"You're drunk."

It was a statement, not a question. Emily dropped her gaze to the floor, lowering the arm that had still rested on his shoulder after she'd ran up to hug him. "Father, I-"

"Do the two of you have any idea of the mess you left behind?" Corvo hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sit," he ordered, an enraged scowl thrown my way.

The room itself was lit only by the hearth's dying flames, charred blocks of wood left to smoulder within its pit. It created a somewhat intimidating atmosphere, the small space surrounding the fireplace soaked in red, its light painting Corvo's features in nothing but scarlet outlines. I couldn't find it within myself to meet his searing gaze, my eyes staring down at the floor as I obeyed, approaching said hearth with balled fists and sorely unbalanced steps. I cursed myself for being stupid enough to let things get this far, the taste of Tyvian wine still lingering on my tongue—almost as bitter as the thought of what was to come.

I found myself wondering why Corvo was alone, mind briefly straying to Lurk, her absence surprisingly tangible. I glanced at Callista, who sat as poised and unreadable as ever, her gaze meeting mine before returning to Corvo. Emily had lowered herself on the couch, leaving enough space for me to join—I was well-aware the wiser choice would be the lone armchair next to it, but Corvo's furious demeanour left me inclined to give in to my spiteful incentives—which I did. I sat down next to his daughter as Corvo rejoined Callista, his aggravated glare flitting between Emily and I.

"Imagine the surprise I felt when the head of the guard informed me of what had passed during my absence?" he spoke, leaning his elbows on his knees, a hand rubbing his face.

"Father, people might hear-"

"No one is going to hear anything. Lurk is making sure of that," he interrupted, inadvertently easing my worries. He let out a weary sigh before continuing. "A vicious lie spread by the Abbey is one thing—a sprouting belief amongst the common people, however, that's a whole other pile of rats."

"What are you talking about?" Emily asked, more timidly than I'd heard her in a while.

"I'm talking, Emily," he hissed, "about how you and the damn Outsider have garnered a cult-following thanks to your little disruption at Lord Heaton's party."

"What?" The word slipped off my tongue, dangling in the air between us, like bait used to lure in hagfish, quickly drawing all eyes to me—the very last thing I wanted.

"Oh, I'll get to you in a minute," Corvo grumbled darkly, returning his attention to his daughter. "Emily, I am beyond relieved to see you're still alive—safe—but I cannot believe, after all that has happened, you would behave so carelessly. Your name has been purposefully tarnished, yet here you are, doing absolutely nothing to abolish that, still associating with the thing that cost you your throne and nearly your life too—for goodness sake, you're getting drunk together!"

"Corvo," It was Callista who spoke, a stern expression on her features. "Your daughter has been through a lot, and right now it is late. I'm sure the both of them are tired and hardly in any state of mind to be discussing these matters." She shook her head, frown deepening. "There is still plenty more to say, let's save our breath for when it is well spent instead of wasted in rash anger."

"Tired?" Corvo started, turning his scowl on me. "I don't care if the damn Outsider is tired—I told the bastard to stay away from my daughter, very explicitly, yet here he is taking advantage of her!"

I was about to speak when Callista interrupted. "Let me make this clear; it was your daughter who pursued him. The Outsider has, despite anything you or I might expect, always kept her best interest in mind." Was she defending me?

"Callista, you know I respect you, bu-"

"Father!" Emily spoke up, fists balled in her lap, an offended frown on her features. "She's right. I did continue to pursue him—I'm the one who insisted we be together."

Corvo's face took on a shade I had not often seen on the man. "Be together?" He stood from the sofa, shocked gaze shooting between the both of us. "Are you out of your mind!" His hands shot up, gesturing angrily. "This is the Outsider you're talking about, Emily, not some commoner for you to court!"

Corvo's words cut me deeper than I liked to admit, the implication that anyone would have been fine but me chafing along my insides.

"You don-"

"I won't have it." He shook his head in fury. "Do you have any idea the kind of thing he is? The irresponsibility of your childish infatuation?"

"Because that's what it's all about, isn't it?" I sneered, fed up as I stood from my place, trying my best to remain balanced, the wine coursing through my blood acting as liquid courage. "What are you going to tell her?" I tipped my head, a cold frown pulling at my brow. "To be 'real'?" I watched as he blanched at the word, furthering my resolve, encouraging my intent to wound and hurt. "Are you going to tell her to 'grow up'? Because that worked so well last time, did it not?"

He took a step towards me, pointing a berating finger my way. "Don't you da-"

"I can tell you exactly what would have happened had Jessamine heeded your words, the slow deterioration of all you had grown to love—everything you would come to cherish," I continued, the words falling from my lips with staggering ease despite their weight, smooth and firm as sanded pebbles. "I can describe in agonising detail the growing resentfulness and bitter condemnation festering between the two of you, ripping apart every ounce of tenderness remaining in the aftermath of your short-sighted commands." I narrowed my eyes, squaring my shoulders as I watched Corvo grow increasingly volatile. There was a pinch of sadness in his dark eyes, sorrow carving mournful lines upon his weathered skin.

"Stop-"

"No! It's your turn to listen!" I cut him off, raising my voice, stunning the man into silence. But the will to cut his soul and bleed his hatred clean had dissipated with the first glimpses of his suffering. I sighed, glancing down at my feet, the small act enough to bring back some of the wine-induced dizziness—and why was my throat closing up? "Because now I tell you none of those words, those mistakes, matter. I chose to mark you, and through that decision something entirely unforeseen happened: I found I started caring again. Because you, Corvo, you were everything I-" I shook my head, trying my best to control my voice, unable to hide its crack as I cut myself off. A part of me was screaming at myself, commanding my intoxicated mind to shut up while I could.

