rest on the space above my heart, fingers splayed and palm down.
I was acutely aware of the way it skipped several beats, knowing she would be able to tell. "It takes more than a heartbeat to be alive." I wasn't sure why my voice had dropped the way it did, my usual baritone pitch gone down to a fragile whisper.
I heard her move her head, and I knew instantaneously that she had come closer. "Why are you so afraid of living?" She was whispering, the words caressing my cheek.
Only a few hours left, would I have any regrets? "Same reason most are afraid of dying."
She inched closer, body almost touching mine again. "What will happen… once I die?" she breathed, fingers curling against me.
I lifted my arm, taking hold of the hand she'd put against my chest, fingers wrapping around the delicate limb. I realised I regretted all the things I hadn't said, words forever lost, irrelevant. "Don't worry about it." My other hand travelled towards her face, fingertips finding and tracing the soft skin there, her sharp cheekbones and smooth jawline. My mind filled in the blanks for me, recalled every detail of the woman that rested in front of me. "There's something I want to tell you," I hesitated, and I sensed her anticipation, body pressing against mine, our legs and fingers intertwined. I was feeling breathless, high on something I couldn't figure out. Within the darkness her features lit up, and I wondered if my imagination was playing tricks on me. Her amber eyes locked with mine, lips parted as she waited for me to continue with baited breath. "My name…" I whispered, palm cupping the side of her face, bringing it closer, our noses touching. A thousand years passed me by, flashed before my eyes, yet all I could see was her, all I could do was lay there within the golden warmth of her gaze.
"Emily!" A voice came from behind and ripped us from of our delusional bubble, tore down the imaginary walls that had momentarily sheltered us from the world. My stomach twisted at the sound, eyes widening once I realised why I'd been able to see the Empress in front of me in the first place, the flicker of candlelight now unmistakable.
Her head whipped towards the source of the sound, gaze filled with both shock and relief. I felt frozen into place, mind conflicted and heart slowing beneath the crushing weight that had started pushing down on it.
Turned out, Sokolov had understood perfectly.