"And there are trees, taller than Dunwall Tower, their canopy reaching across acres of shadow-cast lands, capturing all that lies beneath within their green domes." I smiled, my thumb trailing down Emily's cheekbone, enraptured eyes following its path. She mirrored my sunny expression, fingers trailing down my back, bare chest rising and falling beneath me, every breath she took fanning my throat.

"And the animals?" she questioned, gazing up at me with unrestrained wonder, brows raised out of curiosity.

I traced a finger across her lips, feeling her shiver beneath me, one of her legs rubbing against mine. "It would be a near impossibility for me to describe them all, their appearances as unique and variable as the people in your Empire, if not more so." I paused, considering my words, my gaze darting between hers, my swooning heart thudding against my chest. "But I promise you—if the world allows it—to describe you a different species every day, for the rest of our lives, until your mind is filled to the brim with Pandyssian wildlife."

Emily grinned, teeth worrying her lip as one of her hands travelled up my arm, around my shoulder, coming to rest against the nape of my neck. "I'd love that," she whispered, before pulling me down for another kiss, her hips undulating against mine—despite the sheen of sweat that still clung to our skin. My body responded to her nonetheless, the way her teeth grazed my lips reigniting the now all-too-familiar throb.

"We have to get out," I groaned as she coiled herself against me again, sending waves of bliss through me, my sensitive nerves set alight by her.

"What if I don't want to?" she whined, tone dripping with need, one of her hands gripping my hips, pulling us even closer together.

I felt my eyes flutter shut, breath released in a shuddery hiss as she continued to rub herself against me. "Your father might wonder what's taking us so long," I mumbled through several kisses, her tongue teasing my lips.

"Let him wonder," she panted, arching her back, breasts skirting along my chest. The hand that had gripped my hips traveled further down, slipping between our bodies and wrapping around my sex, guiding it towards her, her touch alone nearly enough to finish me again.

"Emily," I spoke through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to give in, resisting her as her palm rubbed against me, "we really shouldn't."

"All the more reason why we should." Her other hand pulled me down again, her commanding lips capturing mine, wearing away at my resolve until I could no longer resist, pushing through her hold and slipping inside her. She moaned against my lips, the sound drawing another thrust from me, desire numbing my mind. My hands found hers, wrapping around her wrists and raising them above her head, hips continuing to drive into her. She angled herself beneath me, meeting every thrust with a rolling buck of her own, sending waves of pleasure to ripple through coiling muscles. I felt the pressure start to build, smothering my senses, leaving me desperate for release. Emily seemed just as eager as she writhed beneath me, lips parted as her breathing came out in heavy pants, new beads of sweat forming across her already glistening skin.

I left a trail of wet kisses and playful nibbles along her jaw, passion dictating my every action, her eager reciprocation drawing a sharp gasp from me as I felt myself come undone, trembling muscles tightening beneath heated skin. I felt my hold on her wrists weaken, laboured breathing and racing heart causing my chest to heave. She followed soon after, legs wrapped around my hips, their hold tightening into a powerful squeeze as her body trembled beneath mine. She released a small whimper, head rolling back in her pillow as she panted. I allowed myself to collapse next to her, wrapping my arms around her torso, pulling her into my hold as I fought to catch my breath.

Until we froze at the sound of three loud knocks at our door, followed by a commanding; "Stop fucking and get down — I'm hungry!"

I gaped at the door with something akin to mortification, widened eyes left unblinking. I was perfectly aware what Billie's Sliver of the Eye was capable of... I knew it could see through walls and- Emily burst into a fit of laughter, body shaking within my arms. My eyes flicked down, noting her flushed cheeks and glistening eyes, and honestly, it really wasn't that funny—was it?

"Took you long enough." Lurk pushed herself off the wall as we exited our room, freshly cleaned and dressed. I eyed the former assassin, cautiously observing her features, silently wondering just how much- "Don't flatter yourself, kid." She threw up her hands before crossing them. "I wasn't spying—don't need to; your face says it all." She let out an amused snort at her own words, shaking her head as she grinned to herself.

"Why were you waiting?" I asked, directing an offended scowl at her, resisting the urge to cross my own arms in defence.

"Like I said," she clicked her tongue at me, "to see your face."

My scowl deepened, back straightening and teeth burying themselves into my cheek. At my side I caught Emily's chuckles, the situation still very clearly amusing to her.

"Oh, come off it." Lurk waved a hand. "Can a mother be proud of her son?"

"You're not my mother."

"Nuh-uh!" She wiggled a finger at me. "I delivered you back into this world, don't you forget that."

I narrowed my eyes, finally giving in and crossing my arms sullenly. "Actually, it was Daud who did the brunt of the work, you were more like nurse; mostly there to spew meaningless words of encouragement and offer poorly conveyed pep-talks."

"Sounds like parenting to me."

"Weren't you hungry?"

"Yes! And you must be too, satisfying a woman can be exhausting, I know." She winked—or blinked; it was hard to tell with her having only one eye, but the intended effect was palpable—as she wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me towards the stairs, my own arms uncrossing themselves. "I really mean it," she continued. "I am proud, kid."

"Of what?" I frowned, noticing how Emily took one of my hands into her own, weaving her fingers through mine.

"The two of you!" Billie exclaimed as we walked. "Watching the both of you pine over each other was dreadful." My eyes found Emily's, unable to hide my look of surprise as Billie's observation hit home. The former Empress offered me a charming smile and a shrug, cheeks noticeably flushed. "Besides," Lurk kept on speaking, "you're a sleep-talker, did you know?"

I froze, horrified, trying to recall when she had been with me while I slept—remembering we'd shared a bed, once, the dream I'd had that night still etched into my mind and... I blanched.

"It's true," Emily admitted. "You tend to talk about your shoes a lot."

I opened and closed my mouth several times, gaze darting down to the shoes in question, their worn leather having withstood centuries—what else had Emily overheard me speak of? Had I let something slip without knowing? She bumped her hip into mine, drawing my attention back to her beaming face.