"I looked up to you—because you defied my every expectation." I paused, blood rushing in my ears, the hearth's dying fire dancing at the edge of my blurred vision. I was talking too much, my mouth forming words before my I could think them. "I'm well aware I'm going to regret most of what I'm saying, but at the same time I wouldn't want you judging my character without me having said exactly this. You want an idea of what kind of man I am? Because perhaps you're right; I can admit I'm selfish, irresponsible and petty. But I am as much my faults as I am my strengths, and I am nothing if not sincere—so I sincerely mean it when I tell you you're about to make another mistake, and I don't need the ability of foresight to recognise that."

Emily raised herself from the couch at my words, sending me a hesitant look. "Matvey…" she spoke softly, anxiously, "what is all this you're talking about?"

I hesitated, meeting her gaze, my self-restraint left somewhere at the bottom of an emptied glass of liquor. "You wanted to know why your father hit me that day?" I asked, knowing there was no turning back now. "It's because I reminded him of his biggest regret: rejecting you." I turned back to Corvo, observing the way his jaw clenched and nostrils flared, tilting my head as my eyes wandered his sombrely. "But we've all made mistakes, haven't we? And I doubt you would have been the devoted father you are today had you not regretted those quick insults. In the end, heated words spoken in anger do not define a man—choices do."

Corvo didn't pay much attention to my final words, large hands tenderly cupping his daughter's face, eyes darting between hers. "Listen Emily, I was afraid—your mother and I, we were young and stupid, okay. She had an empire to rule, a council to face. A child born out of wedlock, to a foreign father no less… it was unheard of-"

"It's alright, father, I understand." Emily wrapped her hands around his, awarding him a fragile smile.

Corvo shook his head. "It's not alright—sweetheart, it's the one thing I wish I could take back, my biggest mistake-"

"Matvey is right." She continued to smile that sad smile of hers, wistful eyes glimmering. "Your remorse is testimonial of your love for me." She took in a shaky breath, squeezing his hands within hers. "But love, sometimes, means accepting what you'd rather not accept—no matter how much it frightens you."

Corvo looked down upon his daughter with growing tenderness, thumbs stroking along her cheeks. "When did you become so much like your mother?" His voice was hoarse, loaded with warmth. Emily sniffled in response, closing her eyes when her father pulled her into his arms. He let out a trembling sigh, burying his nose into her hair. "I just want to protect you, you know that, right?"

She nodded against his shoulder, and I stood, watching. My eyes found Callista's, discovering she had been observing me, an unreadable look in her gaze. Her defensiveness gnawed at me, the unexpectedness of her support prompting me to reconsider all I'd thought to understand about her.

"And you!" Corvo spoke sharply as he pulled away from his daughter, a single reassuring hand remaining on her shoulder. I met his gaze, a sense of unease writhing beneath my skin. "Don't think I'm letting you off easy." He narrowed his dark eyes at me, the look menacing enough to worsen my steadily increasing anxiety. "One single misstep, any reason to think you're not to be trusted, and I'll send you howling straight back into the Void with more than just a bruised face."

I winced as I recalled the bone-crushing impact of his fist, the high pitch that had rang through my ears. The thought was enough to make me feel sick—or perhaps it had been the wine?

Either way, vomiting across Corvo's boots had been the least embarrassing thing of the night.

"You're an asshole, do you know that?"

"Mhm," I hummed, groggily, rubbing my face, trying to ease some of the nausea, the grating sound of fabric being scrubbed further punishing my sensitive ears. I opened my eyes, catching Corvo as he stared straight at me, hands busy cleaning the mess I'd created, the sharp smell of soap lingering in the air. Emily and Callista had taken his boots, cleaning them off somewhere, the full layout of Nadia's inn a mystery to me. Meanwhile, I had allowed myself to drop back onto the couch, elbows propped against my knees as I'd rested my face in my hands, fighting the sickness that caused my stomach to convulse in a revolting manner. "I'm never drinking again," I croaked from behind my palms, fingers digging into my cheeks.

Corvo snorted. "First time?"

I nodded, closing my eyes to fight off another wave of nausea.

"You're a pansy."

I didn't bother to bring up Corvo's first time getting drunk; how he'd been reduced to a sobbing mess, blubbering on and on about leather prices and other irrelevant nonsense. "You're a good father."

He continued to scrub, the resulting noise almost loud enough to drown out my mental stream of nonsensical thoughts. "You're just kissing ass because you know you're a piece of shit yourself."

I raised my brows, opening my eyes to meet Corvo's scowl. I wasn't sure what I'd expected to happen between us once he'd find out, and right now I also wasn't sure whether I should be relieved or not at the lack of physical violence—a non-violent Corvo Attano was, in my experience, a chillingly dangerous one. "I think I made friends tonight," I confessed, glancing down to the newly stained carpet.

There was silence, the dying embers of the hearth softly crackling in the background, Corvo's hands pausing their task, still gripping the cloth. I looked up to meet his stare, the fading glow of the fire dancing across his skin. "Did you blurt out their most hideous of moments for their loved ones to hear, too?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, pursing my lips as I considered his question with more thought than I should currently be capable of. "Seeing as they haven't threatened to take away the one thing I care about in this world; no, but we'll give it time."

Just then, Emily and Callista made their return, their approach causing Corvo to grunt in response and avert his scowl, directing his attention back to the carpet, muttering to himself about pots and kettles.

The Royal Protector hadn't said anything when he learned Emily and I shared a room, something that only served to fill me with dread for what was to come next morning. I knew he was holding back, the impact of my words tempering his scorn. Emily had taken it upon herself to guide and undress me, leading me towards the bed with exceptional care, her soothing caress alleviating some of the alcohol-induced sickness. She'd curled up next to me, wrapping me in her arms and whispering reassurances against my skin, promises of enduring devotion. I hadn't realised how much I'd needed to hear those words, and I blamed my sentimental state on my obviously poor tolerance.

Something else I blamed on my poor tolerance was the splitting headache that woke me up the next morning, the skull crushing pain hitting me with fresh waves of agony at every small movement. I was told—as soon as Emily was done laughing at me—that she herself had experienced her fair share following a night out, and that I'd be fine in a couple of hours if I was lucky. Her words did nothing to improve my mood. Something else that certainly didn't improve my mood was the obnoxious cat-calling as soon as we descended the stairs of the main hall.

"My, my, would you look at you, kid!" Lurk called from where she stood near the fireplace, an already moody looking Corvo sitting on the sofa, waiting, brooding. "All grown up and handsome as can be!" There was no such thing as volume control for this woman, and Callista—who visibly cringed at her side—appeared to agree.

Emily giggled beside me, causing my skin to heat—something I desperately tried to cover up with an annoyed scowl.

Billie smirked as we approached, arm and half her face securely bandaged and hidden from sight. "Heard you been sticking it where the sun don't shine."

My eyes widened at the comment, tension gripping my back and shoulders.

"Oh my, I was explicitly told they hadn't fu-"

"Nadia!" I shrieked, scowling at the old woman behind the desk, horrified at her lack of a filter, another wave of pain lashing through my skull. I looked over to Corvo, his cold glare directed straight at me, sending a fearful shiver down my back. I clenched my fists at my sides, knuckles turning white from tension. Everyone was looking at me, their burning stares further scalding my already heated face. I was about to give in to my desire to flee through the front door when two strong arms wrapped around me, very much squeezing the life out of me.

"Come here, you," Lurk spoke as she wrapped me in a tight embrace, hitting my back in what I guessed was supposed to be an affectionate gesture. She took a step back, raising her other hand to ruffle my hair, annoying me by further ruining the already messy strands. "It's good to see you, kid." She smiled warmly, before her lips pulled into an exaggerated frown, emulating a stern look. "Still got my gift?"

"Of course," I mumbled sourly, eyeing the bold woman with distrust.

"Good." She grinned, roughly patting my shoulder for good measure. "You put some proper meat on those bones," she spoke approvingly, turning her satisfied grin towards the woman beside me. "You take good care of him?"

"The best he allows." I could clearly hear the smugness in Emily's voice.

Billie nodded, sporting an amused grin, single eye travelling across our faces, until a sudden shift took place within its depth. She leaned in a little closer, whispering. "I'm sorry about Anton." Her eye continued to dart between the both of us. "Void knows the man was bad-humoured grouch with a drinking problem, but he was a good man." She had taken Emily's hand in hers, squeezing it consolingly, lips pressed into a tight line.

"Let's go," Corvo grumbled as he stood, back to us. I watched as he lumbered towards the door, raking a hand through his short hair as he let out a weary sigh. Callista followed without a comment, hands tucked into her coat's pockets.

"You heard the boss." Billie raised her single brow conspiringly, giving Emily's hand a final squeeze before turning on her heel, moving to join the pair at the door.

I glanced to my side, meeting Emily's gaze, an encouraging smile curving her lips as she took a step closer, hand wrapping around mine as she bumped her shoulder into me. "Come on, handsome." She grinned, teasingly. "Let's not upset father any more than we already have."

The heat that had started to simmer flared right up again at her public display. She pulled me along, my gaze steadily pointed at my feet, growing increasingly self-conscious as we neared the others. Corvo opened the door for us, and I found Samara's chill pleasantly cooled my skin, a much needed relief after all of the embarrassment. The fresh air did wonders for my headache too, every cool breath I took undoing some of the throbbing memory of last night.

"Matvey, was it?" Corvo's gruff voice came from somewhere beside me, startling me with his unexpected closeness.

"Yes." I tried to sound normal, composed, anything but the nervous idiot I currently felt like. Was I supposed to call him sir now?

"Hm," he grunted. "Tyvian?"

"Yes."

Emily squeezed my hand, something I was sure she meant to comfort me with, but instead it made me painfully aware of my clammy palms.

"Nora told me the three of you have been here for some time, is that right?"

Was he making small talk, or was he testing me in fatherly ways I simply couldn't understand? "Yes, it is."

He grunted again, and I dared a brief glance his way, finding him to be staring straight at me, my gaze quickly darting back down to my feet. "I have a lot of questions," he announced, "and I hope you'll be able to answer them properly sober this time." Then, he left as promptly as he'd appeared, crunching footsteps growing distant as he joined Billie and Callista.

Emily let out an offended snort, drawing my attention, a defiant frown knitting her brow. "Welcome to the Attano family," she scoffed, jutting out her chin.

I chuckled, either out of amusement at her words or relief at Corvo's retreat, I didn't even know at this point.

Callista had wisely picked a café that would offer us enough privacy to discuss everything we needed to, choosing a lone table out of earshot of the surrounding customers. Corvo hadn't been too pleased with Emily taking the Empire's funds, but it seemed even he could understand... somewhat. We'd been served our breakfast, Lurk wasting no time as she gorged down on it.

"Let's start with the three of you." Corvo got down to business right away, stern gaze darting between ours. "What happened?"