"I think it's cute." She tipped her chin, crinkling her nose as she grinned up at me.

I frowned at her, shaking my head in disapproval. "You're not supposed to call the enemy of the Isles 'cute'." We reached the stairs, and—much to my relief—Lurk finally dropped her arm off my shoulders.

"If by the Isles you mean 'Marco'," Billie snorted, glancing our way as she descended the stairs. "Then I agree. It's a dangerous pursuit."

We sat at the same spot as the day before, away from the people enjoying their breakfast. Emily had picked the seat next to mine, something Corvo didn't seem too pleased with as he continued to scowl. There were two fingers, trailing along my thigh, tracing circles across the fabric of my pants. I knew who they belonged to, Emily's face a perfectly neutral mask as she chewed her food. The grip on my fork tightened, jaw clenching as the two digits continued to distract me.

"So, if I understand correctly," Callista spoke from her place next to Corvo. "You'll be visiting this… Petrova, was it?"

"Yes," I replied, as smoothly as I was capable; Emily's fingers had started to walk themselves up my leg, causing my pulse to pick up.

"I'll join you," Corvo announced. "The others should continue their search for information, limited as it is—we might get lucky."

Had my eyes still been black, I would have rolled them. Instead I squashed the urge, rather focusing on keeping my face neutral as Emily's fingers travelled dangerously close to my- I grabbed the offending limb, halting its approach, heart stuttering. If she'd been surprised, she didn't show it, gaze still focused on her plate. Leaning closer to her, I hovered near the shell of her ear, the rich scent of her hair filling my nose.

"Watch it," I warned in a deep whisper. "Don't start games you can't finish."

She turned a narrowed eye on me, smirk on her lips. "Oh trust me," she whispered back. "Finishing it won't be a problem." She brought her fork to her mouth, tongue darting out to taste the food—like she'd done only several days ago—lips wrapping around it, prompting me to hold my breath as I continued to stare. I hadn't noticed how my grip on her wrist had started to slip, hand suddenly continuing its path, fingers slipping between my legs. I choked on my own breath, knee bumping the table as I startled at her boldness.

"What are you even doing?" Corvo's indignant grumble interrupted my coughing, drawing my widened eyes to his scowling features. I straightened my back, gaze darting between the staring faces that surrounded me, feeling the tell-tale burn of embarrassment at the tips of my ears.

"I... had an itch?" I intertwined my hands in front of me, pressing my lips into a thin line as I tried to keep a straight face. Next to me Emily burst out in a fit of laughter, most likely at my expense. Corvo continued to scowl, gaze darting to his daughter.

"What seems to be so funny?" he asked.

"It's none of your concern, father," she replied, raising a smug brow before returning her attention to her food. Corvo's deadpan look was enough to make me shift in my chair.

"Violet, I think you ought to join Meagan and Nora at the library, prevent any more..." his eyes darted between the both of us, "distractions."

"If you want some private time with my beloved, you could just ask." Emily shrugged, popping another bite into her mouth, clearly not in the mood for her father's obvious dissent. She sighed, then. "It's fine, I wanted to run by the goldsmith anyway." She paused, regarding the both of us with a pleading look. "Just try not to kill each other."

Not killing each other was easier said than done, it turned out; Corvo appeared especially furious about what had happened the night of his return. To make matters worse, Emily's indiscretions at breakfast had only added further fuel to the fire—I knew the accusatory look in his eyes, the expression of a man who thought his daughter corrupted. Like always, his and his many predecessors' scorn was sorely ungrounded; if anything his daughter was corrupting me. His assumptive attitude made me particularly petty, and I reminded myself to live up to his expectations next time—let him have his self-fulfilling prophecy.

"The two of you were rather late this morning." Corvo's talents for observation were a marvel, as always.

I arched a single brow, hands joined behind my back, eyes trailing the blanket of snow, crunching beneath our feet. "I suppose the Royal Spymaster never wanes in his devotion to his job."

"Don't get smart with me."

"I meant no disrespect." I turned to meet his scowl, unfazed by his temper. "After all, we're family now, aren't we?"

"I'll never be your family," he bit out.

I lifted my chin as I regarded the man beside me with interest, knowing him to have never cared much about neither the gospel of the Abbey nor the delusional beliefs of heretics. "Other than what you've been taught, do you have any arguable reasons for your dislike of me?"

He crossed his arms. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

I continued my probing, feeling increasingly curious. "Do I stand accused of what I did, or rather, what I did not do?"

This seemed to strike a chord with the Royal Protector, searing gaze narrowing as he spoke through gritted teeth. "I'll tell you this: everywhere you go, death follows.

I frowned at the accusation, gaze darting down the snow-covered streets again. "Everything that lives, dies—it's a rather common occurrence, it wouldn't be fair of me to take all the credit."

I didn't need to see Corvo's face to know he watched me with a particularly offended look. "Asshole."

I didn't respond to the insult, instead biting the inside of my cheek as I considered our relationship, if I could call it that. "I'll agree Wyman was a much more compliant suitor." I continued to gaze off into the distance, recalling their sunny features, their easy smile. "Generous… amiable, and from a well-off family."

"You know I don't care about that."

I was aware he didn't, but I found telling myself he did was easier than acknowledging his actual problem. "I don't really have a lot to offer, I'm aware. I own nothing, I have no actual family or even a real identity outside of what I was. I know a lot—about history, humanity. But such things don't interest the people of an Empire, do they?"

I could see him pinch the bridge of his nose from the corner of my eye, finding myself unsurprised when he released a deep sigh. "Does my daughter ever get tired of your talking?"

I shrugged. "I think she likes it when I talk." Frowning, I considered my own observation, realising it rang truer than I would have ever expected. "She seems to like a lot of things I dislike about myself."

Corvo appeared all too eager to pick up on the subtext. "You don't like yourself?"

"Why would I?" I returned, looking up to meet his gaze, noting how my sincerity seemed to throw him off, at least.

"Yet you insist on pursuing her?" His frown deepened, its coldness hanging in the air between us.

"She insisted—well, sort of, if you forget about that one time I kissed her, which was an accident, and I did apologise, profusely-" I shook my head. "I digress, can you blame me?" I paused, trying to find the appropriate words, trying to not be intimidated by his snide remarks. "I'm just a man."

His eyes swept me up and down, a look of muted distaste crossing his features. "Don't remind me."

I bit my tongue, swallowing whatever I felt at the words. I straightened my shoulders, taking a quick breath, fingers finding the cool steel of my ring, twisting the object. "My mother… she once told me a person's worth isn't defined by what they own or what background they hail from, but by the intent they carry within their heart." Glancing in Corvo's direction, I noticed the way he tensed his jaw, hands clenched to fists in front of his chest.

"Good for you," he deadpanned.

We didn't talk after that, docks already in sight. Corvo had stopped some people to ask for directions—lucky for us they seemed familiar with the hospice, and by extension, Petrova. It didn't take us long to find the small building, its wood painted a striking blue. Corvo pushed against the door, holding it open, eyes glued to my face. We were greeted by a woman behind a desk, dark hair tied into a neat bun and eyes hidden behind the glint of her glasses.

"Can I help you?" she asked, a polite smile on her lips as her hands stopped their work, a stack of papers resting in front of her.

Corvo walked ahead of me, approaching the desk without hesitation. "We're looking for Doctor Petrova?"

The woman nodded, gaze darting between the two of us. "Doctor Petrova is a very busy woman, as I'm sure you'll understand, I hope you won't mind waiting a bit? I'll let her know you're here, sir...?" She tipped her head.

"Marco, and no, not at all." Corvo smiled in response, before he allowed his eyes to search the room, landing on a set of chairs. He steered himself towards them, crossing his arms as he sat himself down, bouncing one of his legs impatiently—which could be considered quite rude. I joined him, resting my hands in my lap, allowing my gaze to travel around the room, its wooden interior decorated with many hand-drawn posters about health and human anatomy—souvenirs from the academy, most likely. There was a large hearth, like most Tyvian houses, warming the room, its heat leaving me uncomfortable within the thick insulation of my coat.

I found time, when observed by human senses, could vary greatly in its pace. Right now, for example, as I sat next to the father of the woman I adored, his surly presence overbearing in its contempt against me, it passed by agonisingly slow. Sometimes people would join us, only to be called in by one of the working doctors. There were adults, some carrying a child in their arms, red-cheeked and coughing, or sometimes asleep. I watched them all with interest, fascinated by the normalcy of their lives. I wondered what it might be like, to be a father. I had never considered the thought, and I wasn't sure I was even capable of such a thing. I certainly hadn't had the best of role-models, but then again, I was just one of many. I really wasn't too special in that regard.

"Doctor Petrova will see you now," the woman behind the desk announced, startling me out of my thoughts. Corvo stood from his chair, glancing to see if I followed. I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders as I raised myself, moving to trail behind the Royal Protector. We were led through a hallway, its walls lined by several doors, each with a name attached to it. We were appointed the final door on the right, and, as expected, it had the name 'Dr. Anna Petrova' written on it.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Corvo grumbled my way as his hand wrapped around the knob. I swallowed, mind going over everything I needed to know and already knew before nodding in response. Corvo's wrist turned, the heavy door swinging open with a soft creak. The familiar huff and puff of steaming machinery greeted us, the soft buzz of flickering lights filling the air. It was a strange feeling, to leave the world of candlelight behind, the electric lanterns casting the room in a brightness I found myself unaccustomed to.

"Welcome," Petrova spoke from a table at the back, paperwork strewn about its surface. Behind her was an examination table, surrounded by equipment. "You'll have to excuse the set-up—with the whale oil gone we've had to adapt to the best of our abilities." She turned to us, dark hair pulled in a messy bun, lithe frame hidden beneath a large coat, its pockets stuffed with tools. "How can I help you?" She approached, taking off a pair of thick, protective gloves, moving to shake hands.

Corvo took a step forward, large hand dwarfing hers as he accepted it. "Name's Marco," he introduced himself, sending the woman a brief smile to which she nodded. Releasing Corvo, she turned to me, already sticking out her limb in greeting.

I took it, hesitantly, careful not to be too firm. "My name is Matvey," I started. "I'm a student at the Academy. Me and my family were passing through, and when I heard you worked here I couldn't pass up the opportunity to exchange some ideas."

"I see." Petrova nodded, rubbing her hands together, raising her chin. "Well I'm honoured, what subjects do you specialise in?"

"Etiology, or Causality, mostly," I replied, taking control of the conversation. "Right now I'm actually interested in the response and limitations of the human physiology when exposed to sub-zero temperatures."

"An interesting topic." She raised a hand to rub her face, fingers grasping her chin in thought. "Living here, I'm sure you mustn't be surprised I'm quite familiar with the subject. Children often end up adrift in our sea, sometimes even adults. Most of them drown."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"I'm not too sure," she admitted. "It's been confirmed hypothermia usually doesn't set in for at least 30 minutes—with rare cases having lasted up to an hour—still, many people drown before that, usually within the first few minutes." She took a quick breath, and I didn't miss the way her features tensed at the words, a flicker of hurt in her eyes. "I suspect it's the body's response to the cold that causes the subject to freeze up, leaving them incapable of swimming."

I nodded, shifting my weight as I considered her words, feeling Corvo's watchful gaze burn into me. "So hypothetically, if the initial shock could be precluded, one would have an estimated total of 30 to 60 survivable minutes within the water?"

"I suppose so, yes."