I looked to Emily, attempting to ascertain her thoughts as I fidgeted with my ring, Corvo's presence stifling the air. She met my gaze, and she appeared to understand my silent plea as she parted her lips to speak. "The Overseers had figured out who Matvey was through a drop of his blood..." she started, eyes dropping to her breakfast, fork shuffling around a piece of food. "They ambushed us, hundreds of them assisting in our arrest. The High Overseer... he read the conviction, sentencing us to execution. We were marched to the Office of the High Overseer, and they held us prisoner there, within the interrogation room." She was concise, factual—the true memory of it captured in the gleam of her eyes. "They tortured-" Her voice cracked, then, betraying some of the pain she stubbornly immured. "They tortured Matvey, continuously—I was convinced he wouldn't survive their treatment. They... they tried torturing me, once.

"It was horrible." She shook her head, a grimace twisting her features. I pressed my leg against hers beneath the table, feeling the warmth of her skin through layers of fabric, offering her at least a small and discreet form comfort. She let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking to my face for a fraction of a second, a hint of gratitude in their golden depths. "It- I couldn't sleep for days after that, couldn't even drink. Matvey forced me to, he kept insisting I pull through even though it all seemed futile. Then, Callista came, one of the Sisters aiding her in breaking me out." She sent Callista a small, thankful, smile before she continued, eyes darting down to her food again. "I refused to come unless they freed Matvey too... But he didn't want to. He believed that if he let himself be executed it would disprove the rumours the Abbey had started—clearing my name and returning me to the throne. I decided to make sure none of that would happen."

"A fool's act if you ask me," I couldn't keep the dissatisfied frown off my lips as I spoke, unable to keep from expressing my grievances.

"A fool who stopped you from throwing your life away," she chaffed, but the words lacked their usual bite, something darker and more sorrowful hiding between the notes of her voice. "We escaped, the three of us. We were headed for Callista's ship when we spotted Lord Heaton's party, his estate a beacon of light despite the Empire's lack of electricity. We sneaked in to find out where the Lord was drawing his power from. We soon discovered the Abbey was involved—and unfortunately we were found and captured again. The High Overseer was there, set on executing the both of us then and there, holding us at gunpoint. He made us dance to entertain the nobles..." She shuddered, a frown twisting her brows, her lips, as her guts probably twisted likewise at the memory.

"The sick bastard gloated in our misfortune. Lucky for us, Wyman came to help us escape, supplying us with whale oil, allowing Matvey to use magic. We got out, and after rejoining Callista we headed for the tower. I left my message there—I'm happy you found it." She looked up at her father, pressing her lips together in a telling smile. "We set sail to Tyvia, and we've been trying to figure out what's wrong with the whale oil and what the Abbey's plans could be ever since."

Corvo reached out across the table, wrapping Emily's hands in his larger ones, squeezing them affectionately. "I'm so happy, so relieved to see you've survived all that..." he rumbled, a sorrowful look shining in his dark eyes, a frown further wrinkling his aged skin. "And I'm terribly sorry you had to live through it in the first place. I- I shouldn't have left you..."

Emily shook her head, eyes glistening wetly. "If you had stayed," she spoke, "Matvey tells me I would have lost you."

This seemed to disconcert him as his frown deepened, gaze flitting to me. "How does he know that?"

Emily hesitated, and I couldn't deny I felt my skin grow cold and my heart start to stutter in apprehension. "He knew everything."

Corvo sat a little straighter, looked at me a little sharper, and soon spoke a little angrier. "You're telling me he willingly let them take you? We could have figured out a plan-"

"No other plan would have ensured Emily's safe return to the throne and your survival. None but mine," I challenged, glazed eyes avoiding his, tensely staring down at my single ring.

"I will not believe that," Corvo growled.

"Father," Emily interfered, "he knew Callista had friends within the Abbey, he's the one who had Sokolov write her, he was ready to be executed just to clear my name. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"He's here, isn't he? Alive? What if he knew that too, what if it was all a farce to get you in his arms and away from the throne?" he argued, his gesticulating shadow dancing across the table.

"Sounds like a stupid plan for someone who kept insisting I shouldn't care for him at all," Emily bristled, an edge of finality to her voice.

A tense silence choked up the air, filled the empty spaces between us, until Billie spoke up, words cutting through the heavy atmosphere. "She's got a point, old man."

"I agree," Callista added quickly, earning a baffled look from Corvo.

"Listen, Callista-"

"It's Nora."

"Nora..." Corvo corrected himself before continuing in a low whisper, "if you're doing this because I didn't write, then I'm telling you I'm sorry okay?"

"It's not about that," Callista spoke sharply, grabbing everyone's attention with her unusual indignation, another silence filling the air.

"I would have written," Billie said suggestively, single eye sweeping across the other woman appreciatively.

I couldn't keep from weighing in, my tongue betraying me as it formed words I knew would do nothing to help my already questionable relationship with the Royal Protector. "I don't say this often, but it was an ass move, Corvo."

"I just apologised," he bit out, frustration reddening his skin.

"What's this about?" Emily's eyes shot between the three of us in confusion, begging for answers.

"It's not important," Corvo mumbled, rubbing his face wearily. "Let's not get side-tracked from the actual issue at hand."

There was another short silence, followed by Emily clearing her throat before she spoke, "so?" She tipped her head, prodding eyes directed at her father. "What did you manage to uncover at Shindaerey?"