"Then here's a theory," I continued, gaze trailing around the room. "Could the human body be conditioned to withstand conditions of extreme cold? Thus enabling a person to swim in freezing temperatures for an accumulated maximum of 60 minutes if they so wanted?"

Her hand travelled to the back of her neck, rubbing the skin there. "I- I'm not too sure. So far we know cold leads to vasoconstriction, limiting the blood-supply to the muscles and causing a direct decrease in strength, combined with a reduced coordination due to involuntary shivering."

"Except, when conditioned," I followed up, "the threshold for both vasoconstriction and shivering would be lowered, stalling their occurrence as the body's core temperature would take longer to drop."

"Theoretically, yes, but none of this has ever been put into practice—I couldn't make any definitive statements on the matter."

I nodded in understanding, carefully digesting the information, aware that if my theory didn't work out we'd be in serious trouble. "Well, the start to answering any question has always been asking it in the first place, has it not?"

"I agree." She smiled, reluctantly, eyes staring into mine.

I didn't want to stay longer than absolutely necessary, her gaze much too observant for my likes. "Thank you, doctor, talking to you has been most enlightening."

"The pleasure was all mine..." she replied, hesitating a moment before continuing. "I do have to ask; your eye-colour, it's most unusual, does it run in your family?"

"On my mother's side," I was curt in my reply, offering the woman a tight-lipped smile before turning to Corvo, initiating our departure.

"It's a suicide mission."

"It's the only way; sailing to Serkonos would take too long. The Abbey already knows too much, and it's only a matter of time before they find what they're looking for," I contested, frustrated with Corvo's continued resistance.

"Then you're on your own. I won't have you endangering my daughter unnecessarily."

"Unnecessarily?" I spat, unable to believe my ears, frankly not giving a shit about keeping my voice down as we wandered one of the calmer parts of town. "We're talking about the end of the world as we know it—and since my place in the Void was already a questionable one, which, per my removal, has left it undeniably unstable, a repetition of my creation might destroy whatever fragile equilibrium remains."

"These are all theories," Corvo argued. "You have no solid proof—for anything, in fact."

"You saw their machines, you know of the storms that ravage the Void. You've been witness to them harnessing the very energy that is bound to destroy us all." If Corvo hadn't been much stronger than me, I probably would have throttled the impossible man—even now it took me all I had to resist the urge.

"None of this is for certain. If you really cared an inkling about my daughter you wouldn't even consider involving her in such dangers."

"I love her, more than anything," I bristled, overcome with indignation. "Which is why I cannot lose her, why I need to stop this—for her." I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, fully aware arguing with the Royal Protector had never gotten anyone anywhere. "But I can't do this alone."

"You've been alone for longer than you've been with her, I'm sure you'll manage."

His words scalded me, and in response I felt my self-control start to slip. "Don't you talk to me about managing!" I snapped, coming to a sharp stop.

Corvo halted several steps ahead of me, turning around to face me fully. "Yes, you're a real victim aren't you? The smug God who plays his twisted little games with the lives of people as if they're interchangeable—how lonely it must have been to sneer down on society all by yourself."

I gritted my teeth, fists clenched at my sides and head cocked in defiance. "Death means nothing when it's all you feel," I sneered, coldly, before turning away from the Royal Protector, the suffocating memory of existing within the abyssal horror of the Void clutching at the edges of my mind.

And so I walked.

The cold spray of sea-foam left a layer of glittering drops along my pants, the dark, rolling waves wrecking their uncontrolled havoc in front of me. Through the roaring of their violence, I could still hear them, the whales that continued to call for me. A storm was coming, the overhead clouds brewing with thunder, roiling with power. The Void was beating its way into this world, taking with it whatever lied in its destructive path. Soon, the Tyvian darkness would spread across the Isles, not a single ounce of light left to illuminate the weeping skies. The Void would devour this world, its insatiable hunger the end of all the beauty it contained. I was certain about that much. There was a crunch of snow behind me, followed by the rustling of clothes. I continued to stare at my feet as they dangled above the water. Two feet joined mine in the air, the warm touch of a thigh reminding me of the cold that had progressively eaten away at me.

"I'm not in the mood for another discussion," I mumbled, frowning down at the other pair of legs, trailing along the edges of the owner's shoes.

"Why do you think I'm here for one?" Callista asked, folding her hands in her lap.

I shrugged. "It's what I've come to expect of you."

She remained silent for a moment, and I could feel her eyes where they traveled across my features. "I've heard about your plan."

Of course she would have, chances were she'd heard a lot more than just my plan. I tried my best to not let Corvo's words affect me, to bury them in the guilt-ridden graveyard that was my moral conscience. But they had left more damage than I'd ever like to admit, and even though I tried my best to convince myself I didn't know why, I found myself painfully aware of its exact reason. "During my first years in the Void..." I spoke, eyes staring off into the darkness. "The agony I experienced was overwhelming; consuming me was the sickening feeling of not being quite right, as if something horribly wrong had nestled inside of me, slowly eating away at my sanity. I no longer had skin, muscles or tendons—yet I felt constricted, suffocated; as if I might be brought to rupture from the inside out." I glanced down at my hands, the soft glint of my ritual ring bringing back some of those agonising memories. "When I first marked someone, something that happened by complete accident, some of that anguish ebbed away—as if a stream had been carved, stopping me from overflowing, allowing some of the destructive magic that ravaged my metaphorical husk to be released. The more people I marked, the less magic I myself possessed. It was freedom, relief. But who do you entrust with such power?"

Callista remained silent, and I mentally thanked her for it. I took a deep breath, feeling the pressure that weighed down on my chest continue to build.

"At first, I was naive enough to believe I could judge someone's character by observing them, keeping track of their decisions, their actions. When I deemed them fit to handle the responsibility, I marked them. Turns out... power changes people. The most selfless of samaritans can become a tyrant under the right circumstances. I was proven wrong... many, many times. It ate away at me, ripped whatever idealistic and hopeful parts remained within me to shreds. I tried not gifting my mark, but my mind was all I had left, all which hadn't been taken from me; I couldn't stand to lose that too—I couldn't bear it. The fear of the Void consuming who I was rendered me desperate for a way to stay sane. So I allowed myself to become increasingly cynical, until it all just turned into a meaningless game to me. Human lives passed in the blink of an eye, and their arguably pointless squabbles seemed increasingly irrelevant in the light of my own immortality...

"I never wanted power... control. Helping one person is always bound to disadvantage another l—I didn't want to pick and choose. No matter what I did, there was never a way to win." I glanced to my side, pausing as Callista nodded in understanding, lips pressed in a tight line.

"I cannot pretend to understand such a thing," she admitted, eyes meeting mine, watching me in that indecipherable way of hers.

"The human psyche isn't meant to understand."

She surprised me by softly bumping her leg into mine, sending me a tight-lipped smile. "I suppose you didn't turn out too bad, then."

I felt a wry smile pull at my lips, gaze turning back to the sea of black in front of us. "Tell Corvo that."

"Corvo is just..."

"I know. He can't bear to lose those he loves, not again," I finished for her.

"He means well." There was a weight to her words that implied I wasn't the only one she was trying to convince.

I turned my gaze back to her, observing her profile as she stared off into the distance. "He never could have made you happy, you know that, right?"

She let out a soft sigh, features betraying nothing of her true, innermost feelings. "I'm starting to see that, yes."

I frowned, for who I wasn't quite sure, the hands in my lap curling around each other. "It's not that he doesn't want to, he just can't."

She nodded, glancing down at her own hands before returning her eyes to my face. "He's a good man..." There was something about her words, something that unsettled me, the anxiety I had come here to forget making its unwelcome return.

"I can't do it alone," I blurted, averting my gaze, shaking my head. "I can't." I wasn't sure if my words were meant for anyone but myself, their echoes effectively drowning out every single one of my thoughts. "I'll panic, I'll shut down, I'll ruin it—I'll fail everyone."

"Hey," Callista leaned forward, grabbing my attention, stern eyes darting between mine, "you will find a way. No human will ever have to experience what you did again, we will all make sure of that—I promise."

"Do you remember, the first night you spent at the tower?"

I nodded, feeling Emily's hair tickle my chin, like her fingers did my chest, tracing circles above my heart. The hearth's fire warmed us, the glint of my ring on her finger catching my eye. The couch was a tight fit, but we'd managed.

"You passed out, and I brought you to my bed in the Safe Room." I could hear the rueful smile in her voice. "I honestly couldn't have predicted how much I'd come to regret that decision."

I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling a flicker of guilt at having placed her in such a position. "Because of Wyman?"

She shook her head. "No, not because of them." The admission surprised me, and I held my breath in silent anticipation. "Truthfully, it was your scent... it clung to my sheets, my pillows—it drove me insane! Yet I couldn't bring myself to replace them. There was something addictive about it; its sweetness invaded even my dreams, turning the warmth of my blankets to the warmth of your arms, the softness of my pillows to the softness of your chest. I could almost pretend you were there with me, almost. Being with you in person became the strangest torture; all I could think about was how your arms would feel, how firm your chest might be beneath my cheek... I'm sorry if that sounds a little strange."

Her words dug themselves beneath my skin, where they settled and formed a new me. "You thought about me like that?"

She giggled, raising herself to look me in the eye, a playful smile on her lips. "It surprises you?"

"Yes," I admitted without second thought.

"Why?" she asked, tipping her head, folding her hands beneath her chin as she adjusted herself against me.

I threaded my fingers through her hair, eyes following the dark strands as they flowed through. "I don't know. I just never thought you would." How much of what she'd done and said had I misinterpreted just because I didn't want to believe it? "I didn't think you would find me likeable, or attractive." Turns out there were a lot of things I didn't know. I licked my lips, trying to find the courage to ask my next question. "In the prison... did I talk in my sleep?"

Emily's smile faded, a darker, more serious look transforming her features. "Not at first." Her voice was soft now, as if the memories behind those words could be shushed away somehow, ignored in favour of happier times. She let out a shaky breath, gaze darting across my face, observing every little detail. "It started after I was tortured... you would call out in your sleep, always apologising, repeating over and over how sorry you were. For a while I was certain it was all a scheme to regain my trust—for what purpose I honestly couldn't imagine." She bit her lip, the firelight reflecting off her teeth. "When you were awake, there was this sense of resignation in your eyes, as if you didn't fear your impending death, or mine for that matter. Yet your fitful sleeps told an entirely different story, and I began to realise you were hiding something—you had to be. But I didn't dare get my hopes up in fear of having them crushed." She fell silen, and I assured myself I hadn't imagined the fleeting despair that had swept across her features. "I'm really, really sorry about telling them your weakness... and for being so cruel to you."

I stroked my thumb along her face, mesmerised by the rich colour of her skin, the softness of her cheek. "You did what you thought was right by the information you possessed, I never once faulted you for any of it." I meant the words. I understood why she had done so perfectly, and I hadn't thought of her with even a sliver of anger or contempt.

"This is a public space," Corvo's rumbling voice arose from the stairs. "The two of you should act accordingly." His footsteps grew louder as he descended the steps.

I met Emily's gaze, eyes ablaze with contained ire, the damage left by their earlier spat still fresh; I'd only found out about it once Callista and I had returned, and Emily had seemed unusually tight-lipped regarding the situation. I tipped my head back, allowing my own eyes to lock onto Corvo's approaching form, his scowl much less frightening when viewed upside down.

"We are," I replied. "Trust me, I'm not dressed for my own enjoyment."

Despite Corvo's continued objections, Emily had insisted she and I work together—promising me she'd be there, no matter what her father thought of it. Her words had left me more confident, some doubt eased away by the pledge of her assistance. Using the bathtub at the inn, we submerged ourselves in the coldest water available—which was dreadfully frigid, leaving me apprehensive of actual freezing water. We never stayed cold for long, skin warmed by touch alone, lungs left out of breath and bodies spent.