There was a tangible sense of relief in the way Corvo deflated at the change of subject, a hand running through his beard as he recalled what had happened. "Nothing good, that's for sure," he started, a grimness sweeping over him that mirrored his mood the night before. "Firstly, the Abbey is currently in charge of the Empire, ruling in your place. They weren't very pleased to see me at the tower, and I figure they'd be even less pleased with my presence if they knew what I've witnessed; the Eyeless have been butchered, what survivors remain are being tortured for knowledge. The Abbey has laid siege of the Void, they're working on machinery—engineering what appear to be some sort of generators." It was a lot to take in, his cut and dry speech doing little justice to the staggering implications. "Meagan and I managed to infiltrate the quarry, salvaging what information we could find on whale oil and its connection to the Void—there was nothing, nothing we could understand at least. There was, however, mention of a ritual island within the Void, the Abbey was looking for it."

"The one Delilah found? Why would they..." Emily pursed her lips as she looked to me, brows knitting together.

My heart beat a lopsided rhythm, a shiver coursing down my spine, rattling my nerves. Suddenly it all made sense, suddenly I understood their plans; their goals. The blood had started to drain from my face, hands turning to fists, the skin that wrapped across my knuckles pulled tight. "They want to resurrect the man who created me," I spoke, feeling as if I was watching myself from far away, the warm candlelight unable to hide my pallor. "That's why they tortured me for his name."

All eyes shot to me, and Emily covered my hands in her own without second thought, delicate fingers wrapping around my fists before speaking. "Why would they want that?"

I ignored the probing stares of the others, gaze trained on our joined hands, tracing the veins beneath her skin. "To control the Void." I looked up, locking eyes with her, mind reeling. "Think about it, if they can unearth the ritual that made me, they could create a God of their own choosing, the Abbey would be able to manipulate the world." I frowned, gaze darting across perplexed faces. "They're already supplying people with their own corrupted source of power, if they control the Void they could become more than what they already are—the greatest united force mankind has ever known. Spreading fear of a self-created and controlled threat."

"Why would you think they'd want that? You were the Outsider, you never served anyone." Corvo's words were blunt, tone doing nothing to hide their accusatory nature.

I turned my attention to him, moving to speak slowly, measuredly, everything to keep the painful ache in my chest out of my voice. "That's because the person in charge of my sacrifice was a narcissistic megalomaniac who let his own vanity rule his decisions. Fact is, they picked the wrong person to sacrifice."

"Weren't you chosen by the Void?" Callista questioned.

I couldn't help but laugh, a bitter and hollow sound. "You think any of those prophecies are true? You think fish died and crops failed because I was the chosen one?" I snorted. "That's just what he told people. He orchestrated the whole thing to gain support."

"So who was he?" Corvo asked, then.

"It doesn't matter," I brushed him off. "All that matters is they might have managed to find his name on their own, and when they find the island they speak of, the whale oil will be the least of our problems."

"So what do you propose?" He tipped his head, obviously peeved at my covertness.

"We get there before the Abbey does."

I felt Emily's grip on my hands tighten, and soon she leaned forward. "Wait, are you implying we resurrect the man?"

"I am," I confirmed, watching her frown deepen at the admission, the remainder of my implications left unsaid, knowing there was only one way this could end.

"Traveling back to Shindaerey would take weeks," Billie argued, crossing her arms, her reluctance at the idea tangible.

"We're not traveling to Shindaerey." I leaned back in my chair, straightening my back as I spoke, "we're going to follow the whales."

Whales. In all my time within the Void they had been my sole companions. No other life had thrived within its vast endlessness—in fact, no other being had managed to stay sane within its hungering depths. The Void corrupted all who remained in its toxic aerosphere for too long, their soul fractured like the very rocks that floated within its empty spaces—like the dark shard that still hummed against my skin. Many had described the large mammals as soulful, otherworldly, and beasts of magic—but it seemed none of the ancient cultists had mentioned them, none but my father. I was convinced it was the final missing piece, the key to the mystery surrounding the whale oil. Whales were the only beings to move between this world and the Void, freely. Could it be there was a crack only they could see? A way to move from one dimension to another? If so, all that had happened would make sense. If not, we would probably be doomed.

"How are you holding up?" Emily asked, snow crunching beneath her boots, the rest of our little group following several metres behind. We were headed for Lurk's ship, after telling them what had happened in the bathtub... at least, parts of it. We hadn't revealed how we'd triggered it, or the fact that we'd been in there, together, when discovering it.

"I'm fine."

"Matvey," she hissed, "you're talking about resurrecting your father and murdering him. It's okay to not be fine."

"He's a dangerous man. It's the only way." I frowned, confirming her suspicions, hoping she'd drop the subject. I crossed my arms, lowering my chin behind the collar of my coat.

"You've taught me there's always another way, a different choice to make." She placed a hand against my chest, forcing me to stop walking, pleading eyes searching mine.

"Not this time," I bit out, lips pressed into a grim line.

"Anything the matter?" Corvo asked as they caught up with us, watchful eyes darting between his daughter and I.

I shook my head. "No, it's f-"

"Matvey! Violet!" A voice rang out from down the street, and we managed to spot the familiar redhead to whom it belonged, flanked by his friends.

"Luka?" Emily squinted her eyes, the constant darkness making it harder to see. The group approached, and it didn't take me long to find Artur in their midst, his gaze predictably staring at the former Empress beside me.

"How are the two of you holding up? Bet you woke up to quite the headache, didn't you?" Luka slapped a hand against my shoulder, the impact enough to make me stagger forward. "I sure did." He grinned proudly, and I didn't miss the way his speech wasn't slurred like it had been the night before.

Emily giggled at my offended expression, directing a conspiring smirk towards the group. "Matvey puked all over my father's feet."

"Your father?" Artur spoke up, eyes leaving Emily long enough to wander the unfamiliar faces with us.

Emily placed a hand on Corvo's bicep, gaze darting between him and the group of friends. "Yes! Meet my father…" She paused, clearly about to improvise. "Marco."

Lurk snickered at the poorly invented name, and Corvo sent his daughter a deadpan look before turning to Artur. The Royal Protector accepted the polite hand as Artur introduced himself and his companions, ending with a well-intentioned compliment about 'Marco's' lovely daughter, and how nice it had been to meet her, of course.

Billie took a step toward them, sticking out a hand which Artur shook with rightful hesitance. "And my name's Meagan." She smiled, single eye meeting the Tyvian's gazes. "I'm Nora's lover from across the sea, I've come to enjoy some time with her and our lovely son." She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, forcing my head down to make up for the height-difference, my back slouched beneath her hold—I didn't miss Callista's horrified look from the corner of my eye.

"Oh…" Artur appeared stunned. "Nora didn't mention a girlfriend?"

"Well, Nora's not one to brag, modest as she is." Lurk continued to smirk as I pulled myself from beneath her arm.

"So where are you headed?" Luka turned back to Emily and I. "Because we were going to visit the local spa, you could join if you'd like?"

I immediately, and almost frantically, shook my head. "I don't think we-"

"I think that sounds wonderful," Emily beamed, interrupting me.

I sent her a questioning look, bordering on indigence. "I really don't think it's a good idea right now."

"Nonsense." She smiled at me. "My father and Meagan just arrived, they could use some time to relax, having been out at sea for so long."

"I don't like saying this," Corvo joined in, "but he has a point, sweetheart."

"I agree with Violet," Billie countered. "I'd love a relaxing afternoon, weeks on a boat with Marco over here has done little good to my sanity."

The words seemed to strike a chord with Corvo as he grumbled, mostly to himself. He crossed his arms, a dark look in his eyes.

"I think I'll head back to the inn," Callista spoke, keeping a safe distance from all of us—something I could sympathise with.

"Nonsense!" Billie protested, sharp gaze threatening enough to leave none of us any room to decline. "You deserve some time to relax as much as the rest of us!"

Emily smiled at that, tipping her head. "I think Meagan is right."

Callista raised her brows at her former pupil, a subtle smile betraying her amiability. "Of course you would say that."

The spa was a short distance away, a rather plain looking building, sporting a long chimney from which large plumes of smoke curled their way into the air. Our group consisted of eleven people, enough to fill up an entire room, or so we were told. We were handed plenty of towels, and I had mournfully watched Emily leave into the women's room. I silently followed the men, and it shouldn't have been a surprise to me when they started undressing.

"They didn't mention this spa was in fact a sauna," I sourly observed, clutching my own towel to my chest.

"What did you expect when they spoke of a spa?" Corvo replied without looking, eyes too busy observing the small changing room. "A sanitarium?"

I glanced at the man beside me. "Humour has never been your strongest suit."

Corvo only grunted in response, already set on undressing himself, peeling away several layers of fabric from his battle-worn skin, tan torso covered in old scars. I averted my eyes, fingers slowly unbuttoning my own shirt, trying my best to avoid looking at the others. I turned my back to them all, removing my pants, wrapping the towel around me. Meanwhile, Corvo's penetrative stare never left me, keeping a constant close eye.

"Ready?" Asked Filip as we finished up, skins as white as our towels—except for Corvo, his trained and tanned physique putting the rest of us to shame... especially me. Filip led us all into a narrow hallway, revealing another door there. Corvo followed closely as I entered a medium-sized room, an almost overwhelming heat and the sharp scent of pine both hitting me in the face. There were large, wooden benches placed against the walls along with a large stove. At the centre stood a pit filled with stones, a bucket of steaming water paired with a ladle placed next to it.

There was another cat-call, and I immediately knew the culprit behind the mortifying action. "Well, well, my son!" Lurk called from one of the benches, entire torso wrapped in a towel, a strange sight paired with her bandages. "Are those abs?" She continued, and I was surprised to see Callista at her side, equally covered and stifling a rather indiscreet chuckle. I frowned as I approached, spotting Emily and Alena at the far left, feet hurriedly carrying me towards them. I sat down next to the former Empress, shooting Lurk a threatening look, or as threatening as I could, wrapped in a towel. Emily was about to say something when Corvo sat himself at my other side, looming over me, his mere presence causing the very air to press down on me.

"You're really skinny," Alena noted as her eyes shamelessly travelled across my body, making me far too aware of how the sweltering heat caused a layer of sweat to pebble along my skin.

"And you're really short," I returned, regarding her with a nonplussed look, not sure what her point had been in the first place.

Artur took place at said short girl's side, eyes widening at the sight of Corvo. "Those are a lot of scars!"

The entire room turned to Corvo, all eyeing his staggering collection of battle-marks. I felt him shift beside me, body tensing, and it brought me a small sense of satisfaction to know he too felt nervous under scrutiny. "I entered the Blade Verbena when I was younger," Corvo spoke as he rested his back against the wall behind him. "Many times."

"That's amazing," Artur gaped, before turning to me. "I'd be scared to death if I were you," he whispered, eyes darting between Emily and I.

I raised a single brow at his words, feeling Corvo's oppressive presence at my side. "There are scarier things than death."

"I agree," Corvo rumbled as he dropped one of his arms across my shoulders, pulling me flush against him, further away from his daughter, hand gripping me just a fraction too tight. "So what do you think, Artur—right?" Corvo turned to the young man without loosening his hold on me. "Has Matvey done anything that should merit fear of me?"

"Father," Emily hissed, crossing her arms.

"I think he's been very nice to your daughter, sir." Alena smiled from next to Emily, who sent her an appreciative look, mouthing a quick 'thank you', before returning her attention to her father, sporting an annoyed frown.