It all became its own routine, one everyone settled into with staggering ease. Every morning we had breakfast together, during which Corvo would spend most his time scowling at me—something that made taunting his daughter all the more entertaining. I continued teaching Emily my language as the others tried their best to unearth more useful information—unsurprisingly, to no avail. Samara had proven itself to be the least likely place to find anything related to me, or the Void.

Many questions remained, mostly regarding the whales, their oil, and the Great Leviathan—all topics we knew surprisingly little about. Thanks to one of Billie's brazen quips, we spent our evenings sharing dinner with Nadia, who seemed all too eager to show off her cooking—I suspected it had to do with her eating alone since her husband's passing. Before bed, Emily and I would take our bath, spending increasingly more time in its icy chill, hoping it would be enough to ensure our survival when push came to shove.

I could almost fool myself into believing our days in Samara weren't numbered; pretending the Abbey didn't exist became surprisingly easy in a town that showed no signs of them. But such treacherous thoughts would do me no good, and I knew every day passed was a day closer to our dangerous descent into the Void. The longer we waited, the higher the risk of the Abbey having found the place of my murder—and by extension, my father. At night, I often found myself lying awake, gripped by fear; fear of failure, fear of being wrong. What if the light I'd seen beneath the waves wouldn't lead us into the Void? What if the whales had taken us here for a wholly different reason? What if I was wrong about conditioning our bodies?

Such a mistake would surely lead to Emily and I drowning in a merciless ocean. And, more importantly, what if I couldn't bring myself to kill my father? I had never taken a life, not during my short time on this earth, or my long existence in the Void. I'd been witness to plenty of murders—all committed for different reasons—but the act had always unsettled me. There was something inexplicably primordial about one human taking the life of another, and I believed it to be the most quintessential act of domination.

But whenever I caught myself thinking these things, I found my gaze straying to the comforting sight of the woman next to me, refined features reminding me why it was an absolute necessity for me to succeed—because she desired a world to be happy in, a welcoming place to live, an endless opportunity to love, and a chance to start a family of her own. To me, there was nothing more important, more compelling, than giving her these things... be it with or without me. Because to be fair, I didn't know how she could ever regain her throne with me by her side—and despite her claims of not wanting it back, she was still an Empress, and a fair one at that. Could the both of us be selfish enough to abandon all responsibility? Could I live with myself knowing an Empire lost a just ruler due to my own selfishness? I had glimpsed the possibilities of what her rule might bring about, the progress, the welfare of her people. Emily the wise; could I really stand to limit her potential?

Odds were I couldn't, but that didn't have to mean I shouldn't try and love her to the best of my abilities, for now—so that was what I did, and what I would continue to do for as long as I was allowed. In a world without me, she would still be surrounded by people who cared for her. Without me, she would still have her father to protect her, to love her—even if they were at odds right now, I knew their bond was stronger than a fleeting disagreement. Without me, her life would go on.

But without her, I knew I wouldn't want to breathe, eat, sleep, or live. Without her, I was only half a person.

I hadn't expected Nadia's features to be able to light up as bright as Samara's bonfire, but they did as soon as Billie suggested the innkeeper take us all to see the festival. I wondered what it was about the elder that resonated with the former assassin, especially since the two had become unexpectedly close. Corvo, unsurprisingly, objected, lacking any real arguments to support his case aside from the age-old: I don't like parties, and neither should you. It seemed no one was about to side with the Royal Protector—not even Callista, who hadn't visited the festival even once since arriving. I couldn't fault her for not being able to decline one of Billie's assertive offers, but I also hadn't missed how the two had grown increasingly friendlier with each other, a detail I knew had gone completely over Corvo's greying head.

"I think I might still have some dresses lying around." Nadia grinned in between bites, steaming plate filled with local produce; her preferred recipes being strictly Tyvian. "I'm sure I have plenty to suit you lovely ladies—trust me, the festival isn't complete without a girl in a pretty dress." She winked my way, and I hesitantly swallowed my own mouthful of food.

"You'd do me a great favour," Emily beamed gratefully, lips then pulling into a sorrowful frown. "I might have ruined my own..."

Nadia chuckled at her expression. "It happens to all of us, dear." She smiled knowingly, and I narrowed my eyes at the delighted elder, feeling inexplicably unsettled by her.

"Another reason to not visit this festival of yours again," Corvo grumbled, arms crossed and plate of food left untouched.

"Nonsense," Nadia shook her head disapprovingly, "a beautiful woman like your daughter should get to enjoy her youth! Time is a precious thing, take it from an old lady like myself."

"I like the way you think," Billie snickered, earning herself a sharp look from Corvo.

I found my gaze drawn to Emily, traveling across her postured form, the skin of her neck peeking out from beneath her collar. We were making steady progress, and I was well aware this might be our last chance to enjoy a night without worries, without the weight of an Empire resting on her narrow shoulders. We had agreed on attempting our dive the next evening, something Corvo hadn't hesitated to protest. He'd been trying to talk her out of it every single day, their hushed whispers insufficient at hiding their exchange of cutting words. I didn't like being the reason behind their arguments, my very presence straining their relationship. I knew how important her father was to Emily, and regardless of what Corvo might think of me, I would always continue to respect him. But I knew that if I failed, there would be no more world for them to have a relationship in.

The women left Nadia's dining room as soon as they finished, following behind the innkeeper, taking them to what I would assume was her bedroom. Corvo and I were left to clean up, a loaded silence weighing down the air around us, or maybe just around me. The following discomfort lead me to want to finish my work as soon as possible.

"Your mother," he spoke, suddenly, catching me off guard, causing me to nearly drop the plate I was holding. "What was she like?"

I clutched the plate a little tighter, making sure it didn't slip my grip again. "I don't really know…"

"What do you mean you 'don't really know?'" Corvo spoke quickly, impatiently.