"I suppose I should have expected you to interrogate our friends?"

"Interrogation is your dad's only way of making conversation." Lurk shrugged, earning a glare from Corvo. I used the distraction to peel his arm away from me, shuffling back to Emily.

"Have any of you ever visited a sauna before?" Sabina asked, changing the topic. Most of us nodded, except for Callista and I. "Well, would one of you like to be the first to pour the water?" The girl smiled from her place next to Luka, his arm slung across her shoulders.

Callista nodded, and Sabina reached for the ladle atop the steaming bucket, dipping it into the water and filling it with a large serving, delivering it to Callista's waiting hands. I watched with muted interest as she lifted it, balancing it above the pit of stones, carefully tipping it so a gentle stream flowed down. The stones hissed at the contact, large clouds of vapour rising to collect along the room's roof, licking at the wood and filling the air with a dense mist.

It was hot, almost unbearably so. I felt my skin flush as the room's temperature skyrocketed, droplets of sweat running down my neck and shoulders. The heat had a bigger effect on me than I had been expecting, throbbing veins swelling beneath reddened skin, my entire body gone heavy. I allowed my eyes to wander across the others, carefully observing their reactions, noting how most of them chatted on as if the temperature hadn't increased a thousandfold.

"I think I might die," I confessed to Emily, head pounding again due to the suffocating warmth.

She chuckled, meeting my gaze with a contemplative look, an amused smile on her lips. "You'll get used to it."

Would I really? The thought was more intriguing to me than it should be. I leaned forward, turning my gaze past Emily, eyes locking with Alena's. "You're a local, right?" I asked, receiving a nod in return. I licked my lips, considering my words, aware the question might be deemed strange. "Do you know of any local philosophers?"

"So you are a philosopher!" She smirked, obviously priding herself in her appraisal of the night before. I didn't refute her guess, instead sending her a curt nod, encouraging her to elaborate. "There is one," she offered with a casual shrug. "It's said she's even studied under the great Sokolov himself at one point."

"Petrova?" I offered the name, wondering if such a coincidence could truly be.

"Yeah! You've heard of her?"

"She started on the Academy of Natural Philosophy back when Sokolov was its head still." 1831, the year I had marked Delilah—who had already been Sokolov's apprentice for 5 years by then. Petrova, on the other hand, had hardly managed to capture Sokolov's interest, or mine for that matter. She was nothing like Delilah had been, she possessed neither the cunning nor ambition—something I thought only for the best at this moment in time. "Where can I find her?"

Alena frowned in thought, a finger tapping against her chin as she considered the question. "I think she runs a hospice near the docks, you'd have to ask for her there."

I nodded. "Thank you," I spoke as I offered a small smile before righting myself, noticing Emily's searching gaze from the corner of my eye. I turned to meet her inquisitive stare, lifting the corners of my mouth into a reassuring expression. She mirrored my smile, cheeks flushed and skin glistening.

"So what's the story behind your scar?" Artur interrupted the moment, and it took me some time to realise he was asking me, not Corvo.

"Yeah, that thing looks dreadful," Filip added, him and Zima both staring from the other side of the room, gaze unabashedly lingering on my throat, words causing Alena to lean forward so she could get a better view.

I froze, feeling my muscles stiffen, heartbeat picking up, its thrum filling my ears. They were all watching me now, their eyes poking through the surrounding steam, locking onto my exposed skin. My mouth went dry, throat suddenly like sandpaper.

"He doesn't like talking about it." Emily placed a comforting hand on my arm, squeezing the limb.

"I suppose the heat makes it worse," Corvo mused, and I hadn't noticed his hand, his clean-cut nails, his fingertips as they traced along the raised flesh—stopping my breathing. The air around me went bone-chillingly cold, the room disappearing; all I could perceive was the memory of steel splitting skin and severing veins, of air escaping before I could breathe it, blood flooding my lungs, my mouth—my throat—and I choked, hands itching to force me back together, to wrap around my neck, knowing full well my life would run through my fingers. I couldn't see anything, eyes searching for anything but the vast blackness that consumed me, swallowing every last beat of my heart, until there wasn't a single part of me left.

"Matvey," Emily's voice cut through, hands flush against my skin, heat flooding through me at their touch. I breathed, a long, deep gasp for air, as the room swam back into view, the steam stinging my eyes, my throat. I turned my head to the side, towards a worried looking Emily, a serious frown creasing her skin. "Are you okay?" she asked, softly, as if too much noise might shatter me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but found no words would pass, mind trying to wrap itself around what had just happened. There was another hand that gripped one of my shoulders, a larger, more calloused one, my head turning to meet its owner.

Corvo watched me with tense features, his already dark eyes further dimmed with contrition, looking out from beneath a disturbed frown, lips pressed into a grim line. "I'm sorry," he uttered, his words nothing but a high-pitched ringing to my ears.

I blinked, averting my gaze, noticing everyone was still staring, a tense quiet filling the sweltering air. Swallowing, I straightened my back, eyes darting down to my hands where they rested in my lap, briefly tracing along my curled fingers before returning to Emily, finding some comfort in her presence. "What'd I do?" My voice was hoarse, its sound struggling to pass my lips.

She shook her head. "Nothing." Her smile was crestfallen and woefully lacking in its attempt to comfort me. "You just froze."

I nodded, some semblance of relief flooding me at her words, washing away part of the horrifying shame that clung to my skin like the saline sheen of sweat.

"I'm really sorry for asking." Artur sounded genuinely remorseful, eyes flitting between the floor and my face. I really didn't know what to say, the memory of my own death still hanging over me, the taste of my own blood still on my tongue, mind rendered numb by the lingering torment.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone go as pale as you just did," Filip quipped, amusement filling the air, drawing everyone's attention away from me.