I paused my movements, glancing towards the Royal Protector, scanning his stern features, his disdain for me evident in the scornful frown on his lips. Letting out a soft sigh, I allowed my eyes to travel back to my hands. "What I mean is; I don't think I ever truly knew my mother. By the time I grew old enough to remember, she was already too far gone from the woman she had once been. Hunger does that to people, it's like the brain starts eating itself after a while, until you become nothing but a shell."

"Why?"

"Well, the lack of nutrients-"

"No, I mean why was she hungry?"

I found myself pausing again, deciding to indulge the man. "Society hasn't changed that much over time, having a child out of wedlock meant you were most likely to be disowned, even then."

"And your father?"

I tensed at the words, shoulders raising themselves, a scowl twisting my features. "I'd rather not talk about my father, Corvo."

"I rather hadn't talked about a lot of things you thought wise to bring up, but here we are."

I tipped my head. "Here we are," I agreed. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Corvo's expression darkened, lips pressed together, allowing the familiar, suffocating silence to settle between us once more. I didn't like the determined set of his eyes, or the penetrative glances he repeatedly threw my way. It was then I started to suspect the Royal Protector was hiding something from me, something very important, something that caused him to watch me with carefully controlled scrutiny. I didn't like the way he made me feel, the unspoken judgment in his eyes, the way his lips curled with distaste at the sight of me—to him I was nothing but a sinister threat, a direct danger to the only thing he cared about. He didn't look at me like a person, not because I wasn't one, but because he didn't want to. Considering me a person would mean he'd have to consider my feelings too, and I knew such a thing would be the last thing he wanted; my feelings were the very thing that endangered his daughter in the first place.

I was overcome with relief at the first sounds of footsteps. I turned my head just in time to catch Emily as she entered the room, eyes brought to widen. The dress she wore was simple at first glance, an off the shoulder design without any embellishments or colours; it was as white as the snow that covered all of Tyvia. Its body fit her slender frame, and its long, layered skirt reached all the way to the ground. The sleeves were wide and ruffled, stopping just below her elbow, flowing around her arms with a lightness that contradicted the heavy weight I felt as Corvo glanced my way.

I swallowed in an attempt to fight the dryness that caused my throat to burn, allowing my gaze to drop to my feet—she was breathtaking, and I feared if I stared too long my heart might succumb. I didn't look up to greet the others, instead studying the worn leather of my boots, catching sight of Emily's hand as she reached for mine.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked, and I met her gaze, unable to keep from eyeing the way her hair had been pulled back, allowing the dark waves to fall down her shoulders, accentuating the slenderness of her neck. I nodded, reminding myself that tonight might just be the last night for us, for me. I straightened my back, clearing my throat as I wove my fingers through hers, gathering every ounce of courage I possessed.

"Of course," I smiled, forcing every single worry, every obstructing thought to the back of my mind, urging myself to make the most of every minute I got to spend in her presence. She pulled me along, leading me towards the entrance of the inn as the others followed behind. I had caught glimpses of their dresses, all resembling the one Emily had ruined, and I had to wonder why hers was different now.

I could feel Corvo's eyes on me as we walked the streets, music bouncing off the surrounding buildings, the roar of the bonfire growing louder. Emily seemed tense, hand clutching mine a fraction too tight, back and shoulders unusually straight.

"Callista told me something," she whispered without turning to me, words barely reaching my ears. "She said Billie has seen some things."

I flicked my gaze across her features, taking in the way she clenched her jaw. "Such as?" I asked, throat growing uncomfortable tight.

Emily glanced my way, squeezing my hand, calming me. "She suspects my father plans on taking me away tonight."

I frowned, feeling my heart stutter within my chest, my earlier suspicions of Corvo suddenly making sense. "How?"

"Sleep darts. He's been preparing them, along with a suitcase. Billie has kept her eye on him, but she hasn't confronted him about it." Her tone was clipped, and I could imagine the hurt she was feeling at her father's alleged betrayal, even if it was meant as a means to protect her.

"So what do you think we should do?" There was a detached numbness settling in the pit of my stomach, the inescapable dread of what was to come slowly twisting my insides.

"We dive, tonight."

"Wha-"

"Billie and Callista made sure I received the lightest, least restrictive dress. They'll distract my father at the festival, allowing us a chance to disappear. We'll have to be quick, there'll be no time to stop by the inn. My father has always been an excellent tracker, and he'll be trying to watch us the entire night."

"Emily," I spoke as I shook my head, about to protest when she squeezed my hand again.

"Tonight, Matvey," she insisted, worry fraying the edges of her tone, making me realise she genuinely feared separation.

I decided to swallow whatever words had been on my tongue, sending the former Empress a solemn nod instead, fully aware she was right. Still, that didn't mean the sudden change of plans didn't fill me with debilitating anxiety, the strain of it causing the veins in my neck to throb. I didn't feel ready, but I also doubted I ever would. I felt like I hadn't properly said my goodbyes, like I hadn't thanked both Billie and Callista enough for all they'd done for me—I wasn't sure if I'd ever get the chance to now. The revelation of Corvo's secret plans made me more aware of his lingering gaze, his stare surely capable of burning holes through my coat. If he grew even remotely suspicious of what Emily was planning, what all of us were planning, it would all be over.

We arrived at the festival, the vibrant sounds of music and laughter filling the air, lifting some of the trepidation off my shoulders. It seemed a lot of people knew Nadia, the elder leading our group received happy greetings at every corner. Like Artur, she told us all about the food, music and activities the festival had to offer, ruefully reminiscing about the many times she'd visited. It seemed her happiness even managed to rub off on Corvo, who she had politely asked to help guide her through the crowd, her limp making it harder for her to navigate busy places—a reason for why she hadn't visited in a long time, she admitted.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when we ran into Artur and his friends again, their little group overjoyed at the sight of us, complaining it had been much too long and asking for how much longer we planned to stay. I allowed Emily to answer their questions, my eyes traveling across everyone's faces, trying my best to memorise their expressions, their welcoming smiles, queasy stomach turning with the knowledge of what we'd be doing later tonight. It wasn't long until Billie convinced Callista to dance with her, the exuberant captain making it close to impossible for the other to refuse—and I wasn't even sure if Callista wanted to. I watched as the two women joined the crowd surrounding the bonfire, the flames casting long shadows across the ground.

Nadia had joined the other Tyvians at one of the tables, muttering something about her old joints no longer being used to long walks—that didn't seem stop her from drinking, however, as she eagerly gulped down whatever beverage an already drunk Luka provided for her. Corvo had sat himself opposite of her, refusing every and all drinks she tried to pass off, the elder's insistence bringing a genuine smile of amusement to Emily's face. She and I had soon left our coats at the table, badgered by both Filip and Zima, insisting we join them for a dance. I hadn't missed the hopeful flicker in Emily's eyes, and I knew I couldn't refuse what might be our final opportunity. So I took her hands in mine, closely followed by the other couple, all of us joining Billie and Callista.

"Try and keep up," Filip threw our way, firmly grabbing his girlfriend, who giggled at his words.

I reckoned they'd danced a lot, seeing as the festival was held every year—but that didn't mean they would be better. I felt multiple eyes on me; from an expectant Billie, to a challenging Filip, to a glowering Corvo. They all thought their own thoughts, but none of them knew how I had once balanced small feet on top of much larger ones, how I had felt my heart swell with pride as we moved, beaming up at a giggling woman with bright green eyes, how she had turned me around and around, back when her words still made sense and her legs could carry the both of us. They didn't know my mind had clung to that single memory for centuries, repeating the moves, emulating the sensation of my tiny body swaying through the air. They also didn't know how, when paired with a particular Empress, my every breath became electric.

The music stopped, and I felt a smirk tug at the corners of my lips. Emily met my gaze curiously, one of her hands resting on my shoulder as I held the other up in the air, fingers woven through hers. Her lips parted, allowing her tongue to dart out and wet them, breath stuck in her throat as she waited for me to move. The violin was the first instrument to continue its tune, filling the air with its melodies. The song was a fast one, the rhythmic beat of a drum joining in—my cue. I moved, surprising Emily by pulling her into me, tightly pressing her body against mine, taking control of her movements. I was fast, feet performing the complicated steps with staggering ease, utilising every ounce of balance and suppleness my once so clumsy body had come to possess. I carried Emily through the movements, arm looped around her waist, hoisting her up against me as much as I could. I carved circle upon circle, feet weaving through the motions, heart up in my throat as I sucked in breath after breath.

The crowd of people that had surrounded us had stepped aside, clearing the space, their eyes following us as I continued to whirl us around. I locked my gaze with Emily's, noting how her eyes stared up at me in silent awe, lips parted as her fingers clutched the fabric of my shirt. An excited smile quickly spread across my own face, skin flushing with heat, entire body sizzling with exuberance. I sent her a quick nod, warning her to be ready, hands tightening their grip. She sucked in a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever was to come. I used the speed I had already built to carry me, gravity taking over most of my work. Guiding Emily back towards the ground, her feet intuitively found their balance again. She was quick to match my steps, and I released her waist, allowing her to move away from me, holding on to her hand as I spun her ahead, following behind her as we continued to propel each other forward.

Our bodies created the perfect balance of push and pull, feet manoeuvring the same circles over and over again, forms briefly meeting between every spin. Everything around us faded into a single blur, the flickering light of the blazing bonfire dancing in Emily's eyes, those pools of amber filled with sparkling vivacity. I tried my best to commit the sight to memory, mind attempting to capture every little detail; from her colourful features to the perfect white of her dress. We were two halves of the same, a single energy united through needy gasps for air and rapidly beating hearts. Once I had equated her to diamond, but I found now I had been unequivocally wrong—for she seemed nothing like the indestructible crystal, but rather she was warm, rich and welcoming like molten gold, and I found that even if I was dirt, her gracious embrace would nevertheless immerse me in her beauty.

The music calmed, and I pulled her right back into me, sweeping her off her feet as I lifted her into my arms, cradling her in my hold as I continued to turn. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her forehead to mine, breaths mingling together as I started to slow, gaze boring into hers, watching as a million thoughts sparked to life and died down again within those magnetising eyes—reminded of a night so long ago, of the rich, silken sheets of her royal bed and a new-born yearning within myself to understand each passing emotion that crossed those features. And I realised I had gotten exactly what I wanted, recognising every nuance of those ephemeral flickers, every thought that lingered in those pools of amber announcing to me its promise of love. I smiled, feet starting to halt, eyes closing of their own accord as I moved to answer her thoughts, lips finding hers.

There was a cheer, followed by another, followed by the roar of a crowd. We broke apart to catch our breath, and I couldn't believe my eyes as the surrounding mass of people continued their ovation. Emily laughed in my arms, drawing my attention back to her, my own heaving chest soon bubbling with laughter, too. I could distinguish Billie's voice as she shouted words of animated support, joined by an undeniably impressed Filip. I allowed Emily to return her feet to the ground, and as she did, we were startled out of our jubilation, several people gasping in shock. Following their gazes, we caught Nadia as she sat buckled over, coughing into her hands, a concerned Corvo supporting her. I frowned as several people gathered around them, questioning gaze darting to Emily, catching the determined set of her brow.

"It's time," she spoke, hand wrapping around mine, pulling me with her as we disappeared into the crowd of people, the two of us easily blending in. My lungs burned from exertion, body and mind still high on adrenaline. I swallowed the steadily oncoming nerves, following behind the former Empress faithfully, aware that these might have been my final moments on this earth.

And if they were, I realised I wouldn't have wanted them any other way.