"Filip!" Zima gasped, shoving his arm, an offended frown on her brow.

"I'm just saying!" He raised his hands in defense, glancing between me and his girlfriend, trying to reason with the both of us through his imploring gaze.

"It's okay, Matvey," Luka smiled, "everyone has their issues. Filip, for example, faints at the sight of fishhooks."

There was a ripple of laughter at Filip's expense, his face growing increasingly red in response. "Try getting one stuck through your finger, alright?" he spat, crossing his arms with an offended huff, mumbling angry things to himself as Zima attempted to soften the blow to his ego. I found myself smiling despite myself, relieved none of them demanded to know more, not even Corvo.

"I'll just go ahead and add some more water," Billie announced, ladle already in hand and ready to pour.

A kiss was pressed against my shoulder, my eyes meeting Emily's as she smiled up at me, lips curving against my skin, cheeks still flushed an endearing red. A sharp hiss followed in the background, and soon more steam wrapped its humid arms around us, embracing us until our blood was brought to simmer. Emily had rested her head against my shoulder, allowing her eyes to fall shut as her fingers weaved themselves between mine. I had reclined against the wall, staring at the steaming rocks, trailing every curling wisp of vapour. Around me, I caught the buzz of casual conversation, everyone engrossed in their own discussions. To my left, I had been subjected to Corvo and Billie's bickering, interrupted by the occasional snort from Callista, who wisely kept herself out of their line of fire.

Despite everyone's attempts to help me take my mind off the incident—from Luka's words to Emily's soothing touches—I couldn't forget the sickening twist of my stomach at the memory of steel slicing skin, of features that mirrored mine gazing upon me, dark eyes shining with what I could only describe as madness. What other way could there be? What other choice did I have than to make sure no one else suffered my fate ever again? I looked to Emily, noticing she had fallen asleep against my shoulder, her words and promises of the night before unforgotten. Instead they continued to repeat themselves like a mantra; a promise of love, a promise of family.

But could I still belong to a family after willingly murdering part of mine?

We picked up our plan right where we left off, parting ways with the exuberant group of Tyvians. They had all insisted we join them again soon, explaining they visited the sauna every week as part of their traditions. Emily had nodded along, ensuring them we'd most likely run into them again. I wasn't too sure about her promises, and I was well aware why she'd wanted us to go to the spa with them in the first place—but it was only stalling the inevitable; I disliked the thought of staining my own hands with blood as much as her, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made to serve a greater purpose.

Corvo dropped a stack of dust-covered books on the table in front of me, scattering their powdery coating through the air. "Lurk took these from the Abbey, neither of us could read them. We figured you might," he spoke as Emily coughed from her seat, covering her mouth, squinting while a thin layer of dust settled around us. "Lurk was also incompetent enough to destroy some of their prized artefacts. I had to clean up after her, reckoned we might as well take them."

"This is my ship, you Serkonan rat," Billie threatened, throwing a pointed glare in Corvo's direction. "I can kick you off as easily as I allowed you on."

Corvo ignored her threat—which led me to believe he'd gotten used to them by now—and instead handed me what, at first glance, appeared to be a pile of rubble wrapped in fabric. I carefully handled the fragile remnants of what looked to have been a ceramic, its decorative paint peeling with age. Callista leaned closer, watching me uncover the remains with baited breath.

"These are written in old Tyvian," Emily noted as she inspected the first of the ancient tomes, nimble fingers attentively turning its yellowed pages.

"You understand it?" Corvo asked, expectant gaze darting between his daughter and I. He'd been observing me with renewed interest ever since we left the sauna.

"Matvey has been teaching me," she explained, squinting down at a particular paragraph, its ink faded by the passing of centuries. "It's a manuscript," she observed, thumbing through the contents. "And it looks like it's unfinished."

I turned one of the delicate shards between my fingers, gaze tracing trails of ancient paint, trying to detect what the bigger picture might have been.

"Man over Leviathan," Emily read, frowning down at the first page in concentration, fingers outlining words across its paper.

I squinted at a familiar symbol, raising the ceramic shard in front of me for closer inspection. It appeared incomplete, and I reckoned the rest of it had to be somewhere on another fragment. I looked down at the cloth in my lap, trailing along every broken piece.

"I, prince of all Tyvians, Maxim Myronovich…" she continued to translate.

I pulled another piece from the pile, cautiously trying to see if it would fit the other one. I held my breath, gaze closely observing as the broken edges fit together like the pieces of a puzzle, mending as one to recreate part of the destroyed artefact, feeling my heart stutter at the sight.

"Killer of the Great Leviathan…"

There was a whale, its large eyes depicted with palpable soulfulness, its mammoth silhouette surrounded by a pod of considerably smaller ones. There were shapes depicted on either side of its back, and I recognised the symbols without effort, their familiar markings burned into my memory—burned across my skin and Emily's—as well as the twin-bladed knife that punctured its stomach, a river of blood pouring from its side.

"Architect of the reinventing of Gods…"

Your father was an exquisitely interesting man, was he not, Outsider? A true pioneer I suppose.

Artair Kinley's words came back to mind, ringing in my ears, mercilessly choking the air from my lungs. I sat back in my chair, taking a deep breath as I beckoned myself to remain calm despite the sickening worry that clawed at my gut.

"What if humans were never meant to be the Void's representatives?" I questioned, unnerved, shaking hands lowering the pieces back into my lap, gaze locking with Emily's, praying to whatever force there might still be that she would not have to pay for whatever gross mistakes my father had made. "What if we stole it?"